#harold deserves so much love

[nyx-lyris]

yes to all of this 

we are completely suspending our disbelief - and what i love is that the show makes it very easy to do so because it presents the information as fact without ever letting on that it totally doesn’t make sense 

love this show with all my heart 

POI 02x21: Zero Day

Ok so 2 (two) people, @effervescent-mulder and @sameen-shaww , expressed interest in some thoughts on Zero Day. I didn’t take notes while watching and I’m not doing gifs because that takes more effort than I’m willing to put in at this point. But! For you two lovely folks and anyone else interested, here are some things about Zero Day.

The flashbacks! Omg! So much here.

1. The marriage proposal! I know logically that Harold did it away from their phones because he just didn’t want that conversation recorded, but it did cross my mind that maybe Harold thought the Machine would get jealous if it heard him propose to Grace.

2. The Harold & Nathan dynamic! I knew people shipped them but I didn’t get it. Now I get it. Still not my thing but I totally get it.

3. I am now DYING for the rest of Harold’s backstory!! Sedition and mayhem??? Using pseudonyms for so long that it’s not entirely a joke when Nathan asks if he remembers his real name???? Neeed moooaaarrrr.

There is much to be said (and probably it’s already been said, maybe in fic?) about Harold’s decision to call the cops on John rather than having an honest conversation with him about meeting up with Root. Like Harold knowing that John would absolutely not be ok with it and would likely try to stop him because John is terrified of losing Harold again just makes my Rinch sensors go ping! But also, Harold, you could try talking about it before you call a swat team on your boyfriend!

However that decision lead to two wonderful things:

1. The revelation that John put a tracker in Harold’s glasses!!! I had seen this in fic but loved getting to it in the show. Also, you’ve lost “people,” John? No, you lost Harold and it nearly broke you, you smitten mess of a man.

2. Shaw busting John out. We are going to suspend so much disbelief about Shaw not having to go through a metal detector to go see a detained suspect in a police station. And we are going to suspend that disbelief because the guns taped to her back was hot. The whole thing was very hot. Ya got me, tv show.

And speaking of suspension of disbelief: the Machine can only give out coded social security numbers but… can also create fake identities and hire a company full of people to print out its code and type it back in? But also it could do its core function of monitoring and analyzing all people everywhere while being wiped every night? It’s fine! We’re suspending disbelief because the show is good and has earned that. We’re in the computer science equivalent of magical realism and it’s fine.

Also, this is not the first time that Harold has been just hanging out in the park next to Grace’s house, completely out in the open. Like the odds of her seeing him see pretty damn high? This seems a bit at odds with the “she must think I’m dead!” thing.

But these are all thoughts, not criticisms because this was such a good episode. Really reminded me why I love the show.

What did you think about these things or the episode in general? Come say hi and let me know!

[brookiidookiii]

after rewatching island heres my tierlist for them

B is for i like them and C is more like 'i dont HATE them but i dont care about them' and D is just for actively dislike lol.

the best ships of the season are duncney and lesheather no one can change my mind

[fkinavocado]

.

[its-a-hare-pom-pom]

I just watched Ghostbusters Afterlife and when I’m telling you I SOBBED when Egon Spengler appeared as a ghost-

[temporarily-your-saint]

Under the Stars

A Rings of Power fic has been brewing inside of my brain but unfortunately Elrond will be going through so much pain... As if he hasn't been through it enough. :') BUT. I really wanted to give him a soft and sweet moment, so here we are. Our sweet summer boy deserves only love. <3

Word count: 3.8k

Warning(s): none, kissing??, some (lil bit) of spice??? more like suggestive spicy?

Themes: Friends to lovers, mutual pining, sort of submissive elrond??? hehehe

Also all translations are at the end!

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

Elrond could always be found underneath the golden trees that surrounded Lindon, Írimë could be sure of that.

The elleth watched her dear friend from afar, awestruck by the scene before her. The half-elf seemed to glow underneath the mallorn trees, almost shining while he wrote his poetry and speeches for the king. 

She always admired his passion for the melodic words that danced along the pages and never grew tired watching his quill flick skillfully. After a moment, her legs finally moved through the field and towards the king’s harold.

As she approached, his gaze continued to stay fully enveloped within the binded pages, unaware of her presence. 

“My heart sings to see that not much has changed,” her voice rang, breaking the silence.

Elrond, slightly startled, smiled when he heard the familiar voice. His eyes flickered to her face and then down her body, taking in her figure with a subtle glance.

"Írimë? Is that really you?" He spoke calmly as he stood up from his sitting position atop the tree and stepped forward to approach her. "It's been a while. You haven't changed a single day."

As he grew closer to her, she reached out and placed a hand against his cheek. “Neither have you, mellon nin,” she breathed as her thumb brushed against his skin, tenderly just beneath his eye.

Warmth immediately poured over her as they greeted one another. It had been years since the two had seen one another and by the Valar, she had truly missed his affable smile. While years in the lives of elves passed swiftly and without much notice, she had still ached to lay her eyes upon him once again.

A light blush trickled along Elrond’s cheeks as his eyes danced across her face. “I’ve missed you, my dear friend,” he spoke softly.

She couldn’t help but beam with happiness at his words, a smile never leaving her lips. Her bright blue eyes stared into his gray orbs, not daring to look away.

“And I you,” her voice whispered. The elleth’s heart pumped quickly as her stomach filled with butterflies.

His hands wrapped around her one that had held his cheek and brought it down between them. She could let him hold her there in place for centuries if Eru Ilúvatar allowed it. 

He squeezed her hand gently, feeling the warmth of her touch while his gaze held hers as it shined with merriment and affection.

Gods, had he missed her.

The half-elf studied her features, captivated by the beauty of the elleth. A strange but not unpleasant flutter raised inside his chest. He always thought she was beautiful; any being that roamed Arda could see she was well-favored by the gods, but something felt different now.

“There was not a day that went by when I did not think of you,” he admitted, voice just above a whisper.

His forward words only quickened her pulse more. She wasn’t so sure her heart wouldn’t fully beat out of her chest at this point for she would melt under his gaze if he wasn’t currently keeping her grounded, holding her hand between his two.

“Surely I didn’t cloak your thoughts too much,” she teased him, a smile dancing across her lips.

Elrond let out a soft huff of amusement at Írimë’s teasing. He gave her hand another gentle squeeze and shook his head with an affectionate smile as he spoke, "You know very well that you have always occupied a significant amount of my thoughts," he replied in a teasing tone of his own.

He brought her hand up and pressed a soft, gentle kiss against her palm. It was a small yet intimate gesture.

Elrond had always been fond of the elleth before him. He hadn’t always noticed the peculiar feeling for it only seemed to grow stronger within the past years that had passed. And here she was before him once again. He couldn’t pass up the opportunity this time to tell her.

“Elrond…” she breathed, unable to formulate a witty response. He was being serious.

His lips…His eyes…The way he peered into her soul dizzied her senses. She had noticed Elrond looking at her differently the last time she was in his presence and now…Here he did it once again.

Elrond watched her reaction carefully. He saw the way her breath caught in her throat and he heard the slight tremble in her voice. His heart beat a little faster, his breath catching in return.

His thumb traced idle circles on her palm, the contact between them making his skin tingle. Elrond swallowed tightly, meeting her gaze with a gaze full of sincerity.

"Írimë... I have wanted to tell you... that I..."

His voice trailed off, his words failing him. How could he tell her that he felt for her without sounding foolish?

“Yes…?” Wide eyes stared into his own, searching for answers. Something… anything.

Írimë felt like she was on fire. Blood pumped through her veins that felt like lava—heavy, scolding. Pink lips parted as she licked her lips.

Elrond hesitated, struggling with how to properly articulate the storm of emotions he felt inside. He swallowed again, swallowing his last remaining doubts.

He brought her hand up to his chest, placing it right over his rapidly beating heart. The warmth of her palm pressed against him nearly made him shiver.

"Írimë... I have come to realize...”

Every passing moment made her heart boom louder. Her hand placed over his heart was so intimate, so raw. He wanted her to feel his heartbeat. 

And she did.

Before he could finish, a loud voice came barreling over the hill, running toward them through the grass.

“Írimë! Elrond!”

The voice broke their trance, not allowing Elrond to finish his words. Gods, how she needed him to finish those words.

She stepped back, allowing some space between her and the half-elf before her as she retracted her hand. Her gaze met a familiar figure walking towards them. 

“Vorohil!” She exclaimed, welcoming her old friend.

Elrond's heart felt heavy inside of his chest, the moment stolen from him just as he was about to confess his true feelings. He took a step back as well, his shoulders slightly slumped in defeat.

As Vorohil approached, Elrond looked up, his expression slightly irritated at the interruption. He had been so close to speaking up, so close...But now there was no chance of picking up from where he had left off. The mood between the two souring now that Vorohil had joined them.

"Vorohil," Elrond said in greeting, forcing a small smile.

The ellon acknowledged Elrond with respect and then rested upon the raven-haired elleth. “I heard you just arrived. I have come to fetch you for the feast!”

Írimë grasped her dear friend’s forearm and gave it a light squeeze. “Thank you, my dear friend,” she said softly. Her bright eyes then met Elrond’s gaze, “Shall we join?”

The half-elf let out a soft sigh, his disappointment still evident on his face. However, he offered her a small, reluctant smile and nodded, "Yes, let us be on our way."

As they began walking, Elrond fell into pace beside her, their shoulders brushing slightly. He kept his hands clasped tightly behind his back to stop himself from reaching out to her again. The words that he had wanted to say lingered on the tip of his tongue, yet he held them back once more.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

The feast was a splendid affair. Food was plentiful and wine flowed freely. Music played in the background, filling the air with cheerful, light elvish tunes.

Elrond walked beside Írimë, though his earlier enthusiasm had wilted slightly. He occasionally stole glances at her but made no attempt to resume their earlier conversation. His heart ached with unspoken words, yet he couldn't bring himself to speak them, not with so many peers around.

Írimë made her rounds throughout the evening. It had been many, many moons since she had last seen the trees of Lindon. How she had missed it so…

A familiar gaze lingered on the elleth though she welcomed it. She knew he watched her. Their keen senses made it near impossible to ignore. She found herself biting her lips more than not, swinging her hair, and smiling more than not as Elrond watched. The half-elf had such a peculiar way of affecting her; it was like she was a young elleth once again the way she yearned for his gaze.

And he noticed it all. The way she strode with more confidence and grace, the way she flipped her waves of midnight hair around, the way her smile glowed.

Every movement she made, every gesture, he absorbed them all, devouring them like a sweet dessert. 

His gaze lingered, continuing to watch her closely, trying to memorize every detail. The half-ellon’s fingers squeezed the chalice he held.

The more time passed, the more his heart longed for her, desperate to reach out and touch her, to speak the words that were dying to leave his tongue.

As the feast went on, Elrond eventually found himself able to slip away. He walked outside into the cool night air, his heart still pounding in his chest. He couldn't stay inside anymore, being so close to Írimë yet unable to speak to her; it had become too much to bear.

He ran his fingers through his curly locks, feeling tired and frustrated as he stared off into the night sky. "If I could just have one moment alone with her," he muttered to himself.

“Who is this elleth my dear friend frets over?” The very voice he daydreamed of rang through the air as she approached Elrond. 

He gave a small huff of laughter in response to her question as he turned toward her, "You heard that, did you?"

Her eyes narrowed curiously at him. As he spoke, he wouldn’t meet her eyes, instead talking into the distance as he turned back away from her.

Taking a sip of the wine he held, he sighed, "She is someone I cannot seem to get off my mind, even for a single moment. She occupies my thoughts from dawn to dusk, filling my heart with a melody I have never felt before."

His words cut into her. Was she being farcical? Was this an unknown lover of his? Or…?

She sighed and took a large gulp of wine from her own chalice. The sweet wine from the First Age coated her tongue and warmed her insides. “A lucky elleth,” her voice strained. “You must write poetry about her…” She whispered as her eyes turned down.

Do not shed tears, she thought to herself. 

Her response startled Elrond. It was almost as if she... as if she didn't seem happy for him. Or, perhaps, jealous? But surely not. He shook his head slightly, his heart starting to pound in his chest.

Írimë stood beside him, looking out into the late evening.

Elrond looked over at her, his gaze fixing on hers. He could see the forced smile spread across her lips and he knew that there was something deeper behind her words.

"I have written many poems about her," he admitted, his voice quiet. "She is my muse, my light, my everything."

Her voice hitched in the back of her throat. His everything… His words echoed throughout her very being.

She swallowed hard and met Elrond’s eyes as she tried her best to hold back tears. “This elleth must feel only warmth and sunlight then,” her voice came out as a whisper.

Elrond could hear the hitch in her voice, the barely concealed pain in her words. His heart ached hearing the sadness that coated her tongue.

He took a step closer to her, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You do not sound as if you are happy for me, Írimë. Do my words cut you?"

Their bodies almost touched. Her heart pounded as the tears began to swell over. Tears streamed down her pink cheeks as blue eyes searched Elrond’s. 

A forced smile still strained on her lips as she spoke, “I wish you nothing but happiness, mellon nin.” 

She avoided the question, only wanting to relieve him but the pain was too much. Until it hit her. I love him. The words ran through her mind as realization kicked her in the chest.

The sight of Írimë’s tears broke him. Seeing the pain in her eyes, hearing her voice crack and her forced smile... He couldn't bear it anymore. But he needed to know why. Needed to hear her say it.

"You wish me happiness yet the sight of me talking about another pains you so," he said softly, taking another small step forward.

He reached up, gently brushing away her tears with his thumb. His gaze pierced hers as he spoke, “Tell me, Írimë. Why does this make you grieve?"

His question echoed through her mind. She had to tell him. Needed to. Though she felt foolish to love him if he was already promised to another. How could she do that to such a friend like him?

But what if she never told him? She would have to endure and watch him love another. Could she handle that?

Trembling lips parted as whispered words fell from her lips, “I remember when we were younger. You always wiped away my tears.”

A wavering smile crept upon her lips as she looked up at him. “You have always looked out for me, even knowing that I did not need it. Always tended my wounds. Always filled my heart with nothing but warmth and joy,” her eyes searched his, almost pleading as she spoke. 

Her hand reached up to cover his own that lingered on her cheek as his thumb wiped away the wet remnants.

“When your face fills my dreams, I sigh with comfort and happiness. When your skin meets mine,” she began as she turned her cheek inward toward his hand, placing a soft kiss in the middle of his palm. 

Her eyes met his again. “A current runs through me as if something becomes awakened when we touch. A wildfire that cannot be contained. A light that can never be diminished. You are as bright as daylight and warm as summer, Elrond.”

Elrond's heart pounded in his chest as he listened to her words. Every sentence, every sentiment... It was everything that he had been waiting for. Every bit of validation that he needed, it was in her words. He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

The tear-stained face, the trembling lips, the hand on his... It was so raw, so open, so vulnerable, and yet so beautiful. He ached to say something, anything, but he was frozen in place. He could only stare at her, his face mirroring every emotion that ran through him.

He swallowed hard, his voice barely more than a whisper, "My dear Írimë, I... I never knew...I wanted to…"

His eyes flicked down to her trembling lips, his heart pounding louder and louder in his chest. The hand on her cheek moved down, tenderly cupping her face as his thumb brushed over her lips.

She sucked in a breath at his touch, closing her eyes in the process. A slow exhale left her lips as she slowly looked up at him.

The way she looked up at him was entrancing. Eyes of blue wide, pleading for him yet sad. She had never wanted something so badly in her immortal life. 

His finger brushed against her bottom lip again, softly pulling on it and then brushing it over. An agonizing ache reached below her stomach from the way his eyes bore into hers. He felt her breath hitch at his touch, her eyes closing for a brief moment once more.

“The elleth is you, meleth nîn,” his voice whispered. He placed both hands on either side of her cheeks as she looked up at him.

Everything fell into place at his words. The elleth is you, he had said. 

“Elrond,” her voice squeaked. 

A wave of relief washed over Elrond. Every ounce of tension left him as he heard the relief in her voice, knowing that he hadn't made a terrible mistake. He had never felt so vulnerable yet so complete at the same time. His thumb traced over her cheek gently, feeling the smooth skin beneath his touch.

"Írimë," he whispered back, his eyes roaming her face as if trying to memorize every little fleck of cerulean in her eyes, every curve, and every freckle on her skin.

He bent down and rested his forehead against hers. The two closed their eyes and shared breaths in the silence. She placed her hands over his own, her touch sending yet another shiver through him.

After a moment, she whispered, “Kiss me.”

When Írimë’s whispered words reached his ears, it was like a dam had burst.

The words had barely sunk in before he leaned in and hungrily pressed his lips to hers.

Long, slender fingers gently wove into her hair, holding her in place as he deepened the kiss. Their bodies close, so close that he could feel the heat radiating from her like a fire. All the years of longing, of hidden desires, were suddenly let loose in the kiss. His heart pounded in his chest, feeling as if it had finally found its home.

His other hand slid down, curling around her waist, pulling her in even closer, holding her against his body, as if trying to merge their very beings.

She could almost feel their souls become one as his lips pressed against hers. The hungry kiss released everything she had been feeling for him. Everything she wanted to envelop into words but did not have the ability.

They let their lips speak for them as the kiss deepened and he pulled her tighter into him. She could feel him, feel everything beneath his linens. 

A moan fell from her lips as his tongue danced with her own. She reached up, letting one hand curl into his dark locks. 

“Elrond…” her voice gasped his name. 

He felt every sound that left her lips—every soft gasp, every whisper, every moan. It was like music to him, the most beautiful symphony that his ears and soul had ever composed. Only the welcoming melody to Valinor could compare to this.

His hands wandered over her body as his tongue moved against hers, feeling her every curve, his touch desperate and hungry, yet tender and gentle.

Nothing else mattered in that moment but them. The dark night hid their figures outside, luckily, as their bodies intertwined. 

Her hand slid down through his hair, making its way next to his ear. Her fingers brushed over the pointed tip and she heard him whimper. Finally, she thought. 

The pointed ears of elves were incredibly sensitive, especially when senses were heightened. And they were left only to the touch of those that were promised, only to the most precious of close loved ones.

A jolt of pleasure shot through his body as her fingers glided over his ear. He had never felt something like it before, the sensation so intense, so intimate, that it almost overpowered all judgment. He let out a small gasp against her mouth, his body tensing up briefly before relaxing again.

His mind clouded, his focus entirely on her and the way she touched him. He pulled back from the kiss, breathless, and looked into her eyes, the intensity of his gaze almost dizzying.

"Do that again," he whispered, his voice husky with desire.

She had never heard his voice like this before. It was so gruff yet, he was begging? Or was that a command? She intended to find out.

Darkened eyes stared up into his piercing grays. Her thumb slowly, and barely even touching the tip of his ear, slid across the sensitive skin.

She watched his brows furrow and eyes close. No, she thought.

“Look at me, meleth nin,” her voice commanded, breath against his lips. Her thumb then traced down the outer part of his tapered ear.

Elrond's breath hitched in his throat as she touched him again, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head with the sensation. But the sound of her voice pulled him back into focus, a mixture of command and desire in her tone.

His eyes slowly drifted open, finding hers. He swallowed hard, his heart pounding in his chest, his lips parted as he let out a shaky breath. His fingers traced along her waist, drawing her as close as he could.

Hearing his song of pleasure spill from his lips rang through her.

His lust-filled gaze peered into her dilated pupils. She had never felt like this before. Her body could not get enough of him; it sang to her as hers sang to him, and she wanted to pluck every note.

Elrond’s breath deepened, his fingers gripping at the fabric of her dress, as if trying to hold himself back. His gaze darkened, the intensity in his eyes burning brighter with need.

He couldn't take it anymore. The fire coursing through his veins demanded something more. He wanted Írimë—needed her. Needed to feel their bodies fuse together, needed to taste her, needed to make her his entirely.

What was this?

Their chests heaved as they exchanged breaths, staring at one another. Desire filled their eyes as heat pooled deep within them.

“Elrond,” she breathed, looking up to him. In the quietness, eyes searched each other.

“We have been gone from the feast for so long,” her voice was unsteady, breath hitched from the shared intimacy.

Hearing her mention the feast reminded him of the festivities that still occurred. The thought of leaving her side to return made him wince, his heart clenching at the idea of being apart from her again.

His fingers flexed against her waist as he held her gaze, his mind and body both fighting against the rational part of him. He knew they needed to return but he didn't want it to end.

"You speak...words of reason," he said, his voice low and uneven.

She reached up, placing her hand against his cheek softly as her eyes peered into his. They both knew they needed to make an appearance once more.

”Meet me under the stars once more tonight…After the feast,” she finished, whispering her words.

His gaze softened as she touched his cheek, the feel of her skin causing his eyes to close for a moment. Elrond then turned to press his face into the palm of her hand, keeping her there for a moment as her words sunk in and he reopened them. 

“Under the stars, melnā,” he murmured, his voice as soft as a whisper against her skin.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

mellon nin: my friend

meleth nîn: my love

melnā: beloved

Írimë: lovely, desirable

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　

[hotvintagepoll]

What are some screwball comedy pairings you wish had been a thing? Can definitely be gay ones :)

Okay finally!

One of the reasons I made this blog in the first place is that few things bring me as much blinding rage as imagining the movies we could have gotten, if old Hollywood had stopped being racist/homophobic/anti-everyone for ten fucking seconds. There were so many talented hotties working through our tournament era who only got cameo spots or no-budget movies! for no reason beyond white supremacy! there were so many stories that didn't get told because heaven forbid we acknowledge gay people! If this blog has a mission statement, a big chunk of it would be about highlighting all the amazing hotties who never got what they deserved in their heyday.

So! Let's tear Louis B. Mayer a new one and make some better movies.

Diamond Eyes (1946)

Harold Nicholas, the bored but fabulous son of a Manhattan millionaire, decides to take himself off on a transatlantic cruise to recover from the boredoms of socialites, constant martinis, and west side glamor. When working girl Rita Hayworth snags him into a fake dating scheme to throw off a jealous ex (Cesar Romero), he doesn't mean to fall in love with his false fiancé—or to set the ex up with his scheming accountant (Tyrone Power).

To the Tune of Millions (1945)

Ann Miller and Lena Horne are conwomen besties who use a fake dance act to get into casinos, which they then promptly rob. Unfortunately, an over-enthusiastic talent agent (Gene Kelly) sees the act and thinks they're legitimate, hiring them on the spot as the lead number in a newly opened but already failing musicale review. Who can they hustle at a theater that's barely bringing in a dime? The two ex-cons fall in love with show business, Kelly and Horne smooch at the grand finale, and Miller has an intense will-they-or-won't-they sparring relationship with the hot stage manager (Ethel Waters—and they will).

Untitled Three's-a-Crowd Film (1942)

Cary Grant, Jean Arthur, and Ronald Colman are running interference on a corrupt justice system while trying to keep up the act that they are all simply cohabitating in a shared AirBnB and definitely not falling in love with each other. Wait. This is actually The Talk of the Town. This movie actually exists and does veer this hard into polyamorous romance.

Tomatoes and Toast (1928)

Anna May Wong and Greta Garbo eat sandwiches for three hours. It's riveting.

One Soul, Two Bodies (1948)

Farley Granger and Vincent Price star as Alexander the Great and Hephaestion in this sword-and-sandals period piece. Though clearly made on a studio backlot with a budget of $3, the dashing romance grounds the chariot races and cardboard sword battle sequences.

Grand Central Station (1931)

Interconnected narratives of Josephine Baker, Joan Blondell, Dolores del Río, and Fredric March all vying for the last seat on the 5:45 train out to Poughkeepsie. When they realize they're jostling to sit next to the same sugar daddy who's been stringing all of them along, the four decide to unionize. Pre-code thrills; the four-in-a-bunk Pullman car scene remains notable for a reason.

I have more but I think I've gone a bit delirious.

[garciaasfluffypen]

i'm not stubborn

pairing: jemily x reader word count: 1.9k warnings: y/n is stubborn but doesn't want to admit it request from this ask

it had been two weeks since hotch put you on bed rest. you were going absolutely crazy. 

you, in a moment of weakness, tripped during an unsub chase and found yourself with a pretty bad sprained ankle. sure, you were able to hobble around quantico on your crutches and stay behind to help garcia, but it wasn’t the same. you loved your computer whiz of a best friend, you really did, but nothing beat being out in the field fighting bad guys in person. you hated the absolute worry that went through you every time your team went to the locations where the potential unsubs were. it bothered you that you weren’t there to help, smirking at morgan when you expertly picked a lock instead of having to kick the door down. or body blocking reid so he didn’t get hit by an unsub shoving a dresser in your direction in an effort to get away, not realizing that matt was behind him. and to be quite frank, you missed your team. 

garcia had sent you home roughly four hours ago, telling you that if she needed your expertise she would call you. you knew it was probably because the team was assisting in a raid that you longed to be there for. you had been doing what the kids these days were calling “rotting” on the couch since you got home at lunch, only getting up to weakly hobble over to the sink to place your dirty dishes inside. but you could only rot for so long before you started getting antsy. 

it was difficult without your girlfriends in the apartment with you, because at least when they were home you always had something going on in the background. it was too quiet without them here, even with dateline nbc playing over the soundbar that matt and kristy got you for a housewarming gift. for a moment you considered calling kristy to come over, but you knew her kids would be running up a storm and that it was hard for her to find last minute babysitters these days. from what you remember, the three she usually cycled through all went off to college. and if you were being honest, garcia did not have the time to vet any of the new potential people. 

with a huff you looked around the apartment, deciding now that your need to clean trumped anything else going on within your healing ankle. with a crutch tucked under one arm, you went over to the front closet where you kept all the cleaning supplies and decided that the loves of your life deserved to come home to a clean apartment. it was the least that you could do for them. they had done so much for you over the past year, it was only fair that you tried to do something nice for them before they came home. and if all went well with the raid that had happened prior to garcia sending you home, your girls would be home by dinner. 

that reminded you that you needed to pull out the chicken that you were planning on cooking for dinner tonight, and grab the pasta shape you wanted. and while you were in the kitchen you probably should unload the dishwasher and reload it with the dishes you created while the team was in maryland. which then reminded you that you were almost out of dishwasher pods, despite the fact that you used them rarely since you were out of the apartment so much for work. it was crazy how fast the little packs went away when you were stuck at home for days with no end in sight. and besides, hand washing dishes was so annoying. it was so easy to just pop them in the dishwasher and call it a day. turning around to make sure you wrote down to grab more dishwasher pods, you accidentally hit one of the potted plants with your crutch. 

cursing, you looked down to see a nice big pile of dirt where the pot had fallen over. thankfully the pot itself didn’t break, but a bunch of the dirt was now on the white marble tiles of the kitchen and emily would be really upset with you if she came home to her plant on the ground. you picked harold up as gently as possible, placing him back where he belonged next to the edge of the breakfast nook. sergio, as if sensing your distress, came and rubbed up against your ankle before deciding that was the perfect time to roll around in the dirt. tears of frustration pooled in your eyes as you used your crutch to shoo sergio away from the pile. you just wanted them to come home to a clean apartment and everything was going wrong. 

you hobbled over to the bathroom, completely forgetting everything that happened in the kitchen to turn on the water to bathe sergio. there was no way you were letting emily’s pride and joy be dirty when she got home. when the water level was enough, you went back out to the living room and grabbed one of sergio’s catnip toys, knowing it would get him into your arms within a moments notice. you squeaked it once and then again, smiling fondly at him as he hopped up into your arm. you dropped the toy, turning around and heading towards the bathroom. sergio, the smart man he is, chose that exact moment to start screaming and clawing at the crutch under your arm as he looked for his toy. 

“fucking- fuc- AAAAH!”

you threw your crutch down in fury as sergio struggled against your hold, almost as if he knew exactly where you were taking him. was it a bad idea to walk without your crutch? probably. but sergio was dirty and you needed to clean him. sure, it definitely didn’t help that you never gave him a bath before, but bathing a cat couldn’t be that hard… right? 

“ok buddy, we can do this. you’re dirty. you gotta be clean when mom comes home.” 

bending down so you were on your knees, you slowly started scooping water onto his back as he screamed the cat equivalent of bloody murder at you. scrubbing the bubbles into his coat, you slowly put him closer to the water before you heard the faint click of the front door. 

shit. 

sergio used your momentary lapse in holding him semi-tightly  to jump out of your hands, running out of the bathroom towards the sound of emily’s voice. you froze, not entirely sure how to handle the situation. they weren’t supposed to be home for at least another two hours. you thought you’d have more than enough time to finish cleaning before they came home. did hotch send them home early? 

inwardly cursing to yourself, you pushed yourself into a standing position using the edge of the tub, hobbling out into the main room. emily stared at you, a look of disappointment on her face. you couldn’t find the words to explain what was going on, instead folding yourself into a shell and hoping that she wouldn’t try to get you to say anything because if you did you most definitely would start crying. you then realized that your pants were covered in dirt and your shirt was soaked with the bath water from your attempt to bathe sergio. you shifted to your good leg, leaning up against the corner of the wall so you could take some of the pressure off your bad foot. 

“what’s the meaning of all this?” emily’s eyebrows raised. “why is sergio covered in bubbles?” 

jj walked through the door, grocery store bags in her hands. “is there a reason the vacuum is out?” 

“you’re supposed to be on bedrest.” emily let out a sigh. 

“lovey,” jj set the grocery bags down on the table. “come ‘ere, lets sit you down on the couch.” 

“‘m tired of sitting down!” you whined, accidentally stomping your bad foot in your miniature tantrum moment. “i don’t wanna sit anymore!” 

emily gave you a pointed look. “bedrest means not doing anything strenuous.” 

“i don’t wanna just sit around.” you pouted. “i wanted to do something.” 

“and i don’t really care about that.” your face fell as emily’s disappointment showed. “why were you up and moving?” 

jj sighed, coming over to stand next to emily. she had an inkling that you would be going a bit stir crazy, considering garcia told them she sent you home early. part of her wanted to go to you and just scoop you up in a hug and tell you it was okay, but the other more logical part of her knew that she couldn’t be that person right now. maybe in five minutes, but they needed to make sure you understood how important healing properly was. she knew that feeling of being cooped up all too well, and how stir crazy it made someone feel. of course, she just wanted you to feel comfortable, but she knew emily would need to be slightly disappointed in you for a few minutes before she realized what was going on. it was just the way it worked, most of the time. 

“tell me what happened.” 

you swallowed. “i wanted to clean the apartment for you so you didn’t have to do it when you got home today so i started cleaning. and then i knocked down harold by mistake and sergio started rolling around in the dirt so i wanted to clean him off and then-” 

“so you thought it was a good idea to what, walk around without your crutches?”

“it was hard, okay?” your pent up annoyance started getting to you as the tears fell from your eyes. “i didn’t want to feel useless.” 

jj automatically broke and went up to you, pulling you in for a hug. you dug your head into the crook of her neck as you let her wrap her arms around you, ultimately making it so you didn’t have to put much weight on either of your feet. you let jj scoop you up and bring you back to the couch, groceries forgotten on the table as she adjusted you both so you were on her lap. 

“it’s okay, lovey. i know. we just don’t want you to get more hurt, okay?” 

“i know.” you pouted. “i got bored. is emmy mad at me?”

jj gave emily a pointed look. “i don’t know, is emmy mad at you?” 

“no,” emily sighed as she came over to the couch. “but jj is right. we don’t want you making it worse.” 

“i was being careful. i promise.” 

“we don’t doubt that, love.” emily placed a kiss to the top of your head. “after you have your recheck next week, maybe we’ll let you do some more things, okay?” you nodded. “good.” 

“‘m sorry.”

“don’t be sorry.” jj’s hand rand through your hair. “it’s okay. do you wanna watch a movie? hotch gave us the weekend off.” 

“yes please. can we watch haunted mansion? the one with eddie murphy?”

emily chuckled. “of course we can, lovey. i’ll go get the popcorn, okay?”

“okay.” 

you smiled, snuggling back into jj’s side. your girls were back and you had them for the whole weekend? maybe it was worth it to get a little wild. 

maybe. 

[rillils]

Do you have Wakanda Stucky fic recommendations ? I'm just weak for them in that phase with their looks 😭

I most certainly do, my dear nonnie! 💕💕 I'm gonna link a few of my favourites below, and I hope you'll find some of them to your liking :3

Just a heads-up, though: some of these are only visible if you're logged in on AO3, so make sure you're not there "only" as a guest, otherwise you won't be able to access them!

NOW LET'S GO:

Let this be light work by caughtinanocean (rated T) (8,628 words)

On the run with Sam and Natasha, Steve finds the words to describe his commitment to Bucky. As with most of Steve’s decisions, there are unintended consequences. “It’s no use,” Natasha tells Sam. “You won’t get him to go out and flirt. Steve here’s a married man.” They’re somewhere in Croatia, and Sam’s been hard at work, trying to pull Steve away from a busy night of sketching and staring at his phone. He wants to go out and drink plum brandy and dance with the locals. “You should go without me,” Steve says, hazy. Married. A married man. Isn’t that something?

Correspondent by girlfromcarolina (rated E) (8,049 words)

It started with Bucky sending him photos: the river with the sun gleaming on the surface or the moon’s silver streaks across the water. The children gathered around Bucky, teaching him a game. Words came eventually, thoughts and emotions laid down a few sentences at a time as they each began to feel more comfortable. The messages represented the chance to reconnect in ways they couldn’t while they hunted Zemo and tried to clear Bucky’s name. Some things were too difficult to say face-to-face; some questions were too complex.

deserving by sunflower_dragon19 (rated E) (1,401 words)

While Steve was away on a mission, Bucky spent his time eating whatever he liked and resting as much as he wanted. Steve very much appreciates the results.

Get It Right by sangha (rated E) (4,426 words)

He's been sweet on Steve for as long as he can remember. It's as natural as breathing to Bucky. He reckons a life without Steve wouldn't be much of a life at all. Or: a tale of two weddings, nearly 80 years apart.

ready, able by rohkeutta (rated T) (1,370 words)

Steve snorts, helplessly charmed. “Harold like your gang boss uncle Harold?” “A gentleman does not name his goats and tell,” Bucky says solemnly, but he leans a little more firmly against Steve’s side, and there are crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes when he smiles. He’s the best thing Steve has ever seen.

so here we go head first by endofadream (rated T) (1,631 words)

Steve rests his hand on Bucky’s face and says, so quietly Bucky could have easily missed it, “I missed you.” The first tear falls, then the next, and Bucky doesn't bother to try and stop them.

time on my hands (could be time spent with you) by thedoubteriswise (rated M) (23,023 words)

"You doing okay, kid?” Steve releases a breath, deciding how honest he wants to be. No point in lying. No point in telling the truth, either. "Glad to see you." "That’s not what I asked, but same to you, punk."

It's Waiting There for You by sunflower_dragon19 (rated E) (3,228 words)

"Shuri, me and Steve… we're not --" "Could have fooled me." She shook her head, muttering under her breath in Xhosa as she connected a series of wires in his arm. "My brother offered him the nicest guest suite in the palace and you know where he decided to stay instead?" She pointed an accusing finger at him. "In your hut. That has one bed." -- Steve visits Wakanda and Bucky decides he's done being afraid of his feelings.

i love him and our goat children by talkplaylove and wearing_tearing (rated T) (5,526 words)

“Bucky, why does Sam have a photo of you surrounded by goats and the words “Always be happy with Jesus” on it?” Steve asks, looking at him on the screen. Or the one where Steve and Bucky move in together, adopt some goat kids, and live happily ever after.

Moon River by sangha (rated E) (5,763 words)

Steve and Bucky are reunited in Wakanda and they can no longer run from their feelings for each other.

a line that goes all the way by napricot (rated E) (45,218 words)

"About six months after he left Bucky in cryostasis in Wakanda, Steve got a text from an unidentified number: He is awake and well, and wants to see you." Steve and Bucky reunite and reconnect, with some help from modern technology.

all my bones are begging me to beg for you by dragongirlG (rated E) (2,711 words)

After Thanos is defeated at the Battle of Wakanda, Steve accidentally doses himself with an aphrodisiac hidden inside of a celebratory alien drink. The ensuing side effects lead him to confess and act upon his feelings for Bucky, who readily agrees to help Steve work through his urges, much to Steve's surprise.

Not Bad (for the End of the World) by relenafanel (rated T) (2,425 words)

Bucky comes in from a day of work to get ready for an impending war, blow-dries his hair, has a small crisis over his nascent attraction for Steve. Just usual Bucky Barnes things.

love is blind (steve and bucky are just dumb) by talkplaylove and wearing_tearing (rated T) (4,409 words)

“You shouldn’t have interrupted their date, then,” Natasha pipes up, finally showing her face as she gives Bucky a wave and a tiny smile. “I like the hair.” “Thank you.” Bucky preens a little. He ignores the teasing about this being a date; Nat and Sam somehow got it into their heads that Steve and him were dating via Skype calls. They’re not. They’re just friends who video call sometimes. Friends do that.

Found My Place in Time by Cap_D, humapuma (rated E) (12,430 words)

“Buck,” he heard Steve say, “wake up. We’re here.” Bucky opened his eyes and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension out of his back. When Steve’s words sunk in, though, he turned and leaned forward, staring past Steve’s chest to look out the window. Beyond the wing of the plane, he found a beautiful coastline with white sand, blue waters, and palm trees, as well as rows of bungalows on the water. “Wow,” he murmured. “We’re staying in one of those, right?” In which Steve invites Bucky on a trip to Fiji and they discover something a lot more than beautiful vistas and friendly locals.

What a Bright Time (It's the Right Time) by sunflower_dragon19 (rated G) (2,531 words)

Bucky gets a Christmas surprise.

(i'll be home for christmas) if only in my dreams by crinklefries (rated T) (13,728 words)

“I told my best friend that story,” Steve says after a moment, voice thick. “When we were seven years old. And he told me he’d do the same for me. And that year, when I opened my present, inside was a small wooden bird to hang on the tree.” Bucky looks up at Steve, the little bird in his hand and Steve--well he’s smiling. “I don’t remember,” Bucky whispers.“I’ll tell you,” Steve says. *** (or; six Christmases Bucky Barnes doesn't remember--and one he will)

[dramaticallytotal]

TDWT Headcanons: PT. 6

Part 1 Last Part

• Lindsay definitely is bringing some of her Admiral Lindsay Her Hotness attitude back for this season, just not as intense. She liked being respected for once, and she liked being relied on. So this season, she vowed she would find the in-between for herself.

• This season, she is even wearing a navy blue jacket that looks kind of like her admiral jacket along with a thick navy blue ribbon headband to replace her usual blue bandana.

• Heather actually has friends this season! Because as much as I love her Queen Bee, lone wolf thing, I think she deserves to make some friends. Leshawna is, of course, one. Harold is surprisingly another. And Noah.

• Leshawna and her have gotten closer, though there are still moments when they argue with each other. Harold respects her game, and they both relate to each other about their siblings, not liking them. It's sad, but it's nice to have someone relate to. Noah was a surprise for her, but it was a little after Action that he reached out and gave her his sister Nila's contact info since she knew what it was like to go from super long hair to short very abruptly. Plus, Nila had tips for growing her hair! Plus, plus, the two like to talk shit about other people with each other.

• It's why Heather hates Alejandro so much. Like, yeah, they need to try and pretend to have crushes on each other, but it's hard to do that when he got Harold to vote himself out. When he got Leshawana and her to fight worse than they ever have before, and when she could tell Noah had a crush on him and the guy flirted with him only to go and flirt with her. It created a lot of space between her and her favorite snark.

• No one is supposed to know about their separate deals with Chris to make the show more interesting, but some people have guessed who has a deal and who doesn't. Though Noah has guessed most of the deals, he doesn't know that Aleheather is scripted.

• Yes, Lindsay and Beth got attested in Paris, but not for what Celebrity Manhunt reported. She never touched the Mona Lisa, but Beth did trip over the ropes, and the security guard was yelling and Beth looked so scared, so Lindsay reacted, and by reacting, I mean , she slapped the security guard.

• Beth's mom, Clara, did bail them out because Lindsay's family were on their own vacations, and she couldn't get a hold of them. When they did hear what happened they of course, paid her back, but Lindsay felt like it's her responsibility to do it, so she agreed to pretend to forget what Tyler looks like and his name. It's to get the money to pay Clara back.

• Courtney, Noah, DJ, and Sierra are all published authors.

• Courtney writes guides on how to make study guides and other self-help type books. Noah writes video game guidebooks as well as coding books. He's actually paid to make the video game books. He's also a beta tester, but no one knows that. DJ writes cookbooks with his Momma. Sierra wrote, of course, books on Total Drama. Basically, guides for those just starting to watch. Like the who's who, the challenges, the teams, secret little Easter eggs she found.

• If Noah gets hurt during an episode, Chris makes sure to call his family and tell them how he's doing. He is friends with Noah's parents, so he feels like it's his duty to let them know how their kid is. (He definitely doesn't count himself in that 'their' no siree.)

• Alejandro is definitely trying his best to make the showmance happen, but every time he goes to flirt and make it seem like he and Heather have something going on, he gets distracted by Noah. Like the way he only wears his glasses when he's sure the cameras are off even though he looks positively adorable in them. Or the way he pouts when something in his book displeased him. Oh! Or the small smiles he gives Alejandro when he strikes up a conversation with the bookworm about his thoughts on books he himself has read.

• At some point, he does want to tell Noah that the showmance between him and Heather is just that, a showmance, but then London happened, and Noah was voted off, and maybe Alejandro feels guilty for letting his emotions take over seeing as Noah was actually a strong competitor.

• He also overheard Chris and Chef talking about how Noah had planned on getting voted out and how the kid did great! "I mean, he saw an opportunity and took it, Chef!"

• That's when he realizes that Noah had planned to get out and used him to do it. Now, normally, that would have probably pissed him off, but nope. It basically makes him swoon. He's whipped.

• Owen does actually hold a grudge against Alejandro for voting off his little buddy. (He doesn't know Noah was planning on it). Noah had told Owen that Alejandro didn't like being called Al before he left, and Owen knows his friend didn't tell him so Owen could mess with the guy. His little buddy told him and asked him to go easy with the nickname since he didn't want Owen to become a target. Target be damned! Owen made it his personal mission to call Alejandro, Al, as much as possible.

• Chris and Chef pseudo adopted Noah together, but Chef definitely pseudo adopted Izzy in his head.

• Izzy has shown Cody her hiding place she made in the vents for when he needs space. Look, she may be crazy but she draws the line at stalking/stalkers. (I know in her biography it says she's stalked boys, but I have elected to throw that out of my canon)

• Yes, Noah planned to get thrown off, but when he realized the producers/network wanted him to basically be a miracle worker after he was done with Aftermath, he was like, "What if...no? UwU" and wanted them to suffer, so he won his way back onto the show. Oh, he'll come back to his job after the show, but he expects a big raise.

• Trent feels bad about Noah being voted off because he finally realized that someone else was suspicious of Alejandro, but Noah told him to vote for him so he wouldn't be made a target. He made a real convincing argument, but Trent still felt bad.

• Trent is trying to lay low, but he does warn Gwen about his suspicions, but everything gets crazy with the cheating plot. Which pisses Trent off because he knows there is no way Gwen would cheat on anyone given what happened with her mom.

Next Part

[geese-villain]

it feels like a book I don't want to close. one I can't even reread. like nothing is ever going to hold a candle to being part of this utterly monumental ritual of a play.

it's been a year. it's truly been a year. from yearning to see this live and believing it impossible to the unlikeliest set of circumstances that had me get a passport within four days and fly to a different country for the first time in 6 years to spending thirty days in london and seeing it seven times in the end. the adrenaline of the donmar queue, the euphoria of getting tickets. walking into those hallowed halls, like being taken into a parallel dimension and coming out transformed. changed to the core. the early mornings of the harold pinter. the ritual of taking the picture of the bowl. texting the new friends from previous or today's queues to settle in. wishing each other luck and then being engulfed by darkness and the sound of losing your grip on reality.

knowing these people will never be this alive again. they've had their time. they got to tell their story over a hundred times, for two stolen hours, always hoping for it to end a different way, as if it was happening for the first time. "it was as if these words were heard for the first time in the universe." but on closing night it also was as if they were heard for the last time in the universe.

the hope. the love. the longing.

I have this intense desire to give this macbeth a hug. this person who stopped existing not quite two days ago, made his way to the realm of memory in thunderous applause. the last one he gets from young siward is some consolation, and yet I would have readily died for the privilege of giving him even a fragment of the tenderness he craves and then denies himself so violently.

these people so desperately needed their stories to be told and every single member of the cast bore that burden beautifully.

i already miss them. these exact versions. this exact lady macduff. this banquo. this ross. this seyton. this macduff. this duncan, doctor, gentlewoman, malcolm, lady macbeth, macbeth. people who always felt like they had a before, in between and after their time on stage. people who deserved better and yet there was nothing else for them to live than this.

this place felt so loved it radiated belonging into the audience at a frankly dizzying rate and I'll miss getting to be part of it so so much.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Could you maybe write fluffy period blurb??

Your writing is so good!

Here for you

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: nothing, just loads of fluff, kissing

“Y’know I’m on my way, right. Don’t worry. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Harry!”

“What?”

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because-it’s the first day of your period. You deserve love and care. And affection. And hugs. And kisses. From me. Lots”

“Okay-It’s just a period. Don’t worry. I’m okay”

“But I wanna worry. That’s why I’m at the supermarket buying you chocolates. And pads? Do you want pads? Or you use tampons? Or, oh! There’s this thing too-”menstrual cups” do you want them?”

You could imagine his scrunched-up confused face, while he was looking at all those in the female hygiene section. And honestly, you loved how he went there without hesitation, and was probably standing with one hand on his hip, the phone between his shoulders and tilted face, and the other hand holding the menstrual cups.

“No” you laughed, and you could hear him pout at the other end.

“Hey! Don’t laugh. I don’t come here often. Even looking at these packets makes me scared of how they work”

“You don’t have to! I just asked for a heating pad.”

“I know. Just wanted to do something extra. So you would love on me.”

“Harold. Please get out of there. I don’t need pads or anything else. Just bring the heating pad or I’ll have to come and get you before you fell into the void there looking at those. Or you get to know how tampons work.”

“What? Why-how do they work?”

“Bye”

>>>

After about half an hour later, you heard the bell ring. You lept off the bed, and walked across your apartment, to open the door for your boyfriend. You opened the door, and there he was, standing with 3 grocery bags, and a huge cheeky smile on his face.

“What’s all this?” you gasped, and he made a resting bitch face.

“Hi Harry, the love of my life. Nice to see you on a cold October afternoon. How are you? You brought me all this? How could I ever thank you?”

You rolled your eyes, and let him in. He flopped the bags on the sofa, and turned around to enclose you in a warm Harry hug.

“How’s my love?”

“I’m ‘kay. How are you?”

“I’m good. How are your cramps?”

“Terrible. But hugging you helps”

You stayed like that for a while, till his stomach grumbled with hunger and you pulled back to stare at him.

“What did you eat today?”

“Nothing?” he said, and you wanted to punch him for that.

“You want to take care of me, bring me so much stuff, most of which I don’t need. You could’ve atleast had lunch, Harry”you frowned, and he looked down like a child getting scolded.

“Hey. Look at me”

“Yes, ma’am”

“Why did you not eat?”

“I-I was excited about meeting you after so many days, so I kinda forgot. “

“You want me to make something for you?”

“No. That’s too much work. Let’s just order something."

You both flop down on the sofa, and scroll through the whole menu, while deciding on a Pepperoni pizza.

"Okay. Pizza done. Now, cuddle me."

Harry stretched his arms, and you snuggled close to his chest, and he wrapped his hands around you.

Your head was on his chest, and you could hear his heartbeat.

"You know it beats for you, right?"

"Huh?"

"M'heart. Beats for you."

He softly kissed your forehead, and the moment was so beautiful and special, you wanted to live in it forever.

You both almost fell asleep, and were woken up when the bell rang, the pizza was here.

"Y'sit here. I'll get it."

"No, baby. You sit. I'll get it."

He was about to get up, but you pushed him back on the sofa, and straddled his lap.

"You know you're Harry Styles, right?" you asked, looking down straight into his eyes and he gulped.

His heart started to beat faster, and you could feel his thighs shifting beneath you.

"Uh…yeah"

"So, sit here. I don't want people to know you have a girlfriend that lives here. Understand?"

You leaned in and nibbled at his jaw, and his pulse quickened, as you felt him nod against your lips.

"Great."

You pushed off him, before rushing to get the door. You took the pizza and paid the delivery, closing the door and going back to Harry.

He was still in the same posture you had left him in, and you could say that he was turned on by what you did.

"Pizza's here!"

You put the box on the table, opening it and taking a slice.

"Wanna watch something?"

"Sure. What?"

You turned on the Tv, and after scrolling through hundreds of titles, settled on Little Women.

Munching on the pizza, you watched through for only a few minutes, before you both began to talk, and the movie was forgotten.

"And I bought you pringles too, lots actually. I browsed through the whole snack line, and picked up one of everything I knew you'd like."

"I'll get fat."

"Don’t be silly. You won’t. And even if you do, you would look so damn cute."

He poked your cheeks, and some of the pizza sauce got on your face.

"Hey!" you squealed, before wiping your hands on his, and soon enough you both were throwing pillows at each other.

"You know you have to clean up, right?"you said, before launching another one, which hit him on his forehead.

"Yes!" you squealed, and climbed up on the sofa, celebrating.

"And just like that, poor Styles' was defeated. His majestic girlfriend won easily, as the poor guy got knocked out by a couch pillow. And if-"

You couldn’t finish, as Harry hoisted you up in his arms and threw you on the sofa. You pulled him down too, and your foreheads knocked together.

"Hey, get off! You're so damn heavy!"

"I'm not. I'm fitter than you."

"You're heavier than me. Get off or I'll get crushed!" You tried to push him, but he didn’t budge.

"Hey! You love the way my body looks."

"Not right now when it's crushing me! Ugh-"

"Nope, I won't. Say you love the way I look."

"Nope" you mocked him, "I wont!"

"Fine."

He started to tickle you, rubbing your sides profusely, making you fall into a fit of laughter.

"Harry-no, stop! I'll bleed through-I-"

"Oh fuck, sorry!"

He immediately got off, and you both sat up, catching your breath.

"Whew" you exhaled, before picked up one pillow, and threw it on him, and climbing back up on him.

"And Miss Yn wins again. Styles has gotten old, and Yn emerges as the new champion!"

He stood up, throwing you on the sofa. You sat up, and you both giggled at your childishness.

"Y'so lame, Miss Yn."

"I've gotten lame with you, Styles"

You shifted back into his arms, and he cuddled you in, and you wrapped your legs around him.

"I love you, Harry. I treasure you, and you are the love of my life."

You repeated his words from when he was at the door, and he blushed.

"I love you too, Ms Yn. The love of my life"

>>>>>>

sorry if this sucked, i tried my best!! ❤️

all the love, p. xoxo

my masterlist

here's my kofi if you feel generous!!

>>>>>>

taglist:

@freedomfireflies @gurugirl @thechaoticjoy @styleslover-1994 @gem1712 @ellaorchard @bxbyysstuff @opheliaofficial07 @rafaaoli @tchlamqtsgf @the-mouse27 @indierockgirrl @vrittivsanghavi @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @drewrry @babyiamperfectforyou @avalentina

let me know if you want to be added or removed!

[theshypinkflower]

IM ALIVE RETAIL BIT MY ASS SOBS anyway.... what if.... tpof cast with pets.... my bbg derek would probably have nontraditional pets lol but i also could see him with a smug bastard man cat

- 💫

🧨Derek:

-honestly it could be a lot of things cause, duh, he’s rich

-I imagine he’s gone through a lot of pets. Traditional and non traditional. Sal actually really loves dogs, so needless to say Derek has had his fair share of poodles and Doberman.

-Buuuuuuut there’s also been times where they’ve had animals that definitely shouldn’t be pets. Like a baby panther! I feel Derek really liked the baby panther but they had to get rid of it cause it was starting to get out of its cutesy phase (also they can’t really take care of a wild animal…)

-Derek’s gothic sister somehow got a raccoon in the house and kept for three days until Sal found out and made her out it back outside

-They probably have an aquarium but there’s just no connection with the fishies in said aquarium. They don’t have names. They get fed and get their tank cleaned and that’s about it.

-Pets are less companion and more novelty or accessory to Derek.

-Sal’s dogs always purebred. He enters them in competitions and they know how to do lots of tricks.

🍩Celia:

-MAJOR cat lady vibes. A girl as sleek and elegant as her deserves a pet that gives off the same vibe! She wants one of those fluffy white cats that look cute with little bows or a little ginger short hair.

-Harold of course HAS to have a pet allergy so…no cats for Celia. It pisses her off so much that she can’t get a cat because of her husband.

-Harold doesn’t even have a severe pet allergy, but he up plays it because he hates cats. He thinks they’re assholes. They’re cute but he doesn’t want someone pushing his coffee mug off the table. Plus he’d be having sneezing fits whenever he got home.

🐻Mason:

-Dog man. He needs an animal who can keep up with him! Plus it does get a bit lonely in the mountains. Solitude is nice but even a hermit needs some companionship.

-He’d go for hunting dogs. It’d make his chases a lot more fun, keeping you on your toes from not only a man with a crossbow but also a dog. He’d specifically train them to attack his victims, biting at your calf or anywhere really. Plus dogs make gathering food a bit easier.

-He’d want a Chesapeake bay retriever. He def goes for dogs with thicker fur since he lives up in the mountains. He’s a big dog guy! It’s that thing where pets look like their owners and that’s double true with Mason.

🦊Fox:

-Silly! You’re already his pet!

-He can dress you up to be whatever animal he wants! And the best part is you can talk! At least for now. Not to mention teaching you tricks is so easy! Lay. Good pet! Roll over! Gooooood! Carve your insides out. Go on. Do it.

-It’s so much easier having you for a pet, no? Besides he treats you well! Toys, a warm bed. (And frankly he’s not above putting down puppy pads for you. I know it’s gross but…he would.)

[goldfeizh]

"Harold with a Goth Reader!"

PAIRING : Harold/Reader, established relationship

FANDOM : Total Drama, headcanons

CONTAINS : Fluff, words like "pretty" and "gorgeous" used in a gender-neutral way

He ADORES you; He loves looking at you, watching you do your makeup, he loves it when you show him your outfit. Harold just genuinely thinks that you're really really pretty.

Harold would learn anything and everything he can about Goth Subculture. Like, the moment he realizes that he has a crush on you, he is gonna spend his whole night searching the internet for information to impress you with.

He often thinks about what he would look like if he was Goth, but he's also extremely reluctant to try it out. Although, he'd be secretly ecstatic if you offer to put makeup on him.

He has tried listening to Goth Music before, but he couldn't really get himself into it much. He definitely finds it cool, though, and he enjoys discovering new songs that he thinks you would like. PLEASE make playlists for this man, he doesn't even care if it's genres he actually listens to, the mere fact that you thought of him while listening to music already makes him so happy.

This man would defend you with his life— not as much physically, but he can and will talk anybody's ear off if they call you emo. He would ramble on about all the differences between Emo and Goth Subculture.

To be honest, Harold was probably intimidated by you at first. Like, he thought you looked cool, he was just a little nervous around you.

Once you actually talk to him, he becomes even more nervous— not out of fear, but because WOW, do you look gorgeous up-close. Mans is stuttering so much that you can't even understand what he's trying to say.

He's the type of guy to find some random object at a thrift store or a cool shiny rock, and he would bring it to you and be like "This reminded me of you! :D"

If you like literature or poetry, Harold would write poems for you. Most of it is really sappy and maybe a little cringy but it's cute.

Cemeteries freak him out, but if you like going to them, he would still accompany you. His hands are shaking while you hold them, he's jumping and flinching at every sound that he deems creepy, but he is staying by your side.

Concerts. He's never been to one but he thinks they're awesome and he would be over the moon if you asked him to go to one with you! He'd be happily holding your hand in the crowd. He's also rather tall, so he'll hold your phone for you up high to record the concert.

Harold enjoys celebrating Halloween with you. He has always wanted to dress up like a vampire, it is a childhood dream of his, and he will not admit it until you actually tell him that you wanna dress up as Vampires for Halloween.

He's a patient man but he can't deny the fact that it takes you so long to get ready. Like, if you guys are going to an event with a set time that you should be there by, he's waking you up atleast 2 or 3 hours earlier than the usual time you wake up so you can start getting ready earlier because he does not want to be late— unless it's an event that he doesn't really wanna go to, then take as long as you want.

For the Goth Harold lovers. I don't see enough xReaders for this man, he's one of my favorite characters and I think he deserves some love!! I'd also like to note that I'm not Goth, I tried to do as much research as I can, and also tried to keep some things genera and maybe a little vague because I didn't want to end up offending a group of people. Please tell me if I got anything wrong, constructive criticism, likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated!

[nebelihood]

I just CANNOT DEAL with your shortaki art!!!!!! they are such complex characters and you just GET them! I just UGH LOVE THEM SO MUCH! what do you like about them the most?

THANK YOU SO MUCH!!!! AAAAAA I'M SO GLAD AND I HOPE I CAN COME BACK TO IT!!!!

I LIKE EVERYTHING ABOUT THE SHOW- BUT, if you are asking me about just Arnold and Helga, hmm...

Well Helga's my favorite out of the two of them. I really like her and I justify her quite a lot, which my be wrong of me but I feel like she really deserves a chance,,,,

To begin with I love that her character despite being the "love interest" (or in this case the "love uninterest") meaning she helps to they show's dynamic with the purpose of being in love with Arnold- the show still gives her enough screen time for her to develop outside that dynamic. I consider that to be super rich taking in account the story was developed during the 90s. She has episodes entirely to herself (Just like Arnold, Gerald, Phoebe and Harold) were she struggles with rejection from her male and female classmates, deals with the idea of being ugly, feels scared with the idea of being gone and not missed, fear of death, and all her family episodes!

During the first season Helga was SUPER MEAN- LIKE unnecessarily MEAN. But I excuse her cause she was more childish (And they were probably still developing her) As the series progresses you can understand from where her anger develops, and you can also witness her doing acts of true kindness (With no credit at all) out of her true admiration for Arnold.

Arnold truly teaches her and inspires her to be a better person, despite having to deal with an alcoholic mom and real jerk of a dad (not to mention Olga the perfect sister). Being a neglected kid, A NINE YEAR OLD KID. THE EPISODE WHERE HER MOM WORKS AND JUST KICKS HER OUT, THAT EPISODE MAKES ME CRY EVERY TIME.

Helga is really mean, evil and careless. She really is, but who wouldn't be in such situation. She could either spend her days as a sad kid- but she chooses to fight it with angerness (Although sometimes we can see her sad with certain situations). And although her fixiation is bordering to a sick person (HAJAHS) she directs it into a good light. Fixiating on Arnold cause he's a good kid. He's kind, nice, helpful, etc. When Helga hurts someone, Her OWN brain tells her is wrong but in the shape of Arnold- someone who she deeply loves and hates to dissapoint and ends up doing the right thing.

IT'S STILL HELGA THE ONE WHO CHoOSES TO DO GOOD THO- Arnold it's only a great visual help.

DID YOU SEE HER ON THE POTION OF LOVE EPISODE- SHE LOOKED SO EMPTY WITHOUT ARNOLD. WITHOUT ARNOLD SHE CAN ONLY THINK ABOUT HER PROBLEMS- OR WHAT SHE DID TO AVOID THAT; NOT THINK ON ANYTHING AT ALL. AN EMPTY CHILD.

I'd write more but my wrist is tired already and I'm getting hungry,, ajahsj these are some reason (ARNOLD HAS HIS STUFF TOO BUT I CAN'T DO IT RN) I LOVE HEY ARNOLD- They really give importance to kids in stories so realisic in the adult world, idk how to explain it. I love how natural it feels despite not having grown in the 90s. The characters are developed so beautifully. I think the show really attacks the phrase "They are just kids, what do they have to worry about?" in a perfect way.

IAUGSH I CAN'T AAA,,

[burningvelvet]

Lord Byron responds to a fan letter from a woman named Harriette Wilson who was interested in befriending him, 1814:

“If my silence has hurt ‘your pride or your feelings’, to use your own expressions, I am very sorry for it; be assured that such effect was far from my intention. Business, and some little bustle attendant on changing my residence, prevented me from thanking you for your letter as soon as I ought to have done. If my thanks do not displease you, now, pray accept them. I could not feel otherwise than obliged by the desire of a stranger to make my acquaintance.

I am not unacquainted with your name or your beauty, and I have heard much of your talents; but I am not the person whom you would like, either as a lover or a friend. I did not, and do not 'suspect you,' to use your own words once more, of any design of making love to me. I know myself well enough to acquit anyone who does not know me, and still more those who do, from any such intention. I am not of a nature to be loved, and so far, luckily for myself, I have no wish to be so. In saying this, I do not mean to affect any particular stoicism, and may possibly, at one time or other, have been liable to those follies, for which you sarcastically tell me I have now no time: but these, and everything else, are to me at present objects of indifference; and this is a good deal to say, at six-and-twenty. You tell me that you wished to know me better; because you liked my writing. I think you must be aware that a writer is in general very different from his productions, and always disappoints those who expect to find in him qualities more agreeable than those of others; I shall certainly not be lessened in my vanity, as a scribbler, by the reflection that a work of mine has given you pleasure; and, to preserve the impression in its favour, I will not risk your good opinion by inflicting my acquaintance upon you.

Very truly your obliged servant, B.”

From the Memoirs of Harriette Wilson, discussing the letter:

"I had long been sentimentally in love with Lord Byron, and some years previous to the publication of the last canto of "Childe Harold," I had written to him to solicit the honour of his acquaintance.

"If, my lord," said I, in my letter, "to have been cold and indifferent to every other modern poet, while I have passed whole nights in studying your productions with the eagerness of one who has discovered a new source of enjoyment as surprising as it was delightful, deserves gratitude from the vanity of an author, or the gallantry of a gentleman, you will honour me with a little of your friendship."

Would you believe, reader, this eloquent epistle obtained me no answer during three long days? I was furious, and wrote again to tell him that he was a mere pedant; that my common sense was a match for his fine rhymes; that the best of us poor weak mortals—and I acknowledged him to be at the head of the list—must still be ignorant, subject to sickness, ill-temper, and various errors in judgment, therefore was there little excuse for his impertinence, in presuming to find fault with the whole world, as he had done in his "English Bards and Scotch Reviewers," at an age when his natural judgment could not be matured. It was vulgar, and showed the littleness which some want of philanthropy towards our poor fellow creatures always must evince. Was he really so superior, and would he crush the poor worms which dared not aspire to his perfections? Or was he but a mere upstart man, of extraordinary genius, without strength of mind to know what he would be at? Could he not, at least, have declined the honour I wanted to confer on him, civilly?

This eloquent letter ended simply thus, after assuring him that it was now much too late to make my acquaintance, as I had changed my mind and no longer desired it the least in the world—like the fox and the grapes—

"you be hang'd!

"HARRIETTE WILSON."

This, to a favourite, was tolerably severe; but when I take a liking to a person I must and will be something to them; so if they will not like me I always make it my business and peculiar care that they shall dislike and quarrel with me. Let me once get them into a quarrel and I am sure of them.

The next day I received the following answer from Lord Byron, dated Albany, Piccadilly.

[Letter from Byron inserted above]

This was very dry; but, I had not aspired to Lord Byron's love and I did not despair of making his acquaintance. I am indeed surprised that I never fell in love with his lordship; but, certain it is, that, though I would have given anything to have been his most humble friend and servant, his beauty was of a nature never to inspire me with warmer sentiments.

There was nothing whatever voluptuous in the character of it; it was wholly intellectual: and as such I honoured it; but give me for my lover an indolent being who, while he possesses talents and genius to do anything he pleases, pleases himself most and best in pleasing me! Au reste, I admire and look up to heroes, but indolent men make the best lovers.

I was a long while before I could convince Lord Byron that as a lover he would never have suited me; and really did not excite any passion in my breast; but, from the moment I had succeeded, his lordship threw off all reserve and wrote and spoke to me with the confidence of easy friendship and good-will, as though he had been delighted to find a woman capable of friendship, to whose vanity it was not at all necessary to administer by saying soft things to her."

[faxxmachine]

This is not a book review of A Little Life

So I read A Little Life and while I was gripped, I did not love it and the further away I get from reading, the more annoyed I about a few narrative choices. Some of them are what everyone else feels pissed off about but I have two that I keep coming back to that just seem so fucking unlikely to me: spoilers ahead.

Annoyed by the lack of women characters that were anything other than accessories, even Julia who was just kinda there. Not because I think Jude would be saved by women's inherent trauma-healing abilities or something, but because it's just really fucking unlikely? Also unlikely that no one he knew was also a survivor of some form of abuse and might have had a flicker of recognition, might have said something to him or to his friends?

Harold's narrative at the end in which he lists off the litany of people who died. Really pissed about Andy and Richard especially. Felt very cheap.

The embolism was so dumb. Just straight stupid. Difficult and unreliable besides being absurd.

I'm not annoyed as much as some about the insane wealth aspect. Jude worked really hard on his isolation and for this story to work he had to have the means to shape his life into a kind of bespoke safe space so he very rarely had to do things he did not want to do including Talk About It (until not talking about it got in the way of keeping Willem and even then it was not to help himself but to manipulate).

Ok, so. The two things: hearing survivor stories and the law.

Everyone was trying so hard to get Jude to talk to a therapist. Did anyone think that maybe what he needed was to listen to someone else? Is the point supposed to be that Willem is such a dunce that he did not consider doing some reading and maybe sharing what he's read? Did neither of them ever consume media of any kind because CSA and its effects on survivors is, while not exactly everywhere, it is very much out there and kind of difficult to avoid in the west. Fairly sure Willem might have done a film or a play? A NYT bestselling book everyone read? Representations on this theme in art shows? In music? In the news and in documentaries? There's no way Jude's bubble was that airtight. There's no way Andy was not talking to his own therapist about Jude, about his refusal to talk, or about how to get through to a stubborn self-destroyer such as he.

Jude did not Talk About It in a therapeutic sense at any point and that's emphasised as a thing that he regrets, that he feels he should have done so with Ana or around then, and that he thinks it is too late now. But I find it very difficult to believe he could have gone 50 years of his life without hearing, even incidentally, from other survivors of CSA. The sense that he was singular in his experience, that he was somehow meant for the abuse, that the cause of it was some inherent thing about his own person is common among survivors. It is also horseshit and easy to disprove with examples. It's also something I felt I wanted to confront him with myself when he was defending his refusals: do you think other children who have suffered similar also deserved it? Do you think they were not told they were made for it? Do you think CSA is that rare? Do you have a theory of mind for the perpetrators and a notion that they chose to hurt a child, and that it is wrong to do so (yes, even you)?

Also, he studied law. He did not specialise in criminal law (or seem remotely interested in it) but can someone studying law actually avoid learning about laws surrounding CSA almost completely? No triggers for him there? No thoughts on justice regarding other children? No pause in his self-flagellation to consider for one moment that maybe he is not to blame but the perpetrators? No? Just never came up anywhere?

????????

Anyway, it was beautifully written in places and I enjoyed the tender odes to love, life, family and friendship.