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spinningsidetable · 5 years ago

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Gentleman 2/3

Pairing: Octavian/Leo Valdez (leotavian)

Warning/Genre: Genre/Warning: AU, No Godly Parents, Spy Shit, Action Movie Parody, Non-Linear Story Telling, Admittedly Unhealthy Relationship, Descriptions of Violence, Dubious Consent Smooching, Sexual Situations,“Humor”

Rating: Mature

Summary: Leo has worked for the Agency for awhile now, the guy in the chair helping Agents save the world and all that, but now it seems like an actual supervillain is enamored with him.

(Notes: Sexual situations in this chapter, which will probably get the story flagged by tumblr. or maybe it won’t care, and just continue to mark pictures of my geckos as porn.)

Leo blearily opened his eyes and found himself in a familiar room. White plaster walls, deep red accents, and ancient looking columns on the veranda overlooking a lush garden. It would put the hanging gardens of Babylon to shame, or so Octavian had told Leo once. Leo didn’t know anything about plants, or the outdoors, or what it had to do with that show Babylon 5. But, it was really pretty. The whole base had a classic feel to it, like you’d been removed out of time, or if you had been transported into a bad series on the unfortunately named History Channel. Octavian had a weird thing for age-old Roman things, like conquest and domination. It was partly why no one was entirely sure if his name was Octavian from birth or not. It could have just been a complicated reference to Caesar Augustus, founder of Rome. The current theories about Octavian’s motives were world domination, or at least the creation of a new military state, a New Rome, but it hadn’t ever been confirmed. No one had much on him to go off, no known history, no paper trails, nothing. Just a love of gladiator movies, very presumably BDSM, and apparently Babylon 5. “Ugh,” Leo groaned, turning to grab the aspirin and glass of water he knew would be on the side table. “I should just move some shit in, spare clothes, maybe a toothbrush. I seem to be here often enough…” “I agree, mi amor.” Octavian said, reading from a book at the foot of the bed. Leo also knew he’d be there. “In fact, I believe we should get married. We’ve been dating for quite some time, now. What kind of ring do you want? I have access to an asteroid.” “I’m sorry to break this to you, but we’re actually not dating at all. Not even a little bit. Also, I can’t physically give you any heirs.” Leo sighed, running a hand through his hair. It wasn’t as messy as it usually was, but Octavian usually brushed it while Leo was out for the count. Leo’d never admit Octavian speaking specifically Spanish did things to him. “That’s something crazy dictators want, right? Bunch of heirs?” “Mm, ignoring adoption or surrogates, all we’d just need a host uterus, artificial or otherwise. My people have developed a way to combine the DNA of two men or two women within an artificial egg.” Octavian turned the page, like he wasn’t a supervillain bent on world domination (presumably) “Granted, I don’t particularly care about any heirs. It is possible though.” “Wait,” Leo held up a hand, realization dawning on him. “…Did Larry and Mark finally have kids?” “Mhmm,” Octavian closed the book, looking up at Leo with a pleasant (non-manic) smile on his face. “They’re trying.” “Oh my god, I’m so happy for them!” Leo’d really gotten to know a few of his guards by now. “I’m still not marrying you though, you just blew a hole in an aircraft carrier. That being said, I do also want access to an asteroid, would I get half of it if we got married?” Octavian shrugged a shoulder, never concerned. “I have a sneaking suspicion the military industrial complex will recover, for now. However, I am glad to hear you’ve changed your mind about my so-called manipulation via…how did you put it, sweet talk? I’m glad to hear you think it’s sweet.” Leo faltered, pushing the blankets off and getting out of bed. Silk pajamas, always the best. “That’s…” Leo had forgotten about that. That was right. He remembered the looks on Reyna’s face, on Piper’s and Jason’s. “…If I agreed to marry you, but I promised to never tell you a single secret about the Agency, about Jason, or about anything that could in anyway help you with any of your plans…you’re telling me you’d…be okay with that?” “Oh, mo ghaol, I’ve never assumed you’d tell me anything. Have I ever asked? Threatened you? Hurt you in any way?” Octavian stood, and came to Leo’s side. He raised a hand to Leo’s face, fingers resting causally at Leo’s neck and thumb rubbing small circles into his cheek. “I adore you.” “Why, though?” Leo looked at the floor, away from Octavian’s face. “I’m just…” “Brilliant, smart, handsome, clever, funny, beautiful, talented…” Octavian finished for him, tone slightly chastising, but in a fond way. “Yes, I have no idea.” “I’m 5’2, I’m a tooth pick, I’ve got like a mole on my forehead I keep covered with hair because I’m a little scared it might be an absorbed twin, because it’s got like this massive whisker in it I pluck secretly. And then I say things like that when I’m nervous…” Octavian laughed, shaking his head. “Your size is convenient, cute even; you still have a good deal of upper body strength, your muscles are toned even if you’re slim. And, you have a beauty mark. You’re interesting, and funny. It’s not like I’m particularly muscular either. I think you called me a murderous scarecrow for half a year.” Leo groaned and flopped back down onto the bed, “I still have braces, Octavian!” “It’s respectable that you care about oral hygiene,” Octavian responded with a shrug, kneeling down to the ground between Leo’s legs. He looked like a knight, bowing before his king. “I understand why the Agency may think I have ulterior motives; admittedly, you would be a great target. But, like I said, I truly adore you solnyshka. In time, you’ll accept that, because I believe you already know deep down that I’m telling the truth.” The Brazilian government had apparently covered up the fact that they had recently discovered a massive underground temple. It was a lost holy place for numerous native Brazilian tribes, but the current regime didn’t want to award any more protection of land over to the native peoples. Why? Because of course they didn’t. That would mean they couldn’t strip it for resources, who cared about history, preservation, or other cultures in the face of cold hard cash? The Agency was tasked with keeping peace, and with further private exploration of the temple before the government got to work. The entire place was still majorly unknown, the exact size and scale was a mystery. No one was entirely sure who built it even. Leo and another tech Rachel, were the grunts that were sent down into the terrifying and dark abyss with just flashlights and backpacks. They’d spent a week developing an advanced mapping system, that could create a 3D rendering of any hidden passages and tunnels. But, they had to place a few probes in the temple first at strategic points for it to work, which meant having to be there in person first. Two Agents accompanied them, Agent di Angelo and Agent Levesque. They were apparently the only ones willing to go spelunking with the tech-y desk jockeys. Leo would have preferred Jason, but he knew the guy was terrified of enclosed spaces underground. These two didn’t seem to be bothered by it in the slightest. The two Agents hadn’t talked much at first, but eventually Levesque and Rachel got on like wildfire. Di Angelo wasn’t so friendly, and when it came time to split up, Leo was disappointed he got stuck with the angry emo Agent baby, instead of the stupidly hot spy lady. Agent di Angelo only got angrier for some reason when Leo said as much. They had been walking throughout the tunnels in the cavernous temple for about an hour, when Leo and his babysitter came across an old rope bridge to the other side of the cave system they were in. It was too big to jump across, but Leo needed to get to the other side to place a probe. “Hey, too spooky?” Leo grinned, turning to the Agent who grimaced at said nickname. “Have you ever heard why the lion crossed the bridge?” “What are you talking about- Hey!” Leo was already darting across the bridge, backwards, big hefty backpack and all. He could feel it creaking and cracking under his feet, but Leo made it safely. “To get to the other side! Get it?” Leo called over, cupping his hands around his mouth. Agent di Angelo flipped him off. “That’s not very professional! Come on! It’s totally safe!” The rope bridge promptly snapped and collapsed into the nothingness below. “I rescind that! Don’t do it!” Agent Angel whipped out a comm and seemed to be having a very tense conversation with someone on the other line as he paced back and forth, his light moving around the room. “Hey, it’s fine, buddy!” Leo yelled. “I’ll just go plant the other probe, while you get like a ladder or something! Not like anything else is down here! You know, besides snakes, and spiders, and scorpions and other totally natural things that could kill me!” An hour or two later and Leo was increasingly worried there really was nothing down here. The temple seemed to be built into an existing cave system, which could theoretically be hundreds of miles long. It was just endless amounts of rock and water dripping and bats and bugs. Leo was getting tired, and hungry, so when he heard voices and the reflections of light in the distance, he couldn’t help himself. He bolted towards the commotion, waving his flashlight. “HEY! I’m so glad you-“ Leo found himself in a large cave opening, surrounded by men and women in black attire, now all pointing guns at his face. Octavian stood in the middle, eyebrow raised, and a manic smile beginning to overtake his expression. “Oh boy. I am lost. I am but a poor lost…Brazilian person. I got a bit turned around back there, I’ll just…turn around and go the other way.” “Don’t shoot,” Octavian waved a hand. “I know this little vagalume.” As Octavian walked forward towards sweaty, filthy, gross covered Leo, and the crowds parted around Octavian like he was some kind of God. Supervillains sure knew how to make an impact. “My, my, why are you here, meu querido?” Octavian’s smile was dangerous, and the flashlight casting shadows just accentuated the madness. “The Agency must know something, if they’re willing to send you in.” “I, uh,” Leo was flustered, his sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. “…Searched my soul? And found you!” Octavian laughed, coming close enough to rest his hand on Leo’s cheek. “Well, you weren’t what we were looking for, but I can’t say I’m displeased.” He turned to the men closest to him, “leve-o de volta ao acampamento.” Leo yelped as he was grabbed and thrown over a shoulder. “What the fuck did you just say?! Octavian! Hey! Why are we in the one South American country I can’t speak the language of! Oi, hablar español por favor-” “I hate you, I hate you so much, oh my god.” Leo gasped, moving up and down, his hands clenched into the headboard behind Octavian’s stupid face. Leo was sweating so much, it was disgusting. Had he sweat this much the first time he had had sex? No, Leo was pretty sure he had gotten in the girl, whimpered, and collapsed to the side pretty much immediately. “Do you want to stop?” Octavian grinned up at him knowingly, his own hands on Leo’s lower hips stopped encouraging him. Leo’s thighs were burning, his abdominal muscles were tensed almost the entire time. He needed Octavian’s help to keep going, to keep moving. Leo was already shaky after extended foreplay, he had already spent holding himself up on his arms and knees as the villain decided to take his time and use his tongue. “I will actually kill you if you stop,” one of Leo’s hands left the headboard to dig into Octavian’s scalp and pull him forward for a messy kiss. The angle shifted Leo away from riding the cock inside him, to just rocking back and forth in a needy manner. He needed more momentum, the pressure was good, it was so good, but he needed more. It didn’t help that Octavian had a hand around his cock, with just enough pressure at the base of the shaft that Leo couldn’t find the release he was looking for. He wasn't stroking it, he wasn't doing anything that Leo needed. He was being an actual cocktease. “I will remove your windpipe I swear to god, I refuse to be a pump and dump,” Leo pulled away, nipping just slightly at Octavian’s lower lip. “Octavian, come on, estoy loco por ti, te necesito. Please?” Octavian’s eyes were normally very light blue, but right now Octavian’s pupils were blown wide and black. He flipped Leo over onto his back. “Anything for you, the entire world for you.” Maybe he was easy, Leo thought, sprawled out in bed that night. 16 kidnappings were all it took for him to go full Stockholm Syndrome. Octavian was asleep next to him, completely defenseless, if you didn’t count the armed guards outside and the whole island fortress thing. “Poor thing, wore himself out”, Leo whispered as he reached over and pushed a few pieces of hair away from the man’s forehead. Granted, Leo had fully passed the fuck out after their romp as well, he just woke up sooner. The benefits of horrific insomnia, not even 3 orgasms could keep him asleep for long. “Oh my god, I slept with a supervillain,” Leo flopped back down onto his pillow. The thread count on these sheets was ridiculous. “Repeatedly.” “Mm, was I at least a gentlemen?” Octavian’s voice was somewhat rough from sleep, and probably from the blowjob, but he was awake enough to throw and arm around Leo’s side and pull him close. “Very much so,” Leo whispered back, shoving his face into Octavian’s neck. “Maybe…I can be the…uh, gentleman next time?” Octavian had a great dick, just perfect. Hit all the spots. Looked good, felt fucking fantastic. But, he also was pretty in his own way, and had a nice ass. Leo wanted in it. “Whatever you wish, mi amor. I look forward to it.” Octavian pulled Leo in closely, kissing his forehead. He really was a gentleman. Octavian then swung a leg over Leo, and straddled his waist. “Wait, right now?” “We are going to fucking die!” Leo screamed at the scarecrow on stilts. “I refuse to die because a piece of anthropomorphized spaghetti with a God complex kidnapped me!” Octavian looked mildly annoyed at the insult, or maybe just the fact Leo had been yelling nonstop for about five minutes. Octavian rarely looked particularly bothered by anything Leo did or said, so he must have been fairly stressed out. “We’re not going to die from this,” Octavian glanced at his passenger, who hadn’t put down a small metal lighter. “We might die if you burn up all our oxygen, however.” Leo’s eyes narrowed, and he flicked the lighter shut. “Don’t talk to me like I’m stupid, Julius Caesar. Your navigation system is shot, your craft is taking on water, and the control panel is fucking glitching halfway to Siberia. You did this, this is your fault. I’m smaller than you, when we inevitably die horrifically here, I want to at least survive long enough to see you die first. You’ll need oxygen before I do.” “No,” Octavian corrected, clenching his jaw. “Your Agency did this by sabotaging my submersible, knowing fully well you were aboard. So much for loyalty.” Leo rolled his eyes, and threw his legs up on the console, as they were starting to get soggy. “No, they didn’t. I’m too valuable. They’d still be stuck with tech from the 50’s if it wasn’t for my ass. Say, how painful would it be to get eaten by sharks?” “Probably very,” Octavian grabbed one of Leo’s feet and tossed it off the machinery. “You know very little about the organization you work for, apparently. They track all assets.” “Uh, yeah, no shit. I removed that crap forever ago.” Leo gestured at a small scar on his arm. “So, again, back to being your fault. You, alone, used a submersible to kidnap me. In my fucking pajamas!” They were classic teenage mutant ninja turtles, Leo had told Octavian. “I thought it would be…” The madman, for once, appeared to be struggling to find the words. “Romantic. Moonlit dinner, with nothing but the ocean around us.” Leo looked in the back of the compartment, at the nearly cliché picnic box and bottle of wine. There were even fucking roses. “Goddammit. Move, you asshat.” Leo got out of his seat, and pushed Octavian to the edge of his own, sitting beside him. Octavian looked at him curiously, but Leo was already starting to fiddle with the console controls. It didn’t look like much was happening. “If we are to die here, then I can’t say I mind the company,” Octavian admitted, only to get flipped off. “…Leonardo was always my favorite ninja turtle.” Leo sat up sharply, looking directly at the man. “Where the fuck are you from?! I swear to Christ, how do you speak 500 languages, yet know TMNT? Ain’t no one in American public school systems do word good.” “Maybe I was raised by a giant rat in the New York city sewers?” Octavian offered, with a smirk. “Who knows. You know, I know some about your past. You were doing extremely advanced mathematics in elementary school. You make fun of my education, but you’re obviously brilliant yourself, in fields and ways much more advanced than I.” “I hate you, leave me alone, I’m working.” Leo’s face was slightly red as he grumbled but turned back to the display. “…I expect more than a picnic when I save your pasty white butt.” “Of course, mój drogi.” The water had gotten uncomfortably close to the electrical equipment, but it had only taken Leo a few minutes before the submersible was back in some amount of working order. It would still sink, it was taking on far too much water with no way of repairing physical damage like that, but at least now they could deploy the emergency raft. Within five minutes, they were sitting in a black and red raft. It wasn’t small or flimsy, thankfully. Leo had enough room to fully stretch out on the blanket that had been in the picnic basket. Octavian had made a call to his men, it was likely they’d be there within the hour, but for the time… Octavian laid down beside the shorter man, staring up at the stars. “I guess it is kind of romantic. Maybe not the impending threat of death so much, but it is pretty out here. There’s not as much pollution out here…the stars are really bright.” Leo pointed at a few, “do you know any constellations?” Octavian did, so instead of answering, sat up on his elbow and leaned over to kiss the mechanic. Leo jerked backwards, eyes wide. “What the hell, did you just kiss me?” Octavian kissed him again, before pulling back and looking mighty pleased with himself. “I hate you, that’s such a breach of my personal space, it is completely uncalled for.” Leo ranted before he was grabbing the back of Octavian’s head and pulling him in for another.

#fanfiction #mypjofanfiction #pjo fanfic #pjo Octavian #hoo octavian #octavian #Leo Valdez #leotavian

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borisbubbles · 6 years ago

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Eurovision in the 80s: The Ranking

The moment y’all have been waiting for. I’ve recently rewatched all the years in the 1980s and I will now rank the Contests in this very post for Posternity’s sake. If you feel like watching an eighties year, feel free to use this post as a guide as to what to watch and what to avoid :)

Disclaimer: While I will also include a ranking of the songs, i will only be discussing the Contests themselves. No write-ups on individual entries, because it’s best left for you to discover... oh and because I’m a lazy PoS.

Oh and for those who can’t tell, a legenda: Dark Green: ICONIC entries that are amongst the all-time greatest. Lush Green: Great entries that I loved or Iconic entries that I liked. Lime Green: Entries that I liked or contributed something of value to the contest. Yellow: Mehzone. Orange: Entries that I disliked or whose presence detracted from the contest Red: Pieces of shit that need to be set on fire.

Without any further ado:

10. Lausanne 1989 (Winner: Yugoslavia)

What a godawful year. Maybe my least fave, ever? This contest is the only one in the decade I’d recommend you to avoid. It has a myriad of problems (shit hosts that insist on speaking French throughout the entire contest although it’s fucking NINETEEN-EIGHTY-NINE; hideous stage, Basic Bitch winners), but the most problematic one is the music. The best song... is Céline Dion’s opener and it just goes downhill from there. There’s a dearth of fun, uptempo bops, the contest consisting of mostly lame (even by Eurovision standards) death fodder, some of the worst experimental shit I’ve ever seen (including *two* child singers O_O) and anonymous ballads you forget the INSTANT they’ve finished; It’s like the worst fucking case of musical prosopagnosia you’ll ever witness. The only song which shines is Denmark’s antiquated schlager, but mostly because I needed SOMETHING to cling onto for dear life to prevent me from slitting my wrists GOOD LORD.

9. Harrogate 1982 (Winner: Germany)

A year that looks way better on paper than it is in practice. The problems with Harrogate 1982 are two-fold: first, the podium is way too fucking small to stage anything that isn’t a ballad or a chanson. Secondly, the entries are not memorable at all, except for Finland, Norway and Luxembourg which are all DREADFUL. Otherwise the contest can be condensed to “mildly pleasant middle of the road pop songs and Nicole.” So about Nicole: she’s definitely one of the Greatest Winners of the franchise, but her mere presence turns Harrogate 1982 in one of those ‘Business Trip’ years (for other examples: see 1974 and 2012): It’s obvious that Nicole is a full category ahead of all the others and is going to beat the crap out of them... which is precisely what happens and it’s fucking underwhelming. Like, why even hold a contest if the result is going to be that obvious? Not a BAD year per se, but not a very satisfying one.

8. Dublin 1981 (Winner: United Kingdom)

While 81 certainly looks worse than 82 on paper (there is a larger amount of boring songs), it’s actually slightly better, on pretty much every level: the good songs are more memorable, the bad songs are less memorable (a huge plus!!), the stage is bright lit and pleasant, the voting is exciting (”Yugoslavia, may I have your votes please?” “I DON’T HAVE IT!!!” *sound of receiver being slammed down on table* 😍), the winner is satisfying, etc. That being said, “slightly better than 1982″ is still fucking average though, lol.

7. Dublin 1988 ( Winner: Switzerland)

Fucking Dublin, hosting the contest six fucking times, only ONE of them actually good. :-/ Anyway, 1988 is a really weird year in that it has flashes of utter brilliance (including a very exciting voting tally) but still manages to be mediocre overall. It’s one of those years that has a blazing start and then... dies a slow horrible death around the halfway mark. There are.. three? good entries after Céline, who performed NINTH... in a contest with 21 songs X__X The ugly stage defo doesn’t help and I would also recommend that if you chose to watch this, to mute the sound whenever hostess Michelle Rocca attempts to speak 'French' (tho at least she tries to speak a different language, unlike the shitty hosts the year hereafter 😒)

6. Luxembourg 1984 (Winner: Sweden)

1984 is a lovely, lightweight year. It doesn’t set my world on fire, given the lack of green entries, but most entries rank near the top of their coloured tier (and “Terminal 3″ is easily the best Irish entry of all times). Its overall vibe is pleasant, the stage is excellent, the hosting competent and the winner satisfying. Not something I’d stay up for, but defo something I’d love to watch when I want to clear my head.

5. Gothenburg 1985 (Winner: Norway)

1985 is a classic example of a “Good vs Evil” contest. It has a slow start, including some of the worst crap ever on Eurovision (’Für Alle’ is a contender for my least favourite Eurovision entry of all times) and then it turns into a wonderful dreamscape with several all-time great entries, culminating in an ending where Evil is slain by Good (in the forms of Bobbysocks and the UK Jury) and everyone lives happily ever after 🤗. Oh and it features Lill Lindfors whose deadbeat sarcastic self can barely contain her disdain for said aforementionned Evil entries, lobbing shade at them whenever she can. <3

4. The Hague 1980 (Winner: Ireland)

An excellent year of Eurovision. I always enjoy rewatching 1980. It has good pacing, an attractive stage, memorable songs, the bad songs are fun to hate (Netherlands’ especially, as it’s a song about the beauty of Amsterdam... in a contest taking place in The Hague 🙄🙄...😂). By far one of the funniest contests in Eurovision.

3. Bergen 1986 (Winner: Belgium)

Another excellent year of Eurovision. I don’t have a single red or orange entry until song #14, which is one of the longest streaks of Not-Bad in Eurovision. Even then, the songs in yellow could’ve been light green had I felt generous at the time. The crystal cavern aesthetic is beautiful, Ase Kleveland is an excellent hostess despite being sandwiched between Lill Lindfors and Victor Laszlo. 1986′s best feature is the abundance of excellent trainwreck entries, giving the year a distinct light character that makes it infinitely rewatchable. A pity that it kinda sags near the end.

2. Brussels 1987 (Winner: Ireland)

One of my favourite contests of all time. It’s a lot like 1980, in that 1987 is also an immensely funny year (and I don’t even like the Lazy Bums), but unlike 1980 the comedy is mostly unintentional, which is even better. The B-material in 1987 (arguably half the entrants <3) consistently try to outperform themselves and it is just delightfully amateur, flawed and fun (and of course pans out to them receiving ~20 points collectively 😂). This without taking into account the stage, which is one of the most beautiful dark stages in Eurovision, the VTs featuring different Belgian comic book characters and Viktor Laszlo, who is one of the best hosts this franchise has ever known. Baby, I’m Breathless, yeah.

1. Munich 1983 (Winner: Luxembourg)

While 1987 is more my taste, 1983 is the more well-rounded contest. LOOK at all that dark green. Look at where they rank on the overall 80s list. This contest has a few weak links, but it matters little for when an 1983 entry is good, it’s freaking fantastic and erases all the previous blandness from memory.

1983 is also an underrated year in terms of hosting (Hostess Marlene attempting to host trilingually ALL BY HERSELF <3), aesthetics (using HIDEOUS flag-shaped floral pieces instead of VTs <3) and Terry Wogan commentary (defending the Avant Garde entries he otherwise despises <3 getting all of his trivia wrong <3). It was the first past contest I watched back in the day (early 2012 lol) and an excellent year to start with if you haven’t tried watching an early year yet.

#Eurovision Song Contest #1980s #Eighties

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