#so there's very few of us to make that much sound but moroccans were fucking awesome today both in the field and crowd the energy was 10/10

[neptunianashes]

I gotta say after watching this belgium moroccan match that by far the best crowd fans in this world (so far!!) were those of Morocco. They were from the first minute to the last cheering and whistling NONSTOP every single second of the match, it was defeaning how loud they were. I looooved Moroccan energy today. It was contagious how much they hyped the game and the players felt it and gave their best.

[wizkiddx]

work with me

this is for @worldoftom 'lolbrosgetsicktoo' challenge event thing - go check it out bcos lots of much better writers have got involved too✨! I'm v new to these things but I tried :) the prompt was: 'would you quit whining and just get in the bath' . (also look at me acc posting sort of regularly, who'd of thought?!?!)

warnings: sickness / fever (more dramatic than it needs to be) / LOTS of medical inaccuracies

summary: when tom doesn't take advice and ends up very ill, very far from home, there's one person whose stuck dealing with it

“Please Tom… I need you to work with me!”

It wasn’t his fault he was being a complete nightmare, though your patience was wearing off somewhat.

For context, you were in Morocco, where he had been filming part of his next film, which only made trying to take care of him that bit harder.

Everyone got ill sometimes. It wasn’t his fault.

That was the mantra ringing through your head, even if you had a more challenging time believing it. Tom wasn’t stupid, as much as he liked to joke about it. HOWEVER, what he was less good at was heeding warnings. He was a white boy in Morrocco; the health and safety briefing had literally been aimed at him. Had he taken the advice not to eat any dodgy looking meats at the market?

Of course not; that’d be boring.

Everyone else was fine. You’d all sampled Morroccos culture without giving yourselves the worst case of food poisoning you’d ever witnessed. But not Tom - possibly one of the only ‘indispensable’ people on the set. If you, or one of the minor characters, or even the director, had got ill - the show could continue.

When you’d been rudely awoken by your phone going off, you’d known instantly. It was as if you’d told him not to take a bite out of the weird burger once you were away from the eager view of the street vendor. Sure enough, with bleary eyes, you hissed at the brightness of the phone screen before seeing ‘Tom H’ on the screen.

“Y/n?” His voice was croaky, but just from the single call of your name, it was clear he was feeling sorry for himself.

“Are you okay? It’s late T.”

“Um I… can you come over? You…you might need the key I’m - um- in the bathroom.”

As his stylist, it technically wasn’t part of your job description to also be mother when he was sick, but (unfortunately for you) after the 3 years working side by side with him - you were also friends.

Which you were almost regretting by the second time rinsing the toilet bowl clean after he’d evacuated what seemed to be the majority of his vital organs into it. Honestly, it was impressive how he managed to keep going.

That had been at around 4 in the morning- the doctor had been called at 8, coinciding beautifully with his 5th toilet extravaganza. Once the doctor had confirmed your original, if completely unqualified, diagnosis of food poisoning - you hadn’t been able to bite your tongue. Perhaps an ‘i told you so’ might’ve slipped past your lips, but Tom was a bit too out of it to argue back.

You’d been given firm advice from the doctor - he said little sips of water, rest and control his temperature. It all had seen pretty simple - though the action? Not so much.

It wasn’t his fault, yet Tom was not super compliant. You and Harry had both been taking turns in practically forcing him to take sips of water, having to turn off ‘modern family’ till he did. The blackmail had put you both in his bad book.

Honestly, thank the lord Harry was here too. You’d woken him up at seven, begging for help and since then, you’d tagged teamed. While one was looking after Tom, the other was phoning the director, the doctor, and the crew to inform them of the current situation.

Again, of all people. Why’d it have to be Tom?

Mainly because you knew how mortifying he found this. He didn’t like people fussing over him, never had. He liked to work hard, liked to make people happy - definitely didn’t like to feel a burden. Perhaps what made him feel ten times worse was that he knew he was inconveniencing the whole production team massively.

And yes, as you’d unhelpfully reminded him, it was ‘his fault’.

The lavish hotel room, big bathroom and pretty efficient AC still didn’t manage to mask the pungent in-the-back-of-your-throat smell from the bathroom. At the doctor’s advice, who had been a little concerned at Toms fever, Harry had cranked the AC on high. It had forced you to steal one of Tom’s big hoodies and a pair of joggers- you hadn’t left his room since he first called you, still wearing your tiny pyjama shorts and an old tee.

“Please turn the air con off.” His little voice whined from where he was lying, huddled up under the covers. Perched on the other side of the double bed, but over the covers with your laptop on his lap, you could actually feel him shivering with the chills. It felt like you were torturing the poor boy.

“T you know I can’t. It’ll make your fever worse.” The way he looked up at you, like a little Labrador that you were refusing to pet, actually pained your heart.

Okay, so yes it was his fault, but you weren’t mad, you just felt so awful for him.

“Please I’ll- I’ll pay you more.” His voice was hoarse; though he denied a sore throat, it sounded like the constant sickness was burning his windpipe.

“Tommm” you pouted, sticking your bottom lip out “I don’t want your money, want you to get better.”

Apparently giving up, brown eyes shot you the filthiest look in disappointment, rolling to face away from you. You thought he was giving you the silent treatment in a huff, but instead, he was praying on the weaker one.

“Harry, I’ll buy you that set of golf clubs-“

“NO!” You had to interrupt before Harry would say yes - because from the way his younger brother shot up from the arm chair, he was about to. Scowling eyes slowly focused back on you in annoyance, making you huff - shutting the laptop and kneeling on the bed to face him. After pressing the back of your palm to his forehead, which was scorching hot, you sighed. “I know you feel shitty and I’m so so sorry but I’m trying to make you better. So shut up, drink this and go to sleep!”

Like a child scorned, you received another death glare however, then he complied, taking a sip of the water you offered before lying back - huddling even tighter.

And it had been relatively peaceful for a few hours; Tom seemed to be getting some sleep - even if he was tossing and turning. Eventually, a prescription that the doctor had requested worked its way through the system, Harry getting a text to say he could go pick it up. The nearest pharmacy was probably a 30 minute drive from the hotel, so he left as soon as.

This left you alone with Tom, where the situation only descended into more chaos.

Almost as soon as Harry had left, Tom had stirred with a grunt. All it took was one look at his face for you to know. Both of you leapt up and flew into the toilet, Tom once again getting very familiar with the Moroccan toilet bowl.

This time though, when he had leant backwards, he’d sort of lost control and flopped most the way - you catching him before he could hit his head on the tiled floor.

“Woah, easy there!” It wasn’t like he’d passed out, but the look in his eye as he slumped into your lap… he wasn’t all there either. “Hey Tom… you with me? Tom?”

Lazily he blinked up at you, not really replying except for groans of half-formed words.

Deciding this had all got a bit direr, you almost sprinted back into the room, grabbing your phone and returning. He was still on the floor, his thumb and first finger pressing into each eye - groaning again.

“Hey Tom? I’m gonna call the doctor you need anything?” He whined in response, stopping only when you stroked his sweaty hair back, most of your attention on dialling the correct number.

The solution he’d given wasn’t pretty: Tom’s fever was too high hence why he was all woozy and groany. Until the doctor could get over with the stronger medications, you needed to lower his temperature in other ways or take him to hospital. He’d absolutely hate hospital, but the other choice? Boy, was he not going to like it either.

Ignoring Tom’s croaked question of what you were doing, you busied yourself switching on the bath taps. You let the water run until it was the right (very mild) temperate, then turned back to Tom, who’d managed to work himself up to sit against the sink unit.

“The doctor says you need it.” His brain was foggy, his mind was slow but your tone told him enough to know something was wrong with the bath. “Just take your clothes off and then I’ll help you-“

“Absolutely fucking not.” Good. He was still with it enough to argue.

“I am just as uncomfortable as you are Tom, but we both know you can’t stand up without fainting, so you are going to need my help.”

“Y/n!”

“Keep your boxers on and it’s just like a fitting! I’ve seen you have those before!”

It was clear as day just how emasculated he felt, especially because he knew you were right. Sitting up at this current moment was a push; there was no way he was getting in the bath without some help. Defeatedly he nodded, but gave you a piercing look to turn around before he started wiggling himself out of the flannel pyjama trousers and light cotton t-shirt. Most confusingly, he still felt freezing cold, yet he had long since learned not to argue with you - especially when your justification came from the advice of a doctor.

Your cue to turn around came in the form of an extra angry-sounding grunt- the look you got when you did wasn’t much better either. It was a weird contrast, though, having someone who physically appeared so indestructible (a superhero for crying out loud); to have been absolutely beaten to a pulp by a few mouth fulls of weird meat. You had seen his bare torso before, although it still wasn’t something easy to get used to - making you clench your teeth together just slightly. A very welcome view.

Perhaps you looked just a little too long at the man who was technically your boss, hunched angrily on the floor in nothing but his calvins - another grunt shaking you out of it. By now, the bath was almost full and you hurried to shut off the water, feeling your cheeks heat up as you cursed silently to yourself.

“Okay come on, gimme your arm.” Begrudgingly Tom followed your request, slinging his arm heavily over your shoulder as you crouched beside him. As strong as he looked, you knew right now he felt powerlessly weak - all that muscle was just going to be almost dead weight.

Now it was your turn to grunt and groan as you pulled Tom up to stand, him focusing on blinking away the headrush he got.

“Come on T work with me here.” Getting him to the side of the bath wasn’t too difficult, the issue came when he stepped with one foot into the bath and yelped, instantly withdrawing as if it was a literal ice bath.

The sudden movement had you both losing balance, ending with Tom sitting on the edge of the bath and you leaning over him, in between his legs, and slapping your hand on the wall opposite purely so you both didn’t end up in the bath.

“Tom!”

“It’s like ice water!”

“Its lukewarm like the doctor said!”

“It is not its from the fucking arctic!”

“Oh for god sake!” Exasperated, you paced up and down the bathroom shaking your head at his ridiculousness. This was ALL. HIS. FAULT.

You came back to him with an ultimatum.

“It’s this or the doctor said I had to drag your ass to hospital.”

“Nooooooo.” The 25 year old seemed to convert into a whiny three year old again.

“Those are the two options. So will you PLEASE quit complaining and get in the bath.”

Keeping up the toddler persona, Tom huffed but reluctantly nodded in agreement - you had come up trumps. It didn’t stop him yelping when you helped to lower him in. His breath was shaky, as a response to the ‘cold’, but he was firming it. At least when you felt his forehead after a couple of minutes, it certainly seemed as though the fever was starting to ease off .

“You can go if you want.” His voice was murmured and as you looked up at him, he did his very best to avoid your gaze.

“Not a chance, if you drown on my watch, Nikki will never forgive me.” At the very least he seemed to appreciate your joke, scoffing a little with a small nod. “If you don’t want me here I get it. As soon as Harry’s back, I’ll swap with him.”

“No! It’s not that its… I’m just an ass when I’m ill.”

“A self aware ass, though.” Again he chuckled a little, as you folded your arms on the edge of the porcelain tub, resting your head lying to one side. “You had me pretty scared there for a moment, you know?”

He nodded a little, creating a wave of ripples in the water which you watched to avoid his gaze - which you knew was tracing all your features inquisitively.

“Hey it’s in the job description, always a bit dramatic... I’m sorry though I should never of called you- don’t know why I didn’t just get Harry.” In response you tutted, taking a moment to lean up and push his sweaty curls back a bit.

Just because you could, it was allowed in this moment.

“’m glad you did.”

“Yeh me too” He sighed, eyes fluttering shut in the easy silence of the bathroom. You kept a vigilant eye on him for the next 20 minutes, checking the temperature of his forehead using the back of your hand, whilst he seemed to finally get a bit of proper restbite, appearing like the worst had passed. You had no idea what was taking Harry so long; in fact it was the doctor that arrived first- who you ran to let in (not wanting to leave Tom asleep in the bath one bit).

Whilst the doctor did all his checks, taking his temperature properly this time, satisfied that it was much more manageable. He still wanted to set him up with some oral rehydration rescue packs to get his hydration status a bit better and give some anti-sickness tablets and antipyretics.

Having actually been getting some rest before all the prodding and poking, Tom was back to being a grumbling dick - now not wanting to leave the bath (the irony was real - making you roll your eyes). Once again, he appeared embarrassed to have you see him like this, so you left the doctor to help him get out and changed- instead going down to reception to get a fresh set of sheets, as he’d done a pretty impressive job of sweating through the old ones.

Even if tired and grumpy, when Tom exited the bathroom, he looked much better - he was walking himself without the doctor’s help. Which honestly was such a relief because when he had passed out on you, you genuinely were terrified. Thankfully the doctor stayed for the next 20 or so minutes, which was just when Harry returned with a bag of medications - which were now wholly redundant, given the doctor had already supplied everything.

“What happened?” Harry asked you in a hushed voice, whilst Tom was distracted with getting his medications. Recounting the story of Tom pretty much passing out, Harry grimaced for you, then launching over to give you a tight hug.

“Are you okay?” That was a novel idea, you hadn’t really thought about yourself at all - but honestly, you were a bit shaken, having been running on adrenalin for most of the night.

“I-uhm… yeh I think so… just-just was a bit scared, I guess? Felt bad too because he didn’t want me there but-“

“I can promise you Y/n, he did want you there. Just probably embarrassed he wasn’t all manly and that…” With a nod, you smiled softly at the frizzy-haired boy.

Whilst working with Tom, it also meant getting pretty close to his younger brother. The two Hollands were almost attached at the hip, which you were very much okay with.

It was weird though... your relationships were completely different. Harry was just your brother, through and through. He wound you up like a sibling but also knew you as if he had your whole life. With Tom… it wasn’t that. Arguably, you were closer to Tom, but on a different level. It was more exciting, more nerve-wracking and heartwarming all at the same time. Honestly, you couldn’t get your head around it properly.

“Hey, you’re probably shattered. Why don’t you go back to your room and get some sleep? I got it in here.” You knew Hary was trying to offer something nice, and now all the excitement had worn off, you were unbelievably shattered. But you didn’t like the idea of not being there, as a just in case.

“Uhm, I think I might just stay, you know?” And he did, with a deliberate, knowing smile, he nodded.

He knew you were worried. He knew Tom had really really scared you. He also knew how much you cared about his brother.

Just like how Harry knew Tom wanted you there, even if he felt embarrassed. Well, anyone would- when you are passing out half-naked in front of the one person that really matters.

It was just at this point that the doctor was done, giving Harry instructions about the rest of the day, when you made a beeline for the bed. Tom was propped up against the headboard, still with a pale sullen look and tired eyes, but a bit less clammy and more human. He cracked a smile as you crawled up onto the other side of the bed, kneeling next to him.

“How’re you doin’?”

“All drugged up, just feel fucking exhausted.” Instinctively you reached up to feel his forehead, really appreciating the fact it felt almost normal.

“Join the club mate, I had a 5am wake up call too.” You almost whispered, intending to make Tom laugh, but instead only getting a pout.

“I am sorry, a-are you going to go back to your room?”

“Nah” Tom’s eyes didn’t light up, except the fact that they very much did. “Can’t trust you not to get into trouble while I’m gone Holland.”

“Thanks.” He laughed weakly before shimmying down on the bed, so he was much more comfortable. “And thankyou, I-I’m sorry I’m a dickhead and made your life-“

“Shut up Tom!” Laughing, you lightly slapped his arm, also leaning down on the bed, so you were lying facing him. “You’re all feverish; go to sleep before you say something stupid.”

There was a long pause, Tom just gazing deep into your eyes, because he was pretty sure what he was thinking was nothing to do with the dodgy unidentified meat he’d had the evening before.

“What... like asking you out?”

…..

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so stupid.”

~~~~im really not sure how I feel about this one, let me know what you thought ;) ~~~~

tagging: @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter@hollandfanficlove

[cloveroctobers]

YASMIN DOUGLAS—

IG info/Bio: @/imyasmin_d | 11.6k followers | hello & ahlan 🎶

23-24 years old depending on her birthday (I’m thinking too much about timelines since i know some shows aren’t live and if they filmed it prior & it’s just being shown to us now...then there’s the boat party that comes in after, you get what I’m saying right? No? Okay)

Moroccan heritage

she was born in fes along with her baba

Father works in the carpet & rug manufacturing industry and worked in his father’s business from the young age of 16

her mother is from Essaouira & has often stated that she couldn’t stand Yasmin’s father the first time they met but she wouldn’t want to travel through this life with anyone else

Her father and mother came from two different lifestyles. All he knew how to do was hard work yet he had a sarcastic but playful side to him whereas her mom came from a family that was more financially stable & she was free to do whatever! mainly hanging at the beach with her friends without a care in the world, she was privileged and a little uppity while her father’s life seemed to be planned out from the day of his birth

Yet they still fell in love and decided to leave Morocco months after they got married at 21 & 24 & not too long after they had yas they left for England

She was raised in Kent, England

The Atmosphere led to her boho lifestyle...being exposed to castles, gardens, and underground tunnels from time to time shaped her into what she felt she was meant to be. She loved her second home

they call her “yazzy”

Parents follow islam...Which Yasmin respects but is not strongly devoted to

Can speak & write in Arabic but seems to do better in writing

Her paternal grandparents fault her parents for not teaching her to excel at both & feel that if they weren’t in such a rush to leave home she would speak Arabic better

Which made Yasmin feel like shit. Her paternal grandparents were strict on keeping their customs alive whereas her maternal grandparents were carefree as long as they got to see their granddaughter alive & well that was good enough for them

Idk maybe a only child or has a older brother? I don’t feel like she comes from a big family sibling wise

her mother made her a stuffed purple sheep that she took everywhere with her as a kid & continues to keep close to her. Y’all had imaginary friends? Well Yasmin had a real friend she could see & squeeze the life out that didn’t require talking and hugging the air, but that’s fine do u

100% collects beanie babies until this day but lil yamb is the number one princess in her household

As her significant other you have to be okay with lil yamb sleeping in between y’all that’s just the way it is

These stuffed babies are her comfort when no else can be

she’s a singer/songwriter. Went to uni for it & finished a semester early

Went through multiple hell experiences when it came to interning & temping while still in school & after

Let’s just say she wasn’t down to f*ck her way to the top

this made her anxiety act up, these people made her feel like she wouldn’t be good enough to show the world her craft & it’s didn’t have to be the world, just someone who would listen

But she couldn’t give up, there was nothing else she saw herself doing. She knew this is what she was meant to do but she couldn’t lie and say that her insecurities didn’t get the best of her most days

Although the cons seemed to out way the Pros some days, she kept at it & found herself a solid team that knew what she was about and understood her soul

Was definitely the student who loved all her English classes & when she spoke up everyone found it shocking since she preferred to just write everything out rather than “participate in group discussions”

I feel like her singing voice sounds similar to Jessica mauboy’s (if you don’t know who that is & you’re a fan of r&b/pop check her out or if you’re just curious that works too lol)

Knows her music notes like the back of her hand, duh!

Fav color is royal blue, especially on her eyelids & nails

Occasionally sleeps in rollers to keep her hair wavy

Needs her space when it comes to disagreements, they stress her out & she panics a bit when things go wrong so she feels like she needs to leave the situation rather than talk it out right then and there

She’ll talk when she’s ready, she just needs someone that’s a little patient with her that’s all

Words of affirmation is her love language? When she figures out how to balance her love life with her work life that is. When she’s feeling confident she’s smooth with words but when she needs to show you how much you mean to her & she really takes the time to think it out & feel her emotions, she’s writing you a song or you’re the inspiration to it or a poem, leaving you little love notes on blue post-it’s around the house, will write 50 reasons why she loves you on Valentine’s Day, and will say so when it’s just the two of you in your own comfort

Isn’t too crazy about public displays of affection but will deff hold your hand if that’s something you or she wanted in that moment

I think she’s fluid

Hasn’t been in many relationships. Sure she goes on tour every other year and gets to meet many people but they’re not solid relationships, they’re hookups and she hasn’t done many of those either

Had maybe one or two solid relationships: a androgynous woman that uses she/they pronouns & was in a rock band & a cis male she met at a tattoo parlor his step-brother owned (he kinda favored seb but we’re not going to speak on that)

I believe she wants to get married someday but isn’t so keen on the idea of kids. The furthest she’ll go is adopting a couple of animals. She’ll be a pet mom! I feel like she’ll be anxious looking after the life of a human being when it’s extremely hard to do so not only for herself and the love of her life & you want to add kids to the mix?! Fucking hell! but that could change? Who knows what life can throw at u

Has a hedgehog named Sonia that she drops off at her parents for their weekly sleepovers

Loves lace—mostly bralettes & crotchet clothing

I see her as a corduroy girl too. She has at least some rusty brown low-rise corduroy pants or/and a jacket

owns a crotchet kit, she’s bloody good at it too

Loved pink & purple (still likes them, they’re her 2nd & 3rd fav colors) so much as a kid that she tried to dye her hair half & half while her parents went out on their date night...it was also the weekend before school pictures :)

Says she got her inspiration from starfire & raven. She was only 13 at the time & had braces. Her father approved saying she’s a kid and she should be allowed to express herself. He only said that because his own parents barely let him & his brothers have their own fun

Her mother thought it was atrocious and did her best to get it out with the help of her other hair stylists friends (her mother worked in plenty of beauty shops once she got to England, until she decided to convert their basement into her own shop) who she invited over to see what her daughter had done but when you use certain permanent dyes...

It didn’t completely damage yasmin’s hair plus it was just hair, Yasmin didn’t see the big deal. She thought she looked splendid

Anyway, massive fan of ballroom dancing

She’s got a great ear to begin with so it was extremely fun twirling around while wearing pretty ballroom gowns

Took boring etiquette classes as a form of punishment? After the whole teen Titans inspiration thing “went wrong”

Enjoys western films

yes she owns a cowgirl hat & some boots too so sue her, she likes what she likes

Knows how to lasso but hates doing it to animals but she’ll do it to you :) (*gags* lmao why???)

Also loves visiting western towns & learning some history or at least experiencing what it was like

Type of significant other that will do her best to persuade you to stay in a treehouse airbnb, a cabin, the fucking Idaho potato, or camping out in her Volkswagen van in the middle of nowhere!

Has faux cow rugs, wicker baskets, wicker chairs in her flat, hangs some plants in glass jars & bottles all over her house

Her flat is very bright & vibrant: white, mocha brown, tan, yellows, & pastel purple

When it comes to decision making, she’ll make them pretty quick but only if it comes to choosing desserts

nobody is touching her mom’s meskouta orange cake WITH syrup

the dessert eater that always picks the one that has a surprise inside, meaning it has to ooze out with SOMETHING to make it 10x more satisfying

Leaning towards Buddhism, had studied some of their beliefs and found it resonates with her spirit

Fan of neon lights, probably has a few neon signs in her flat preferably on her brick wall in the loo, “to give u comfort as you go!” “that...actually makes sense.” Tai commented as he rubbed his chin coming to terms with yasmin’s reply. While Iona scowls, “no, no it doesn’t. I feel as if it’s an invasion of my bits!” “...Sorry you feel that way.”

tai & ciaran are automatically deemed as her brothers since she came into the villa with them. She had time to connect with them unlike anyone else. It was just the way the stars wrote their story and it showed outside of the villa too. they often crash at her place all the time when they’re in town & vacation all the time together when their schedules line up + it never feels like she’s third wheeling

“TaiTower” & “BB-Ci” are their names in her phone, Tai picked his own name while the “bb” stands for “best buds” for ciaran —which is a joke since he drunkly called himself so + he loves everyone when he’s drunk

You can always count on her to belt the lyrics to a Chaka Khan, TLC, or paula abdul joint when she’s drunk lol

As for the girls? She’s close with miki 😒 they just seem to be on the same wavelength when it comes to the pressure of the media since they have some sort of fame which increased with them being on the Telly. They bond over that & from there they’ve built a solid friendship

She could also be friends with AJ too (if you didn’t get swiped from her that is lmao!) they’re sorta opposites with aj being high energy/active while Yasmin is more mellow & “mysterious” but seem to connect in different ways: their sexual indentities, insecurities/anxieties, having something to be passionate about but at the same time maybe not? She might lean towards elladine or Genevieve if she had to make a choice?

Aquarius sun + cancer moon

so she’s still 23 y’all, I got it! I can’t do math sorry

“Freddie Mercury was probably my dad in my past life.”

Can play the banjo, guitar, & oud

Participates in hot yoga weekly

If she’s not with mc in the end and continues dating around if anyone from season two: LUCAS, Kassam, Gary, Rocco, maybe Blake? I originally thought Elisa but she’s probably too much for yas let’s be honest here lol they’d be better off as friends

Omg I forgot marisol! Imagine that?! Whew!!!

Season three: maybe Lily? But what if? Me being the slightly messy bitch that I am? Something happening with her & AJ. Now that?! Would be some chaotic shit “from the outside looks of it” name the irrelevant person behind the quote...now!

I’d like to see her interact with allerga but there could be something with her & cherry. I’m thinking cherry, Yasmin, & priya would bond well but we’re not here to talk about that

Getting rid of the physical aspect I genuinely think she’d do well with marisol, Lucas, or kassam. They’d mesh well I think in a relationship

She’s a body shimmer girl for sure!

Loves silk or satin robes

she’s a shortie, 5’2 to 5’5

Is learning Spanish

Loves arcade games, come see her in pinball & Pac-Man!

Quarantine life did not change her lifestyle much, but it did slightly mess with her mental health :/

loves the fall time, feels like she can slow down some and really spend time with family and friends

I feel like she has one best friend outside of the villa & that’s good enough for her!

They met their first year in uni & been close ever since

She doesn’t speak to the temporary friends she grew up with anymore & is often confused why they feel the need to keep up with her in the media which added more annoying worries to her heart but whatever right? Keep your eyes on the horizon

celebs she finds/found attractive: Aaliyah—especially when she played in queen of the damned, Kehlani, Zazie Beetz, Fivel & Booboo Stewart, Lakeith stanfield, Leah Lewis, Sofia Carson, Ryan gosling, & Nick Jonas

She listens to: jade bird, Yebba, Elli Ingram, Wafia, Zeina, Summer walker, Tanerèlle, Mariah the scientist, Teyana Taylor, Tove Lo, lady Gaga, Ra Ra Riot, Empire of the sun, & smallpools

Anthem? Diana Gordon — Rollin’

[merci-bitch]

I Can Make You Love Me

Riza’s girl part ll 

Riza Stavropol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Drama, small hint of NSFW, angst

Words: 3k

Warning(s): knife mark, small hint of smut, cursing, manipulation, angst

A/N: well, I’m surprised I even finished this. This doesn’t particularly mean I’m back but I’ve been fighting my own stuff but I’m starting to come back at least haha. I haven’t read through it so sorry if there’s any misspelling or stuff. Anyways, enjoy!

I was soaked in a pool of sweat and the heat blazing down from the sun on us through her widow didn't make the situation any better. I felt like I was in a sauna and I definitely felt tired. I could feel Riza's piercing blue eyes like the clear waters of Greece targeting me. Marking me.

"Well, how was it?" I rolled over on my side to look at her. I had two options, of an answer. One would please her very much and the other one, meh. It would piss her off.

"Terrible." I mussed sarcastically. I watched the cocky smirk on her face fade and I let out a laugh. "You little bitch!" She playfully smacked my ass. "Naughty girl, aren't you?" She bit her bottom lip and watched me carefully.

"When I want to be." I smiled. Riza leant her head down and crashed her own lips onto mine. Her teeth bitting my bottom lip for an entry to my mouth. Hesitantly, I opened my mouth and felt her tongue mix with my own. She was dominating me. When she pulled away we were both panting and she looked satisfied. "I take it back. My good girl." She pulled me close and caressed my face.

I felt content in her arms but I was still on edge. "Darling?" She loosened her grip on me and cubbed my cheek with her hand. "What's wrong?" I looked down before answering. "I-sorry, I'm just...I'm just a little worried about H."

"H?" She looked angry and kinda surprised. "We just had sex and now you're thinking of H?!" She sat up.

"R-Riza, I didn't mean-"

"Oh no, my darling. You did mean it. You most certainly did. I told you he's an asshole, Y/N. I told you he's no good." Her eyes gleamed with malicious intent and I felt scared. Scared she was going to hurt me even worse then she already did.

"You still love him, don't you?" Riza was almost on the border of yelling. "Don't you?!" She got in my face and that's when I pushed her off of me.

"No! But I still care about him and he's trying his best. He's the only person I have left who's like family to me and don't I have the right to feel anyway I want? Or do you own that too." I knew that I was playing with fire but despite the fear I had for Riza, she was so beautiful when she was mad. I couldn't help but love it. How her nose would curl, adorable.

"Yes. You do but not when we're in the middle of something ourselves! For example, finishing sex! You love me, don't you?" She started to sound desperate.

"Riza-"

"You want me. The way you've never wanted anyone befo-"

"You know I do but I told you, I believe in chances and right now? You're about to lose yours. As soon as I said those words, Riza's face dropped. A part of me regretted what I had said. She looked hurt. Betrayed. She lied down again and turned her back towards me. "Riza...Riza, I'm sorry."

"I'm not speaking to you." She said after a few minutes. Her tone was cold and it made me feel uncomfortable. "Riza, I didn't mean to hurt you but I'm worried."

"Worried about him? Worried about that fucking traitor? He's a jerk. I told you that." She spun around and looked at me. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you but I care about you, okay? I care about you more then I've cared about anyone in a while and I don't want to lose you. Her eyes turned soft.

"You won't lose me, okay? I care about you too, but I can at least have the right to know that he's alright." Riza let out a sigh. "If I tell you he's alright, will you leave the topic be?" She kissed my nose and help me tight to her. "..Yes." I breathed inwardly.

"Then he's fine. I promise." Despite the anxiety I felt, I trusted her words and slowly began to snuggle into her. "Thank you." She ran her fingers through my hair and gave my forehead a kiss. "Get some rest." I nodded my head and clutched onto her tightly. She was so warm and smelled so sweet despite all the sweat she was caked in. "I love you."

"I love you too, my precious girl."

***

"You bitch! This is the final straw!"

"We'll see about that."

H looked down at the ground, frowning as he'd seen you coming in and out of consciousness. "You hurt her Riza! Why would you do that? I told you that this is between you and me."

"But it's not though." She kicked the ground, showing off her tone legs through her silk dress. "Haven't you missed me, H?"

"Missed you? The thought of you repulses me. Especially now. You're lucky I haven't killed you after what you did." H said as he slowly started backing down the hallway and Riza chuckled. "Oh pretty boy, you forget that I can read you like the back of my hand." Riza pressed her body close to him and pinned him to the wall.

"Not anymore. I'm a changed person." She held his face in her hands and smiled. "Sure you are." Riza slipped one of her hands underneath his shirt, scratching the bare skin of his chest. His eyes rolled back and Riza couldn't help but smile. "And you say I don't know you."

"Riza-" He meet her eyes almost as if he was in a trace. "H." She mumbled. Their lips nearly grazed each other when H noticed her extra arm moving around him. "What are you-"

BAM!

The smashed barrel of her gun hit the top of his head. H looked puzzled for a moment and Riza smiled, pushing him away from her. "How did you-" He slurred his words before dropping to the ground.

***

"Oh come on, H! One more dance, please!" H winced at the high pitched voice of the woman that had her arm wrapped around his waist but tolerated it. He was hammered from all the alcohol he had been drinking but who could blame him?

It was a long dat at the agency and he needed a break from it all. "Amanda, I would say yes but I'm afraid I'm spent for the night an I must get going."

"But H-"

"No Amanda. Now if you'll excuse me-" H turned around and walked straight into the chest of two alien men. "You're the agency scum that got your hands on our girl?"

The question took him off guard. Their girl? "What, I-I! Know? Come on guys that would be ridiculous." He chuckled nervously. "Wouldn't it?"

The two men in front of him didn't seem amused. The one bulkier grabbed him by his throat and pressed him against the wall. "You calling me liar?"

"No! I-I..." H felt the blood circulating through him becoming less and less. "Let him be, Dorian. He's with me. Aren't you, darling?"

H choked on his own breath and looked up at the face of savior. It was a woman, and she was beautiful. "My apologies, Riza." She let out a humming noise and pulled a blaster out of her silk dress. H got a quick glimpse of her sheer underwear and felt himself swell up with lust.

"Sure." Riza shot him and screams of panic were erupted inside the bar. H just sat there on the ground looking at her confusedly until he noticed she had extended her hand out towards him. "Shall we?"

Despite how wrong he knew it was, he took her hand and walked out the bar with her hand in hand. "What's your name handsome?"

"H. Agent H."

"Oh, an agent. Well, I'm Riza. Riza Stavros."

"Riza, it's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." She hummed. They come across a tan, Moroccan style building and Riza smiled. "I would take you back to my place, but sadly. I'm on business."

"Of course." Riza grabbed the keys out of her bra and unlocked the door, kicking off her heels right as she stepped in the door. H was baffled by her. He was sure she had to be one of the most beautiful women he'd ever seen. "Sit, darling." Riza gestured to the couch as she rummaged through one of the cabinets of her hotel room. Pulling out a glass tumbler.

"You drink whiskey?" She looked over at H while holding up the bottle. "Yes, thank you." She poured him a glass and poured one for herself and sat down next to him on the couch and handed him his glass. H took a taste, it burned his throat at first but left a smooth aftertaste.

“So what’s an agent like yourself doing here?”

The alcohol burned in his throat but left a sweet aftertaste. He thought carefully before responding. Though he didn’t know what good it would do. It was like Riza was staring into his soul. “Looking for a good time, I suppose.”

“Good time with the wrong woman, my dear.” She caressed his cheek with the back of her thumb and smiled. “You’re such a beautiful man, aren’t you? Pretty boy.” Riza said while crawling onto his lap. H didn’t know what to do or what to say. He was shell shocked and drunk.

Riza peppered kisses on his face and down his throat and H moaned. “Lustful for me already, aren’t you?” H didn’t respond. Part of him wanted to shove the woman on top of him aside but he just, couldn’t. She was just too, goddess like. “Y-Yes.”

***

H woke up, rubbing the back of his head. Shaking his head. That’s when he realised, he was stuck to a bloody chair. After minutes of fighting with the ties, he got lose and stood up. H’s iconic smile back on his sweet baby face. “Never do know how to tie me up, now do you Riza.”

H slowly walked out the room, moving around slowly. Begging for that big blue teddy monster not to walk around the corner. Coast is clear. H walked down the long hallway and despite the years since he’d been here. He almost no trouble finding his way around. All those drunk nights with Riza. Her hands scratching up his chest, back. Her sweet lips on his-no. Not this time. Get Y/N and get out of here.

H was too deep in thought, missing a step. “Shit!” Covering his mouth quickly. Looking around. Surprise, no one was around. H shakes his head again and continued down the hallway and took a sharp left turn. There was a door, cracked open. Hesitantly H opened it.

“Oh god.” H said as he turned back around. There she was, Y/N. But naked. He’d never seen her naked before. H felt his cheeks grown hot, like some middle  aged school boy. Damn Riza, for getting them into this. H knew that Y/N was going to be embarrassed when she saw him. If, she ever got to see him of course,

H didn’t trust Riza as far as he’d known her. How the hell did he know that she wasn’t fake sleeping?

Hesitantly he walked over to Y/N and shook her, softly. H didn’t wanna wake her almost. So looked so peaceful when she was asleep. Y/N let out a small groan and opened her eyes. “H..? Oh my god! H!” Her arms flew around his neck. H tensed his shoulders. He didn’t know if he should hug her back or not, afraid of upsetting her. “Riza told me you were alright but I thought I’d never see you again!” Ever so carefully, H ran his hand through Y/N’s soft hair. Glancing over at Riza. “Well, she definitely isn’t awake. That’s for sure. Or I’d be dead by now.”

H couldn’t help the thoughts about Y/N. Damn Riza for making him think this way about her! “Look Y/N, we don’t have much time. We need to get out of here. Your clothes?” Y/N pointed to the end of the bed. H tossed Y/N her clothes and let her get changed. H helped Y/N our of the bed, that’s when Riza stirred. Both H and Y/N panicked. The balcony! They both walked out on it and Y/N pushed H to the side.

“Now why on earth would you do that?” Riza’s deep and raspy voice sent shivers down both H and Y/N’s spines. “Do what?” Y/N asked. Riza walked up to Y/N. “This.” She gestured to her clothed body. The moon was shining on her skin, highlighting the most seductive parts.

“It felt weird to run around naked.” Riza ran her hand up Y/N’s sides. Placing one of her hands on her breast. Kneading it softly. Starting to fumble with her jeans. “I can make it more comfortable for you if you like.” Y/N let out a soft moan and leaned her head back against Riza’s collarbones. H wanted to throw up at the sight of it. The smell of sex permeating off of Riza. This scene was getting almost too nostalgic for him. H tried his very best not to let his eyes wander with how Riza’s hand touched Y/N’s body. How her mouth would launch for her throat and leave small marks.

“Why don’t you come back inside, sweetheart. Hm? What do you say.” Riza’s voice was like honey running. “Riza, we just did it. There’s no need to do it again.” H could hear Riza scoff. “You can’t be serious. It’s sex darling. Something you could do a whole day. And I’ve got a very busy day in a few hours. I need something to calm me down.” H felt himself gag. He took a few steps back and accidentally made a plant fall. Riza snapped her head around. “Oh you’re fucking kidding me. LUCA!” Riza tied her rope around herself and grabbed Y/N’s arm and dragged her inside and once again, H found himself fighting with an old friend.

—

“Am I some sort of joke to you?!” Riza screamed at my face. I shaked my head. Tears burning in the back of my eyes. Riza’s cheeks burning up with anger. Riza took steps back and threw her hands on her sides and scoffed and grabbed the wine bottle on her office table. “R-Riza..?” She threw the cork across the room. “Shut up. Just fucking shut up. You humans, fucking useless.” She scoffed again and started drinking directly from the wine bottle. I sat down, pulling my knees to my chest. This could only go bad.

After 3 wine bottles, she was finally starting to get tipsy. Tipsy Riza was alright, but if it was drunk angry Riza. Run for your fucking life. Where was H when you needed him?!

“Oh drop it, H won’t come this time for you. He’d be dead before he can even spell your fucking name.” Riza held the bottle to her chest and laughed out loud. This wasn’t fun anymore. “Awh, is the little human scared? You want your mommy?” She started taking small steps towards me. Making me back away slowly, towards the stone wall. The floor cold, dirty. Filled with smashed glass. She got down on her knees and crawled towards me. Giving me a good view of her cleavage. My back was against the wall, her nose touching mine. Her eyes dark and cloudy.

“Scared little puppet? Huh? Yeah? Yes!” Her voice, getting higher and higher, and she was getting more insane. “You humans don’t understand anything. Fucking pathetic!” She got even closer. She was a living nightmare. “R-Riza...” With a shaking hand, I reached up and cupped her cheek, only for her to grab my wrist and pull me up and drag me to her desk where she grabbed a knife.

“Riza, no. Let go of it!” She held out my arm and looked at me with blinded eyes and started carving the letter ‘R’ into my skin. Screaming out in pain, pushing her away. Holding my wrist, covering it up in the paper I could find. Riza turned back around and looked at me. Seeing the tears spilling down my cheeks, the blood moving down my arm. She dropped the knife. Her own hands starting to shake. “Y-Y/N, o-oh my god.”

She reached out for me, only for me to move away. Her eyes filling with panic. “I-I don’t know what came over me. Y/N, please let me help.” I shook my head and got up. “No. I’m not letting you help me. I loved you Riza, but this, this is not the Riza I loved.” Her breath shaky. “Wait, no. Please. I can make it up to you. I can love you just as good as he can!” I shook my head. “Riza no. You can see yourself. This is never gonna work.” She shook her head and walked up to me and cubbed my cheeks.

“I can make it work. I can make you love me.”

[nightbloomsresorthotel]

Etgar Keret’s Short Story “What, of this Goldfish, Would You Wish” got me crying like a baby. Taken from here. 

Author and filmmaker Etgar Keret was born in Tel Aviv in 1967. Salman Rushdie has called him “the voice of the next generation” and his work has been translated into 29 languages. The following story is from his sixth collection, Suddenly a Knock on the Door, published on 23rd February by Chatto & Windus.

The idea for this story, translated by Nathan Englander, came to Keret after he read his five-year-old son Alexander Pushkin’s “The Fisherman and the Goldfish.” Keret says, “My son asked me what I would do if I had three wishes. He quickly rejected my ‘safe’ wishes for family health or world peace and insisted that I ask for something I really, really wanted. And that’s when my goldfish story began.”

Yonatan had a brilliant idea for a documentary. He’d knock on doors. Just him. No camera crew, no nonsense. Just Yonatan, on his own, a small camera in hand, asking, “If you found a talking goldfish that granted you three wishes, what would you wish for?”

People would give their answers, and Yoni would edit them down and make clips of the more surprising responses. Before every set of answers, you’d see the person standing stock-still in the entrance to his house. Onto this shot he’d superimpose the subject’s name, family situation, monthly income, and maybe even the party he’d voted for in the last election. All that, combined with the three wishes, and maybe he’d end up with a poignant piece of social commentary, a testament to the massive rift between our dreams and the often compromised reality in which we live.

It was genius, Yoni was sure. And, if not, at least it was cheap. All he needed was a door to knock on and a heart beating on the other side. With some decent footage, he was sure he’d be able to sell it to Channel 8 or Discovery in a flash, either as a film or as a collection of vignettes, little cinematic corners, each with that singular soul standing in a doorway, followed by three killer wishes, precious, every one.

Even better, maybe he’d sell out, package it with a slogan and flog it to a bank or mobile phone company. Maybe tag it with something like, “Different dreams, different wishes, one bank.” Or, “The bank that makes dreams come true.”

No prep, no plotting, natural as can be, Yoni grabbed his camera and went out knocking on doors. In the first neighbourhood he went to, the nice people that took part generally requested the obvious things: health, money, bigger flats, to shave off either a couple of years or a couple of pounds. But there were also powerful moments. One drawn, wizened old lady asked simply for a child. A Holocaust survivor with a number on his arm asked very slowly, in a quiet voice—as if he’d been waiting for Yoni to come, as if it wasn’t an exercise at all—he’d been wondering (if this fish didn’t mind), would it be possible for all the Nazis left living in the world to be held accountable for their crimes? A cocky, broad-shouldered ladykiller put out his cigarette and, as if the camera wasn’t there, wished he were a girl. “Just for a night,” he added, holding a single finger right up to the lens.

And these were wishes from just one short block in one small, sleepy suburb of Tel Aviv. Yonatan could hardly imagine what people were dreaming of in the development towns and the collectives along the northern border, in the West Bank settlements and Arab villages, the immigrant absorption centres full of broken trailers and tired people left to fry out in the desert sun.

Yonatan knew that if the project was going to have any weight, he’d have to get to everyone, to the unemployed, to the ultra-religious, to the Arabs and Ethiopians and American expats. He began to plan a shooting schedule for the coming days: Yaffo, Dimona, Ashdod, Sderot, Taibe, Talpiot. Maybe Hebron even. If he could sneak past the wall, Hebron would be great. Maybe somewhere in that city some beleaguered Arab man would stand in his doorway and, looking through Yonatan and his camera, looking out into nothingness, just pause for a minute, nod his head and wish for peace—that would be something to see.

***

Sergei Goralick doesn’t much like strangers banging on his door. Especially when those strangers are asking him questions. In Russia, when Sergei was young, it happened a lot. The KGB felt right at home knocking on his door. His father had been a Zionist, which was pretty much an invitation for them to pop over any old time.

When Sergei got to Israel and then moved to Yaffo, his family couldn’t get their heads round it. They’d ask him, “What are you hoping to find in a place like that? There’s no one there but addicts and Arabs and pensioners.” But what is most excellent about addicts and Arabs and pensioners is that they don’t come round knocking on Sergei’s door. That way Sergei can get his sleep, and get up when it’s still dark. He can take his little boat out into the sea and fish until he’s finished fishing. By himself. In silence. The way it should be. The way it was.

Until one day some kid with a ring in his ear, looking a little bit homosexual, comes knocking. Hard like that—rapping at his door. Just the way Sergei doesn’t like. And he says, this kid, that he has some questions he wants to put on the TV.

Sergei tells the boy, tells him in what he thinks is a straightforward manner, that he doesn’t want it. Not interested. Sergei gives the camera a shove, to help make it clear. But the earring boy is stubborn. He says all kinds of things, fast things. And it’s hard for Sergei to follow; his Hebrew isn’t great.

The boy slows down, tells Sergei he has a strong face, a nice face, and that he simply has to have him for this film. Sergei can also slow down, he can also make it clear. He tells the boy to fuck off. But the boy is slippery and somehow between saying no and pushing the door closed, Sergei finds that the boy is in his house. He’s already making his film, running his camera without any permission, and from behind the camera he’s still telling Sergei about his face, that it’s full of feeling, that it’s tender. Suddenly the boy spots Sergei’s goldfish flitting around in its big glass jar in his kitchen.

The kid with the earring starts screaming, “Goldfish, goldfish,” he’s so excited. And this, this really pressures Sergei, who tells the boy, it’s nothing, just a normal goldfish, stop filming it. Just a goldfish, Sergei tells him, just something he found flapping around in the net, a deep-sea goldfish. But the boy isn’t listening. He’s still filming and getting closer and saying something about talking and fish and a magic wish.

Sergei doesn’t like this, doesn’t like that the boy is almost at it, already reaching for the jar. In this instant Sergei understands the boy hasn’t come for television, what he’s come for, specifically, is to snatch Sergei’s fish, to steal it away. Before the mind of Sergei Goralick really understands what it is his body has done, he seems to have taken the pan off the stove and hit the boy on the head. The boy falls. The camera falls with him. The camera breaks open on the floor, along with the boy’s skull. There’s a lot of blood coming out of the head, and Sergei really doesn’t know what to do.

That is, he knows exactly what to do, but it really would complicate things. Because if he takes this kid to the hospital, people are going to ask what happened, and it would take things in a direction Sergei doesn’t want to go.

“No reason to take him to the hospital anyway,” says the goldfish, in Russian. “That one’s already dead.”

“He can’t be dead,” Sergei says, with a moan. “I barely touched him. It’s only a pan. Only a little thing.” Sergei holds it up to the fish, taps it against his own skull to prove it. “It’s not even that hard.”

“Maybe not,” says the fish. “But, apparently, it’s harder than that kid’s head.”

“He wanted to take you from me,” Sergei says, almost crying.

“Nonsense,” the fish says. “He was only here to make a little thing for TV.”

“But he said—”

“He said,” says the fish, interrupting, “exactly what he was doing. But you didn’t get it. Honestly, your Hebrew, it’s terrible.”

“And yours is better?” Sergei says. “Yours is so great?”

“Yes. Mine’s super-great,” the goldfish says, sounding impatient. “I’m a magic fish. I’m fluent in everything.” All the while the puddle of blood from the earring boy’s head is getting bigger and bigger and Sergei is on his toes, up against the kitchen wall, desperate not to step in it, not to get blood on his feet.

“You do have one wish left,” the fish reminds Sergei. He says it simply like that, as if Sergei doesn’t know—as if either of them ever loses count.

“No,” Sergei says. He’s shaking his head from side to side. “I can’t,” he says. “I’ve been saving it. Saving it for something.”

“For what?” the fish says.

But Sergei won’t answer.

That first wish, Sergei used up when they discovered a cancer in his sister. A lung cancer, the kind you don’t get better from. The fish undid it in an instant—the words barely out of Sergei’s mouth. The second wish Sergei used up five years ago, on Sveta’s boy. The kid was still small then, barely three, but the doctors already knew. Something in her son’s head wasn’t right. He was going to grow big but not in the brain. Three was about as clever as he’d get. Sveta cried to Sergei in bed all night. Sergei walked home along the beach when the sun came up, and he called to the fish, asked the goldfish to fix it as soon as he’d crossed through the door. He never told Sveta. And a few months later she left him for some policeman, a Moroccan with a shiny Honda. In his heart, Sergei kept telling himself it wasn’t for Sveta that he’d done it, that he’d wished his wish purely for the boy. In his mind, he was less sure, and all kinds of thoughts about other things he could have done with that wish continued to gnaw at him, driving him half mad. The third wish, Sergei hadn’t yet wished for.

“I can restore him,” says the goldfish. “I can bring him back to life.”

“No one’s asking,” Sergei says.

“I can bring him back to the moment before,” the goldfish says. “To before he knocks on your door. I can put him back to right there. I can do it. All you need to do is ask.”

“To wish my wish,” Sergei says. “My last.”

The fish swishes his fish tail back and forth in the water, the way he does, Sergei knows, when he’s truly excited. The goldfish can already taste freedom. Sergei can see it in him.

After the last wish, Sergei won’t have a choice. He’ll have to let the goldfish go. His magic goldfish. His friend.

“Fixable,” Sergei says. “I’ll just mop up the blood. A good sponge and it’ll be like it never happened.”

That tail just goes back and forth, the fish’s head steady.

Sergei takes a deep breath. He steps out into the middle of the kitchen, out into the puddle. “When I’m fishing, while it’s dark and the world’s asleep,” he says, half to himself and half to the fish, “I’ll tie the kid to a rock and dump him in the sea. Not a chance, not in a million years, of anyone ever finding him.”

“You killed him, Sergei,” the goldfish says. “You murdered someone—but you’re not a murderer.” The goldfish stops swishing his tail. “If, on this, you won’t waste a wish, then tell me, Sergei, what is it good for?”

***

It was in Bethlehem, actually, that Yonatan found his Arab, a handsome man who used his first wish to ask for peace. His name was Munir; he was fat with a big white moustache. Really photogenic. It was moving, the way he said it. Perfect, the way in which Munir wished his wish. Yoni just knew even as he was filming that this man would be his promo.

Either him or that Russian. The one with the faded tattoos that Yoni had met in Yaffo. The one that looked straight into the camera and said, if he ever found a talking goldfish he wouldn’t ask of it a single thing. He’d just stick it on a shelf in a big glass jar and talk to him all day, it didn’t matter about what. Maybe sports, maybe politics, whatever a goldfish was interested in chatting about.

Anything, the Russian said, not to be alone.

[jj-lynn21]

Moroccan Sands ch 2

Warnings/notes: flirting, fluff  AU: In case you need to know this is not exactly how these actors are irl as far as I’ve experienced. 

Ch1, ch3 ch4 ch5 ch 6 ch7 ch8

You get to your gate in plenty of time. Your name is called for you to come up to the podium.

The worker tells you, “I’m sorry we are really over booked for this flight. We only have a few first-class seats available that are a $50 upcharge. We are not authorized to charge the card used for this flight. You can pay the charge yourself or take a later flight.”

You know if you didn’t get there when they want you to be there you would be contacted not to bother to come at all, so, you agree to pay the extra money to get on this flight. You get on with the rest of the first-class passengers. You are surprised there is an empty seat beside you.

Just as they tell everyone to take their seats one more person rushes on to plan. The stewardess helps him find a place for his carry-on bag. All you see is his long lean body before he ducks down to take the isle seat beside you. On the inside you freak out, ITS FUCKING BILL SKARSGARD, but on the outside, you just bite your lip trying to keep your eyes on the cosmopolitan magazine you brought to read. He fidgets in his seat trying to get comfortable not able to completely straighten his long legs. He put the seatbelt on just as the plane takes off.

Looking over at you he extends his hand, “Hi, I’m Bill. We might as well get to know each other. This is 15 hours of our lives.”

Smiling you shake his hand, “Hi Bill my name is (YN). Its nice to meet you.”

But inside you are thinking, its fucking awesome to meet you. Do you want to join the mile-high club to pass the time? We would have beautiful babies together…

The steward comes by to offer you both a drink. Bill gets a beer asking, “whatever local you have.” You just ask for a bottled water. Your mouth is dry, and you might get to talk to him more since the flight is so long. To make conversation he says, “Good to stay hydrated with that water. I will get one after I relax a bit. Its been a long travel week.”

You say, “I drink a lot of water. I noticed you were running a little behind. I’m glad you made the flight in time.”

Bill huffs, “You have no idea. I was home in Sweden for the holidays. I had to take a 15-hour flight to New York Wednesday night for a meeting this morning. After that meeting I jumped on a flight here to catch this flight to where I will be working the next 20 days or so.”

The steward brings your drinks and some giant chocolate chip cookies. You both say, “Thank you to him.”

After nibbling on your cookie, you said, “That was a lot of travel time. I hope your New York meeting went well.”

Bill said, “Thank you, I hope it went well to. I might not know for weeks or I could have to go back again, which would be better than finding out bad news.”

You try not to sound as excited for him as you are, but you aren’t sure you keep your excitement at bay, “Was it an addition meeting?”

He said, “Yeah, we will see if anything comes out of it or not. So, I’m guessing you know my line of work, what do you do?”

You say, “I’m heading to Morocco for an acting job. I worked on a local movie as an extra and was called to join the team to do some more work. They all work so hard. Its only my second movie, but so far I really enjoy everything I have done.”

He smiles as you talk so excitedly answering after, “They do all work very hard. Most actors seem to take the crew for granted. I respect all they do to make a move come together. I’m going there to film also so maybe we are in the same movie.”

You already know he is in the movie you will be in, but you play it coyly, “Maybe.”

He chuckles, “Yeah, not sure how may movies they film there at once so I would bet money you will be working with me and Tom. Have you worked with Tom Holland before?”

You laugh, “I guess we are in the same movie because the movie I am continuing to film is with him.”

Bill says, “cool, so what did you bring to read?”

You Laugh covering the magazine with your hands, “You don’t want to know.”

He grabs the magazine, “Sure I do. Something more to chat about. Unless your someone that just wants to talk about how you like my movies, ugh please don’t be that woman.”

Giggling you shake your head, “Ok, I won’t be. But do you really want to talk about what is in that cosmo issue?”

Shrugging he says, “Why not sweetie. Oh, I’m sorry I know some American woman don’t like that term, (YN).”

You roll your eyes, “Its fine Bill.”

He looks at the magazine cover, “Good, now tell me why would you need Quick and Hot Sex Tips? Personally, I rather take it slow and dirty instead of in and out in ten words or less.”

He chuckles. You turn beat red, “Um I’m inclined to agree with you.”

Bill flips through the magazine. He shows you an outfit, “I like this.”

You smirk, “Looks like a Halloween costume I wear in college. Easy to throw together since there isn’t much to it.”

He quirks an eyebrow, “really, do tell.”

Laughing, “I went to a college Halloween party in that with devil horns and a tail. At some point we walked downtown to visit other parties and bars and well then I eventually got back to my dorm.”

He said, “Good story especially the part where you eventually got back to your dorm. I have had those nights, eventually I got back home.”

He takes a napkin and wipes some cookie crumbs from the side of your mouth. You freeze. Your eyes watching his hand the whole time. You smile a bit.

Licking your dry lips, you try to think of something to say, “Did I make that much of a mess?”

You watch his tongue lick around his full lips, “Your fine sweetie. I was just…”He pauses before continuing, “You have a nice smile.”

A blush comes over your face again, “Thank you, Bill. I like your smile.”

The steward comes around again to ask, “Do either of you need another drink or a pillow to try to get some rest? We will be turning the lights off for those that want to sleep.”

Bill tells him, “We’ll take two pillows and a blanket if that’s available. Oh, and two bottle waters please.”

The steward sees blushing and smiles, “Of course we have what ever you two need Mr. Skarsgard.”

Bill turns back to you, “We need to stay hydrated and comfortable, don’t we?”

You say, “Yes, hydration and comfort should be a priority.”

[ecofinisher]

Wedding in Japan - Chap. 2

https://www.wattpad.com/737208574-wedding-in-japan-chapter-2Chapter 2

Five years later Adrien had grown up into a fine young man and had shortly moved out of his home, much to his father‘s dismay into a commune with a few of his old classmates. In this commune, Adrien had to share a room with someone and this person was his best friend he had made in the school Nino Lahiffe, a Morrocan immigrant, that moved to France over a decade ago. Most of the commune mates already were going out with somebody, only Adrien and Nino were the only bachelors in the building. Nino was cool with being alone, then he was often busy working over the nights at the bars playing the DJ and half of the day he spent with sleeping. Other days, when he was free he had his friend Adrien around to hang out with or just hang inside the room with his headphones making new music and remixes on his laptop.

Adrien, on the other hand, wasn‘t really happy at being single. He was sick of it. Almost everyone he knows was dating somebody and they all looked very happy. Unlike all the other guys from his old class Adrien was the swarm of every girl in Paris, this because he used to work for his father as a model and that‘s from, where he gained a higher celebrity state at the school and everywhere else he would find fangirls and fangirls swooning over him. Adrien wasn‘t interested in any of the fans, more the reason was people don‘t love him for who he is really, only for his looks or for his fame. His roommates found it strange how Adrien doesn‘t want to date anyone of the girls, not even those of his school. Adrien just wanted one specific girl and that girl was Kagami Tsurugi from his old fencing class. He hasn‘t been able to talk with her a lot due to the time difference between their countries and over the years Adrien managed to lose all his phone contacts including Kagami‘s and then he wasn‘t able to ever text back to her. What Adrien was more sad about was, that Kagami hasn‘t texted him back anymore after, what happened with his contacts and he thought Kagami didn‘t want to have anything more with him.

What Adrien didn‘t know was, that fate likes to change things in life and that this time something would change for the good in Adrien‘s life…

Inside the house, where the comune of Adrien and Nino live, Adrien sat on the couch watching Kim video gaming together with Alix and Nathaniel.

„You should be ashamed of you Kim, Nathaniel is beating you in a fucking SUV and you‘re driving like the fastest car in the game, “ Alix said at the tall Vietnamese guy.

„Hey don‘t expect a fast stock car to beat a car with Japanese modifications, “ Kim said pulling his girlfriend aside with his shoulder, then Alix went down on the floor keeping controlling her green Sedan on TV following a red SUV and a flat blue car.

„When Nino‘s back, we‘re going to join you three, “ Adrien said to the three, which were focused on the video game.

„Yeah!“ Shouted Nathaniel jumping in the air as he won the race. „Take that!“

„Oh I‘m so proud of you my son“ Kim said jokingly, then Adrien took two wireless remotes from under the furniture, where the flat screen TV stood and sat down on the other couch, which was on the right side to the TV and placed the second remote on the couch for later his friend to pick it up.

„There must be a lot of bills inside of the mailbox for Nino to be taking longer.“ Alix said, then heard the doorbell ring. „Was that Nino?“ Questioned the pink-haired girl.

„I‘m gonna open the door, I need to bring my work pals my documents for the new app we‘re developing, “ A tall boy with a green shirt and suspenders attached to his pants told the inmates, that sat on the couch.

“Thank you, Max, “ Alix said watching Kim choose the same vehicle from before. „Now I‘m going to pick up the car Nathaniel had before“

„Hahaha, “ Kim said with a sarcastic tune, watching her slide through the car garage to pick up a car.

„Hey Nathaniel, whatever you ordered is here“ Nino said carrying along with Max a large, brown box into the living room.

„That must be my easel, “ The redhead said excitedly getting up from the couch to help Nino and Max.

„Nath spread out those envelopes to the others, I and Max bring this into your room“ Nino commanded, then the redhead picked up the envelopes and stood in front of Kim and Alix looking at the pile to see, which he had to give who.

„Where the heck is Shibuya?“ Questioned Alix looking at the gray envelope she had with her name on it.

„It‘s in Tokyo“ Responded Kim checking another envelope, that looked like Alix‘s, except it had his name instead.

„And who‘s Tomoe?“ Questioned Nathaniel. „Tomoe Tsurugi?“

„Tsurugi?“ Questioned Adrien while he held a bunch of envelopes on his hands.

„Yeah“ Replied Nathaniel showing it to the blonde.

„That‘s Kagami‘s mother, “ Adrien said looking at the other‘s face.

„Oh cool, “ Said Kim opening the envelope along with Alix.

„What could her mother probably want from us?“ Questioned the redhead opening the envelope and pulling out a folded card, then opened it. „Is this a wedding invite?“ Questioned Nathaniel making Adrien wide his eyes and lean his head next to Nathaniel‘s to read it.

„On the 25th September 2025 Tsurugi, Kagami and Miyamoto Hiroki are getting married“

„That‘s in three weeks, “ Kim said looking at Nathaniel and Adrien.

„She‘s getting married“ Adrien whispered sinking his head down as he discovered his old love interest was getting married. „That‘s why she never texted me back“

„I‘m sorry Adrien“ Nathaniel apologized looking at the blonde.

Nino passed along with Max at the living room and Nino stopped by behind the tall Asian looking at his friends sitting on the couch with the invitation.

„Did I miss something?“ Questioned Nino watching Adrien sigh and drop his envelopes on the floor. Nino‘s face changed from happy to a worried one and walked to the redhead and the blonde. „What‘s wrong, dude?“

„Kagami‘s getting married“ Responded Adrien.

„But that‘s a good thing….well not for you since you still love her, but….you know as long as she‘s happy, it doesn‘t matter, “ Nino told the blonde.

„I know, but I…..“ Adrien said then sighed again. „She probably didn‘t care about me, because I forgot I promised her to take the very first plane to visit her when I turned twenty. And my birthday was three months ago“

„Dude, there are still three weeks in front of you. You can visit her before the wedding and who knows, maybe she ditches her fiancé and runs away with you“ Kim said making Alix and Nino laugh.

„I wish it was that easy“ Adrien replied to the Vietnamese housemate.

„You know since you promised to visit Kagami after your 20th birthday, you could go there right away and visit her“ Suggested Nathaniel.

„For what?“ Questioned Kim.

„If he goes now he has three weeks to be around Kagami. Maybe if they start talking about the good times and how good friends they used to be, maybe Kagami starts to like Adrien again and they get together instead“

„That‘s the most ridiculous thing I‘ve ever heard Nathaniel, “ Kim said making Nathaniel frown. „You know we‘re not in a movie“

„That‘s actually not a bad idea, “ Nino said thinking about Nathaniel‘s suggestion. „Told ya“ Nathaniel responded grinning at the Vietnamese guy, who stuck out his tongue jokingly at the friend.

„If Adrien and Kagami spend together time and talk about the past with her and the fencing….what else more….how good the old times with her was, she could start to realize, how great her life was with you and chooses you instead of the other guy!“ Nino announced jumping up in the air.

„Okay I think Kim was right, the idea sounds terrible“ The redhead admitted and Adrien stood up looking at the dark-skinned friend.

„No, it‘s not. This could work out“ Adrien said looking at all the other friends.

„Okay?“ Kim responded a little unsure about it.

„We could just talk with each other normally, then maybe we could walk around Tokyo and she could show me things around it, tell me about everything. She really loved it, when I listened to her. This is certainly going to work out!“

„Well, all girls love it, when a guy listens to them, right Nath?“ The Vietnamese questioned the redhead, that nodded in agreement with the taller guy.

„That will be easy, dude“ Nino assured Adrien placing his hand on the friend‘s shoulder. „And since you‘re my best pal, I‘m coming with you to Japan, so you don‘t have to make the whole way all by yourself“

„That‘s great Nino,“ Adrien said embracing the boy.

„No problem, broham. That‘s what best friends are for“ The Moroccan boy responded patting his friend‘s back, while the others sat on the couch watching the two friends share the hug.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13295790/1/Wedding-in-Japan

https://archiveofourown.org/works/18972931/chapters/45062839

https://www.wattpad.com/737208574-wedding-in-japan-chapter-2

[waypathfinder]

Crimson Lane - Chapter 3 - Dreams and Promises

Moodboard by @ashtyntaytertot  Beta’d by @kathknight and @ashtyntaytertot

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Chapter Text 

Rey awoke in the night, disoriented and confused.

An arm curled around her waist.  Kylo Ren’s arm. The memory rushed back to her. The hairs on her neck prickled with each slow breath he took, his broad chest rising and falling against her back.

She unfurled his arm from her body and placed it before him. His brows twitched at the movement, her breath caught in her throat and she froze. He did not wake.

Outside, the moon was breaking a path through the dark overcast sky. She crept out of bed, walking towards the window, her naked form silhouetted against the streaming moonlight. The street was empty now, loose sheets of a newspaper flittered along the pavement beneath the bright lamplight. There were no cars other than the few parked by the road and not a single soul wandered the lonely streets. It was eerily quiet, the silence only broken by sudden gusts of winds that moaned in strained cries and churned up the leaves into whirlwinds.

“Don’t go.”

Rey’s heart jolted at the sound of his voice. She turned around to see his ash-white body lit up beneath the waning moon.

“I’m not—” She stopped to look at him. His eyes were racing beneath pale lids, face grimacing and tightening as different expressions chased each other. He was asleep. His fingers twitched, reaching for the spot on the bed that was still warm from her body.

She returned to his side, leaning in close to study him. He was light and darkness. Every feature in contrast to the other. He was all shadows and lines, pointed cheekbones, angled jaw, soft lips, long lashes. His dark hair cascaded across his face parting around his large ears. He was ugly from one angle. Beautiful from the other. But striking and captivating.

“Please,” his voice cracked into a chilling whisper. She shivered at the sound.

“Kylo?” she whispered back, touching his shoulder, but there was no response.

His hand reached forward again, searching the sheets. He looked so alone. It reminded her of all the times she had spent the night cold and lonely, shivering beneath a summer blanket on a winter evening. Tears lashing from her eyes knowing there was no one there to help her, to hold her hand, to save her from her nightmares.

She crept back into bed. Her body folded into the curve of his own and his arm found her again. She felt safe in his hold, momentarily wanted in this world by someone. It was an illusion, of course, a twisted painful lie, but still, at that moment she imagined what it was like to be loved. Her chest heaved unsteadily at the thought, and she allowed herself to drift back to sleep.

Her mind fell into dreams, dark shadows dragging her back into the past, dragging her into a world she’d struggled so hard to leave behind her every day.

She was lying on the floor of the lounge room, one of the many lounge rooms she had called her own for a time. The Moroccan rug was worn, she remembered, patches of it frayed. She pulled at a thread, wishing in her dream she could unravel it and she would fall through the ground into a better place. She pulled and pulled at the thread, a burgundy bind that would not break no matter how hard she yanked. It went on for miles, and she wondered what lay on the end.

Then he was behind her, the man who haunted her dreams almost every night. His face hidden behind a shadow of darkness. He chased her through the rooms of an abandoned house. Always too close.  Always hindering her escape. He grabbed her hair and yanked her back. And now she was on the floor, curled in a ball. 

She jolted awake.

Thump! This time she wasn’t dreaming. Kylo thrashed behind her, arms and legs trapped in their own nightmare. And then a low groan, a guttural noise that chilled her blood. He shot up, his legs kicking over the side of the bed, hands wringing through his hair. Rey reached for his back.

Her fingers made contact, and his breath caught. His skin was hot to touch, glistening with sweat.

“It’s okay.” She sat behind him, touching his shoulder uncertainly. “It was just a nightmare. I have them too.”

He didn’t respond, but his breathing resumed, slower but still unsteady as his shoulders trembled beneath her touch.

“It’s okay,” she said again in a hushed tone, her fingers circling his back in slow caressing turns. There was something painfully raw about the way he sat there, naked in the moonlight the words forming in her chest. Despite the night before, despite everything in this crazy situation. She knew the pain of haunted dreams, she knew what it was like to run away from your past during the day only to have it catch up with you in the night. It never went, not really. She had tried to bury her past, but it never died.

Rey cupped her fingers over his shaking shoulders, and he stilled at her touch, his skin prickled in goosebumps. His hand reached to her own, long fingers covering her.

“You’re not alone.” She didn’t mean to say it, but the words pried themselves from her lips, given a life of their own.

He stood, hand slipping away from hers.

“Go back to sleep.” His words were sharp, a commanding edge that made her think he was used to ordering people about.

“What are you…” Her words drifted away. He was pulling his trousers on in a rush, his shirt, once crumpled on the floor, now sliding onto his back as his fingers moved clumsily to fasten them. “You’re leaving?”

Silence.

“But you still have a couple of hours left,” she said, her eyes and cheeks growing hot as the words left her lips. She wanted nothing more to curl up on a ball on the floor. It was bad enough being paid for having sex with someone, but having them walk out without even… She shuddered. It was so much worse. “We can go again, here let me…”

“I’m done.” He picked up the rest of his belongings and walked out the door, leaving Rey alone in the bed, naked and confused.

There were voices from the foyer. Furtive, pressing, voices exchanged in low hisses. She stood atop the stairs, her hand reaching for the polished mahogany banister, her foot dangling above the step below, toying with the idea of going down.

“Yes, of course, Mr Ren,” Phasma was saying, working hard to placate him, her voice accentuating every word.

More words from him. Inaudible. Sharp. Rude. Rey’s cheeks tingled. What was he saying about her? She took a step lower, rolling the soles of her feet to make sure the steps didn’t creak at the sound. The conversation continued.

“I can assure you I went through the rules. I will book you in with a different girl next month,” she grabbed the planner, tapping her pen against it in a staccato rhythm. “How about Tessa?”

Kylo spoke. His words still rude. Still sharp. Still inaudible. Rey took a breath and another step, straining to listen.

“Yes, it is unacceptable,” Phasma said testily. “It was only her first night. It was wrong of me to pair her with you.”

She stepped again, the slightest creak, as her toes touched the next level, but it wasn’t loud enough to draw their attention.

“What do you mean it was her first night?” His voice was louder now; she could feel the anger in his words. Rey took one more step closer, her last one, she swore to herself. “Is she not a sex worker?”

“She’s just a kid who’s gotten in over her head with debt,” Phasma said with a cruel curl of her lips. Rey bristled at the “kid” reference. She was 22 and had been doing it tough on her own since she was 16. Hardly a fucking kid who had just forgotten to pay off her Visa card. She clutched the railing, stopping herself from doing or saying anything rash. She was on the edge of being fired.

Phasma continued: “Tonight was her first shift. I wanted to her to get practice in before Snoke—”

“No Snoke.” He interrupted her brusquely, raising a hand to silence her.

“Mr Snoke will want to try her out.”

“When is he due to come?”

Rey risked another step closer.

Phasma checked her planner, tapping her finger on a point within the pages. “Friday.”

“Book her with me on Friday,” he blurted in that same commanding tone.

Phasma pursed her lips tightly.“ Mr Snoke will not be happy.”

“I don’t care. Book for the full-night again. No other clients that night.”

Rey swore in her head. The mere thought of going through tonight again was… She didn’t know what it was, perplexing, uncomfortable, confronting and just plain weird.

Phasma sighed. “Very well, booking for Desert Flower. It will cost you though.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? After tonight I shouldn’t have to pay a cent,” Kylo spat, and Rey flushed.

“I said I was sorry about that,” Phasma said and checked the planner once more. “She’s on the next couple of nights. I’ll get her up to speed by Friday.”

“Fine.” Kylo glowered, tossing his credit card at her as though it were nothing. Rey risked one more step, but this time his eyes snapped up at her. She quickly retreated, but it was too late; he had seen her.

“Charge it through to Friday.”

“I beg your pardon?” Phasma asked incredulously.

What?  Rey froze, darting her eyes back at him in disbelief.

“Every night through to Friday,” he added, not taking his eyes off her and having no shame to turn them away from her.

“There’s no discount, you know? It’s still $400 an hour.” Rey did the maths in her head. By the end of the week…  shit by the end of the week she would have paid off just under half of her debt, or at least the first installment, but that was all she could focus on.

“Fine. I’m out-of-town tomorrow but don’t have her fucking anyone else. Completely block her out,” he said, again with that authoritative tone.

Phasma sighed again, her lips pressing even tighter together. “Fine. She’s off limits. No bookings.”

Rey had made it to the top of the steps now, stopping just out of a view, her heart flipped.

“Now give her a copy of those fucking rules and make sure she can recite them blind by the time I come back,” he said loudly, to both of them Rey suspected.

“Yes, Mr Ren.”

“And Phasma?” He paused. Rey closed her eyes, dreading whatever would come next. “Buy the girl some fucking lube.”

[elzdaizy]

Smut: James Patrick March 

You had been living at the Hotel Cortez for at least 2 months now and had become close with many residents belonging to the extraordinary place. Liz was who you considered to be your best friend, Sally was the one who you would get drunk with and play games when it would get boring, Donovan was like an older brother to you, and although The Countess never really bothered with you at all, you didn’t care for her much either. Then there was Mr. March who would always just appear on the odd occasion and you would both share interesting conversations with each other and he was also the one person there who you found yourself extremely attracted to. 

One day you decided to stay in your room as you felt like having a lazy day. Watching scary movies, eating lollies and having a jam to some music on your spotify playlists, all whilst staying in your pyjamas the entire time. This is what you spent the most day doing until the late afternoon when someone knocked on your door. 

“Coming!” You yelled, turning down the music and adjusting your pj’s. You opened the door to find Mr. March elegantly standing with a smile on his face. 

“Oh hey March, I was not expecting you at all”. You admitted, feeling slightly embarrassed due to being in your childish clothes in front of such a man as March. 

“Yes, quite the obvious fact dear, but I did come for a purpose and it to invite you to dinner tonight at my room, 7pm, do you find yourself available?”  Mr. March was somewhat nervous which was unusual, did he find you attractive? Is this a date he’s proposing? You played it off calm and cool. 

“Yeah sounds great, I’ll see you in two hours then?” You answered back plainly, not wanting to say anything foolish like “of course, i would love to” or “are you kidding me, um, yes!” which were the actual thoughts in your brain when he asked you. 

“Splendid, until then Ms Y/L/N”. 

You closed the door and began pampering yourself for tonight as you had no idea what was in store. You showered, shaved and did your makeup extra nice but not too caked on, deciding on wearing a red, tight, strapless dress with your hair down and a silver choker with some silver heels & earring. 

Once ready, at 6:50 you left your room, making your way to Mr. March’s room, which you had never been to before so this was quite strange and foreign to you. 

Knocking on the door at precisely 6:57pm, you were greeted by Mrs Evers, the Hotels head maid. She welcomed you with a smile and ushered you through to the dining are where March was standing in front of the window, looking through the curtains at the outside world whilst puffing on a cigar.

You coughed to gain his attention as you awkwardly stood in the middle of this large dining room. March turned instantly and walked over to you, his gaze was without a doubt roaming around your body, making you feel warm and clammy. 

“You look absolutely exquisite dear, my what a beauty you are”. He complimented, taking your hand and placing a gentle, soft kiss to the back of your hand. He then escorted you to your seat at the table, being such a proper gentleman, it made you feel as though you were back in time in the 20′s whenever March was around.

“For starters we shall be having smoked salmon with prawns, horseradish cream & lime vinaigrette, the main course will be in fact, Moroccan quail with rose-petal sauce and cucumber relish and well, the dessert my dear shall just have to be a surprise.” March stated, all those foods sounded very pleasing to your ears. 

The tension, sexually on your side of the equation felt very high in this environment. You couldn’t quite sit still as you didn’t know how to deal with such a presence as March’s. 

“So, March, what’s your name? I’m getting bored of calling you March all the time”. You decided to break the ice.

“James, dear”. He smirked. 

You both continued talking about yourselves, interesting topics and conversations until you had both finished your main courses. 

“So, James, what’s for dessert then, if it beats what we just ate I swear I will be absolutely gobsmacked”. You honestly, half-jokingly admitted. 

“I’ll get Mrs Evers to bring it out now, Mrs Evers! Dessert please”. James demanded. You had drunk about two and a half glasses of wine at this point and could start to feel the full effects coming on. Your confidence was through the roof and you knew you were going to say or do something stupid at any given moment. 

As Mrs Evers left to go collect the desserts down in the kitchen, you saw it as in opportunity to seduce or at least turn on James. You sat quietly, staring at him until he noticed and you sent him a quick wink and lip bite. This was probably way too forward and you probably looked stupid you thought but you were too horny for him to even care right now. 

“What was that for?” James asked, smirking slightly at your expressions. 

“You’re dead Mr. March, not stupid”. You fired back, hoping he would catch on, as to which he did. His face went from smiley and cheeky to dark and lust hungry. His eyes trailing your body again, you could see the frustration in his face, you decided to play at this and bite your lip again. 

The tension was disrupted by Mrs Evers entering the room once again, returning with the desserts, which was now the last thing on your mind. James did not break eye contact with you as Mrs Evers waddled over to him ready to place the food infront of him but he just raised his hand signalling her to shoo, go away, fuck off. 

Once she left the room, James immediately rose from him chair and stormed over to the bedroom doors, flinging them wide open to expose a large king sized bed. He then walked his way slowly towards you holding his hand out to get you to stand, as to which you did. 

Now face to face with James, your heart was beating like a thousand times per minute, until he forcefully grabbed the back of your head with one hand pulling you into a rough, passionate kiss, whilst using his other hand to unzip the back of your dress and letting it slide down revealing your breasts and underwear. 

James stood back a took in the sight of you for a moment before muttering something under his breath and pulling you towards the bed. He ripped off your panties as he threw you onto the bed and spread both of your legs wide apart, exposing all of yourself to him. He was breathing heavily and licking his lips, he looked as if he didn’t know where to start, like a kid at an amusement park, it was very amusing. 

“Y/N, you have no idea what I would love to do with your body”. James began talking as he stood back and removed his clothes, leaving only his underwear on before crawling onto the bed, between your thighs. 

“Give me an idea then”. You replied, trying not to moan in aching for his touch. You arched your back and you finally felt his finger coming into contact with your wetness. “My, my, someone’s a bit eager?” He proudly reacted. 

“Please, James”. You begged for more of him. 

He then removed his underwear and got himself positioned nicely at your entrance before grabbing your face harshly with one hand as the other one was holding your leg in place and made you look directly at him. This was hot. 

“I want you to watch me plunge into you, I want to see that pretty little face of yours as I show you wonders which you’ve never had before”. James aggressively demanded then let go of your jaw and licked his palm, rubbing you a few times, sending you moaning his name loudly and then thrust into you harshly but slowly. You could not contain your bodily noises as he fucked you so good like this. He began speeding up more and more, and kept making sure you both always kept eye contact by grabbing your face constantly turning it back to him. 

“James I’m almost there”. You quivered, staring right into his eyes. You could tell he was too because the veins at the side of his head began showing and in his face he just looked like he was going to burst. 

Moments later you went into a highly euphoric state. Twitching like crazy and vision became blurry for a matter of seconds. It was undoubtedly the highest pleasure you’d ever experienced. 

James then finished with a loud grunt and then released himself from you, leaving a trail of kisses from your forehead to your breasts before crashing down onto the bed next to you. 

After you both calmed down, you turned to look at him as he did the same to you and you caressed his face before gently giving him a kiss. 

“Thank you, James, for that. I hope that wasn’t the only time” You admitted, grinning at him as to which he couldn’t help but smile. 

“You must know that I may never let you go now, you simply belong to me”. 

[omgkittymonster-blog]

KAT'S KETO STARTER GUIDE

a quick guide to starting keto easily and without worries!

⦁ intro ⦁ science ⦁ myths and misconceptions

⦁ breakfast ⦁ lunch ⦁ dinner ⦁ snacks ⦁ food list CHEAT SHEET:

⦁ intermittent fasting ⦁ what to do when you go out to eat ⦁ what to drink and when

⦁ "carb cycling", cheat days, and how tos: ⦁ things to avoid that are a waste of money

INTRODUCTION TO KETO Keto is an amazing diet and/or lifestyle that when paired with multiple other forms of healthy choices can be a quick way to lose a few pounds or a healthy way to live longterm allowing you to still enjoy life without estranging yourself from your friends and family.  It is very flexible and people that stick to keto find themselves in love with it and raving about their success, as long as they gave it the proper chance! I myself lost ten pounds the first week I did strict keto and I knew then I was hooked!

SCIENCE BEHIND KETO AND WHY IT WORKS The common american diet is very high in sugar, carbs, unhealthy fats, caffeine, sodium, etc. This recipe is a disaster waiting to happen, heart disease, obesity, cancers, diabetes, among a plethora of other terrible life stealing diseases that effect millions of americans. Whether you do a low carb, or low calorie, or low red meat and fat diet, the idea remains the same.  Reduce calorie intake vs output, avoid foods that cause inflamations or gastro-intestinal upsets, and eat filling whole foods that offer a lot of nutrient density. Now, the reason that keto works so good is the science behind the diet: When you reduce the amount of sugar (glucose)  your body intakes, which is its normal source of fuel, it panics, uses what it has, burns glycogen which is stored in the liver and muscles, and finally switches your body to KETONES (which burns FATS for fuel instead).  When your body is in Ketosis, it will burn your body fat and consumed fats for energy, to do normal body functions.  This sounds like a miracle, and I can honestly say it is.  Most average americans have anywhere from a 20%-50% body fat ratio, men usually on the lower end of that, where anything over 30% is usually considered overweight.   That being said, most people have a lot of fuel to burn that they would never have burned if they were eating a large amount of carbohydrates that the body prefers to burn first.  You literally have your own fuel just waiting to go, and you will feel awesome when you see the fat melting off your tummy, thighs, back, face.  :D

Myths and Misconceptions When I first started keto I thought I could eat as many hot dogs, burgers, chicken wings, ranch dressings, etc as I could stuff in my face.   Truth be told you can, but your body will be severely lacking vitamins and minerals that you need to be healthy so I would suggest making sure to vary your diet, always include a healthy fat (example: salmon, avocado, macadamia nuts) and lots of greens whenever possible.  If you absolutely cannot, taking a high nutrient density multi vitamin is really smart, as well as looking into electrolyte mixes or supplements. People will try to bully you or shame you for not eating "just one this" or "you have to try a bite" and after a little while, you absolutely can! But during the first month or so, til you become "fat adapted" it is best to be as diligent as possible, and you will be really proud of the results. Not all fats are created equal:  While dirty keto does exist and sometimes is necessary, try to remember that quality of your fuel will always dictate how you feel.  Will you feel better after a slice of greasy pizza or a big salad with lots of veggies and roasted turkey? Easy concept. You don't have to starve yourself.  This was the hardest part for me to learn at first.  Keto foods are filling, yummy, and full of flavor, so eat til you're about comfortably full and give the fork a rest.  You'll find you're sated for many hours! Not all people get the keto flu.  Some adapt to eating high fat really well with minimal issues.  If you are feeling dizzy, lightheaded, or stomach sick, make sure you have plenty of water and if you need to, have a shot of pickle juice or a sprinkle of salt in your water.  Vitamin water ZERO is also a decent way to get electrolytes without having to spend a lot on a supplement.  I'd avoid zero sugar gatorade though, the sweetener in it is sucralose which is bad for ketosis.

NOW TO THE FUN PART: THE FOOD! I do most of my shopping at a normal grocery store, and most of the things I mention can be bought at meijer, target, walmart, or whatever your local chain is. Buy organic if you want! But it isnt necessary.  Meats and dairy foods are best when bought all natural or organic if possible.  Look for words like grass finished, or pasture raised.

Breakfast ideas: Omelets - add whatever meats veggies and cheeses from list fit your choosing Cauliflower "hash" - sautee pieces of cauliflower with meats, veggies, top with cheese and let it melt :D keto "cereal" - 2 cups unsweetened coconut, sprinkle with cinnamon, stevia, coconut oil, pecans, macadamia nuts, whatever.  bake two minutes per side around 375 til toasted.  cool and serve with unsweetened hemp, oat, almond or soy milk and fresh berries if you want! Chorizo and eggs with avocado and sour cream - they do make turkey chorizo too! or make your own by adding hot sauce and spices to ground turkey.  :3 "Two Good" Makes a super low carb yogurt that tastes amazing  - i eat it with berries or a "Quest" brand protein cookie for breakfast! Chia pudding - 2 T. chia seeds, milk substitute or water, stevia, and whatever flavor you want to add! Peanut butter, cocoa powder for PB cup,  raspberry/almond,  blueberry/pecan.  Chill overnight, awesome grab and go Egg muffins  - mix up eggs like youd be making scrambled eggs, add some ricotta or cottage cheese (full fat only), add toppings, bake for 5-10 mins til middle is set (use a tooth pick).  Can freeze and pop in microwave or last a week in the fridge.  I like mine with pesto and mozzarella with tomato on top.

Lunch ideas: La tortilla factory low carb wrap "blt" - these tortillas are amazing and come in many sizes.  If you cant find those, find any brand that says "low carb" - look for net carbs under 6 for best choices.  Add avocado, turkey bacon, mayo if desired, lettuce, tomato, peppers, etc.  Eat with cheese chips (recipe in snacks) Soups:  Creamy chicken chili, broccoli cheese (substitute heavy cream and broth in place for milk in recipes) bone broth veggie soups (imagine PHO or Ramen with no noodles!) MAKE A BIG ASS SALAD WITH WHATEVER MEATS AND CHEESE AND VEGGIES YOU WANT   (that are safe on the list ofc) this is what i do a lot, and i put the dressing on the side so i can just munch on it throughout the day without it getting soggy.   If you find yourself picking certain parts out of your salad right away, try to focus on those more until your body is craving other things.  Some days i eat my meats right away, others i eat all my veggies.  Your body often tells you what you need without even realizing. If you're a grazer make a fruit and nut tray, or "lunchables" almost. There is a recipe for whats called CLOUD BREAD. It's basically like a fluffy meringue that is made with cream cheese and eggs. I dont make it a lot, I almost always would rather have those wraps.  They're that good and last longer :D Try to keep things with you that you know you will eat, rather than things you think you're supposed to eat, because cold fish sounds disgusting vs that yummy five piece chicken tender with hot sauce. >_>

Dinner Ideas: Dinner is my forte because for a long time I was doing OMAD keto, aka "One meal a day keto" where I would fast until dinner every day, except for coffee, tea and water.  During these times I dreamt up many cheat meals that I JUST HAD TO HAVE and went home and keto-ized em.  If there's a will there's a way, bahahaha. OMAD is not recommended at the start of ketosis because you may feel low on energy or dizzy sometimes and we want to avoid bad feelings during initiation so when you see the success you have you won't have a negative feeling as to why it happened.

LITERALLY IMAGINE YOUR FAVORITE DINNER. Whatever you're craving.  You can hack it. We got this.   Chinese/Take out? Easy mode.  You can make stir fries, fried cauliflower rice, sweet and sour chicken (using parmesan for a crust!), peanut "noodles" or "zoodles", egg foo young, etc! American: Wings, burgers, brats/sausages, grilled chicken, etc - most cook out foods in whole form are totally safe. Pair with grilled veggies or a salad, or make a pasta salad from zoodles with homemade italian dressing.  YUMMMM bish Italian: Low carb tomato sauces and "noodles", Fat head Pizza (link to fat head dough recipe will be at bottom.  This shit is dope.  I never even liked pizza before this).  Chicken Parmesan, "Spaghetti and Meatballs", Lasagna: AND OMG GUESS WHAT. Alfredo is like totally fair game, and its really good with mushrooms and chicken. :P Mexican: HOLY FUCK I EAT THIS STUFF SO MUCH.  Like, pretty much everything but the chips and rice are totally gucci for keto.  Taco/Burrito bowls, fajitas, ceviche, salsa, avocado salad, guacamole, and for dipping I make cheese chips or thin slices of cucumber spritzed with chili lime and salt. Greek: Greek salad, schwarma, gyros (either without bread or use the low carb wraps), hemp seed "Falafel", tzatziki sauce, feta cheese, olives, etc. I have even made indian and thai curries, moroccan food, middle eastern We have made chicken tenders, french fries, chips, "nachos", fish fry, breaded mushrooms, mozz sticks, cheese curds.  All your craving foods! The internet is wonderful for this, just make sure you are paying close attention to how much a portion is, or if its higher in carbs than you're allowed for the day.

Above I posted a picture for a shopping list.

This is a nice shopping list but I find it is sort of strict.  Try to stick to these items to start but You can add in things like more nuts or avocados, almond and coconut flours (to make cakes and breads!), and higher starch veggies and fruits as time goes on.  I get down on some cantaloupe pretty often, and have a cupcake at least once a month.

Intermittent Fasting IF is typically considered an advance technique or body reset especially after big meal days or cheating, and while it has amazing health benefits, I would suggest you research it yourself and decide if it's right for you.  I had a lot of luck with it because I hate to keep track of my calories on an app so I knew if I ate whatever I could within a five to seven hour period that the chances that I would eat more than 1800 calories would go way down.   Each person is different, if you feel physically hungry, don't deny that feeling. Here is a link that describes and explains types of IF. https://www.healthline.com/nutrition/intermittent-fasting-guide#methods

What to do when you go out to eat We live in a time where many people eat low carb, or restaurants are very willing to wiggle with ingredients or substitutions.  Remember that nicer restaurants appreciate this less, but if you know that it will be happening, you can always call the restaurant and let them know in advance.  Many chefs are reasonable and want your business and willing to help. Always check the menu for words like, naked, ask for sauces on the side, try to stick to things that are usually safe, blue cheese, ranch, vinaigrettes, mayos.  When a dish comes with a carb side, most places will double up on steamed or grilled veg for very little extra or no charge.  I get steak with a literal dick ton of broccoli or asparagus and lotsa butter and its good and filling. :D Burgers can be put on top of a side salad , or ask for a lettuce wrap.  Make sure wings and chickens arent breaded before frying or baking.  Chinese restaurants usually have a section that has all the same ingredients but sauce on the side and veggies steamed, good for when you go out.  Egg drop soup is usually ok as long as you don't eat a gallon of it. If something comes that you really want, but can't have, just have one small bite and cover the rest of it with too much salt or ketchup or something than you can handle, or trade it away.  This will prevent you from eating it all. There's lots of options and understand that whenever you go out, there is a chance that you might slip out of ketosis.  Don't be discouraged because a small slip is a lot easier to deal with than a big one, and you will feel fine within 12 hrs.

What to drink and when Coffee, espresso, unsweetened teas, club soda or la croix like drinks with zero fake sugars added (look for aspartame, sucralose, dextrose, erythritol, etc), pure liquors with no added flavor or sugar (vodka, gin, whiskey, rum, tequila), dry red wine (cabernet, merlot) dry white wine (sauvignon blanc, brut champagne, pinot grigo, chardonnay).  Keep in mind that alcohol still contains a lot of calories and while it will not likely bump you out of ketosis, it does delay your body burning calories because it is too busy trying to destroy the evil alcohol from your bloodstream (dramatic music) so limiting intake in the first month really helps you to get in the swing and feel good and hydrated :P. Side Note: Ketal One makes new no sugar added Botanical Vodka and the Peach one and the cucumber mint one are fucking amazing, the end.

"Carb cycling" cheat days, and how to IF YOU KNOW YOU'RE GONNA CHEAT mentally prepare yourself for that.  Know what you want to eat, what isnt worth it, and how to stop yourself when you are done.  Ever been on a bender where you drank like three days in a row and by the end you're like dude wtf happened all I wanted was to drink friday night and now its sunday where did it go".  This has happened to me lots with holidays and special occasion weekends, and the best advice I have for you is to pay attention to how cheating makes you feel.  Don't feel guilty unless you feel bad for your progress or your body.  Sadly, potatoes make me feel like garbage so I try to avoid them like the plague even when I do cheat. Try to not eat for as long as you can handle after you cheat to allow your body some rest and to burn the glucose and glycogen that may be still in your system.  If you feel good enough some cardio or lifting may help to get you back in faster. Ultimately, if keto is a lifestyle for you, remember that life happens and its ok to be human, and eat things that are unhealthy as long as its not the normal.  Remind yourself that you deserve to be happy as well as healthy and balance that in your mind.  Being positive and recognizing this will help you to not fall off the deep end either way, by being too strict or completely abandoning keto, which often in the early phase will lead you to gaining all that weight you lost back. Carb cycling is a form of keto diet for athletes or very physical people who benefit from a quick carb before intense activity in order to feed their muscles or whatever but as I am not one of those people, I just stick to my higher carb fruits and veggies when I think I might go for a run or walk, or drag my ass down the road, whatever you'd like to call it. >_>

Things to avoid that are a waste of money Don't buy "exo ketones" or "Keto drinks" or powders, anything "bullet-proof" is basically bullshit, you can make the same things for zillions of dollars less and it will taste better as well. Keto urine strips are pretty much just a waste of money, they aren't really indicative of where you are at. Expensive "keto" supplements aren't necessary, take your multi and drink your electrolytes and you should be good to go.  Keep in mind if you are an intense athlete I am not so like talk to your doctor or coach dude.

[geniusorinsanity]

i would like to her ur nursey family feels pls!! (i have plenty of my own & made a post but i need All the nursey content)

ahaha YOU JUST OPENED THE FLOODGATES BUDDY

Okay, so,Nursey’s birth parents:

Amal Hassan Nurse      

born in Morocco, but spent the first ten years of herlife moving all around northern Africa and the Middle East because her fatherworked as a security consultant and would spend a few years in various placesdesigning systems for different companies

speaks both dialects of Arabic fluently, but willalways prefer Moroccan, because it sounds like home to her

moved to the States when she was thirteen and her dadgot a permanent job working for a security firm in Manhattan. Grew up in theprivate school system and never left

has a BA from NYU and a JD/PhD from Columbia. Is asenior partner in an NYC firm specializing in foreign and comparative law.smarter than all of us.

Elijah Nurse

grew up in Washington, DC. As a child, was 100%convinced that his father was a spy, because he traveled all the time and nevertold him what he did.

his mother is Haitian and from a very strict family inPort au Prince. Was not a fan of Nonsense and this had a pretty significantimpact on how Elijah related to other kids

Raised speaking English and French, but never spokeFrench outside the house because he associated it with his mother scolding himor his siblings

Got his BA in economics from Georgetown and then wentto do his MBA at Columbia, which is where he met Amal

This marriage was Not a Good Idea

Very tried and true case of people who are physicallycompatible but VERY NOT COMPATIBLE IN MOST OTHER WAYS

Amal is emotive and a little scatterbrained, Elijah isstrict about routine and doesn’t communicate feelings well

Not a Good Combination

They got married anyway to piss off their parents

Don’t do that, kids.

They got divorced two years after Derek was born. Itwas not friendly. 

They agreed on split custody of the kids, Derek and hisolder sister Farah (more on Farah, Love of My Life, later). 

About two years after the divorce, Amal reconnects witha friend from college, Gabriela Torres.

“Reconnects” = They literally crash into each other inthe subway #thatNYClife

promptly has the following thought process:

“Was she always this hot?”

“Was I always this gay?”

“This explains SO MUCH.”

they get married a year later.

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT NURSEY’S STEP MAMA GABRIELA

first generation Chilean American. Both her parentswere artists who moved to go to school in California.

she’s a ~San Francisco child~ in that she is: veryqueer, unfazed by a lot of strange things happening around her, and fucking hates the cold.

her parents are a strange blend of Liberal Artist andOverprotective Catholic, in that they want her to follow her dreams but willalso guilt the fuck out her if she misses mass and/or isn’t home for Christmas.

It’s not a total surprise to them that she decides tomove to New York for college but they still guilt the fuck out of her for it.

Everyone cries, but they get over it.

goes NYU all the way through her degrees: BA in ArtHistory, PhD in Fine Arts. 

Her dream is to be a full-time painter, but she isRealistic and knows that shit is not how it works.

Gets scooped up by the curator of the gallery where she’sdoing one of her internships.

Works her way up to co-director of the gallery because#womensupportingwomen, and has her own studio on the side

Elijah also remarries, about two years after thedivorce, to a pediatrician living out in Westchester. They have two more kidsin pretty quick succession, and both Nursey and Farah try to ignore how muchmore their dad seems to be around for those kids when they’re little than heever was for them.

It doesn’t really work.

They’ve got some baggage about this.

SPEAKING OF MY BABY GIRL FARAH NURSE.

Farah is four years and five grades ahead of Nursey.

She was an Angel Baby but a Demon Toddler--Nursey beingborn flipped her back into being a reasonable child because all of a suddenthere was this Small Person Thing who was kind of interesting but also madenoise and Huh, Okay.

fiercely fiercelyfiecrely protective of her baby brother. They’ve never been in the sameschool, but she is intensely aware that he’s a soft, sensitive kid, and shewill claw someone’s eyes out if they mess with him.

really, really intomedia and how it influences people, particularly the way queer people, peopleof color, and QPOC are influenced to see themselves and develop theirself-worth based on media depictions. Starts getting into critical analysis ofart and news and movies and TV in like, eighth grade. 

Gabriela is SO PROUD.

has gone back and forth on wearing hijab a few timesthroughout her life. Talks to her mom about it a lot. Amal tells her consistently that it’s always her decision,that she can change her mind whenever she wants, and that as long as shechooses to wear it (or not) for reasons she feels okay about, she supports her.

The only time she ever feels guilty is when she thinksabout wearing it at Andover just as a fuckyou to the guys who talk about how Muslim women are Always Oppressed. Shedecides not to wear it.

follows her moms to NYU, where she meets her boyfriendRami, who’s an Arab Jew. They move in together their senior year. She is super nervous about meeting his parentsfor the first time at their house in Brooklyn. They take one look at her, tellher she’s too skinny, and attempt to adopt her.

She’s 5’11” and has never been told she’s too skinny byanyone in her life.

She wants to adopt them.

Rami’s parents have brunch with her moms every month and gossipabout when they’re going to get married.

I’m getting off-track but I love her.  

The shared custody thing goes okay for awhile--the kidsdon’t really like going out to Westchester for half the week because it makestheir commute to school so long, butit’s part of the job. Eventually, Amal gets sole custody--Elijah isn’t doingthe emotional work of parenting, and the kids aren’t happy when they’re withhim.

I also have sad headcanons about shit that went down ifyou read my fic but that’s not crucial to this family HC necessarily.

for awhile, Nursey and Farah stay in touch with Elijahfairly frequently, but he’s not big on Feelings, and they’re not big on beinggaslighted about the fact that he’s really emotionally distant and his momyells at them a lot, so as they get older they really only talk to him on theirbirthdays, Father’s Day, his birthday, and major holidays.

Amal really tries to get them to keep in touch moreoften, because she’s really close with her dad and she wants her kids to have arelationship with theirs, but like...she’s not gonna force it.

Also, like...no one fucks with her babies.

So now: the Nurse-Torres Household:

one high-powered lawyer, one artist/gallery director,one super-analytical and overprotective child, and one sensitive,clumsy-as-fuck baby hockey player.

My. Loves.

there are a Lot of Languages in this House

Amal teaches the kids Moroccan Arabic literally as soonas the divorce is finalized--Elijah didn’t want her to teach them while theywere married because he didn’t like them having a language with her he didn’tknow, but NOPE.

Nursey soaks it up like a sponge. Farah’s seven so shehas a little more trouble, but like fuck is she going to let her baby brotherbe better than her at something so 

Gabriela laments thefact that her step-children speak fluent Spanish but their accents are afucking mess because the nannies they learned from were from Guatemala, thenSpain, then Argentina

Other languages spoken, scattered across multiplepeople, in varying degrees of fluency: French, Portuguese, Mandarin, Italian,Latin, Haryanvi, Hebrew.

family dinners are mandatory--anyone who’s home musteat together, sitting down, at the table, without electronics.

Nursey refuses to come to dinner for a week after Farahleaves for Andover because it won’t be The Same

there’s a Lot of physical affection: hugs, cuddles,forehead kisses, hair-playing, etc. Lots of wrestling between Farah and Nursey.Nursey usually loses.

Nursey always loses.

:(

once both kids are at college, there are regularlyscheduled Family Google Hangouts

Also mandatory

Basically family dinner

Nursey does it in the Haus once and everyone freaks outat how hot everyone in his family is

he’s Aware, thanks dudes

This is four full pages long in a google doc and I needto stop but basically: Nursey has a really complicated and strainedrelationship with his dad, and he misses his half-sisters sometimes, but he’s so so so loved by his moms and hissister and he’s so supported and he loves them so much and i have about amillion feels and i could go on forever please stop me.

also it’s not a family member but their next doorneighbor has a pit bull named Lupe who loves Nursey and every time he comeshome he takes it for a walk in central park and he wants a dog so much and he’s counting the minutesuntil he can get one

thank you for your time.

i’m crying now.

[highgaarden]

fic  |  12:51

12:51;

or: Bonnie, Caroline, and a superheroes origin story in five parts.

Bonnie+Caroline; Klaus/Caroline, Bonnie/Damon | wc. 7373 | ch. 2/5

read on: AO3 / ff.net

this fic is an ode of my love for @ishenwulf and @icebluecyanide, and solid proof that headcanons do not just remain screams between us. half of this fic belongs to them, simply because their existence amaze me so much i just had to stuff the evidence of it into this story.

i hope you all enjoy.

.

.

    —

Part Two

Call It Fate, Call It Karma

—

.

.

 Removed from the mayhem and massacre of New Orleans, there wasn’t much for Klaus to do in New York. He tried his hand in being protector of the night, but after Caroline realised he’d been tailing her for some time, she was quite angry with him.

She realised he’d been tailing her when she heard his admiring cheers after kicking a newly-turned vampire in the jaw.

“Couldn’t have done it better myself, sweetheart!” Klaus applauded, pocketing his binoculars.

“How long have you been following me?” she demanded. She craned her neck to look up at him.

From his perch on the rooftop, he said, “A few hours.”

Caroline stared at him, unimpressed.

“Four nights now,” he admitted.

Caroline waited, still.

“Two weeks,” he sighed, figuring it best to be truthful. He crossed his fingers behind his back.

Caroline, without a word, left.

He noticed she was more careful with the way she walked now because he hardly heard her at all. His apologies had been met with silence. He resolved to amend his mistake and reduced his stalking to just twice a week, until it became increasingly harder to track her down.

Klaus visited the apartment four times the following week and managed to miss Caroline every single time. Damon, elbow deep in a tub of Bonnie’s Phish Food, was disgusted to find Klaus in his sanctum sanctorum, poking a finger into the tall stack of books Bonnie had fake-borrowed from the library.

The books fell with a clatter, or would have, had Klaus not put his super speed to good use to pick them up before they hit the floor.

“Bored much?”

“I was locked up for nearly a decade. It doesn’t take much to amuse me.” Klaus had moved on to Caroline’s collection of small cacti lining the windowsill. They used to be grouped in the middle of the kitchen island, but Damon had moved them there to prove a point. When Bonnie easily stepped over them to venture out into the night, Damon figured he might have underestimated the peril of the prickly plants.

“If you like it here so much, why don’t you just move in?” Damon asked with a mouth full of ice-cream. He followed that mouthful with several hasty gulps of JD. “That was rhetorical. Get the hell off my couch.”

Klaus peered owlishly at him. “Are you worry-drinking?”

“No,” Damon said, dumping the now-empty bottle for a new one.

Klaus went ahead on his prowl around the room, studying things, touching things. He had a particular way of observing an object, meaning: if it wasn’t Caroline’s, it was discarded into a pile in a corner of the room.

All of the things in that pile belonged to Damon.

“What are you doing?” Damon screeched, scandalized.

“Making room for me, of course,” Klaus said.

“Of course?” Damon pitched his bottle at Klaus’s head, but forgot that Klaus was more than a thousand years old and knew how to duck. The bottle bounced – miraculously – against the mantelpiece and then landed squarely in the middle of the pile.

Klaus looked satisfied. “Good, that’s the living room sorted. Now which one’s your room?”

 —

 Word of Bonnie and Caroline’s plight for the seemingly-impossible had taken Dumbo by storm. Sometimes, in the middle of Bonnie levitating a drunk werewolf by the ankles, a fan would come and ask for a picture.

“Where’d you learn how to do that?” Kieran from the grocery store asked in awe.

“YouTube,” Bonnie answered. She turned her palms upwards and the werewolf crumpled against the alley wall.

“Dude, does he have fur—”

“Hi, Kieran,” Caroline appeared out of nowhere as she greeted him warmly. She made sure to deepen her voice. It sounded a bit like a growl now, and probably diminished the warmth. Kieran looked like he was going to piss his pants from excitement.

“How do you know my name?” he asked, mouth agape. “Should we exchange numbers now? I’m good at texting. Holy shit, your eyes – holy fuck, are you a va—?”

“You short-change me every week. Also? If you’re trying to clean up the environment, why even offer plastic bags at the counter?” Caroline narrowed her eyes, wondering if that counted as criminal activity.

Bonnie inclined her head. It was only a small shake, but Caroline sighed and understood.

“Anyway. You saw nothing. You were probably on the way home to go marathon Homestuck and jerk off to how many people you scam daily with the price of your so-called free range eggs. I checked your supplier, buddy.  All caged! Caged by fiends—”

“Caroline,” Bonnie said in her let’s-get-a-move-on voice.

Caroline finished compelling him and sent him on his merry way. “How’s Fluffy doing?”

“He’ll live,” Bonnie said. She inspected a nick in her arm that Fluffy had managed to scrape with his one sharp canine. His other had fallen off when Bonnie punched his face with a wall. “What’s next on the list?”

After carefully pocketing Fluffy’s freshly inked contract, Caroline pulled out her phone. Her shadowed eyes appeared darker in the light the screen provided in the alleyway. “Gotta check out that warehouse in Midtown. Klaus said it’ll be hot tonight.”

“Klaus,” Bonnie repeated. Her tone implied she didn’t like the idea, but she didn’t despise it either, which Caroline chose to view with optimism. “Is this going to be a thing now?”

“No,” Caroline said too quickly. She straightened her spine and managed to look dignified even as she said, “I just agreed, very unenthusiastically might I add, that he could be our intel. Since he does know the seedy underbelly of this stinkhole city.”

“He probably gave birth to the seedy underbelly of this stinkhole city,” Bonnie muttered. “Anyway, that’s like, what – forty minute walk? Forget it, I’ll Uber there.”

“Jeez, Bonnie.” Caroline rolled her eyes. “Not like you haven’t done this before. Hop on.”

A breeze and thirty-five blocks later they arrive at their destination, Bonnie’s cape whipping behind her as she lopes gracefully to her feet. Caroline grudgingly admired it, despite hating how impractical it was.

But then again, it made Bonnie look incredibly cool, especially when she did that thing where she lifted herself into the air.

“I see you hating,” Bonnie notes, “and I raise you your mask and how it does almost nothing to hide your identity.”

“I like them to be able to hear me talk,” Caroline shot back. “When we start going after actual creatures of the night instead of undead jock types, maybe I’ll take more care—”

“Shh.” Bonnie pressed a finger to her lips. She stood stock-still, chanting something under her breath. A minute later a light wind blew strands of her hair away from her forehead. “I sense at least twelve.”

“Now there’s a party,” Caroline said and snapped out her extendable baton. She didn’t need it, but appreciated the aesthetics.

 —

 Damon returned from grocery duties laden with things they did not usually buy. He knows this because he would edit the grocery list heavily whenever Caroline left it on the counter for Bonnie to find. Today, Bonnie followed him to the corner market because he refused to show her where he’d hidden the list.

“Why do we need kale?” He pulled a face.

“It’s amazing how you still think you’re included in this pronoun,” Bonnie said. She walked right past the pork rinds and into the grains aisle, where she reached for the quinoa. “I spend my nights jumping up buildings. It’s called maintenance, Damon.”

“Qui-NO­­-a,” Damon tossed the pack back on the shelf. “Am I just going to starve, then?”

“There’s Mike’s Pizza right around the corner,” Bonnie replied, unfazed. She grabbed the quinoa again. “Why don’t you just go home?”

Uncharacteristic silence is all that comes from Damon’s mouth, which opens and closes and opens again. His eye twitches, his mouth pulls into something other than his token smirk, for once. “It’s getting… harder.”

Bonnie bites her lip. She’d been avoiding the conversation, clearly. “I see.”

“Seeing you is a nice reprieve,” he offered.

“Got it.” Bonnie sized up the contents of the trolley, then put the quinoa back on the shelf. Damon perks up. “Wanna get a pie to-go? It’s been a while since scrabble night.”

“Are- are you sure?”

“The crime can wait.” She shrugged. “I just got a manicure anyway – not really feeling like punching much tonight.”

“Don’t you usually just—?” Damon waved his arms around, fingers jerking. “Levitate ‘em? Make brain matter leak out of their ears?”

“You tell me,” Bonnie snickered. “Aren’t you supposed to be the first ever foremost best quality expert on my alter ego life?”

Damon gasped. “So you do read WatchOutVillainz.com!”

—

 Caroline’s room was a hive of secrecy. The only person who was ever allowed in there was Bonnie, who usually came in through the adjoining bathroom. Whenever Bonnie did so, they let the shower run and talked in whispers, just because they knew it would grate at Damon.

There was something tugging at the corner of her mind as she swept down the street and climbed up her fire exit and into the window of her room.

The night before last, when she and Bonnie had ambushed those twelve vampires in the middle of their midnight snack, three of them had managed to skedaddle their way out of there. She had beat the others to an inch of their undead lives, Bonnie keeping them in place by simmering the blood in their necks, and only one name had come up.

Her bedroom did not really reflect her work ethic. When she decorated, she had placed comfort, coziness and warmth above efficiency, with quilted throw pillows and Moroccan rugs and a leather ottoman inherited from her late grandparents.

Her walk-in closet told a different story.

Pushing aside winter wear, she found what she’d been looking for: a safe. Inside the safe was a file cabinet, meticulously organized. It took a while to find the file, because she wasn’t sure whether it had been filed under R, E or V.

In the end, it was in the ‘MISC.’ section. She pinched the file firmly between her fingers and out slid all her surveilled information on Raul the Eurovision Vampire.

She had caught him in a shady bar, after he’d eaten the entire room because he’d lost in the Man! I Feel Like A Woman!: A Tribute to Shania Twain karaoke competition. He’d eaten them because in addition to not applauding him after he finished his rendition of You’re Still The One, they also didn’t believe he was the same Raul who had won the annual international TV song competition back in 1959, simply because if he truly had, he’d be dead by now.

Mostly it was the applause thing.

Raul the Eurovision Vampire had on a long cape that trailed across the blood-smeared floor. He liked wearing high-heeled stiletto boots that gave the appearance of him hovering in mid-air, and brought them up in conversation any chance he got. He ditched those boots when he discovered Caroline was not above clawing up a drainpipe to chase after him.

She skimmed through his contract and found his number; a few seconds later she had her phone out.

Raul answered on the fourth ring. “I’m not home,” he hissed, and hung up.

Caroline tried again.

“You are nothing but persistent!” Raul announced despairingly. “Is it not enough that you’ve banished me from the only home I’ve ever known; denied me the simple splendour of finally belonging?”

“Weren’t you born in Romania or something?”

There was a sound akin to a hurricane as Raul breathed into the phone. “Those are fighting words, square and true! I will vomit on your possessions, insolent mushrump!”

“Uh – yeah. I need you to do something for me.”

“A favour, she seeks!” He’s still exclaiming. It’s giving her a complex.

Caroline quickly explained the situation. “…and now I’m pretty sure you’re my one way in.”

“You want me to help you capture my friends?”

“Just draw them out. And are you sure they were your friends?” Her lips twitched. “They gave you up so easy.”

Raul scoffed, but that was all.

Caroline put her offer on the proverbial table. “I’ll let you come back to New York every third weekend.”

“What makes you think I’d ever return?” Raul sniffed. “That vile city was a coxcomb that never wanted me. Never was there a city that made me wish more for the eternal wiles of death.”

Honestly, she thought the same about this phone call. With an eyeroll she said, “I’ll give you back your boots.”

There was a long, ugly pause. It was so long and so ugly that Caroline thought he had put down the phone.

At long last he announced, with vigour, “Seduction certainly becomes you, Lady Distraction.”

“Actually, my name is—”

“Alas, I have a party to plan!”

“Wait, party?”

“Good bye!” Raul exclaimed. The line did not go dead immediately: there was the sound of a fumble and then the background chatter of Raul watching a tutorial on how to cook moussaka, before an incredulous Caroline ended the call for him.

 —

 As luck would have it, Caroline met Klaus at the party. Or rather: Klaus’s hand was conveniently in the way when she was reaching for a cheese stick.

When she looked up, he was looking at her with astonishment.

“Can it, Mikaelson,” she said immediately.

Klaus frowned. “But I haven’t said anything.”

“You’re going tell me how ravishing I look. I’m going to ignore the comment and focus, instead, on why you’re suddenly and miraculously standing by the cheese platter of the first party I’ve been to in three years. Sure, it’s actually a stage for my vamp round-up later, but—I mean, come on. You’ve got to cool it on the stalking.”

“For one, I was going to tell you how arresting you looked,” Klaus corrected. He actually sounded offended. “And despite the evidence of the contrary, I’m not stalking you. I was invited.”

He pulled out an invitation from his pocket, raising his eyebrows in challenge.

Caroline put her cheese stick back on the platter. “You know Raul the Eurovision Vampire. Seriously.”

“You mean Rah-OOL?” Elijah asked.

Caroline could have kicked herself for even being surprised at how suddenly he appeared. They probably spent the better half of a century perfecting the art of making an entrance.

“He’s changed over the years, his vowels not so pronounced.” Elijah had a slight kink between his eyebrows, as if it wasn’t even worth frowning over, but he was anyway. “If you listen closely, you can tell he used to have an Indo-European accent; it’s quite distinct. I detected clear derivations from the original Proto-Indo-European, but it’s unmistakable. A fool he has been making of the people in this room, but not us.”

Klaus nodded quite seriously, sipping his gin.

“It is difficult to find likeminded company these days; people these days hardly have time to consider the nuances of language shifts and devolving case systems,” Elijah was saying with a solemn shake of his head.

“That is so interesting.” Caroline strained to smile and ended up baring her teeth instead. She turned back to Klaus. “How do you know Raul?”

(“Rah-OOL,” Elijah interjected.)

At that moment, Raoul got up on a makeshift stage in the center of the room and started belting out a welcome song he’d penned just two hours before the party (as he’d reminded each one of them as they walked in earlier).

He was back in his cape, boots, and white face paint. Everyone was understandably distracted.

“He’s a mate of Kol’s.” Klaus said absently, and then returned his gaze to her. “Kol turned him some time around the 14th century. He used to sing for Marie Antoinette,” Klaus added, like it was supposed to impress her.

Raoul placed a hand to his chest and screeched.

“Man, what a bummer I wasn’t alive then,” Caroline said dryly.

 —

 Klaus insisted on walking her home after she had ‘created a scene’ by making three grown-ass vampires cry in the middle of Raoul’s fourteen-minute percussion solo.

Caroline’s only response was to rustle their freshly-signed contracts against his jaw.

When they swung open the front door, Bonnie and Damon tumbled, both quite shirtless, from the couch to the floor.

Caroline backed away until her head hit the door. “I didn’t know scrabble was euphemism for sex!”

Damon chose that moment to stand, all the better to deliver his comeback, but Caroline gave a shriek that rivalled Raoul’s, and Klaus quickly ushered her out.

 —

 The sun set in a brilliant burn of orange and red. Caroline and Klaus were sitting on a bench, his coat around her shoulders.

“Why doesn’t Damon have a room?” Klaus asked, once he’d placated her with ice-cream. Copious amounts of it.

Caroline shuddered at the memory of seeing his erect nipples. And then the shudder turned to rage, and she stabbed her spoon into her double chocolate. “Because he doesn’t live with us.”

“But he’s there all the time.”

“So are you,” she pointed out.

Klaus has the grace to look abashed. “Only because my situation at home isn’t… the most ideal.” He gave her a sidelong glance. “But I am leaving tomorrow. It’s time, I think.”

Caroline looked up. She hadn’t expected to hear that, not so soon. He’d been here for maybe a month, skulking around, loudly expressing admiration. He noticed her lack of enthusiasm for Damon’s pancakes whenever she got back from a fight and nudged mugs of blood from questionable origins, but it was always hot and pulled flavours deep and rich from her tongue. Sometimes he’d intentionally give her the wrong addresses to vampire cult gatherings just so he could be there ten minutes earlier to “observe her progress”. Once, after a werewolf had scraped her arm with his teeth, Klaus had readily shown her his wrist.

The look he’d given her that night had sent her to bed with uncertain, dark, thoughts—and a want, too, that made it difficult to sleep.

She stood up, took Klaus’s untouched ice-cream and dumped it in the trash along with hers.

He didn’t object then, nor did he object when she retook her seat next to him, turned her face upwards and closed the space between them with a kiss. Klaus made a sound of surprise, and deepened the kiss.

He didn’t object when she tugged him off the bench onto their feet, nor did he object when she all but dragged him out of the park with great difficulty, because he still insisted on kissing her while she do it. They could have hailed a cab, but it turned out making out in alleyways could be great fun, especially when Klaus put his mouth to her neck and palmed her breasts through her thin cotton shirt.

“Do you mind if we make a detour?” Klaus asked hoarsely when she’d slammed him to the crumbling alley wall and had looked deviously close to getting down on her knees.

“Detour?” she worried at his belt with playful fingers. “Where do you have in mind?”

“My place in the Upper East Side,” he said with a half-grin, because his eyes are closed to the ministrations of her hand through the front of his jeans, which soon stopped when she spluttered.

“You have a place—” she cursed and flashed to her feet, shoving his shoulders. “You sly asshole.”

“Honestly, love – if you can see yourself how you look in the comfort of your own home—” Klaus tried to beseech her, but she snorted and stalked off.

Klaus appeared in front of her and stopped her in her tracks. “You were slipping on your mask one night and I saw how fearless it made you look – how sharp and cunning and ready to strike fear into hearts. You exuded this understated sensuality. I was in love with it.”

Caroline looked at him curiously. “Was?”

“Am,” Klaus amended.

“Good. I’ll have sex with you with that in mind.” She cleared her throat and stared ahead. “Take me there.”

Klaus smiled. He smiled all through hailing a cab, and the smile only just faltered when she was standing in the foyer of his townhouse, looking around with her mouth agape.

“Wait until you see my bedroom,” Klaus tried for a joke, but it died when Caroline started undressing.

Sleeping with Caroline was not like the green call of the forest all those years ago. It was like slipping into sleep, a tumble of instinct and touch, a lull that kept on lulling. He pushed into her with a groan. Her neck was wet with her blood; it had spilled from his mouth when she’d wrapped her thighs around him and squeezed. She cursed and damned him when he thrusted deeper, and then she kissed him with the same mouth.

Ten years shackled behind a wall had left him starving for touch, and she met his need with an urgency – but also with a practiced care, a tenderness she didn’t realise she had kept in her breast all this while. Caroline could be soft when she wanted, and she wanted to be soft now, with him. When she came, she came with his name on her tongue in a long, keening sigh.

Before he left, Klaus woke her up. They shared a kiss in the shower—nothing more.

He was about to duck into his car when he paused, struggled with something internally, and then turned back to her. The kiss he left on her knuckles lingered, and he gave her a long look weighed down by layers of things she didn’t know how to interpret just yet. She just looked back. Whatever he found in her eyes, he seemed content.

And then he said good bye, and was gone.

Caroline didn’t know it yet, but it would be four years until she would see him again.

 —

 tbc

[notsoterriblymisanthropic]

Back in the old days, I used to worry sometimes, when doing a talk, that there were cops present, and I might be breaking this or that law by, you know, inciting to riot or whatever, until one days a cops walked up to a friend of mine and asked: Hey, how long is that guy gonna stay speaking…and what the hell is he talking about? Ha, cops, us, different worlds, don’t even hear what we are saying. Add to that that today, we are apparently no more important than three Moroccan kids hanging out: only one sad cop car showed up. Anyway, thanks for hanging out here on this wind torn island of relative political awareness, I hope to send you back to reality and its many joys and horrors in a few moments after dousing you in some big words and hollow phrases. It will be up to you to make them a reality. So I think we can conclude we don’t want our particular G20 arrestant in jail. But is there perhaps more we want? Will we ever be satisfied? No. We are insatiable. Does Peike deserve to be free because he is a fellow anarchist, or because of what he did or did not do in the streets of Hamburg? Does he deserve freedom because we may feel solidarity with the participants of the demo he was at, that was attacked by water cannon, baton and pepper spray? Does he deserve freedom because he is such a friendly guy, such a joy of a person to hang out with? All of that may be true, but it isn’t quite the point here, I think. He deserves to be free because living creatures do not belong in cages. And why is it that we still have to debate that? Why do we still have to protest this shit? What do we want, what is an attractive vision for us to live together? Let’s see…Freedom, or Repression? Jails or grassy fields? Laws and prisons and police, or dealing with our problems as real human beings? How is that even a debate? How is it not self-evident that being against repression is the right thing and the fun thing, while being for repression is fucking pathetic? The point is not to ask for such a grotesque thing as a more ‘proportional’ punishment. Freedom is the point. Talk, debate, argue, break fences, break Laws, of the mind and of the State. Come to the demo in your most decent outfit. Come to the demo dressed in black. Come in a clowns costume for all I care. Come peaceful. Come militant. Come funny. Come filled with love. Come filled with anger. Or you know what, don’t come to the demo at all but go out there and spray paint the walls, organize a prisoner support group, write a beautiful and personal letter to Peike or someone else the assholes are trying to crush. Be kind, be courteous, share stuff, bake cookies, squat houses, get real about direct action and decide what is in your power to do. The bottom line has to be and has always been, as we say it in Dutch. “Alle arrestanten onmiddelijk vrij!” All prisoners need to be released, yesterday.  Also, do not limit yourself to prison abolition. I think, just assuming, that Peike would be happy if you fight racism, borders, sexism, heteropatriarchy, your boss or the Grey Blanket and the Boredom of Business as Usual. Now let’s see that we organize in such a way as to make these hollow phrases a lived reality. So that we can see face to face with those people we miss and that are locked up for a thousand bullshit reasons. So that we can go bake apple pie or lie around in the grass or read a book instead of hanging out on political meetings where some idiot was dragged onto the stage to talk Utopia without actually doing anything. But achieving something real will not prove very difficult if everyone does a bit of the work. If the, shall we say ten percent of the people who have any affinity with radical freedom had done just a word here and there, a little bit of breaking a fence, a little bit of de-arresting, a little bit of being very clear in stating that the threat of putting people in cages is a perverted basis for living together, if we all would have just kept on ruggedly sprinkling sand into the machine, Peike and the others would not have to be freed, because jails would have already been an absurdity from the Dark Ages. The judge who sentenced Peike had an interesting word of warning for all of us. He specified police officers are no free game, free shooting material for the Spassgesellschaft. I thing in my limited understanding of German that this would translate roughly to the Society of Joy, although he may have meant it to sound less appealing. Now I don’t know what herr Krieke wants instead of a Society built in Joy, but it cannot be much good. So let’s give him what he accuses us of. Let’s lay the First Stone in this monument to human empathy and pleasure tonight and let’s continue building the Monument until it stands solid and vital enough to wipe away the joyless and sterile Knastgesellschaft: the prison society. So let’s infuse these hollow words with enough love for each other and hate for the system. Let’s go out and build the Spassgesellshaft.

Speech given at a gathering in solidarity with G20 prisoner Peike