#the netherlands apparently pulled some shit too for the SECOND TIME

[bright-and-burning]

what the actual fuck is uk athletics on. like what do you mean “setting tough standards helps improve performance levels” my brother in christ you are refusing to take athletes who have qualified for the olympics to the olympics. and there are a NUMBER of examples this year of people who did qualify (including a woman whose best throw this season would have placed her 6th at the last olympics) but weren’t selected. what kind of logic is it that having teammates that don’t make it out of early rounds is going to bring performance down? how do you know that being selected for the olympics isn’t going to inspire crazy PRs, like molly seidel getting bronze at the 2020 olympics in her third ever marathon? you know what country always takes the absolute maximum number of athletes in track and field, even when that means people are going to get eliminated in round 1? team usa. you know what country has the most medals in track and field? team usa.

there’s a lot of complaints abt how the us olympic trials works whenever a big name goes out in a shocking or tragic way but jesus christ at least we avoid all this bullshit. if you make it, you make it; top three at the trials and you’ve qualified, congrats, you’re an olympian. none of this qualifying but arbitrarily not getting selected nonsense.

[feetoffire]

team jumping final!

Mexico pulled out bc of a veterinary issue - good for them! this course is really cool to look at, both technically and aesthetically. there’s a combination of liverpools into a rollback that i know must be a hard ride but is just so fascinating, and i’m a little in love with the pink vertical (i know it's supposed to be about fashion, but i'm getting cherry blossom vibes). the course designers put a lot of work in and it totally paid off.

Israel: Robin Muhr on Galaxy HM. less arguing about speed this time, but still gaping when asked to slow down. 

Sweden: Henrik von Eckermann on King Edward. nose-fly-net thing, and his noseband looks really wide, which is what threw me before. apparently he also goes barefoot (except rn. he’s got glue-ons for the Games) which is very cool. much better round, way more forward. 

France: Simon Delestre on I Amelusina R 51. thin noseband, and what looks like a shadow roll underneath. never seen that before. they’re drifting right on most of these jumps. some gape. converter reins. clear, just outside the time. 

Ireland: Shane Sweetnam on James Kann Cruz. this gelding is so pretty. blinkers. still can’t figure out this bridle - it looks like a bitted bridle and a hackamore combined. two throat latches and converter reins. fussy with his mouth and i think a little froth. 

Netherlands: Maikel van der Vlueten on Beauville Z. some head tossing/shaking between jumps, but no froth or gape. one second over the time, and one rail down. otherwise a nicely handled round. 

Belgium: Gilles Thomas on Ermitage Kalone. nose fly net. sliced that second jump. two rails down; they’re inside the time. Some froth. 

UK: Ben Maher on Dallas Vegas Batilly. mare! nose fly net. froth. little bit of head tossing/shaking in the turns. a second and a half over. 

USA: Laura Kraut on Baloutinue. more pets for the boy before they start. the breastplate and martingale still look separate. under time, but one rail down. the closeup of them before the round shows very few stress lines on Baloutinue’s face - i’m impressed. 

Germany: Christian Kukuk on Checker 47. happy buck (shows off the dapples on his legs too). some of these turns are Tight. little gape, little froth. also under the time, but one rail down. 

Israel: Ashlee Bond on Donatello 141. Donatello is Ready To Go. fast fast round - she’s a quick rider, and he’s spicy today. froth. something like five rails down; all that speed did not work in their favor. 

Sweden: Rolf-Goran Bengtsson on Zuccero HV. i think his coat is the coolest in the entire field. elevator bit with two sets of reins and froth. lots of air from this guy. i think he’s in a Micklem or adjacent bridle. 

France: Olivier Perreau on Dorai d’Aiguilly. mare! elevator bit with converter reins; some head tossing and gape. this girl knows her job: they’re the first pair to go clear and in time!

Ireland: Daniel Coyle on Legacy. mare! such a pretty bay. hyperflexion before the round, froth. these mares are getting shit done - this is the second pair to go clear in the time. 

Netherlands: Kim Emmen on Imagine. he’s only 11. okay. i thought he was older bc of how grayed out he is. some froth and gape/champing. elevator bit with two sets of reins/pelham. clear in the time. kind of love his plain bridle. 

Belgium: Wilm Vermeir on IQ van Het Steentje. almost-fly mask. i can’t tell if this is a bitted bridle or a hackamore; two throat latches. a buck at the end just because. 

UK: Harry Charles on Romeo 88. i’m sorry, the rider's name is the most british to ever british. still don’t like this combined/stacked noseband situation. two sets of reins, either a pelham or elevator bit. froth and gape. clear and in time. 

USA: Karl Cook on Caracole de la Roque. mare! and an opinionated one at that (so, the best kind). worst topline of the lot - obvious atrophy in her neck/withers. goes in a hackamore - it’s awesome to see bitless in the Olympics. clear and in time - fastest round so far, actually. 

Germany: Richard Vogel on United Touch S. regular old bridle. love to see it. one rail down, but in time. otherwise boring round (that’s a good thing).

[ourloveisforthelovely]

At Last (oneshot)

Harry Potter Marauders Era 

Request: hi! can i request a regulus x reader childhood friends to lovers? 

Pairings: Regulus Black x Reader 

Rating: T

_______

“So are you going to finally ask her out?’ 

Evan asked as he stood with Regulus at King’s Cross station. You were coming back from a month’s long visit to your grandma’s that left Regulus, in Evan’s mind, an abandoned wreck. Evan had been watching for the past 8 years as Regulus fawned over you (his best friend) helplessly and you were blind as a damned bat to the whole thing. 

Regulus crossed his arms over his chest wanting to ignore Evan’s question. The less that he had to talk to Evan about his lack of a relationship the better. Regulus wanted nothing more than to ask you to be his girlfriend. He had wanted this since 1st year at Hogwarts. Every time he came close to asking you out, he panicked. Panicked was putting it lightly. Regulus was about two stones short of a panic attack anytime that he came close. 

It didn’t matter that you were the perfect girl for him or that the two of you had been best friends since childhood. He always chickened out. Evan decided to make it his civic duty to try to give Regulus non stop pep talks on trying to get with you.

“I’m hoping to.” 

Regulus finally replied. Evan smirked, knowing that this was probably a bunch of shit that Regulus was saying. If Regulus Black asked you out, Evan would eat his own hat. 

“Well, Barty and I hope you do because you get all emo whenever she goes on a date with a new guy.” 

Regulus’ dark eyes rolled over in his direction with a displeased scowl. 

“Shut up, Evan.” 

Shutting up was something that Evan Rosier wasn’t good at and Regulus was crazy if he thought that he was going to get off of the hook that easy! 

“Repeat after me, Y/n will you go out with me. I’m a wreck without you.” 

Regulus aimed a kick at Evan’s shin making the other boy shriek in pain. 

“Shut up Evan!” 

Evan sighed, his voice becoming a bit more gentle. Apparently, this was what it was going to take. Regulus apparently didn’t understand that Evan only wanted him to be happy. He was tired of seeing Regulus so gloomy whenever you went out with some new mistake that didn’t last long. 

“Dude you need to practice. Whenever you try to ask Y/n out you just make a squeaking noise and she thinks you're catching a cold and tries to take care of you.” 

Regulus again gave Evan a dark “Black family scowl.” Evan didn’t seem to realize just how difficult this was for Regulus. It wasn’t just asking a girl out. It was asking you, his best friend, out. This was huge! What if the relationship failed and Regulus lost his best friend in the world? You were the only person that really understood him. You were the one that comforted him when Sirius ran away. Was Regulus really prepared to potentially lose the one person that he could really be himself with? 

The question that Regulus should have been asking himself was would he be able to handle it if you married someone else? Regulus wasn’t ready to think of “that” step yet but what if some fucker asked you and you said yes? Would he be able to stand there and watch you pledge undying love to some fucker who could never love as he could? 

“I kind of want to kill you Evan.”

Evan didn’t have to ask Regulus what was going through his mind, he knew. He had seen Regulus get super depressed every time you dated someone else. Now that the lot of you were getting older there was a good chance that someone would eventually propose and you would eventually say yes. Regulus would fall apart when that happened. 

“Eh. Who would you bitch to?” 

Before Regulus could reply, he spotted you stepping off of a train. 

“Enough, Evan. Here she comes.” 

You waived the moment that you saw your two best friends standing away from all of the other muggles. 

“Hey!”

You called before running over and throwing your arms around Regulus’ shoulders. He wrapped his arms around you and placed a kiss on your head. 

“Did you have a nice trip?”

Regulus asked as he gently sat you down. You laughed before hugging Evan, who for whatever reason, was looking extra smug about something. Knowing Evan, it was probably something stupid. 

“If you consider going to bingo every other night, eating a shit ton of jello, and being hugged by random old people at the rest home, fun...I had a blast. Every old person thought that I was their granddaughter.” 

You didn’t want to go on the trip to begin with but you parents talked you into it. They used the whole “your grandmother is getting old and won't be around much longer” comment and you agreed to go on month’s long roadshow to visit your granny. 

Looking at Regulus, you realized just how much that you had missed your best friend. Best friend...you sighed at the word. You wanted it to be a lot more than best friends but he didn’t seem interested in that. It didn’t matter how many times that you send signals his way, Regulus seemed oblivious to it all. The best that you could come up with was Regulus didn’t have any interest in any relationship with anyone. He had his head too far in his own role in the war. 

“Yum, jello.” 

Evan said, pulling you from your thoughts. Both Regulus and yourself gave Evan an annoyed expression. 

“If you like jello, you should go visit with me next time. They will want to keep you with your blue eyes and dimples. All the little old ladies will want to say that you are their doll baby grandson.” 

Evan’s smile faded. He didn’t like people touching him as it was and he knew the moment that he stepped foot in that rest home every stranger would be hugging him nonstop. 

“On second thought, no thanks. Well, I came to see you now I have to go get ready for a hot date.” 

Evan focused his attention on Regulus before emphasizing. 

“Get. Ready. For. A. Hot. Date.” 

You had wrapped your arm through Regulus’ and watched as he gave Evan a huge go-to-hell look. 

“Make sure to not wear that muggle Old Spice cologne. You’ll smell like a grandpa.” 

You said, earning a smile from Regulus. Evan, meanwhile, shook his head. 

“You two behave. Oh wait, look who I’m talking to. Later.” 

Evan turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving both Regulus and yourself with matching frowns. You were the first to speak as you looked up at Regulus. 

“Something is wrong with that boy.” 

Regulus nodded. 

“He was dropped on his head a few times. That’s the best that I can come up with.” 

You spent the rest of the day with Regulus. After Walburga got on her youngest son’s nerves enough, Regulus conned you into going upstairs to his bedroom. Regulus lay back on the bed putting his hands behind his head as you sat down beside him. His curls framed his perfectly handsome face and you wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch him. The two of you hadn’t “cuddled” in sometime and at the moment, you would love to curl up in his arms. It didn’t matter how many guys you dated, none of them made you feel the way Regulus did.

“So what else did you do on your trip other than be everyone’s granddaughter?”

Regulus asked. 

“I went on a few dates with this guy from the Netherlands.” 

The moment those words left your lips, Regulus’ eyes snapped open and he glared up at the ceiling. He snorted before sitting up and shaking his head. 

“Of course.” 

You blinked from your place on his bed. 

“What?”

Regulus stood up and stormed over to the window to glare out. If some poor soul on the street suddenly caught on fire, Regulus wouldn’t have been surprised. 

“Nothing.”

You didn’t move nor was you about to back down. Regulus liked to “shut down” when he was mad but you were not a “shut down” kind of person. You wanted to talk about it. 

“Talk to me, Regulus.” 

When Regulus didn’t speak, you finally got off of his bed and went to join him at the window. Wrapping your arms around him from behind, you weren't about to let him get away from you. The two of you were going to talk whether Regulus wanted to or not.

Snuggling your face into his back, you breathed in his scent. How were you supposed to tell Regulus that it was his scent that you smelled when brewing an amortentia potion? How were you supposed to say, “Let's throw away our friendship and  risk it all for love?” 

“I swear, Reg you act like you are jeal…”

BAM! It hit you like a bag of bricks to the stomach. Regulus was jealous! He was just too good or too proud of a man to say it. 

“Thank you for finally seeing things my way.”

Regulus finally commented. His voice was soft but had a hard edge to it that told you how angry he was. Regulus didn’t care to yell at Evan, if he had to. Yelling at Barty was like breathing. Raising his voice at you, however, never happened. You were the person that Regulus would never raise his voice to or put an unloving hand on. There was the one time when the two of you were five and he accidentally knocked you down the front steps and he felt awful for weeks. He sobbed until Walburga fixed up your skinned knees and told Regulus to get a grip on himself. 

She is just fine, son. Now stop this nonsense. 

You smiled at the memory before reaching out and forcing Regulus to look at you.

“How long?” 

“How long what?”

Regulus asked, trying to be stubborn. You rolled your eyes. 

“Regulus Arcturus Black, stop this nonsense. You know what I mean...how long have you felt this way?”

Regulus sighed. 

“Not long...a while...since 1st year at school. I want to be with you but you keep getting with these fucking twats that no nothing about you. They don’t even know what way is up.” 

Your mouth dropped before smiling. Regulus wanted you. He wanted you like you wanted him. Bless him, he had been feeling this way for so many years. There were so many years that the two of you could have been happy together and you wouldn't have dated any of the clowns that you were fixed up with. You could have the boy that you wanted from day 1. 

“No, they don’t. They also are not you.” 

Regulus looked at you with wide eyes as he got the meaning of what you were saying. 

“What if we fuck it all up? Everything that we have...I wouldn’t want to live without you in my life.”

Regulus said, looking down. You quickly moved to wrap your arms around his shoulders. Snuggling your face into his shoulder, you breathed him in again. 

“We wouldn’t fuck it up. It's something that we both want and we both know each other. Like, you know when I am getting my big dick energy and can talk me down…” 

“And you know when I'm getting too dark and can lighten me up.” 

Regulus interrupted before giving you a small smile. You eagerly nodded, cupping his face.

 “See, we have what we need. You’re what I smell in an amortentia potion. You’re what I need, Reg.” 

Regulus wrapped his arms around you holding on tightly. He wasn’t about to let go. If anyone tried to get in the way now, they would be hurting! You were his girl and his alone. Regulus’ days of watching some poor useless fucker flirt with you were over. Those pretty lips were all his now...as they should have been from day one. 

“Funny, you’re what I smell in one too. Your perfume, your shampoo...everything about you. I need you too, Y/n...more than you know.” 

“I’m right here and I’m not going anywhere.”

Regulus gently titled your face up to his. The first kiss was everything that you expected and more. All of the years of mutual pining, desperation, and jealousy were paying off. Both of you were finally getting what you wanted and nothing else would ever get in the way. 

“I love you.”

Regulus said as he pulled away and nuzzled his forehead against yours. 

“I love you and no one will ever get in the way of my feelings for you again.” 

Wrapping your hands in Regulus’ shirt you pulled him down for another kiss. As soon as his tongue slipped into your mouth, a clapping sound filled the room. Both of you looked up quickly to see Evan perched on Regulus’ bed with a gleeful smile on his face. 

“Oh thank Merlin! Finally! I swear, I thought that I was going to have to tape you two together or something.” 

You turned to Regulus who was scowling at his best male friend. 

“Regulus, why is he here?” 

Regulus didn’t remove his gaze from Evan for a moment before wrapping his arms around your waist ready to apparate elsewhere. 

“No idea, let’s leave.” 

Evan, meanwhile, was still going on and on about how happy he was that the two of you finally got your heads out of your asses and joined the rest of society. You nodded returning your arms to Regulus’ shoulders. 

“Great idea. Let’s go  somewhere...anywhere else so we can be alone.”

Regulus nodded. 

“At last.” 

_________

@amelie-black @truly-insatiable @fandomsxxregulus @regulusheadcanons @realgaytrash @lucasfilms77 @exhsle @spiderxalmighty @teletubiswszpilkach @whymyparentscheckmyphone @jessyballet @knreidy1 @acciosiriusblack @mimisparkle12 @fific7 @rubyroscoe1 @hazncalsgal @quuenofblacks @bennyberry @criminalyetminimal @brokencasbutt67-writer @authoressskr @fandom-trash-worth-it @hankypranky @summer-novak @emiwrites3reads @shaylybaby2032 @knight-of-gleefulness @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @stuckinsaudi1 @untoldshortsofthefandoms @wontlookaway @mycuddlycorner @deanwherescas @mycuddlycorner

[azozzoni]

Apparently it’s @peaceoutofthepieces birthday! So, this is very last-minute, and I wrote it in like 2 hours, and idek if it really works but. Okay! 

*

Lucas kicked the chair in front of his desk, hands stuffed in the pockets of his jacket as he glared at the clock ticking on the wall. Fingering the joint in his pocket, he barely glanced up as the classroom door swung open and someone new stepped inside.

Dark hair, smooth, tan skin, a shiny silver hoop through one ear. Lucas watched the guy slide into the chair in front of him, a casual slump to his shoulders, a tiny huff of frustration as he dropped his bag on the ground.

Leaning back, Lucas let his gaze fall down the guys back, over the short hairs on the back of his neck, smooth lines of his tee shirt. Biting his tongue, Lucas kicked the chair again, watching the way the guy paused, didn’t glance back. Lucas smiled to himself at the lack of reaction. So that was how they were going to play it?

“Detention again, Lucas?” The teacher, an old, frumpy man who always spent the whole of detention with his nose stuck in a textbook, sounded unimpressed as he entered the room and took his place at the front of the class. “Seems to be becoming a habit.”

Lucas didn’t reply, rolling his eyes and slumping in his chair.

“And Jens,” the teacher went on, and the guy in front of Lucas’ head lifted slightly. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

Jens said nothing as well, but Lucas kept his gaze on the back of his neck. He’d seen Jens around school, always hanging with his friends, those dorky guys who spent more time skateboarding than anything else. He’d seen Jens talking to girls, doing that thing where he tilted his head to the side, furrowed his eyebrows as though he was a serious guy, smiled with his whole body as he flirted. Lucas had seen all that.

“You both know how it goes,” the teacher said. “I have to go get some papers from my box. I’ll be right back. Don’t even think about leaving.”

Lucas wasn’t thinking about leaving, even though he could. He could walk out of there right now and there was nothing Mr. Frumpy could do to stop him. Give him another detention? Like it even mattered.

Instead of getting up and walking right through the door, Lucas narrowed his eyes and kicked Jens’ chair again, watching, waiting for him to do something other than ignore him.

On the third kick, Jens turned around, expression unimpressed. “What?”

“What’d you do?” Lucas asked, smirking as Jens hesitated. It was either something bad or something embarrassing.

“It’s not important,” Jens said finally, and Lucas laughed.

“I’m sure it’s not,” he replied even as Jens frowned. “’Cause if it was, you wouldn’t tell me.”

“I don’t even know you,” Jens said, setting his arm on Lucas’ desk, and Lucas’ gaze drifted to the smooth skin, tiny dark hairs over his forearm, strong hands resting against the fake wood.

“Not much to know,” Lucas said with a jerk of his chin, though it was probably far from the truth. He didn’t need Jens to know why he was in detention, that it was preferable to going home to his dad and his new wife in this strange new city he’d dragged him to a few months ago. He’d rather keep the air of mystery, the shroud around his perfectly worn jean jacket, the cigarette tucked behind his ear, the way everyone at school seemed to avoid him as though either afraid or intimidated.

Jens paused for a second, taking in Lucas this time. He didn’t like it, the searching gaze, evaluating, looking for something that wasn’t there. He felt exposed as he leaned back, tugged his jacket tight with his hands in his pockets as though it would protect him.

“What?” he said this time, sharp, demanding, as Jens’ gaze snapped back to his face.

“What’d you do?”

Scoffing, Lucas jerked his shoulders. “The usual.”

Jens didn’t ask what ‘the usual’ was, and Lucas didn’t care. It didn’t matter why he was here, just that he was. With Jens. Spending their afternoon staring silently at the clock on the wall until it was over.

Lucas watched Jens lick his lips instead, tongue curling over his bottom up, thick and full and pink, and he frowned as he leaned forward in his chair.

“Let’s get out of here.”

“What?” Jens asked, frowning as though confused.

“Let’s get out of here,” Lucas repeated, slower, gazing intently at Jens, his deep brown eyes staring back, long eyelashes fluttering as he blinked. “Unless you’re scared of getting caught.”

It took a second, but Jens’ lips curled up in a smile, still disbelieving, as though maybe Lucas wasn’t joking.

He was far from joking as he watched Jens react. He’d seen Jens around for weeks, seen how he flirted with girls, unashamed, as though he thought he was the hottest thing since Steven Tyler. He’d seen Jens fit in so easily with everyone, knock back beers at parties Lucas hadn’t been invited to but crashed anyway, seen the way he’d drunkenly come on to that guy at the last one, made out with him in a corner before slinking away.

“Where would we go?” Jens asked finally, and Lucas grabbed his bag from the floor as he slid out of his chair, reaching out to tug a lock of Jens’ hair.

“Don’t be so concerned with the details,” he said, releasing Jens’ hair, fingers grazing down his cheek as he headed for the door. He didn’t have to look back to know Jens was scrambling after him.

*

“Come here often?” Jens asked, sounding skeptical even through the cloud of smoke he exhaled, coughing slightly.

Smirking, Lucas plucked the joint from his fingers, settling in on the long table that stretched the length of the staff room. The whole place smelled like old coffee and burnt ink from the copier in the corner. The lights were off, the room dim from the waning sun out the windows.

It was good weed, Lucas thought as he took a long drag, the smoke burning his lungs, and fuck, he needed this.

Jens perched on the table beside him, feet on a chair, running a hand through his hair, alternately checking the door, but there hadn’t been so much as a footstep since Lucas had led them there.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never gotten high at school?” Lucas asked, a teasing drawl that earned him the slightest smile at the corner of Jens’ mouth.

“Surprisingly, no,” Jens admitted, taking the joint from Lucas’ fingers this time, fingers brushing together for far too long, and Lucas would blame the weed for the tingle under his skin, the stirring deep in his chest as he watched Jens, intent, but it wasn’t the weed. It was something much darker inside, the part of him that spent too much time watching Jens with his stupid friends, the undeniable tug that made him want to talk to Jens, to get his attention somehow, even if it was kicking his chair in detention, staring at the freckles on the back of his neck, teasing him so easily.

“Glad I could be your first,” he said, and Jens laughed this time, biting his lower lip before taking a drag, tonguing the end of the joint slowly. Lucas wondered what else he could be first at as he watched Jens beside him.

“This is good shit,” Jens breathed after a minute, taking another drag.

“Special from the Netherlands,” Lucas said, leaning over, shoulder pressed to Jens’, feeling how Jens pressed back, body warm and solid. His lips were close to Jens’ as he snuck his fingers to the joint and pulled it from his lips.

Jens didn’t move away, chin tilting toward Lucas, and Lucas felt the breath he exhaled.

“Is that where you moved from?”

Lucas hummed, shrugging. It didn’t matter where he was from, why he’d moved there, that he’d had to leave everything behind. All that mattered was that he could see how Jens swallowed, his lips parted. This wasn’t some heart to heart, some moment of connection where Jens would learn everything there was to know about him. Lucas wasn’t interested in that.

Exhaling the smoke, Lucas watched it curl around Jens’ face, caressing his skin before dissipating into the air around them. Taking another drag, he reached for Jens’ chin, tilting it toward him, thumb parting his lips as they moved closer. Jens’ gaze dropped to his mouth, eyelashes brushing against his cheeks, faintly pink as Lucas leaned in, opening his mouth and exhaling the smoke into Jens’ parted lips.

Jens breathed it in, deep, barely a hesitation, and Lucas kept hold of his chin even as the smoke cleared, far more interested in the way Jens tongue flicked out over his lip, warmth breath against his own.

A beat, a pause, then hot lips against his, drowning as Lucas’ fingers buried themselves in Jens’ hair amidst the slick slide of tongues, hot and dirty and fast. Jens’ lips were so soft as Lucas bit down, tugging Jens closer, hands sliding down his neck as he slid his tongue against Jens’.

Jens chased him, chased his lips, his mouth, his tongue, as desperate as Lucas had thought, but he didn’t smirk as he pressed into Jens, chest hot, heart racing, tasting the smoke on his tongue, slick and wet and dirty as Lucas’ fingers dug into his neck.

Jens panted when they parted, just for a second, just to gulp down air before meeting again, Lucas dragging Jens into his lap, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth, sliding his tongue over the soft skin, drinking in the noise Jens made, desperate, wanting.

This was what Lucas wanted. Had wanted since he’d seen Jens across the courtyard, had wanted since Jens had walked into detention today, sat down in the seat right in front of him even though there were thirty empty chairs.

He knew what people said about him, muttered when he walked by in the halls, assumptions and rumors about why he was there, why he was in detention every week, why they should stay away from him. None of that mattered. He was used to it, being on his own, doing what he had to do to get by. He could handle that. He always had.

It was the little things that made it worth it, like getting Jens’ tongue in his mouth, the hot huff of breath in the space between them, gaze hot and intense as Jens stared back at him.

“Surprised?” Lucas breathed with a smirk, fingers curling around Jens’ ear, gliding down his throat, pressing against his pulse, rabbiting under his thumb.

“Not really,” Jens replied, murmured the words as he tilted his head, teasing, asking for more, desperate in a way that made Lucas smile, satisfied. He’d known there was something about Jens, something beyond the incessant flirting with girls, something deeper that made him want to dig his fingers into his neck, lick up his jaw until their lips met again for something rough, desperate, tugging at his chest as Jens’ hands gripped the edges of his jacket.

Lucas barely heard it, the clack of footsteps in the hall, the doorknob rattling.

“Shit!” Jens jerked away, and Lucas took a second to admire how red his lips were, even as the knob twisted. “Shit, shit!”

“Shut up,” Lucas said, grabbing Jens shirt and pulling him down, off the table. It was ungraceful as they tumbled to the floor, and Lucas dragged Jens under the table. “Quiet!”

Jens shut his mouth as the door opened, and through the legs of the table and chairs, Lucas could see a pair of worn brown shoes, khaki pants pausing in the doorway. Beside him, Lucas felt Jens breathing, and he blinked as Jens’ hand came to grip his thigh as the shoes stepped inside and paused again.

Even Lucas held his breath, just for a second, as the shoes took a step but then seemed to rethink and stepped back.

Instead of focusing on the shoes, Lucas found himself distracted by the line of Jens’ throat, far more interested in the pressure of Jens’ hand on his thigh, the tension in the room as the shoes squeaked on the floor as they turned.

As the door shut behind them, Jens let out a breath, and Lucas found himself smiling, laughing when Jens glanced at him.

“Are you insane?” Jens asked, and Lucas just grinned, shaking his head.

“Maybe,” he said, glancing at Jens’ hand that was still tight around his thigh. “But I think you like it.”

For a second, Jens didn’t reply, licking his lips, not removing his hand as he watched Lucas. But then his lips twitched after a second.

“You’re a bad idea.”

Rolling his eyes, Lucas nodded, pulling Jens back to his lips. “So I’ve heard.”

[parisfms]

hey legends . im kelly and this is my absolute trash bag of a baby paris . im going to give you a heads up now she is the worst , like just horrible but like she can be fun sooo , wooo .  honestly i’ll probably add more to this at another time because i have so much to say about her? but i also wanna get to plotting with all you beauties! so if you would like to plot you can give this post a like or you can shoot me a message over on discord ( 𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓽𝓸 𝓶𝔂 𝓭𝓸𝔀𝓷𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵#6229 ) if you prefer chatting over there <3

the   tahan   family name is one that carries alot of weight . coming from incredibly old money , dating back over five generations . their wealth is rooted in the oil and gas business . although her father ( daveed tahan ) decided to take a different route to his family and in 1990 he and his friend co-founded interscope records ( yes i am mirroring her father’s career after jimmy iovine , don’t sue me ) where he has been a executive producer since the labels founding . he was a perpetual player who truly soaked up the attention he received within the limelight from women . ivy krige was no different , ivy was an up and coming model born to a wealthy family ( the   krige’s   had been paid off in the early 1800s by the british royal family to hold the secret that one of the krige sons was actually the heir apparent to the throne , they took the money and curated a luxury fashion line that still holds up today with the chanels & diors or the world ) in the netherlands . when she met daveed she was infatuated . they dated for about a month before he moved on to another . he assumed that would be it of him and ivy but weeks after the break up she came to him with news that she was pregnant . although the two no longer saw eye to eye , they agreed that the best thing for their future child was to have both of them in their life . 

although paris was born in   amsterdam   , the second her mother received the okay for the newborn to fly they went home to   manhattan   where paris would be raised . not even a full year after paris’ birth , ivy was offered a reality tv show on e! ( how very keeping up with the kardashians of her ) that would follow herself and her two siblings , all of which lived in the city . 

paris’ entire childhood was put on display and god she hated every second of it . she attended regular schools all her life so kids weren’t the nicest and teased her alot . because of the lack of friends she had growing up paris got into alot , she did equestrian , learned how to draw , play guitar , piano , and the drums , as well as how to speak arabic , dutch , spanish , and french . 

she also spent alot of time with her parents , she and her dad got along like two peas in a pod but he was either in los angeles or jet setting across the world so it wasn’t all the time that she got to see him . meanwhile she and her mom had all the time in the world to spend together and in all honesty paris just really isn’t a big fan of her mom . she even calls her ivy instead of mom , it’s likely resentment for the reality tv show as well as her mom always trying to be her friend instead of her parent .

as she got older things started to get easier with kids her age and paris really started to find herself in the whole nyc scene . she was never the nicest girl around . if anything paris and the word nice were never within the same sentence as one another . during high school she gave   regina george   and   blair waldorf   a run for their money . she was and still is the queen of icing people out , ruining their social standings , and manipulating people into thinking she has their best interest in mind .

the biggest note i can give you on paris is that she is not innately a good person , she does not have your best interest at heart no matter how much she manipulates you into thing she is/does .

by the end of highschool she was president of the model un , captain of the mock trial , and valedictorian of her class . paris has never just been a pretty face , she is incredibly smart and takes a certain enjoyment from learning new things . she inevitably decided to attend   georgetown university   in the nations capital . her boyfriend at the time wasn’t very happy about it but she was able to hop on a quick 3 hour flight back to the city every other weekend to see him . that was until they broke up . by then paris had picked up modeling and so she was in the city really whenever she wasn’t in class . 

her modeling career really started to take off but some how she was able to focus on both her blossoming career as well as her education . after just three years at georgetown , paris received her   bachelors in philosophy with a minor in film and media studies   . she was supposed to go straight to law school afterwards but decided to fall head first into the modelling world . she walked for some of the biggest designers , multiple times , starred in some musicians music videos , in just one year she’d surpassed all the modelling goals she had left . in a bit fo a limbo , unsure where she’d take her talents ,   karl lagerfeld   whom she’d grown close to over the years , invited her to come live out in france and he’d take her under his wing .  so she moved out to france . loving every waking moment of becoming his protegee , she wasn’t necessarily sure what he’d seen in her that he hadn’t in renowned designers but she surely was never going to question him . after his unfortunate passing , it came out that he’d wanted paris to take over as creative director of chanel but after one month she stepped down from the position claiming   “i took on this position while they sought out a true replacement for karl, i know he wanted me here but having to carve out my own lane in his shadow is all too impossible, if you ask me”   months later , it was announced that paris would be the   creative director of givenchy   , beating out oliver rousteing for youngest appointed creative director . 

she’s very recently back in new york city ( like it’s so new that she’s living at the plaza hotel while she’s still looking for a permanent place to live ) she loved living in france but honestly it was starting to get to her a bit with karl’s one year coming up .

𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄

a total daddy’s girl , yes she is the type to say   “my father will be hearing about this“ 

the type to talk you into making a fool of yourself with her and then the next day you find a recording of yourself circulating and she’s nowhere to be seen in it

a total schemer , like blair waldorf level

loves her psychedelics and weed but not big on really any other drugs 

she has a small collection of cars a black range rover , silver bmw i8 , and a silver volvo xc90 and although she has a driver she does actually driver herself most of the time 

her moms reality show is still going and honestly gets really good ratings still ? it’s called    life with the krige’s : fashion royalty   ( normally abbreviated to lwtk )  and paris is on the show by default any time she’s around her mom , her aunt , or uncle . 

very bisexual and notoriously bad at relationships 

she certainly doesn’t have a pristine reputation , how could you when you grew up on reality tv though ? she wouldn’t change her reputation for anything though . the media surprisingly kinda loves her despite calling her an   ice queen   at times . the media sees her as  “authentic”   even though paris couldn’t find an authentic bone out of a haystack .

she can come off very funny but it’s because she has absolutely no filter and just really doesn’t care about hurting your feelings . the best way to sum up her personality is  “im actually not funny , im just really mean and people think im joking” .  

she has two pomeranians ( hi jeffree star , she’s coming for your brand ) named archie and joey . 

despite now being a creative director , img still has her signed on as a model , so maybe you’ll catch her pulling some wild shit like walking in her own shows in the future who knows

has a serious resting bitch face issue and honestly , it’s fitting

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓

so just a week before she was set to move out to france , paris attended a house party . her best friend was there and was being a total drag all night . paris was honestly sick of whatever funk the girl was in and so when the girl wasn’t looking paris slipped molly into her drink . not seeing any repercussions or even caring about them until the next morning when her friends body was found in the hudson river . someone who’d tried to get the girl down from the bridge claimed she’s shown serious signs of depersonalization as well as  disorganized thoughts ( both side effects of molly ) . paris decided to never fess up about her part in her friend being under the influence that night , letting it go down in history that the late model had a drug problem . of course , paris felt bad , no matter how horrible she can be her goal is never to assist in someones death let alone someone she genuinely cared for but she wasn’t going to let both of their lives come to an end that night by turning herself in .

[arcadianambivalence]

World on Fire, Episode 3

December 1939

After the invasion of Poland, the newly declared war seemed to ground to a halt.  The nervous calm of the autumn of 1939 led to the war’s nickname of the “phony war.”  As Nancy describes it: “There is simply a feeling among the allied forces that the inevitable will never come to pass.”

In World on Fire, British forces stationed in Northern France fill their time with digging, minor spats, and talk of home.  Because of his class, Harry has been set up as an officer, but his sergeant seems to be better suited for the job.  While Harry tries to be a friend to the men, Stan speaks plainly and gains their respect.  Wanting to help Poland but winding up in France, wanting to protect the Tomaszeski family and having to leave them behind, wanting to fight but digging trenches instead, Harry feels listless and useless once again.

(Read more)

Conversely, Tom is still at the bottom of the pecking order in the Navy, and he bristles at the strict order of life at sea.  To supplement his income, he gets his peers to place bets on when the ship’s canary will lay an egg, but he runs into trouble with a crewmate named Henry.  Crewmate Vic confiscates the money from Tom.  Then the ship goes on red alert.  Tom rushes into the skirmish with enthusiasm until a hit from the German battleship knocks him off his feet, kills Vic, and blows off Henry’s arm.  All personal disputes are set aside as Tom helps Henry to his feet.

Heavily damaged but still afloat, the Exeter is a smokestack gliding across the water.  Tom retrieves the betting money from Vic’s body and gives it to Henry.  “This doesn’t make us mates,” he protests.  He has a reputation to uphold (with whom?  Himself?).

In London, Douglas is desperate for news about Tom as the idea of peace grows fainter by the day, especially with news of the sinking of the Admiral Graf Spee.  Robina is starting to reassess her opinions, too.  Despite calling herself not much of a mother, she can see that Jan is miserable at school.  Her words of encouragement ring hollow even as she says them: “And that’s what you do in this life, you get used to it.  And it makes you a better person.  Eventually.  Resilient, at least—a quality much undervalued.”  

But the immediate ostracism does not make Jan resilient, and Robina quickly changes her tune.  She marches Jan up to the other schoolchildren and stands up for him with a long speech about how everyone in Jan’s family is fighting Hitler and deserves their praise.

(I’ve only had Jan for a day and a half, but any boy who attacks this fine young man must be on Hitler’s side!)

Ludwig, a member of the Resistance, encourages Kasia to use her position as a waitress to observe the occupying German soldiers.  If anyone tries to flirt with her, he says, she could lure the soldier to the bombed-out corner of the city and avenge her mother.  Kasia attempts to do this with a soldier but gets scared and lets him go at the last minute.

That soldier is Klaus Rossler, and his parents are terrified that they will lose both children to the Nazi Regime.  After Hilde’s seizure last episode, the Rosslers believe she will be taken away to an institution like a neighbor’s son once was.  Concerned for Hilde, Nancy investigates the institution and makes a horrifying discovery about its state-sanctioned euthanasia program under Dr. Voller.  She confronts the doctor, but he tries to justify the program with Social Darwinism.  She refutes him with “Human progress is driven by our capacity to look out for those who are weaker than us.”

Nancy shares her findings with the Rosslers: first the parents receive a letter asking for consent to institutionalize the children, and if they don’t reply, there is a second letter and a threat that the child will be taken away.  If the parents still refuse, they will be committed to forced labor and their child taken anyway.  The final letter is a death certificate.  “There is no treatment, only murder.”

But knowledge comes at a cost.  Nancy’s act of investigating the institution may very well draw attention to her and the Rosslers.  Uwe Rossler is furious and forbids Nancy from contacting them again, but he too could have stirred up suspicion at work today.  He interrupted a fight between two workers and refused to deliver any kind of punishment for the women involved.  One worker tries to pull rank with her status as a Party Member and is unhappy when that does nothing to sway Uwe.

No good deed goes unpunished anywhere.  Konrad and Grzegorz continue to run for their lives, but now they have two factions to evade.  I mentioned in my review for episode two that the Soviet Union invaded Poland in 1939, too.  Because of the time jump between episodes, the news of a second invasion is left off-screen (one of a couple of revelations I wish we had time for), but Konrad and Grzegorz are well aware that everyone they meet could turn them in to one side or the other.

A farmer catches the two men as they sneak through his land, but instead of denouncing them, he gives them a warm meal.  This act of kindness doesn’t last for long, though, when a Soviet truck pulls up with a couple of suspicious soldiers.  One soldier in particular takes his time inspecting the house while Konrad and Grzegorz hide in the cellar below.  

Just like in episode one, Grzegorz fights back a nervous coughing fit.  Just like in episode two, the encounter ends with shocking violence as the soldiers murder the farmer and his family.

Compared to all this, the reunion of Lois and Harry seems trite (compared to anything, the back-and-forth with Lois and Harry seems trite!).  Not even an episode has passed since their separation, so the arrival of the ENSA troop Lois happens to be in at the camp that Harry happens to be in doesn’t even feel like two long-lost lovers meeting.  It just feels convenient.

Finally free to make her own choices without thinking of her father and brother, Lois is all smiles for the troops (who are more than happy to see her too!).  Shocked by this side of her, Harry flips his shit and punches a soldier Lois is flirting with.  But, class and rank being what they are, it’s the poor soldier who is apparently in trouble for the fight.

But enough has happened in the few months apart to make Harry wonder if the two can be friends again, even though he decked her date.  And enough has (not) happened for Lois to realize that she’s pregnant.  (I guess an episode-long subplot involving this discovery and Lois coming to terms with it wasn’t as important as Harry’s emotional baggage...)

To complicate things further, Robina realizes that Harry and Kasia are married.

That night, Harry confides his situation to Stan, who casually suggests that the war has done him a favor.  At the thought that Kasia could be dead, Harry flips his shit again.  

There’s no one to punch, so wasting ammunition and scaring some owls will have to do.

For all the flack I’ve given the love triangle, though, it does serve a thematic purpose.  Harry’s sense of guilt and obligation for Kasia and Lois is emblematic of the conflict felt by many soldiers.  At one point, Lois asks him “Why are you here?” and he immediately begins to list his grievances about his inability to fight on the front lines for Poland.  

Britain declared war on Germany after the invasion of Poland, but no major combat occurred for several months.  Meanwhile, Britain began to shift its focus to its own shores and the threat of their own German invasion.  

The feeling that Britain abandoned Poland is symbolized by Harry’s separation from both Kasia and Jan, and his concern for his own country is symbolized by his relationship with Lois.

When writing World on Fire, Peter Bowker chose his characters carefully, each one drawing attention to a different aspect of life during World War Two: refugees and civilians whose lives were upended by war, partisans who resisted, collaborators who didn’t, soldiers who went to war willingly (or unwillingly), and the cross-section between these areas.  

Lois and Harry can worry about their love lives because they aren’t in danger every second.  Nancy can investigate the euthanasia program because as an American journalist, she is given looser restrictions than German civilians.  Robina has the freedom to (publically) change her sympathies with relative ease after meeting Jan,  but the Rosslers or the Tomaszeskis are too busy trying to survive unnoticed to dare that.  Douglas is able to talk of peace because he is not personally at war (yet).

So when Kasia witnesses the brutal beating and murder of Ludwig, her decision to actively involve herself in the luring and killing of a soldier, and the way this is framed as the death of Kasia’s own innocence, opens up other moral questions for viewer.  What makes that soldier different from Klaus?  And if the answer is “Nothing,” then did Klaus deserve to die, too?  If all Germans are the same, then what does that make Hilde?  Robina sympathized with the British Union of Fascists, so why are we supposed to care what Jan thinks of her now?  And if Nancy has certain freedoms afforded to her as a guest in Germany, why doesn’t she do more?  And finally: if I were in the same situation as any of these characters, what would I do?

With the spring of 1940, the phony war was over, and Germany invaded Norway, the Netherlands, Luxembourg, Belgium, and France.

Notes:

The battle Tom survives is called The Battle of  River Plate, which places this episode in early December 1939.  Christmas decorations are visible when Nancy goes shopping and when Robina celebrates Jan’s birthday as other clues for dating the events.

One of the women in the fight that Uwe breaks up uses “Jew” as a slur, which unfortunately would have been one more way to dehumanize and debase Jewish people.

Lois is carrying a Hitler puppet at the start of the episode.  I wonder how that routine goes.

…And is it bad that I’m still holding out hope for a Connie subplot?

Further Reading

https://www.pbs.org/wgbh/masterpiece/specialfeatures/world-on-fire-s1-ep2-history-images/

[thrashton]

Soaring light (chapter 1)

thank you for your lovely comments and messages for the prologue!! here’s the first chapter!

Name: Soaring Light

Fandom: Skam france

Pairing: Lucas Lallemant/Eliott Demaury

Tags: assassin!au, falling in love, angst, hurt/comfort

Summary: Do not get attached, do not waste time, do not engage in any physical contact… The list of rules were long, but Lucas had never been the one to follow orders. In fact, he might have broken all of them in just a week, all because of the piercing blue eyes staring at him from the assignment in his hands, and the charming, mysterious boy they belonged to.

Chapter summary: Lucas tries to be very subtle as he online-stalks Eliott. It doesn’t go too well.

——--

(prologue can be found at the soaring-light tag at my blog, just click on the tag on this post. tumblr don't wanna show my post in the search tag if I put in links... and on ao3 with the username thetimeisnow)

CHAPTER ONE Why were storms a thing? Who invited storms? Lucas was going to find out and kick his ass. It was stupid, the rain covering his sight was stupid. The way he can’t see in front of the road he’s driving on was stupid.

The whole day was stupid.

Lucas had spent five hours trying find Eliott Demoury, but there was no one at his apartment, no one at his registered working place and no one at his two favorite coffee shops. He had googled his name and regretted it in a second, because dousins - no, hundreds - of model photos of the perfectly sculptured face and the piercing deep blue eyes stared back at him and Lucas had let his laptop fall close with a groan.

He can’t be attracted to his assignment to kill. Well, technically, he could. It wasn’t in the rules. The contract just said he wasn’t allowed any physical contact with his targets, mostly to hide all traces of DNA. And to make sure he didn’t get attached, which was another rule. Well fuck him, just the picture of this man got his knees weak.

Lucas hesitated a moment, then sent a text.

-

To: Manon D.

Change?

-

Change of contract, that meant. Manon would know that. In their work of line you had to keep yourself short and never, absolutely never, give out any information over the phone. Especially not their private phone. Lucas knew he’d most likely get his brains blown out if he said too much and he would never risk one of his closest friends and colleagues life as well. His phone buzzed. Manon, quick with a response as always.

-

From: Manon D.

No thanks, got my dream man ;)

-

To: Manon D.

Ugh. Fine. Drinks tonight?

-

From: Manon D.

That’s a yes, thanks. I’ll tell Mika and Emma. See you at 8?

-

To: Manon D.

Lol, sure. Bringing the boys if they’re up. See you, sunshine.

-

From: Manon D.

Dickhead.

-

Lucas rolled his eyes. His ever the lovely friend and colleague, Manon. They had worked in the same business for two years before they realised they were both carrying the same burden. They had been on the same funeral, a funeral for an older man whose two sons were the target of Manon, and his new wife was assigned to Lucas. He remembered it like it was yesterday as they stood gaping, staring at each other in the church when the priest did his thing.

A smile appeared on his lips at the memory. Back then, it had been the shock of his life but now it was a fun thing to remind him how small the world was. They were going to meet at their usual bar, and Lucas had actually seen a few pictures of the blue eyed God in just that bar when he googled his name, so maybe his luck would turn tonight. He could use that as an excuse to get pissed drunk.

Perfect. Just what he needed.

He parked his car exceptionally well considering the storm raging outside. It was only 6pm, but the sky was pitched black. He gave the car window a good, long stare before he forced himself to get the door open. The few meters from the car to the door of the building he lived in felt like a mile and his clothes was drenched in rain as he stumbled inside, muttering angrily to himself.

Stupid ass weather. He was going to kick its ass.

His older neighbour greeted him from the stairs and Lucas threw up his hand in a reply, he didn’t really feel like speaking until he was in comfortable, warm, dry clothes. And a beer in his hand. Maybe a joint between his lips. Ah. Perfect.

Pulling on his sweatpants like his life depended on it, he hurried towards his bed. Where the magic happens, as his best friend Yann dramatically put it when he visited Lucas new apartment for the first time. Well, where his hand happened. Or, another correction, where his hand was supposed to happen. But how no matter how much he tried, what type of porn he put on, he couldn’t get those stupid fucking blue eyes out of his head long enough to concentrate on jerking off, and there was no way he was going to pleasure himself thinking of his next assignment to kill.

Fucking hell.

Eliott really got the best of him. He needed to get rid of this guy fast, so he could get back to his normal routines, so his body could see some hot, big tits chick on his phone screen and think that’s hot! and not but it’s not him. How was this even possible? He hadn’t even met the guy!

In conclusion, his visit to the bed was unsuccessful. Lucas groaned loudly, burying his face in his pillow. He couldn’t wait to get drunk. A week from now Eliott would be dead and Lucas would be rich and he’d get the fuck out of Paris. He’d bring Yann, Basile and Arthur and they’d go to Amsterdam, or something. Find a nice penthouse apartment where they could throw the best parties in Netherlands, bring the best people and smoke a ridiculous amount of weed.

Lucas phone rang. He glanced over at the screen the name of his best friend staring back at him. Yann would know if he ignored him, that guy could read him like a book.

“Yep”, he answered as he put the phone to his ear.

“We going out tonight?”

“Uh-uh. Manon, Mika and Emma too.”

Yann went quiet for a moment. “Emma?”

“Dude. It was years ago, pull it together.” He gave out a light chuckle.

“Fine”, Yann sighed loudly, “only so you get get your lonely ass out there.”

Lucas laughed at him and got up to a sitting position on his bed. “Do you know a Eliott Demuary?” he asked. That wouldn’t hurt, Yann didn’t know he did for a living. Lucas wanted to tell him badly, but he wasn’t going to risk his best friend’s life only to have someone to talk murder with, that would be dumb. Yann wasn’t stupid though, and Lucas suspected he had a slight suspicion of what he did during his days; not that he’d ever tell him, or that Yann would ever get it confirmed.

“Of course”, Yann replied and Lucas almost choked on his own spit.

Okay. That wasn’t the answer he expected at all. It took a few moment for him to pull himself back together and hide the sudden excitement in his voice as he tried to sound as carefree as possible. “Aha”, he said and shrugged, “how’s that?”

“Why are you asking?” Yann was hesitating.

Fuck. Maybe he didn’t sound as carefree as he thought. “You know, just saw a picture of him.”

“Yeah, he went to our school…”

Lucas frowned. “What? No?”

He imagined Yann nodding from the other line. “Yeah, he did. Literature, I think, not sure. Don’t you remember, everyone was talking about him?”

Lucas did definitely not remember, because there was no way he could forget a face like that. “Are you for real?”

“Yeah!” Yann exclaimed, “are you? Ladies were fighting to get into his pants.”

“Shit.” How did he manage to miss this? Lucas shook his head, no, it didn’t matter. Now he had a way in to complete his assignment and he should be very happy for that since Eliott apparently didn’t want to be found. “Cool. Awesome. Nice. I mean, have you met him recently?”

Yann was silent for a moment. “Are you crushing on Demuary?”

Lucas gasped. “Excuse me? I am not!”

“I don’t blame you. He’s hot and- Oh, sorry, forgot you’re still hiding in the closet.”

Lucas pouted and wished Yann was standing in front of him so he could shove a middle finger up his face. Yann knew he was - or maybe was? He wasn’t really sure himself - gay. A little gay. Just a tiny little bit. Like, dick is nice and all and titties isn’t as nice. Which, in conclusion meant; a little gay. “Unfair”, he told him, “was just asking.”

He could hear Yann moving around. “Well, haven’t met him in a while but I’ve seen him in town a few times. Seriously Lu-Lu, you didn’t know he went to our school?”

“I didn’t, I swear! I wouldn’t forget a face like that. I mean, Yann, have you seen him?”

His best friend laughed. “Yeah, I have. How about you spend some time crying over a picture of Eliott and I come over with some beer?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

“Great. I’ll be over in 45.”

Lucas ended the call without saying good bye. He had no time to waste when he only had 45 minutes to google some more information about this mysterious man, who apparently went to their school. Did that mean Eliott knew who he was? No, that would be impossible. If he hadn’t seen Eliott, Eliott hadn’t seen him.

He found an instagram account. With a stupid fucking riddle to solve. It took Lucas longer than he chose to admit to figure out the name of Eliott’s second account, but when he did; it was absolutely worth it. A majority of his posts were black and white art. It looked like doodles but there was real talent behind it.

Too bad he was going to kill the guy, he would really want to hear the stories about the numerous posts of raccoons. A short video caught his attention; Eliott in a black hoodie, staring into the camera with his lips pressed together and his hair in a soft mess on his head. He zoomed slowly until there was nothing else than his left eye covering the screen. Lucas found himself sighing, feeling like an absolute jerk about having to end this, clearly well liked and talented young man’s life.

Most of Lucas’ targets were old men. Rapists, embezzlement criminals or other scandals more often than not involving money. He’d never really felt bad about killing them, a lot of them deserved to die. Lucas never stayed to see if his job was finished after poisoning his targets; he learned early on that it was way easier to get caught that way. Instead, he showed up a few days later, or watched the news if his target was someone famous or well-known.

But Eliott. He couldn’t believe this man had done anything to deserve to die. 50k was a lot of money and the higher the prize, the worse the crime. That’s how it usually went, anyways.

And in that moment, trying to pause the video just when Eliott zoomed in on his eyes, Lucas fucked up. He liked the video. Panicking, he yelped, a high pitched noise he’d be embarrassed to even try to describe, and got up from his bed fast enough to make his vision blur. As a first reaction his brain thought of the brilliant idea to throw the phone away from him to keep him from making more mistakes, but then he realised that shit, he need to unlike the video before Eliott noticed. He stumbled after the phone, tripping over a shirt on the floor and hit his toe in the foot of the bed at the same time. Ignoring the pain radiating through his body, he reached over the bed in panic and clicked on the red heard so fast and intensely that he accidentally disliked and liked it again.

Lucas wanted to scream. With an surprisingly steady hand, he finally managed to to unlike the video and sank down on the floor with a loud groan of disappointment. Shit. What the hell. Being subtle wasn’t his best personality trait, obviously.

Eliott had a lot of followers, someone liking his video wouldn’t matter, right? That was, of course, if his theory that Eliott didn’t know who he was, was correct. Lucas considered blocking him but quickly threw that idea aside; the video was worth seeing a few more times.

The doorbell rang. Yann. Had it been 45 minutes already? Apparently it had, because Yann was standing with a big grin and beer in both hands as Lucas opened the door, still sweaty and his heart beating like crazy in his chest.

“You look like you just ran a marathon. Which I know you wouldn’t.”

“Fuck you”, Lucas smirked at him, giving him a helping hand with the beer. “I accidentally liked one of Eliott Demaury’s posts on instagram. It was stressful.”

Yann let out a snort. “When he sees it, he’ll show up with flowers and a ring and propose right here, I’m calling it.”

“I unliked it. And liked it again. And then unliked it again.”

“Even I am slightly embarrassed for you now”, Yann laughed, “let’s drink to forget about it.”

Lucas smirk grew, it sounded like a good plan. Little did he know, forget about  it was the least he would do that night.

[missmeikakuna]

So, Apparently, I Find Fairies Hot Chapter 2

Rated: T

Fandom: Original Fiction

Relationship type: Male/Male

Description: You know those movies and TV shows in which an effeminate gay character has a crush on the popular jock? Strike that, reverse it.

Daniel is technically popular at school but fades into the crowd. After an injury at footy (Australian football) practice, he is forced to focus on improving his grades, starting with English. Luckily, the new kid in school knows a lot about Shakespeare and is willing to tutor him. Now if only this new guy wasn't so attractive.

CONTENT WARNING: Homophobic slurs are used. Also, there are some sexual references but nothing too graphic.

Chapter 2: Is it gay to read a play?

Daniel sniffled, rubbing his nose. As he walked home he scowled at every flower he passed. He was walking alone, looking at his phone several times a minute in case Eddie cancelled. 

He gasped a little when he felt a weight on his shoulder. He turned around and saw a grinning Eddie with his hand on his shoulder, moving forward from the momentum of running.

‘I may as well walk with you,’ he explained with heaving breaths. ��That way I can get to your place straight away and we can study a bit earlier.’ He took a closer look at Daniel. ‘Why do you look so grumpy?’

Daniel sighed. ‘Spring. Fucking hay fever.’

‘That’s a shame. I love Spring. It’s like all the plants are rising from the dead. That and Halloween’s in Spring.’ Daniel chuckled. ‘What?’

‘Rising from the dead? The only thing that’s rising is my impatience for all this pollen.’ A sneeze.

Eddie turned to his side but continued walking the same direction. ‘Are you taking any medicine for it?’

Daniel shook his head. ‘I’ll be fine. I’m just being whiny.’

‘You really should take care of yourself. If you don’t, you’ll end up in the doctor’s office or worse, you’ll be miserable all season.’ Eddie leaned in even closer, not noticing how Daniel’s body tensed up. ‘So, what do you do besides footy… and sucking at Shakespeare?’ Daniel glared at Eddie. ‘What? Okay, to be fair I’ve always sucked at sports. Or does surviving a mosh pit without being squished or trampled to death count as a sport?’

‘I, uh… don’t do much outside of that and watching TV. I need more hobbies. Speaking of which, what did you have on last night?’

‘Corpse Windmill was on and it was their last performance before they head back to the Netherlands. They’re this really obscure comedic technical death metal band. They debuted in 2004 as a reaction to postmodern notions of-’

‘I think I get the point.’ Eddie pouted and Daniel’s heart twisted. ‘Uh, well, actually, instead of telling me about the band you can tell me about that technical metal stuff.’

Daniel halted as if a record had just been scratched. ‘You listen to metal?’

Eddie pointed at his face and laughed. ‘Why are you so surprised? It’s obvious by the name I gave myself. Eddie’s the mascot for Iron Maiden, and Ironpoe’s a combo of Iron Maiden and Edgar Allen Poe, who’s the best gothic writer; you cannot change my mind.’

Daniel frowned at his hands. Into his pockets they went. ‘I don’t know much about metal.’

‘What do you listen to?’

‘Pop and Rap mostly.’

‘Well, there is rap metal but it doesn’t have the best reputation. I’ll try and find a really good artist and show it to you.’

‘Thanks. I just thought you’d listen to, I dunno, songs you’d play in a gay bar.’

‘What songs do they play at a gay bar? I’ve never been to one.’

Daniel looked at the ground. He sneezed. ‘Oh. I haven’t either, obviously, but I imagine they’d be the songs that go ‘doof doof doof doof’ or ‘ins ins ins ins’. I dunno.’

Eddie laughed so hard that tears began seeping out if his eyes. ‘Say that again.’

Daniel bit his tongue.

Eddie scoffed. ‘You’re no fun.’

‘Sorry.’

The two took the rest of the trip in silence.

Eddie took a good look at Daniels home, which was a two-story grey concrete monstrosity with big glass windows and a sizeable garage. The garden was covered with ferns, a palm tree casting a shadow over the sand-coloured cobbled driveway.

When they stepped through the front door, the duo saw Daniel’s mother standing by the kitchen counter, a phone up to her ear and a scowl on her face.

‘Why hasn’t he fired her yet? Honestly, if I have to work with her one more time…’ Eddie waved at her. Daniel’s mother failed to notice him. 

Daniel grabbed Eddie by the arm and dragged him to his room before he could do something to grab her attention. 

Eddie struggled not to turn up his nose when he saw how messy Daniel’s room was. Underneath the unmade bed was a pile of dirty dishes that had been shoved there. Posters of half-naked women were placed across the walls without a thought to making their heights match. However, one part was as clean as Mother Theresa’s criminal record. The desk seemed to have never been touched.

The two boys pulled their copy of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ out of their bags and sat on the bed. 

‘Okay, first I need to properly assess the damage,’ Eddie said. ‘Could you read the bit we read yesterday again? Actually, read it from here.’ He pointed to the start of the first miniature monologue by Robin.

Daniel took a deep breath. ‘The… king… doth…keep…his-’

‘You can stop now.’

‘I didn’t even finish the first senten-’

‘I’ve heard what I need. I think you’re reading it word by word, even though in real life the words in a sentence should flow together. Try reading the whole sentence before speaking.’

‘What if I get a word wrong?’

‘You keep going. In the theatre, you can’t just stop or slow down if you don’t know what to do. You’ve got to improvise. With Shakespeare, it’s tougher since everybody already knows the lines but the show must go on.’

Daniel did as he was told and smiled when he finished a monologue. When he saw that Eddie’s expression didn’t match his, he frowned.

‘You don’t need to put on a posh voice. Shakespeare’s plays were performed in front of commoners, so everyday people were able to enjoy it.’

Daniel gulped before repeating the monologue. ‘Now what the hell did I just say?’ he asked.

‘Okay, so you’re a fairy jester talking to another fairy. According to you, the king of the fairies is having a party and he’s mad at his wife because she kidnapped a child and now pays lots of attention to the child, making the king jealous. Now read it again with that in mind.’

Daniel nodded. After he finished the monologue, Eddie clapped. Daniel grinned. ‘Now let’s talk about themes,’ Eddie declared.

He taught Daniel the same things Dr Daylings said but rephrased them to be more relatable. Daniel nodded in understanding the whole time.

Eddie looked at the time on his phone. ‘Oh my god, sorry for lecturing you for so long. Let’s take a break and just hang out or something.’ Daniel lied down on his back and sighed in relief. ‘Was I that annoying?’

‘No, you were really good. Where did you learn so much about Shakespeare?’

‘I’ve watched his plays live a lot.’

‘Makes sense. So, um, I have a question. Don’t take this the wrong way.’

‘Well, now I’m worried. What is it?’

Daniel bit his tongue for a moment before continuing. ‘Why do you act so… stereotypical? Like, you almost look like a chick. I mean, you’re clearly not because chicks are hot and… I mean, not that you’re not hot, but… I didn’t mean that that way!’

Eddie spat with laughter. ‘Jesus, you’re blushing!’ He breathed slowly to calm his laughter. ‘I’m just being myself.’

‘But how can you be so open to people you’ve just met?’

Eddie was silent for a few moments as he pondered the question. ‘Well, some gay people can’t really hide it. It’s too obvious. So why should I bother? I know some gay guys just act like regular guys, but I’m just not that. I was always kind of girly. When I officially came out to my parents, they had this bored look on their faces. It kind of pissed me off, not gonna lie. I mean, thanks, Mum and Dad! What, was all this fear for nothing?’

‘When did you know you were gay?’

Eddie chuckled. ‘Oh god. I think it was the cashier at the café my parents took me to every week that made me realise it. He was so cute. Of course, nothing was going to happen between us because he was around fifteen and I was seven, plus I’m pretty sure he was straight.’

Daniel put his hands in his pockets, still lying down. ‘Do… all gay guys know they’re gay that early?’

Eddie shrugged his shoulders. ‘I don’t…’ He frowned for a second before smiling again.  ‘I don’t know any other gay guys outside of the ones I see on Drag Race. Oh, I did meet a bi guy once at an Iron Maiden concert. He didn’t look super stereotypical, but when we were waiting for the show to start I saw he had a pink, purple and blue pride bracelet.’

‘Bi?’

‘You know, bisexual. Bisexuals are… wait, you probably already know that. Phew, I guess I can stop a lecture before it starts.’

Daniel was silent as the image of his old friend spiralled into his mind like a tornado before spinning away, leaving a destroyed mood in its wake.

‘Let’s get back to studying,’ he grumbled.

The next day had English class. After asking the class who wanted to read a part, Dr Dayling’s eyebrows jumped up when he saw Daniel’s hand up.

Daniel read a monologue, constantly looking at Eddie for approval. Eddie gave him the thumbs up and a smile.

Dr Dayling nodded. ‘Well done, Daniel. I have no idea what fairy used their magic on you, but you should thank them.’

During lunch, Daniel invited Eddie to sit on the couch with Daniel’s other friends. James glared at Daniel, but he didn’t notice.

‘Shit, we’ve got PE after lunch, don’t we?’ Eddie asked. James nodded. ‘How do I get fitter?’

Daniel smiled. ‘Well, my gym has a free trial for new members.’

James snickered. ‘What, so he can stare at all the guys in the shower?’

Daniel wanted to respond to that, but he kept his mouth shut. Eddie rolled his eyes. ‘Seriously? Jock guys aren’t my thing anyway.’

A quick, sharp pain pricked Daniel’s heart.

Just as quick was a girl’s response. ‘You watch too many American movies. We don’t have ‘jocks’ here.’

Eddie ignored her and continued ranting about homophobia, making everyone near him groan except for Daniel, who could no longer pay attention to anything Eddie said.

[frukgeneral]

Jo and I have been exchanging headcanons for this au so she’s really helped me fill in holes and fix things, thanks darlin’.

@blazenight-it @shattered-raine

Nurse Arthur AU :: FACE family

Francis

He grew up in France with his mother Noelle (nyo!France) and his little sister Charlotte (Monaco), but decided to study abroad for his university degree. His father left the family when the kids were little, and Francis has come to resent him for hurting his family so much. Because of that, the three are very close and supportive of one another. He decided to become a doctor after seeing that his mother had health issues (high blood pressure, anemia at some point), and specialized in obstetrics and gynecology because he found the female body and giving birth fascinating. He meets Arthur at the hospital they work at, and their relationship grows from there. He’s a very doting, caring, and compassionate man, and sometimes thinks more with his heart than his head. He can be vain and arrogant, but overall friendly and energetic. He’s also very proud of being French. As a doctor, he takes his job seriously, doing his best to make women comfortable when consulting with him. As a husband, he’s playful, flirtatious, and sarcastic, and has adapted to Arthur’s way of being, which is why he is able to tolerate him (even if people wonder why because Arthur can definitely be an asshole). As a father, he’s supportive and encouraging, wanting for them to be happy. He often spoils them when Arthur isn’t looking, and likes to spend time with them. He can get upset when he sees that someone from his family is saddened by something, and tries to cheer them up in some way.

Arthur

Growing up with three older brothers meant that he had to fend for himself basically. So from a young age, Arthur was hard-headed and sarcastic so as to not feel hurt if his brothers bullied him. He was a rebellious punk (ass bitch) when he was a teenager, often getting into trouble and giving his mother a headache. When he reached adulthood and left for university, he matured and took his studies seriously, and apparently did very well much to his family’s surprise because he used to not care much for grades, but then he was at the top of his class??? Because he was so used to having adrenaline in his life (that trouble he’d get into was real trouble with anarchy and rock music) he needed that rush, and medical stuff seemed to interest him—though he should have been an engineer what was he doing in a hospital—so the ER and surgeries caught his attention the most. If it was an emergency and required a lot of energy, he wanted it. After meeting Francis, he thought he’d seen the last of him, but they kept bumping into one another and then they started dating and then…fast forward a few years later, they had kids and a house and he was going to France of all places. He’s snarky, cold, and reserved, but if he trusts someone he’ll open up. He doesn’t know how to express emotions very well so they more or less are always translated as him being angry or frustrated, and sometimes it can get on Francis’ nerves, but he’s come to understand and not push Arthur until he himself is ready to talk like a civilized person about what is bothering him. As a doctor, he usually takes the lead and wants things to flow smoothly and perfectly. As a husband, he cares deeply for Francis and wants to show him that he loves him, but it takes him time to get it together, but eventually pulls through and gets him those damn flowers and those horrid chocolates, but his husband loves gestures like that and he wants to see him happy. As a father, he can be strict and disciplines the boys so they follow rules and not be little delinquents (bit hypocritical of you, Arthur, or maybe he doesn’t want his kids to be like him). He does love the boys, though, and can hold fun conversations with them. He’s also quite gentle with them at times, too, and likes to make them feel special.

Matthew

Matthew is a kind, quiet, and attentive person that listens and lends a shoulder to those who need it. He’s friendly and sweet, but can also be sarcastic and snarky when pissed off or tested. His brother and he are close and Matthew feels he can trust Alfred with almost anything, save for some very sensitive topics. With their parents being two gay men, it was easy to come out to his family and had the support and acceptance he needed. However, in recent years, he feels he’s lived in his brother’s shadow because it’s “Alfred this” and “Alfred that”, so he feels ignored and pushed to the side. With their parents working late at times, the boys feel neglected, and it takes a toll on Matthew because there are very few people to whom he can express his feelings. His best friends are Ned (Netherlands, very creative, I know), and Cuba, and he can trust them with some things. Since Cuba doesn’t like Alfred, Matthew doesn’t like to complain about his brother to someone who already dislikes him. Ned doesn’t particularly care about his twin, but he listens anyway because Matthew needs it. The three sometimes smoke weed together, and it’s mostly Ned who provides the stuff. And he would have a big crush on Ivan. So they would date for some time and it would be really cute. Though that would cause tensions in Ivan's house (see how characters are connected and consequences reach many others?). But something happens between them and they break up. And when Matthew talks about it with Ned, he realizes he's been there for him for so long, and after some time they go out (I love NedCan and RusCan).

There are two alternatives that I’ve thought for Matthew and I’ve been thinking of how NOT to romanticize either of them because I know they are serious. One of them is drinking. The living room cabinet is full of alcohol, so it’s easy to slip a drink up to his room every now and then, but when he makes it a habit, his parents can’t ignore the fact that there’s bottles of liquor missing even if they hadn’t drunk from them. They start suspecting, and when they find out it’s Matthew, it hits them unexpectedly. Mixing alcohol and weed is not safe, and Matthew would try it because he thought it was easy, and he didn’t really know it was a bad thing…until he starts throwing up, and Francis and Arthur take him to the ER.

The second alternative is cutting. It wouldn't be noticeable at first because Matthew would throw away the razors and clean up the mess. It would also give either Francis or Arthur the chance to notice something like a cotton ball full of blood...did someone get a nose bleed? I think Arthur would be the one to find out and try to approach it as gently as possible. And once Matthew confirms that he does cut, Arthur would tell Francis because Matthew obviously needs help and they need to find a counselor or therapist for him. I’m more familiar with this kind of situation, so I lean more towards this one.

Both of these make me sad.

Alfred

As a bubbly, intelligent, and loud person, you’d think he doesn’t have some things to hide, but he does. He can be very sweet and charming, and in school he does well, but lately at home, things have been tense because he feels his parents have neglected his brother and him. Alfred adopts a rebellious, biting, sarcastic, and piss-poor attitude that stops giving a shit because he feels his parents don’t care. In a way, they do, and it takes Alfred leaving for them to realize how badly they were fucking up. So Alfred is angry, bitter, and sad. He can be a kind person, especially with friends and his girlfriend Natalya. He's also helpful with his classmates and even offers to tutor them because he's really smart. And he likes playing video games with Kiku; he does computer stuff with Ed (Estonia); and he likes to hang out with Toris. He's also athletic and is into football and hockey, but he can get competitive especially with Ivan during hockey season. Despite enjoying learning, his home life gradually affected his studies and his grades drop, which concerns Francis and Arthur when they get a call from school informing them of Alfred’s progress. He’s close to his brother Matthew and shows support when he and Ivan date, but he can’t keep secrets forever and if Natalya were to find out (which she would eventually, and quickly), it would hurt their relationship immensely. Alfred can get along with just about anyone, especially with people who are similar to him, such as ‘Uncle’ Gilbert and Mathias/Dr. K.

[yurio-plisetksy]

International Love: Yuri Plisetsky x Reader

Request:  May I request a Dutch reader x yurio? Like they once met at a competition and they're both sassy af so it clicked? They message very day until a competition in the Netherlands and he kisses her the moment he sees her? She shows him Amsterdam and all?

A/N: This was really fun to write, especially since it’s my own country. Enjoy!

Yuri rolled his eyes as Yakov scolded him. His voice had been haunting him ever since he arrived at the building, and the thought of having to put up with him even longer was  terrifying. He wasn’t even doing anything, but apparently it still caused the old man to flip shit.

He sighed and pulled his hoodie over his eyes, hiding the earbuds he was actually wearing

This was a usual thing for him. He’d arrive at the rink, get scolded by his coach, warm up and practice and eventually performing. It seemed to repeat itself every other day and he was actually getting tired of it. Until one day, he noticed someone.

“I get it! Stop getting all up in my shit!”

Yuri’s eyes followed your appearance as you walked past him. He roamed his eyes up and down, inspecting every tiny detail. Your eyes were bright and had a hint of annoyance, which matched perfectly with the roll of your eyes. Your hands were stuffed inside the pockets of your bright orange hoodie, and the Dutch flag was displayed on your skates.

“Hey Blondie, eyes up here.” Yuri averted his eyes back to your face, landing on an amused smirk. He scoffed and looked the other way. You smirked and extended your hand to flick his forehead, grabbing his attention yet again.

“Hey, I’m talking to you, Punk.” Yuri groaned and smacked your hand away, looking back up at you from under his hoodie. You took in the details of his face. Strands of hair fell in front of his face, while his piercing greenish orbs were glaring back at you. He had a lean figure, with broad shoulders, and a very prominent jawline.

“Tsk. Not like I care.” He responded, but you noticed his lips tug upwards. You raised your eyebrows up at him and leaned down. “At least look at me when I’m talking to you, kid.” You noticed a glint in his eyes when the words escaped your mouth. A deep chuckle came from his pink lips as he suddenly rose from his seat.

Your eyes widened as his tall figure towered over yours. You swallowed thickly as he leaned over you just slightly, a sly smirk on his attractive face. “Kid? You barely reach my shoulders…” He taunted, poking his tongue out at you. You chuckled and punched his chest playfully, waving your hand up and down as you looked the other way.

“Okay, Okay, you’re a titan, I get it!” You told him with a casual smirk, to which he chuckled and sat back down. You looked down at him curiously and took the seat next to him. He turned to you and took out one earbud.

“Are you the ‘Russian Ice Tiger’ everyone keeps talking about?” You asked him, placing one of your feet on your knee to run your finger over the blade of your skate. Yuri sighed and nodded. “I guess…”

“You’re more like a kitten though.”

“Shut up.”

From: Y/n ‘You totally failed your last jump though, so you have no excuse to miss practice.’

From: Yuri ‘You practically fail at everything in life, so you have no excuse to talk to me like this.’

From: Y/n ‘Okay, rude.’

From: Yuri ‘You love me.’

Yuri hesitantly send the message. Even though you made jokes about loving each other every day, it always caused his heart to skip a beat whenever you did.

You had given him your number, well… more like stole his phone and added yourself. Since that day you have been texting every day, excluding your skype calls every saturday. Yuri had grown very fond of you and eventually caught himself falling for you.

From: Y/n ‘Do I though???’

From: Y/n ‘Jk, you know I do.’

You hadn’t seen each other for more than 10 months when Yuri announced he had a competition in Amsterdam. You were stoked and began ranting about how you would take him to see the Rijksmuseum and make him eat stroopwafels. His response was a chuckle, and he let you ramble about where you would take him.

He loved the way you’d accidently slip some dutch words in your sentences, making them seem broken. But to him it was the cutest thing ever. He even recognised some words you had used before, most of them were curse words though.

“Yuri, klasbak, are you even listening at me?” You asked him, leaning into the camera of your laptop as you folded your arms over your chest. Yuri smiled and nodded, adjusting his position into something more comfortable. His head leaned onto his hand as he listened to you with a small smile.

He couldn’t wait to see you again.

He hadn’t expected this many people to wait for him. The whole entrance was blocked by ‘Yuri’s Angels’, holding up posters and shouting out his name in desperate need for his attention. He had no idea he even had fans from Holland, but there were three times that many than in any other country he had been too.

Like usual he just tried to blend in with the crowd as the exited the arrival hall. His tiger print suitcase was held by Yakov, who was actually scolding him for not carrying it on his own. But the words of his coach were muted, his mind only focused on finding a certain person. You had promised to pick him up with a bright smile, so “You couldn’t be wasting any time and get right to the sight seeing part of his trip.”. You also told him you “Missed his ugly ass.”

So his eyes were taking in his surroundings in desperate need to find that one person. That one person he hadn’t seen in person for over ten months. The one person who he had grown feeling for and didn’t know what to do with them.

So when he did notice your appearance, looking back at him with a bright smile, his feet quickly made his way towards you. Eyes never leaving yours as he approached you, hands that were stuffed in his pockets now swaying by his side. You smiled and extended your hands as he was now close enough to touch you.

But instead of hugging you, his hands extended towards you to grab your face. He pulled you closer and suddenly you felt a pair of warm lips on yours. Your eyes widened as he kissed you, taken back by his actions. But after a few seconds you smiled against his lips and threw your arms around his neck, kissing him back with just as much love.

Once the both of you pulled back, you looked up at him with a toothy smile, and Yuri returned the gesture. He pecked your lips once more before you playfully punched his side. He groaned as your hand made contact just below his ribs and he hunched over in slight pain.

“We’re wasting time, idiot.”

“So what’s in this?”

“We call it stroop, it’s like caramel.”

Yuri nodded as he took another bite of the waffel. He hummed at the taste, extending his arm towards you so you could take a bite. You smirked and practically bit half of it off, making Yuri scoff. His fingers flicked your nose, making you whine.

You laughed and leaned your head back on his shoulder like you had previously done. It was a beautiful evening in august, and the sun was setting. An orange glow covered the building around the canals, as you silently floated over the water. Yuri’s arm around your shoulder, and your head against his.

After he finished the sweet treat, he turned towards you. You blinked up at him, thinking he was going to say something, when he yet again placed his lips on yours. You closed your eyes and melted into the kiss, cupping his cheek and sitting up slightly.

You parted your lips as you felt his tongue run over your lower lip. He smirked and you knew he was planning something. When he pushed his tongue against yours, you could still taste the sweetness of the waffel. You chuckled and pulled away.

“Nasty.”

“You loved it.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

[shiroifeather]

Historic accuracy also extremely touchy subject opinions

Censure is everywhere these days but facts cannot change for example The painting birth of Venus , Venus is naked Lets do another shall we apparently soldiers who where gay and where found out where either fired ( or whatever they call it military terms are just that to me) or where expected to where badges i state this as a fact but i just heard this from protomario on YouTube . Heres a big one slavery happened no one is happy it happend bit it happend it was everywhere it was popular and theres a reason it happened . Romans stole the culture of other countrys regularely Cristians or rather the spanish inquisition are dicks you know why ? Because They claimed pan a greek deity with goat hooves and horns was satan wich is just one thing They did , i could rant endlessly about the cultural destruction caused by them Japan had its borders forced open Sinterklaas was a saint he was pretty cool none is quite sure where zwarte piet came from ,Some say Chimney Sweepers Some say slaves nobody cares because we Grew up loving the helpers of the saint who punched a fellow catholic because of conflicting beliefs Kali is an Indian vanmpire like goddes she wears a necklace of skulls and a skiet made of arms in most ancient depictions thats about it . Loki is a slut and Odin rides his grandson to war . Hades is the chillest dude of them all Bastet used to be a lionness instead of a cat Anubis is another relatively chill god of death Seth is the ashole in those stories most of the time. Hel got thrown in the underworld because Odin decided she was a monster People Will always be people Nobody even things about forcing China to change its ways for a reason Nobody cared about boobs in ancient egypt probably The status of liberty is a lady and stands for liberty for all Slaves where not exclusively black Japan is full of japanese people so black and while people are a minority there Africa is full of african people so white ,asian ,latina and the like are a minority there The Netherlands are weird our culture is bases on diversity and commerce and staying out of wars because we're a tiny country and can't do much else other then wait things out. Shell has zero decency Sweden is full of white blond and blue eyed people Seriously people racism is racism the jews cant get away with being an asholes because nazi's where jerks to them its still being an asholes regardless who does it does Anyone know who turin is ? Because LOOK HIM UP a black person being able to demand white people to pay more taxes because of what happened in the past is a goddamn miracle that shit was not possible in the past damnit don't be blind. America has a different court systeem then Europeanen countrys European voting systems prevent people like Geert Wilders from being able to do too much damage since the second world war because of how Hitler came to power During the second world war there weren't alot of women in the army Germany is a white country because white people have lieve there for centuries now dont be dense about it The swastika is a thing that exists this symbol has a long history and not everything looks like a bloody swastika don't be dense and call people a nazi because sommeone has a black triforce as their profile picture Fantasy and reality are two separate things Thinking a book is accurately represantitive of reality is a serious problem according to my teachers and a sign of potential psychosis Pedofilia is horrible and viel and Anything that can or Will hurt children is horrible so Please stop removing that wich is preventing them acting on those vile desires . Chimpansees are horrible creatures( opinion bases on the fact they eat each other ) America is terrifying The Bible contains Many life lessons regardless of version wich ones you take to heart is your OWN decision because it contradicts itself pretty consistently Abel and cain where brothers cain murdered his younger brother out of jealousy The good samaritan is an amazing story and read up on it because its a worthy life lesson ( opinion) Equality is for all but that does not mean that the population of Japan Should be 25 percent asian 25 percent white 25 percent latina 25 percent white 50 per ent male and female Japan is overcrowded and you'd be destroying a way of life more then its already been destroyed Its unrealistic and foolish to think you'd be able to expect such an equalizer spread of people everywhere like that pulling that kind Of thing with even one country is inmpossible if you want gay people in your game fine but oh you want this to be prior to the second world war in britain ? Be prepared for serious angst drama and the disgusting nature of the dark corners of British history You want females in your medieval historicly accurate game or book wel you beter be talking about Jeanne de arce only otherwise its fantasy rather then history Boobs don't work that way

[trendingnewsb]

The Age of ‘Not Helping’

Somewhere, someone first wrote Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt. We are pretty sure it wasnt Mark Twain. It may have been Abraham Lincoln. It may have been somebody misremembering a biblical proverb, or the author of a book of rhymes for children. A Minnesota newspaper attributed it to Empeco. Wizard of Oz author L. Frank Baum may have come up with it. Whoever it was, they had a point.

2016 was an exciting time for the global far right and their stateside cheerleaders. Voters in the UK opted to separate from the European Union, which some feared would perilously weaken the alliance. Marine Le Pen, a French nationalist, was mounting a serious play for her countrys presidency. In Germany, in the Netherlands, in Hungary, and in Austria, far right seemed poised to break into the mainstream.

Fast forward six months into 2017, and that storyline seems to have reached its raveled end. Le Pen was defeated by a 39-year-old ingenue. Germanys Angela Merkels post looks safer for Germany than it did at the turn of the year. And in Great Britain, conservative Prime Minister Theresa May, human cautionary tale, called a snap election in an attempt to strengthen her power as the country heads into Brexit talks. This week, that effort backfired. May is now facing a hung parliament.

Many factors have contributed to this swing to the left. One of those reasons is Donald Trumps unpopularity, and his seeming inability, for even a second, to stop reminding people how much they hate him.

For an average person, the consequences of foolish speech only serve to embarrass the fool, or the fools girlfriend. But for politically active public figures, from celebrities who dabble all the way up to the Oval Office, foolish speech is more damaging. It gives ones opponents ammunition and turns off people who could have become allies.

Public figures have always been tripping over their own proverbial dicks, but, thanks to social media and an ethos that values the act of speaking up over the contents of speech, broadcasting ones foolishness has never been more seductive. Nor has it been easier for other people to notice that idiocy, expand its reach, and demand apologies from the poor fools tasked with PR cleanup.

Lena Dunham started her career as a shining star of young filmmaking talent, but recently has made more headlines for embodying a caricature of culturally walled-off safe space millennial liberalism. The most recent headache shes caused her ideological brethren occurred in December, when she told listeners to her podcast that she hadnt had an abortion, but wished she would have. She then apologized on Instagram by saying that she was merely playing a character. During the presidential campaign, she backed Hillary Clinton and vowed to move to Canada if Trump was elected, and then did not move to Canada. Last week, she posted a photo of herself wearing a body-length blaze orange sleeping bag, which somehow is supposed to fight gun violence, or something. If she didnt already exist, conservatives would invent her.

When Kathy Griffin posted a photo of herself hoisting a fake severed Donald Trump head the other week, all she accomplished was aiding producers at Fox & Friends struggling to find news stories to chase that did not have to do with Trumps ineptitude. She gave a party without ideas a break from weaving their own ropes. Her subsequent apology and press conference about bullying Streisand Effect-ed her into the right wing news cycle and Donald Trump Jrs conspiratory-nuts Twitter timeline. Not helping.

Bill Maher, in his long career, has found himself creating grief for his supposed ideological brethren, recently saying the N-word in conversation with Senator Ben Sasse. Sean Penn annoys the piss out of some on the left. So does Susan Sarandon. Actor Matt McGorrys over-the-top feminist dude wokeness is frequent fodder for ridicule among many all-female text circles. Not Helping.

Steve Harvey is a classic Not Helper. Sarah Palin has a similar opportunism streak, often inserting herself into discussions to add nothing but another thing to make those shes trying to help look bad. Maxine Waters, as beloved as shes become by some, is viewed by others as a corrupt grandstanding opportunist, tossing irresponsible accusations before enough evidence exists to back them up. Speaking of Maxine Waters: Bill OReilly. Not helping. Ann Coulter and Piers Morgan, while quick to speak up, often seem to do so without first considering whether theyre doing good or making a mess for somebody else to clean up.

In other cases, whether or not speaking up is helping or not isnt as clear.

Hillary Clinton stepped back from public life after her electoral defeat last fall. But now shes back, and shes exactly the same as ever. Sure, some superficial elements have changed– her purple pantsuit of defeat hasnt been brought out of retirement yet–her message is the one shes been delivering for her entire career in the public eye. Never let anybody silence your voice, she told graduates of Medgar Evers College in New York City this week.

Clintons months-long return to the limelight hasnt been smooth, nor has it always been welcome. Why cant the Clintons just go away? lamented the New York Post back in April. Weeks later, New York Daily News columnist Gersh Kuntzman urged Hillary Clinton to shut the f— up and go away! Two weeks later, Boston Globe columnist Adriana Cohen asked How can we move on together if Hillary Clinton wont go away? And on Friday, Vanity Fair joined the dogpile, running a story headlined Can Hillary Clinton please go quietly into the night?

If Hillary Clinton delivers a speech alone in a forest and theres no op-ed columnists around to tell her to fuck off, is she still hurting America?

Two weeks ago, Clinton delivered the commencement address at her alma mater Wellesley College. During that speech, she sharply criticized President Trump. The Republican National Committee tried to raise funds off Clintons speech immediately. After months of bumbling, gridlock, and failure, they finally had something pure that would fire up their supporters that didnt involve them highlighting their own inability to govern. On one hand, telling a woman to shut up for no reason sounds pretty sexist. On the other, Hillary Clinton declaring that she will not sit down or shut up was the best thing that happened to Republicans that week.

At the same time Clinton was urging graduates in New York City to keep speaking up, in Washington, DC, former FBI director James Comey was speaking under oath before a Senate committee. The committee was interested in figuring out whether President Donald Trump had attempted to obstruct an FBI investigation into the ties between various agents of the Trump campaign and Russian efforts to influence the American election. Trump, it seemed, couldnt resist speaking up about Michael Flynn, about wanting certain behaviors out of an FBI director. According to Comeys testimony, each time the president spoke up to Comey about FBI business, he just made things worse.

Say what you will about Donald Trump, the man has never, not once in his 70-year-life, shut the fuck up. A recording of him bragging about sexually assaulting women in an apparent attempt to convince Billy Bush that he was a cool and good guy incinerated the career of Bush and nearly tanked his campaign. There was that Obama-was-born-in-Kenya nonsense. Then-candidate Trump congratulated himself after 49 people were murdered in a terrorist attack in Orlando a year ago. He crowed about the UKs decision to pull out of the EU, last August tweeting with characteristic bombast that They will soon be calling me MR. BREXIT! After London was attacked by terrorists last weekend, President Mr. Brexit attacked Londons mayor and called for a travel ban on Twitter.

But a person can only talk so much shit before stepping in it, and Not Helper-In-Chief Trumps inability to shut up is a problem for people who get too close to him.

The Presidents twitter habit has cost him credibility, and his aides their dignity as they scramble to control a White House message thats about as streamlined as an untethered firehose on full blast. It may have forever ruined his childrens ability to function as business leaders; its tarnished his daughters image so much that she or somebody close to her has taken to planting positive stories about her in supermarket tabloids owned by Trump family allies.

Every day presents a new opportunity for Donald Trump to shut up. And every day, Donald Trump lets that opportunity pass him buy, reminding people the world over that they do not like him. To paraphrase dead #MAGA-land darling Pepe the Frog, tweeting feels good, man. But its not helping Trumps cause beyond Trumps own desire to express himself. His ego is screwing things up for people who should be his allies. Mr. Brexit indeed.

If Hillary Clinton needs to go quietly into the night to best serve her cause, Donald Trump needs to have his phone chucked into the Lincoln Memorials snail-infested reflecting pool, and be kept at least a golf course-length away from the nearest microphone.

Yesterday, during a press conference alongside Romanian President Klaus Iohannis, Trump again displayed his famous restraint, barking out that James Comey had lied during his Senate testimony and that hed testify to that effect under oath.

Somewhere, the author of that quote about proving ones foolishness by speaking up rolled over in his grave.

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The Age of ‘Not Helping’

Somewhere, someone first wrote Better to remain silent and be thought a fool than to speak and to remove all doubt. We are pretty sure it wasnt Mark Twain. It may have been Abraham Lincoln. It may have been somebody misremembering a biblical proverb, or the author of a book of rhymes for children. A Minnesota newspaper attributed it to Empeco. Wizard of Oz author L. Frank Baum may have come up with it. Whoever it was, they had a point.

2016 was an exciting time for the global far right and their stateside cheerleaders. Voters in the UK opted to separate from the European Union, which some feared would perilously weaken the alliance. Marine Le Pen, a French nationalist, was mounting a serious play for her countrys presidency. In Germany, in the Netherlands, in Hungary, and in Austria, far right seemed poised to break into the mainstream.

Fast forward six months into 2017, and that storyline seems to have reached its raveled end. Le Pen was defeated by a 39-year-old ingenue. Germanys Angela Merkels post looks safer for Germany than it did at the turn of the year. And in Great Britain, conservative Prime Minister Theresa May, human cautionary tale, called a snap election in an attempt to strengthen her power as the country heads into Brexit talks. This week, that effort backfired. May is now facing a hung parliament.

Many factors have contributed to this swing to the left. One of those reasons is Donald Trumps unpopularity, and his seeming inability, for even a second, to stop reminding people how much they hate him.

For an average person, the consequences of foolish speech only serve to embarrass the fool, or the fools girlfriend. But for politically active public figures, from celebrities who dabble all the way up to the Oval Office, foolish speech is more damaging. It gives ones opponents ammunition and turns off people who could have become allies.

Public figures have always been tripping over their own proverbial dicks, but, thanks to social media and an ethos that values the act of speaking up over the contents of speech, broadcasting ones foolishness has never been more seductive. Nor has it been easier for other people to notice that idiocy, expand its reach, and demand apologies from the poor fools tasked with PR cleanup.

Lena Dunham started her career as a shining star of young filmmaking talent, but recently has made more headlines for embodying a caricature of culturally walled-off safe space millennial liberalism. The most recent headache shes caused her ideological brethren occurred in December, when she told listeners to her podcast that she hadnt had an abortion, but wished she would have. She then apologized on Instagram by saying that she was merely playing a character. During the presidential campaign, she backed Hillary Clinton and vowed to move to Canada if Trump was elected, and then did not move to Canada. Last week, she posted a photo of herself wearing a body-length blaze orange sleeping bag, which somehow is supposed to fight gun violence, or something. If she didnt already exist, conservatives would invent her.

When Kathy Griffin posted a photo of herself hoisting a fake severed Donald Trump head the other week, all she accomplished was aiding producers at Fox & Friends struggling to find news stories to chase that did not have to do with Trumps ineptitude. She gave a party without ideas a break from weaving their own ropes. Her subsequent apology and press conference about bullying Streisand Effect-ed her into the right wing news cycle and Donald Trump Jrs conspiratory-nuts Twitter timeline. Not helping.

Bill Maher, in his long career, has found himself creating grief for his supposed ideological brethren, recently saying the N-word in conversation with Senator Ben Sasse. Sean Penn annoys the piss out of some on the left. So does Susan Sarandon. Actor Matt McGorrys over-the-top feminist dude wokeness is frequent fodder for ridicule among many all-female text circles. Not Helping.

Steve Harvey is a classic Not Helper. Sarah Palin has a similar opportunism streak, often inserting herself into discussions to add nothing but another thing to make those shes trying to help look bad. Maxine Waters, as beloved as shes become by some, is viewed by others as a corrupt grandstanding opportunist, tossing irresponsible accusations before enough evidence exists to back them up. Speaking of Maxine Waters: Bill OReilly. Not helping. Ann Coulter and Piers Morgan, while quick to speak up, often seem to do so without first considering whether theyre doing good or making a mess for somebody else to clean up.

In other cases, whether or not speaking up is helping or not isnt as clear.

Hillary Clinton stepped back from public life after her electoral defeat last fall. But now shes back, and shes exactly the same as ever. Sure, some superficial elements have changed– her purple pantsuit of defeat hasnt been brought out of retirement yet–her message is the one shes been delivering for her entire career in the public eye. Never let anybody silence your voice, she told graduates of Medgar Evers College in New York City this week.

Clintons months-long return to the limelight hasnt been smooth, nor has it always been welcome. Why cant the Clintons just go away? lamented the New York Post back in April. Weeks later, New York Daily News columnist Gersh Kuntzman urged Hillary Clinton to shut the f— up and go away! Two weeks later, Boston Globe columnist Adriana Cohen asked How can we move on together if Hillary Clinton wont go away? And on Friday, Vanity Fair joined the dogpile, running a story headlined Can Hillary Clinton please go quietly into the night?

If Hillary Clinton delivers a speech alone in a forest and theres no op-ed columnists around to tell her to fuck off, is she still hurting America?

Two weeks ago, Clinton delivered the commencement address at her alma mater Wellesley College. During that speech, she sharply criticized President Trump. The Republican National Committee tried to raise funds off Clintons speech immediately. After months of bumbling, gridlock, and failure, they finally had something pure that would fire up their supporters that didnt involve them highlighting their own inability to govern. On one hand, telling a woman to shut up for no reason sounds pretty sexist. On the other, Hillary Clinton declaring that she will not sit down or shut up was the best thing that happened to Republicans that week.

At the same time Clinton was urging graduates in New York City to keep speaking up, in Washington, DC, former FBI director James Comey was speaking under oath before a Senate committee. The committee was interested in figuring out whether President Donald Trump had attempted to obstruct an FBI investigation into the ties between various agents of the Trump campaign and Russian efforts to influence the American election. Trump, it seemed, couldnt resist speaking up about Michael Flynn, about wanting certain behaviors out of an FBI director. According to Comeys testimony, each time the president spoke up to Comey about FBI business, he just made things worse.

Say what you will about Donald Trump, the man has never, not once in his 70-year-life, shut the fuck up. A recording of him bragging about sexually assaulting women in an apparent attempt to convince Billy Bush that he was a cool and good guy incinerated the career of Bush and nearly tanked his campaign. There was that Obama-was-born-in-Kenya nonsense. Then-candidate Trump congratulated himself after 49 people were murdered in a terrorist attack in Orlando a year ago. He crowed about the UKs decision to pull out of the EU, last August tweeting with characteristic bombast that They will soon be calling me MR. BREXIT! After London was attacked by terrorists last weekend, President Mr. Brexit attacked Londons mayor and called for a travel ban on Twitter.

But a person can only talk so much shit before stepping in it, and Not Helper-In-Chief Trumps inability to shut up is a problem for people who get too close to him.

The Presidents twitter habit has cost him credibility, and his aides their dignity as they scramble to control a White House message thats about as streamlined as an untethered firehose on full blast. It may have forever ruined his childrens ability to function as business leaders; its tarnished his daughters image so much that she or somebody close to her has taken to planting positive stories about her in supermarket tabloids owned by Trump family allies.

Every day presents a new opportunity for Donald Trump to shut up. And every day, Donald Trump lets that opportunity pass him buy, reminding people the world over that they do not like him. To paraphrase dead #MAGA-land darling Pepe the Frog, tweeting feels good, man. But its not helping Trumps cause beyond Trumps own desire to express himself. His ego is screwing things up for people who should be his allies. Mr. Brexit indeed.

If Hillary Clinton needs to go quietly into the night to best serve her cause, Donald Trump needs to have his phone chucked into the Lincoln Memorials snail-infested reflecting pool, and be kept at least a golf course-length away from the nearest microphone.

Yesterday, during a press conference alongside Romanian President Klaus Iohannis, Trump again displayed his famous restraint, barking out that James Comey had lied during his Senate testimony and that hed testify to that effect under oath.

Somewhere, the author of that quote about proving ones foolishness by speaking up rolled over in his grave.

Read more: http://ift.tt/2re1vB3

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2r79uvR via Viral News HQ