… But better luck for us, as Charlie is the Noel Cowardesque Blake Ritson, the finest of period drama actors, fondly remembered for his most excellent turn as the Duke of Kent in Upstairs Downstairs. He plays the sneeringly polite upper-class bully with finesse. “Drink up, old girl.”
Everyone has such beautiful headcanons or AUs for people like “I bet Akaashi plays the violin” and “Suga would totally be loving and gentle with children.”
But all my headcanons are along the lines of, “Hinata smells like straight up nasty sweat 24/7” and “Suga CANNOT handle children whatsoever,” and of course “Akaashi is a total glutton who eats with HORRIBLE etiquette.”
I just really enjoy making these boys more awkward than they already are I guess…
GOD, WOMEN: You’re not smiling enough! You look nasty! You won’t smile back at this guy in town! You’re wearing makeup! You obviously WANT him to stare! If you don’t, what are you wearing those nice clothes and that makeup for, then? Make up your minds!
A/N: So, I was supposed to be working on Chapter 2 of 7 Minutes, but somehow ended up writing an extended missing make-out session on Emma’s bed from last night’s episode. So, yeah…here’s some fluff.
She loves him. The look in her eyes when he died, the desperation
in her voice as she tore into the loft in search of him, the light behind her
eyes as she launched herself into his arms, and
the giggles, oh…they are a dead giveaway. Her confession of thanks, while
not what he expected (or dare dreamed) to
hear, merely a placeholder for what he knows she wanted to say, content in
waiting until the time will be right. But now, with her forehead pressed
against his, knees pressed tightly against his waist, all he can think of is
how much he wants, no, needs to kiss
His fingers still tingling somewhat from her fierce grip as
she held him against the bed, he runs his hand along the length of her thigh
until he finds her waist under the leather, pulling her closer as he angles his
head to slant his lips over hers. Her response is immediate, her hand on his
neck gripping tightly as she anchors herself, her hips sliding forward to rut against
him in such a way that he begins to feel much like the deckhand version of
himself, completely in awe and absolute putty in the hands of this woman.
We’re a bunch of determined individuals camped out trying to figure out how to challenge powers beyond our control and OH MY GOD WE’RE LIVING IN FANDOM END!VERSE. Think about it! We’re fighting a powerful adversary (perhaps only truly an adversary in our minds) that’s wearing the face of the show we love and we can’t do anything about it so we’re setting up our own little Camp Chitaqua and we’re going out defiantly and we’re ultimately going to have our heads stomped on by the show.