#Grace Lyons

[dwuerch-blog]

Something to Shout About

Forgive me as I take off on a tangent today. We lived in Tulsa, OK for forty-plus years and we were avid fans of OU — Oklahoma University’s sports teams. We always rooted for them. On the other hand, my brother-in-law who attended Oklahoma State University, with his children, were huge OSU fans. We were friendly rivals when we would have OU vs OSU parties at our home. So of course when I see…

[retrogirlmuscle]

"Yeah I watch wrestling for the plot"

The plot:

Top left: Jordynne Grace

Top right: Nikkita Lyons

Bottom left: Jade Cargill

Bottom right: Anna Jay

[rawsmackdownnxtdivas]

Arianna Grace, Tatum Paxley, Javier Bernal, Channing "Stacks" Lorenzo, Nikkita Lyons 💞

[marleneoftheopera]

officially obsessed with grace roberts’ voice🥹🫶🤩

[notmuchtoconceal]

Verily, verily I say unto you! Laura Palmer is the image of the Feminine Messiah, for she is what we consume at our daily meal, wrapped section-by-section, genre-by-genre, a full-course luncheon in a box served up by an early-adopter auteur slumming it up in TV Land, for he believed in the good of public works and the joys of episodic narrative!

Look back now to the Image of Tina in A Nightmare on Elm Street, not only clawing bloodied and bitten-of-nail on the inside of her bodybag translucent as the mists of a high school shower. See her not only dragged down the halls by an unseen malevolence leaving a slime-trail of blood as she goes -- See her also in the Dreamland which was her prison and tomb standing shrouded as the Holy Virgin in Plastic, Deflowered though she was by her Hunky Tighty Whitey wearing Latino Greaser Boyfriend who too was to be found alone, strangled of his own volition.

See the continuity in these images, not only for how one may influence another, but how in each is a reflection of the time and place from which they arose. See the dead girls on the news in placid suburban 80's homes. See them now always for what they always were -- offerings to the Moloch of the Mainland, Our Homeland Hungering for the Blood of the Pure. See how the boogeyman was always a necessity of the loving patriarchs which your grief-stricken mother, intoxicated in isolation, barred the windows of your home to keep your father out. See your father the lawman hiding the crimes to which he knew he was entitled for the law was his and the courts always shows for the public. The letter of the law could not reflect the will of the people, for the people hunger for blood and the annals of our court are not a butcher's trough, though we may permit each tree within our garden a gallows!

The blonde girl. The Radiant Madonna. Who is she? In her name we see the laurel crown, the hands which reach and touch. As the heart is what mediates the two, and she is the heart of the town, the daughter of a respected lawyer for the local last tycoon, she was the most fecund portal through which to inject corruption. She is the Feminine Messiah for She is the Paradoxical Image of God in The Flesh.

In Laura's embrace of Stoic Wisdom, her acceptance of struggle, decision to withstand hardship and rejection of witchcraft, we see the font of her status as a glamor goddess is a masculinized mind which compromises neither its feminine allure nor immersion. From a young age, she is bombarded not only by repeated sexual and emotional abuse from a loved one, but continuous assault by the irrational and yet inarguable presence of supernatural forces. As with the first scene of Ash's sister Cheryl's possession in The Evil Dead, the unseen forces of darkness lurking always out of sight seize her hand against her will and use her own body as an instrument to intrude upon the pages of a meditative space where she may be alone with her thoughts.

The treasury of Missing Pieces from Fire Walk With Me are a particular boon to this subject, as the additional scenes featuring Laura and her mother shed warm rays of luminance on a relationship foundational to not only the heart, but the core tension of the series.

In a brief scene where Sarah, Laura's mother, is coming inside carrying groceries, three developments occur in rapid succession, which key the viewer in to the intimacy of these women's dynamic. Laura is harried, for she has just found pages ripped from the Secret Diary she had hidden, tipping her off that her secrets can no longer be safely kept in her own home. She is smoking a cigarette, as she was only moments before (in the main body of the text) living out an impromptu early-90's alterative hip-hop video as she comes home from school (as one does), which we soon find out is despite her mother's protests. (The smoking, not living in a improvisational music video. No matter what timeline you're in, you can't take the 90's out of a 90's girl even if it's still the 80's.) Yet also despite her protests, her mother will hold her cigarette for her as Laura in turn takes the groceries. Laura needs to ask her mother to borrow the car (fortuitous, I'm only now realizing, as she had just gotten home) for she is still only a high school girl, but first -- she must withstand another bout of lecturing from her mother where she insists she will never be a smoker if she never starts smoking. We can see in this briefly that Sarah is instilling in Laura a purity ethic where a corrupted-identity is based on an initiation ("being a smoker", "starting smoking") -- the definitive feature of idol worship, which Sarah is sadly living out half-consciously, as her own husband is drugging her with milk. The milk which she seems inevitably to accept, making her go into the white dissociative horsey dreams. As a final comic touch, once Sarah agrees, Laura runs out the door, leaving her cigarette in her mother's hands, which she needs to then run back in and grab to eye-rolling maternal exasperation.

This connects to a later scene which elaborates upon a vital point of ambiguity in the main body of the film -- an ambiguity which reads as such for it is not immediately parsible, for it is irrational.

Laura ascends to the local Roadhouse to once more prostitute her underaged body for the coke money she so desperately needs to fuel her lifestyle of endless social charity and drug-fueled bisexual intrigues. Her childhood best friend, Donna Hayward, played by a different actress in the film than in the series (perhaps embodying Laura's projections of her own naivety onto the cuter, smaller, mousier new girl) follows her. She is not only curious about her best friend's distance, her twoness, but she is aware of how Laura sees her. Donna is dating one of the two Local Mikes, the Earthly Dumb Jock, who proudly boasts from his convertible in his letterman jacket with her drug-dealer leather bro by his side that HE. IS. THE. MAN. This Donna will, in the same breath, wonder aloud if her football player boyfriend could ever write her a poem, then scandalously whisper to Laura about ... the mere possibility ... of having sex. Holy shit. This bitch was having threesomes in public when she was twelve. Girl, you know not what little you know. Oh my god. You are not yet ready to steal this woman's second boyfriend and develop main character syndrome as you shout on her grave in the dead of night. Right now, you are gonna do some weird needy insecure shit and it's gonna be fun.

(My little brother is a hardcore Donna stan and I know not ever why.)

As we have said, Donna follows Laura to her nightside prostitution meetup, which prompts Laura to react with barely-disguised dismay equal parts shock contempt and expectance. This Donna ... is gonna get fucking good at playing Laura's games. This Donna ... is gonna slut it up. This Donna ain't no fuckin prude. This Donna has cute lil perky tits and she's gonna whip em out! You ever see that other Donna's tits? Nuh-uh, bitch. TV standards. No full-frontal female. See em on the big screen, motherfucker. Bathed in hot pink electro-grunge hate-fucking your ears! I am a Goddess! I am the Concubine! I am the Queen of Whores! Ow. Don't cry from that one shot you took. That was real spicy. I'm such a good girl this is hard for me. I'm not gonna let it show, though. Do I have to be at church in the morning? Am I out whoring on a schoolday? What happened to my lesbian sister who writes poetry? How can Laura be best girl and biggest slut, how is that possible, what am I missing?

Once more you may see as it is revealed -- as Donna approaches the table at which Laura is seated with her two bucks, one asks if she is included in "the deal" -- to which Laura objects, which Donna insists on including herself, sealing it with the shot she takes from her mark.

Donna is self-initiating into the cult of ritual prostitution by means of libation that she may enter into sympathetic resonance with Laura. Laura, though she may seem to dismay it, is protective of Donna's innocence, and doesn't wish to see her corrupted. Though Laura may appear beautiful and bright and alive, inside she is consumed by darkness and fears being close to anyone, fears that her influence on anyone might be corrosive, and yet -- she's missing Meals on Wheels deliveries and unable to give excuses, although -- nobody wonders why despite the fact there's nobody there. There's nobody there, but maybe the two of us can sneak off later and snuggle in my truck while we listen to non-diegetic music over the radio and reflect on the beauty and tragedy of the night.

Furthermore, the Missing Pieces make clear the crossing of an additional boundary -- namely that the girls literally cross northward into the territory of Canada to engage in their Pink Room Prostitution Cube. The abrupt cut in the feature film, on first impression -- may lead one to believe the Pink Room is an extension spatially, literally ... (a backroom) as well as metaphysically and thematically ... of the Roadhouse, rather than another place, called The Power and the Glory some many miles away.

It is in this scene where Donna loses herself to her latent passions, caressing herself as a boa in the sweater which Laura had discarded as she disrobed, she sees then her old coworker, Ronette Pulaski (named for the park by my house, by which I mean not the French Jesuit Missionary, but the street not named for him) emerge from the pink fog of time, the mirror image of what Donna might become: the two reflect upon their past experiences in the brothel where they worked, recruited through the perfume counter at Laura's dad's lifetime friend and business partner's department store high school grooming and sex trafficking ring.

It is important to understand that consensual sex work performed voluntarily by an adult woman (or man or anyone else for that matter) who understands the risks they're accepting, as they would accept with any choice of occupation, is quite different from a situation where a girl is coerced, both overtly and subtly, into acting against her own self-interest by playing into what seems inevitable pre-scripted scenes by invisibly abusive authorities with loving faces. Laura may enjoy sex, and sex is empowering, but this is occurring from a place of deep hurt. Laura has been repeatedly humiliated, repeatedly disempowered, repeatedly had her body turned into a source of shame, that her ability to connect and be vulnerable with other men has been compromised. Truthfully, Laura enjoys humiliating men through sex. Laura loves the power she has over them. Laura enjoys that she can coerce, bully and intimidate adult men who know they're raping her, because at least these fuckers aren't her own father. Remember when Bobby breaks down crying with Laura in his arms, realizing she's only using him for cocaine, and he just gives it to her anyway cause he wants her to be happy? He just knows that she's in pain and he can't really help and he needs her, and it's fine. She needs these drugs. Maybe she needs these drugs. You can't get her off drugs. What can you do for her? What can anyone do for her? Nobody appreciated how Bobby was a good man all along but his own dad and nobody can understand that because nobody has a time-traveling airforce superdad who can hypnotize you in a diner with the best possible version of yourself he glimpsed in his Project Bluebook heaven research because an actual Good Christian Man might as well be sci-fi!

Oh my god, bro.

It just now occurs to me that I am literally recapping a soap opera to explain the gospel. The cute Polish pup with the muscly veins and roid acne was right, you are obnoxiously American! Well, it's important to remember that if cute little German boys didn't love American melodrama, we wouldn't have the great works of RW Fassbinder.

I win and this is an effective hybridization of film criticism and spirituality which rightfully makes actual Christians look like aesthetically and intellectually stunted-dweebs formaldehyded into guppies by doctrine!

My page is so much fun, you will not see this shit elsewhere. Never forget how special you are to me for appreciating my words, brothers.

Laura, you see, understands the nature of discreet energetic resonance.

Laura knows that the essentialized state which underlies fetishism is not simply sympathetic psychological association, nor strictly a consequence of molecular chemistry. While Laura would agree that, yes (for Laura is keen-eyed and scientifically-minded, yet nevertheless -- is not blind to subtler forces at work in the world around her) that if your cute lil queer boy ass wanted to lick an alpha man's armpits cause it tastes real woody and salty almost like a saltwater toffee, but a bit more mulchy and mushroomy, like -- yeah, there'd deffo be a molecular component, for you would be inhaling his pheromones direct and they would be seeping into your tongue creating fast-acting pathways straight to your brain, and yeah -- your direct proximity to a hunky alpha man's muscular triceps and biceps and big meaty pecs would cement the paraphilic association, acting as both a trigger and deepening a visual impression around which your mind would naturally mold itself, allowing your body to follow -- all of that is true. She would probably agree in 2023 Twin Peaks reboot timeline where she's watching gay tumblr porn prolly cause she finds it lolzy and how gay are Mike and Bobby, actually? At least as gay as Donna is for me, right? Am I ready to speak publicly about how gay I suspect Donna is for me? She's basically a little sister. I can't believe she grows up to be the bad guy in Men in Black 2 before fully morphing into Pete Burns. Holy shit. Maybe I am a mean bitch. Why the fuck do I wanna come for Donna so bad? I just feel she brings it on herself?

All that aside, Laura understands the essentialized state transferred by a fetishistic object is primarily energetic. That is, as everything is vibrational, one might say that a shirt worn by a person, or their underwear, vibrates at the same frequency as that person, coming to -- in time -- carry subtle traces of that person, for the very fibers of the garment could be said to have been energetically infused via the pitch or the sound at which the individual's spirit resonates or sings, and things such as smell, while real -- are themselves closer to self-induced inductions where we recall distant days and so surrender ourselves -- making ourselves blank to receive the song we'll never hear.

Laura wears her mother's clothes. In another deleted scene, Sarah chastises Laura for taking one of her sweaters, then not only not returning it, but leaving it balled up on the floor of her closet. Later, Sarah wonders if Laura took her sweater again, for she'd spent all afternoon looking for it, only for Laura to then say rather pointedly "Mom. What are you wearing?" Prompting Sarah to glance down, and slip into a fount of weeping, to which Laura slowly and tenderly approaches.

We understand. Sarah has some demons in her. Sarah sees the visions of the white horse. That wasn't explained for a long time, and even now that it has been, it's still not something which is readily sensible to the casual majority of viewers. The explanation is given, but the intellect refuses it, for it confounds the intellect's neat and tidy categorical schematizations. The white horse is frustrating for it is both obscure and obvious. The readily material explanation is drugs, slang, things one step removed from immediate reality. You can have Abe Lincoln descend from the Sky in Blackface and Crush People's Brains Open before Reciting In Slant Rhyme the Answer All Along to Mock to Your Face Your Conscious, Logical, Route Memorization Sensibilities, but in truth, the image is less paradoxical than a depiction of a current and emerging unity.

Sarah's memory maybe isn't all there. Sarah's had her mind played with. Sarah's been on some shit. How much has Sarah been playing along all along? How much does it only look that way, for she doesn't see?

How much does she always allow?

Mom. What are you wearing?

Mom, are you wearing Sarah?

Laura takes off her face.

Laura is filled with Light.

Saraha takes off her face.

Sarah is filled with Darkness.

Sarah has Laura's smile.

Sarah has a swollen spirit finger.

What would it mean for her -- to know the man she loved, wasn't only cheating on her, not only abusing her daughter, but both in a single act which violated the very underpinnings of both their marriage and their family; to feel she had brought this on herself, by selecting this man, by... not being enough ... by breeding a whore ... why would this happen?

Did you sit there after the reveal of Laura's killer and see this woman standing upright, eyes-alert at her husband's funeral, vowing to be awake, vowing to be present, vowing to remember and to live?

Do you remember how she was then written out of the show forever? How nobody cared? Nobody wanted to look at her? Nobody wanted to think about what happened? Everybody wanted to immediately forget. Nobody wanted to admit that it was happening. Bobby cried out at Laura's funeral that they collectively killer her by ignoring what was obvious and nobody said anything. Bobby was right all along. Bobby was never the real asshole. Bobby was maybe one of the only people who really loved her almost selflessly despite being an infantile douchebag who got secondhand raped by his shrink, who -- oh yeah. Was a jealous older man pining away listlessly and leeringly for underage Laura's hot and heavy secret trauma, who wanted to fuck with Bobby for being a badboy hot jock with powerful latent telepathic abilities, the likes of which his false-gold Mercurial debt-scheme which miraculously works only on cyclopean state champ wresler kooks with amazing pussy control could never hope to dream, let alone conceptualize in false 3D.

Mike the Man grew up to be an insurance agent because of course he did.

Remember how Sarah only came back in at the last minute to deliver a message from the realm of chthonian spiritual trial, reduced and elevated to a cameo, being both chorus and iteral messenger of a hidden devil?

Fuckin sucks for her, am I right? Prolly made her a lil loopy while it was happening, then -- once everyone she thought was a friend or family ignores her cause now she's nothing but a walking reminder, invisibly reduced to a pariah in her own life, it's like she does nothing but sits and festers in a wound of her own making which will never heal.

Damn.

She sat in that house. Where it happened. For 25 years.

In front of the television.

While nobody talked about it.

You know, I've always just really liked Grace Zabriskie. I was sad when she was murdered in Child's Play 2. This is the only thing by David Lynch she's in where she's not already alarming and insidious. Wild at Heart. Disabled Vampyre Ritual Mexican Sex Assassin. Inland Empire. Your 6th grade history teacher harboring an omen of immanent death before using her witch powers to rearrange time. The Return. Literally Queen of Darkness. There she is, folks. The Mother of Evil.

Here in the pilot, she is simply a primal wail of despair which induces some to laughter simply for its intensity disturbs their peace of mind and they must laugh to hold their fragile rational framework together.

(You may attempt to prove me wrong if it would please you.)

Therefore we understand. Whatever is in Sarah is in Laura and whatever is in Laura is in Sarah. They're, now you sense, energetically tethered -- not only cut from the same cloth, for her flesh was stitched of her loom, but if their strings were plucked, they would produce pleasing sounds of a similar timber, and none could confirm this better than Leland Palmer, father, husband and brother, who has readily plucked them both!

You understand now fully -- why, for Laura, at the Pink Room called The Power and the Glory, to see Donna as the image of Ronette, a prostitute saved only at the last moment by providence, that she may open the door to beckon Laura's protective spirit -- why to see Donna wearing Laura's sweater would incense her as to leap to Donna's rescue and cease all further consumption of libation and ritual sex. Laura remembers who she is, and what she values. She doesn't want Donna to be like her. She doesn't want Donna to do what she inevitably does -- investigate her double, triple, quintuple life, adopt her manner and her attitudes, seduce naive doofy biker idiots and cute agoraphobic nerds who are so sheltered and fragile they will suicide at the first sign of betrayal.

She doesn't want her stable family life to fall apart when she discovers that she-bitch Audrey Horne is her sister, holy shit. It was so obvious. If Donna had any charisma she'd be Audrey, who is too feisty and independent which is why her own father never tried to rape her!

Why would her own father try to rape her? Her father has a healthy and trusting creative-personal-business relationship with his brother. Her father lacks the core loneliness to make him that kind of monster. Neither Donna nor Audrey understand men, which is why they're not Laura. Laura understanding men makes her Best Girl. The fact that her own father never tried to rape her made Audrey feel so weirdly inadequate -- much like Donna -- that she has to do mentally ill things like hide naked in Hunky FBI men's bedrooms before dishing out her daddy issues.

God. Thank God our old pal Coop's semi-autonomous AI demon-half shot a corruption load in her so she had a raise a hellspawn, marry her accountant, then go insane wishing she was still young and pretty!

Joshy Fuck Me. That's what I say instead of Jesus fuck now!

I was gonna keep this G-rated for language, but holy shit!

This shit's got as much rape and incest as an actual bible story, I'm just gonna assume you're all adults and have the psychological resilience to handle a dirty word or two, ooooh. What if I post a middle-finger pic? Like and reblog telling me if you would swoon or drenche yer knickers.

Rather tellingly, all Leland can see as he arrives up to pick up Laura for breakfast -- is this same fear of Laura herself. He sees Laura seated beside Donna on the couch, and remembers the day he was almost the John to his own underage prostitute daughter, arranged via their mutual connection, Theresa Banks, his earlier kill in Deer Meadow one year prior.

God, imagine how that must feel for the poor guy!

Ya fuck your own daughter's brains out in a drug-induced demonic trance, thinkin she'll have the common sense to be trauma bonded ta ya for life, but nooooooo. She wants to be out here like that totally scary and unfuckable little Audrey bitch threatening to cut off daddy's tiny peepee with her intimidating precocious little scientific intellect. Girls are scary! If they're not dumb, they're gonna notice how dumb we are first! We need to destroy their capacity to think and feel with our dicks! This is the right way of the land, for it is the right of the conqueror, the female being fecund and plenty as the soil and just as fit to trod upon.

I love America! It's real fun to pollute and rape!

I mean I absolutely believe Dolores seduced Humbert, let's not kid ourselves. Humbert Humbert may have had a silver tongue, but he was not leading man material, folks. Humbert Humbert wishes he was James Mason, but Kubrick's film of Lolita is a perverse Wonderland full-immersion in the psychopathic ideations of a pedophile verging on a pederast for Humbert is so fucking hipster and selective of his vintage, he will only rape little girls in these precise specific age ranges, holy shit.

You are the most autistic and socially inept sex monster! I really believe all the women you meet are throwing themselves at you and Peter Sellers is the neurotic spazz radio man of a thousand voices. Kubrick's film is an irony which requires a level of psychological detachment which verges on psychopathic. It's more-than-less a feature-length 4chan joke, and I understand nobody will understand or appreciate it as a sterling treatise on irony as insurmountable as I do and I accept and appreciate this. Dolly can absolutely be aware of the sexual power she can wield over an infantile adult male, and it can still be illegal, immoral and that man's fault when he succumbs to his emotional weakness and rapes a child.

Joshy fuck me. Uncomfortable people leap to stupid fucking conclusions cause they're basically animals! People who are uncomfortable talking about raping children prolly wanna rape children, there I said it. I have only ever wanted to rape powerful and virile athletic men of an appropriate age and ferment, for I am a conqueror, a king, an alpha.

Well, you see -- Laura couldn't protect Donna, same as nobody could save Laura. In the end, Laura was the only one who could save herself.

Laura gave her body, to protect her Soul. When she places the Jade ring around her finger and weds herself to the Spiritual Mike, the Shoe Salesman and One-Armed Man Whose severed Autonomous Limb became First a Dwarf, then an Axxonal Bubblegum Tree, she was Free of Bob's Influence, and so ... Bob no longer able to farm her, was compelled by obligation to his former master to reap and immediately harvest her.

To put this in an economical sense more readily graspable for earthly carnivores, when Laura put on the ring, she allowed herself to be claimed by Mike, thus becoming His Property. BOB -- the spirit inside Leland -- once being Mike's familiar, now a runaway, was compelled by his very nature to kill this girl who had given herself to his master. As BOB had sought her out, slow-cooked her, flavored her, BOB saw Laura as his and wanted to enjoy her for a long, long time. When Laura gave herself to Mike, BOB was himself forced to sell now, and trade a good long steady drip for an immediate short-term gorging, most of which he then needed to immediately discharge submissively at the feet of his master.

For Laura had wedded herself to a demon, her soul was placed in the Black Lodge. Yet, Laura did not wed herself to a demon for any desire for earthly power or authority, but for it was a way to minimize malign influence. Laura's spiritual wedding was simple, practical harm-reduction. If BOB had corrupted Laura and entered her body, BOB could use her connections to every artery of the town to spread this influence everywhere. Laura "chose to let herself be killed" because this was in line with her dominant value of protecting the innocence she lost.

Look at Deer Meadow, the setting of the prologue to the film. See how little life means there. See how its evident nature as a stained and distorted reflection of the eponymous town was clear even before the doppelganger motif took stage as primary thematic preoccupation. Remember how nobody knew Theresa. Nobody came forward to claim the body. She was a drifter, a statistic, no family. Totally forgotten.

See how it was the love of real people who tried, who stepped forward, who had a desire to connect, and to care, and serve, despite the fears, the follies, the secrets and entanglements of other people in a vanishing tribal structure and way of life we do not and may not ever understand.

See how anyway, they never spoke.

For a time, they did.

Then all was inevitably forgotten.

See how it was through the laws of cause and effect; the accumulation and deterioration of karma as a debt, that Laura self-actualizes by taking control of her life by taking control of her death, that she breaks the cycle of violence and is so uplifted into Grace and Reverence.

See how the angel which came as she sat splendid and curled in the velvets of the Red Room was of her own making, as the one which appeared to open the door of the car for Ronette was of her own making, the lights splendid and alive as if hung ourselves on our own tree!

Tell yourself, brothers, as our sisters our able. That we deserve to be forgiven. That others will forgive us when we forgive ourselves. Any crime which may be mended may be done as such when we approach one another with a firm grasp of truth in an open heart. We were not born to be corrupted. We are not lowly and bestial. We are not the pawns of the powers that be, nor fated to sell ourselves half-willingly into slavery. If it is in a market that we must we live, we may set our value with those of so little they would design to ever think to put one on a human life.

Of this now, and at this time, I have said enough.

On another day, I will return to the ways in which our leading man and hero, chipper and chivalrous knight of the FBI -- boyscout in black tie --- who is easily able to clear the low bar of taking a high school girl crush out for ice cream and a pep talk instead of feeling her up, he already being telepathic enough to know a girl'd be murdered here a year ago, instead of, like ... y'know... fondling her prone naked body -- I will return to the ways in which he complements and contrasts the enigmas of our heroine, he being, by means of his multiplicity, quite an enigma himself.

[womenwwe]

The Dudley Boyz announce the third round picks of the WWE Draft

SmackDown: April 26th 2024 - Digitals

[gracie-bird]

Princess Grace and Prince Rainier arrive at Gare du Lyon, Paris, before their trip to the United States on September 6, 1956.

[richdadpoor]

Spiderwick Chronicles Show Axed by Disney in Cost-Cutting Plans

Image: Nickelodeon Movies Years ago, Disney secured the rights to adapt various kids book series for television, such as Percy Jackson and Eragon. Also included in that mix was The Spiderwick Chronicles, a series of mid-2000s kids books created by Holly Black (who would later go on to create the Curse Workers books) and Tony DiTerlizzi (The Spider and the Fly). That series was announced back in…

[thedynamicuniverse]

Satellite: Eyes Without a Face [mini-movie]

New mini-movie from The Dynamic Universe. Sci-Fi + Soundtrack

What did we do? We created a short mini-movie thing called Satellite: Eyes Without A Face. Theoretically, there is an entire Satellite Series. This is the first release. This story begins at the ending. It is called the SPIDOR, Satellite Platform Intercept Defensive Orbital Ray. It is the life’s work of Doctor Lloyd and Nancy Chambers. Imagine a great watchful eye floating in the heavens,…

[pd-lyons]

Morning Coffee Notes 26 6 23

[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Jenni's Version): Future

Grace Clinton x Reader

Summary: You need to leave

"Mami! Mami! Mami!"

You smile slightly, continuing to pack your suitcase as your son lays back on your bed.

"Yes, my James?"

He grins at you. "Can I come?"

You shake your head. "You know you can't."

"But why?"

"Because Paris is a long way away from Lyon." You add another set of pointe shoes to your bag. "And I need you to do a very special job for me."

You sit down on the bed, patting the spot next to you.

James is more than happy to crawl towards you, leaning close to hear his special job.

"You're a very responsible boy, aren't you?"

He nods. "I helped Mummy pick up Ollie's poo yesterday on our walk!"

Ollie's your family dog. Grace had gotten him for you when the first two rounds of ivf didn't take and you'd been so down about it. You were right in the middle of your third round and losing hope when Grace had come home with a German Shepherd puppy.

You called Ollie your good luck charm because two weeks after you'd successfully potty trained him, you fell pregnant with your other golden boy, James.

"That's very responsible!" You tell him," Because I need a very responsible boy to help me out."

"I'm responsible! I'm responsible! What is it?"

"I need you to be in charge of the house while I'm gone," You tell him," That's why you can't come with. You've got to make sure Mummy doesn't order takeout every day and cleans up Olivia's toys when she's done playing."

Olivia's the other light of your life, your nearly one year old daughter.

You didn't particularly want to leave either of them but you'd been called up by the Paris Opera Ballet to be their guest Principal for one of the shows they were putting on and you loved dancing in their venue.

Originally, you were going to say no but Grace pushed you to accept. She was more than capable of looking after both of the kids at once.

"I'll make sure Mummy eats healthy and cleans up!" James tells you," Can I go tell her I'm in charge while you're gone?"

"I'm sure she would love that."

James goes bursting out of the room and you take the time to finish packing.

Ollie whines a little as you zip up the bag.

"I'm sorry, Ollie," You say, gently stroking his head," You know I'll back soon."

Ollie's the family dog, technically, but, secretly, you know he's yours. He had been incredibly protective over you when you were pregnant with Livy and he had been super excitable as a puppy when you were pregnant with James.

Fully grown now, he loved being in the same room as you. He adored the kids and Grace, of course, but you had always been his person.

Frankly, you were getting a little worried he was lonely in the house alone all day so you and Grace had been in talks about getting Ollie his own puppy.

It was only fair to Olivia as well.

Ollie grew up with James. It's only right to have a puppy for Olivia to grow up with too.

But, that was a conversation for when you got back and after your planned trip to Spain in the summer.

It would be nice, you think, to have a puppy for Ollie to be the best big brother too just like how James is the best big brother to Livy.

Ollie follows you down the stairs, his favourite tennis ball in his mouth as you start pulling your suitcase down.

Grace appears at the bottom, hurrying up to swap the bag with Livy and carry it the down for you.

"Careful, beautiful," She says as you swap," You don't want to strain anything before you go on stage." She winks at you and you roll your eyes.

"Did James tell you I've left him in charge?"

"He did," Grace replies with a grin," I think he's already planning on demanding Big Bed access."

"Don't let him," You remind her but your wife just shrugs.

"I don't know. He's making a convincing case. Says that it would be cold without you and he should be there to warm it up."

"If you get him in the habit of sleeping in our bed while I'm away, Grace Clinton, then you're in trouble and I'm choosing what breed the next puppy is."

"Oh, come on!" Grace is laughing though so you know she isn't taking your empty threats too seriously. "Cab's here though. You finished up just in time."

"Okay." You pull on your coat surprisingly well for someone balancing a baby in the other arm.

You litter kisses all over Livy's face as Grace calls James to the door.

"I'll miss you, Mami," He tells you and you crouch down to give him kisses too.

"I'll miss you too, James," You say," I love you, baby."

"Love you too."

He curls into your arms and your rock him side to side softly before pulling away.

"Remember, you're in charge, okay? So I want you to boss around Mummy and make her eat healthy, deal?"

He nods. "Deal."

"I'll see you in a week, amor," You tell Grace, pecking her lips a few times and laughing when she tries to chase your kiss each time.

"Love you, beautiful."

"Love you too."

[hope-ur-ok]

Surprise Song Master post ~ European Leg

5/9 Paris, FR: Paris + LOML

5/10 Paris, FR: Is It Over Now?/OOTW + My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

5/11 Paris, FR: Hey Stephen + Maroon

5/12 Paris, FR: The Alchemy / Treacherous + Begin Again / Paris

5/17 Stockholm, SE: I Think He Knows / Gorgeous + Peter

5/18 Stockholm, SE: Guilty As Sin? + Say Don't Go / Welcome to New York / Clean

5/19 Stockholm, SE: Message In A Bottle / How You Get The Girl / New Romantics + How Did It End?

5/24 Lisbon, PT: Come Back... Be Here / The Way I Loved You / The Other Side of the Door + Fresh Out the Slammer / High Infidelity

5/25 Lisbon, PT: The Tortured Poets Department / Now That We Don't Talk + You're On Your Own Kid / Long Live

5/29 Madrid, ES: Sparks Fly / I Can Fix Him (No Really Can) + I Look In People's Windows / Snow On the Beach

5/30 Madrid, ES: Our Song / Jump Then Fall + King of My Heart

6/2 Lyon, FR: The Prophecy / Long Story Short + Fifteen / You're On Your Own Kid

6/3 Lyon, FR: Glitch / Everything Has Changed + Chloe Or Sam Or Sophia Or Marcus

6/7 Edinburgh, Scotland UK: Would've Could've Should've / I Know Places + 'Tis the Damn Season / Daylight

6/8 Edinburgh, Scotland UK: The Bolter / Getaway Car + All of the Girls You Loved Before / Crazier

6/9 Edinburgh, Scotland UK: It's Nice To Have A Friend / Dorothea + Haunted / Exile

6/13 Liverpool, England UK: I Can See You / Mine + Cornelia Street / Maroon

6/14 Liverpool, England UK: This Is What You Came For / Gold Rush + The Great War / You're Losing Me

6/15 Liverpool, England UK: Carolina / No Body No Crime + The Manuscript / Red

6/18 Cardiff, Wales UK: I Forgot That You Existed / This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things + I Hate It Here / The Lakes

6/21 London, England UK: Hits Different / Death By A Thousand Cuts + The Black Dog / Come Back Be Here / Maroon

6/22 London, England UK: thanK you aIMee / Mean + Castles Crumbling w/ Hayley Williams

6/23 London, England UK: Us w/ Gracie Abrams + Out Of The Woods / Is It Over Now? / Clean

6/28 Dublin, IE: State of Grace / You're On Your Own Kid + Sweet Nothing / Hoax

6/29 Dublin, IE: The Albatross / Dancing With Our Hands Tied + This Love / Ours

6/30 Dublin, IE: Clara Bow / The Lucky One + You’re On Your Own Kid

7/4 Amsterdam, NL: Guilty as Sin? / Untouchable + The Archer / Question...?

7/5 Amsterdam, NL: imgonnagetyouback / Dress + You Are In Love / Cowboy Like Me

7/6 Amsterdam, NL: Sweeter than fiction / Holy Ground + Mary's Song / So High School / Everything Has Changed

7/9 Zürich, CH: Right Where You Left Me / All You Had To Do Was Stay + Last Kiss / Sad Beautiful Tragic

7/10 Zürich, CH: Closure / A Perfectly Good Heart + Robin / Never Grow Up

7/13 Milan, IT: The 1 / Wonderland + I Almost Do / The Moment I Knew

7/14 Milan, IT: Mr. Perfectly Fine / Red + Getaway Car / Out Of The Woods

7/17 Gelsenkirchen, DE: Superstar / Invisible String + "Slut!" / False God

7/18 Gelsenkirchen, DE: Speak Now / Hey Stephen + This Is Me Trying / Labyrinth

7/19 Gelsenkirchen, DE: Paper Rings / Stay Stay Stay + It's Time To Go / Better Man

7/23 Hamburg, DE: Teardrops On My Guitar / The Last Time + We Were Happy / Happiness

7/24 Hamburg, DE: The Last Great American Dynasty / Run + Nothing New / Dear Reader

7/27 Munich, DE: Fresh Out The Slammer / You Are In Love + Ivy / Call It What You Want

7/28 Munich, DE: I Don't Wanna Live Forever / Imgonnagetyouback + LOML / Don't You

8/1 Warsaw, PL: Mirrorball / Clara Bow + Suburban Legends / New Years Day

8/2 Warsaw, PL: I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can) / I Can See You + Red / Maroon

8/3 Warsaw, PL: Today Was A Fairytale / I Think He Knows + The Black Dog / Exile

8/15 London, England UK: Everything Has Changed / End Game / Thinking Out Loud w/Ed Sheeran + King Of My Heart / The Alchemy

8/16 London, England UK: London Boy + Dear John / Sad Beautiful Tragic

8/17 London, England UK: I Did Something Bad + My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys / Coney Island

8/19 London, England UK: Long Live / Change + The Archer / You're On Your Own Kid

8/20 London, England UK: Death By A Thousand Cut / Getaway Car w/Jack Antonoff + So Long, London

[rawsmackdownnxtdivas]

Arianna Grace, Channing "Stacks" Lorenzo, Sol Ruca, Kiana James, Jakara Jackson, Nikkita Lyons 💞

[meazalykov]

Good Game, Sal

Salma Paralluelo x Barca!Reader

summary: are they enemies, or lovers?

Salma Paralluelo and I, both rising stars of Barcelona's Femeni team, shared more than just a common jersey; we shared a rivalry that burned hotter than the Catalan sun on a July afternoon.

Salma, with her quick footwork and innate goal-scoring abilities, was a product of La Masia, Barcelona's renowned youth academy. Her journey to the top seemed paved with gold, crowned by her recent triumph in the World Cup with the Spanish national team. Me, on the other hand, hailed from a humbled path, I considered my talent raw and untamed, molded through sheer determination and grit.

Growing up in the United States, I’ve played through many unknown summer leagues, clubs mainly filled with boys, school teams, and futsal in the winter months before I put the pen on paper with Washington Spirit at the age of 15. 

After four great years with building my talent, creating new friendships, and enjoying my life in the United States Capital, my contract was expiring. 

Washington Spirit offered me a renewal, but Barcelona contacted my agent with a proposal that sent my jaw dropping to the floor. The Catalan Club was my dream club while growing up. I’ve admired Alexia Putellas, Ronaldinho, Messi, and Xavi for years. So I followed my heart and denied another four years in Washington DC, so I can accomplish my dream. 

However, I had to put in hard work when I arrived in Barcelona. This challenge was needed, since the challenge to score on the pitch fuels my passion. However, I didn’t expect a rivalry to happen WITHIN the club rather than the opponents I’ve played against.

First, it was a constant competition for playing time. Overtime, I’ve thought that I harbored a deep-seated resentment towards Salma, envying her success, her effortless grace on the pitch. 

Against Madrid CFF, my debut game in September, I scored a brace that drove the club to win 4-0. Afterwards, I’ve held a record for scoring at least once in a game I’ve had minutes in. 

However, Salma seemed to have the upper hand when it came to having a start. I had to swallow my pride every time I had to be her 67th minute substitute. She always hugged me when she would come off, but my body would tense up everytime. Nobody noticed the small resentment for her, except for Salma herself. She started to piece small things together. 

“You did great today Niña, I'm impressed by your dribbling and speed in training.” Alexia, or my captain Ale, patted me on the back as we headed into the locker rooms after training. A few days ago, we won the Champions League semi-final against Chelsea. Thanks to a goal from Aitana, Fridolina, and I. 

Alexia was a huge advocate for me which made my heart melt. I’ve admired her as a fan but now I am her teammate, so I express my gratitude to her whenever its possible. 

“Thank you. I learn from the best people surrounding me.” I smirked and Alexia breathed out a chuckle. Something the girls noticed when I came to the club is how much I’ll compliment or support people on their skills. Aitana said that I've been a light in the dressing room when it comes to boosting morale. This is a reason why people don’t notice a small resentment I held for a-certain-someone on the team. 

“Well, Don’t get your hopes up when I say this— but Jona might consider you as a starter for the final— Don’t take that as a guarantee, but your speed will be needed against Lyon's defense” Alexia’s Spanish accent poked through as she held onto my shoulder. The Spanish are very affectionate. 

��I won’t get my hopes up— I do take that as a compliment though.” I said. 

“Good. We’ve been looking between you and Salma as the third forward in the finale. Since Frido and Caro will have the left and right wing.” Alexia spoke. I felt my stomach turn at her name. Aware that I will have to work harder in training to start in the final, I know Salma will do the same thing. 

A week later, my “animosity” towards Salma only intensified when I discovered that Salma will start in the final over me as a striker. Back at my apartment, I’ve cried myself to sleep. I’ve worked hard in training. My tears represented the fear that nobody is seeing the skills and potential I have. 

“Hey Y/n” As I walked out the locker room after training one morning, I turned around and saw Salma approaching me. My eyes widened and I turned to walk away in a hurry. 

“Hi.” I said quickly as Salma continued to walk beside me. What did she want? 

“We should go watch The Challengers movie with Esmee on our day off Sunday. I know you both used to play tennis and such, it looks like a great movie.” Salma hesitantly spoke. My eyebrows knitted together at what she said. I did play tennis for a few years in middle school back in America, but as a hobby not a sport. Esmee told me that she could’ve gone professional at tennis in the Netherlands but chose football instead. The Dutch girl is the only person that knew about my old tennis hobby, so she had to have told Salma about it. 

“Um–” I say as we both pushed the glass doors outside into the parking lot. As much as I wanted to say no, express to Salma how much I've resented her, and drive home.. I couldn’t. I felt my heart ache as I looked at the girl who had a shy smile. Wait– huh? Why am I doing that?

“I–I can go with you guys–Just have Esmee text me the details when you guys decide the time.” I said before walking away to my black SUV, my emotions not handling what Salma might’ve said or reacted to my acceptance. 

The last few days before Sunday came along. I’ve talked to my best friend, Isla, about everything. She doesn’t live in Spain, since she plays football for Gotham FC, but she had a clear understanding about the community.

After my rant which lasted an hour, Isla said something which made my heart stop for a quick second. 

“Are you sure that you hate Salma?” Isla asked over the facetime call. 

“Well-No! I don’t hate anybody, I just hate how big of an advantage she has over me.” 

“Oh– because it sounds like you’re in love with her–” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Well the way you’ve talked about Salma reminds me of how I started off with Esther here at Gotham. However it was the other way around. She was in love with me but refused to accept it– so she found reasons to try and hate me instead before she was forced to confront the truth.” 

That part of the conversation replayed in my mind for the last few days. Throughout training, throughout the game against Granada that won us the league, it replayed non-stop. It didn’t distract me but I couldn’t look at Salma without questioning if I am in love with her. A subtle shift began to take place within my heart, even if I didn’t want it to happen.

Salma started noticing the small things too. After the Granada game which granted us Liga F champions, she noticed when I wrapped my arm around her and Esmee as we jumped around in the red-colored locker rooms. I’ve noticed that as I started to slowly accept my possible feelings for her, my “resentment” faded away with it. 

“Good game, Sal.” I whispered in her ear as everyone posed for a group picture in our “Liga F Champions” shirts. She looked at me with widened eyes before smiling softly.

I found herself drawn to the challenge Salma posed as the Champions League final was coming up. Salma always craved the intensity of their encounters, the adrenaline rush of chasing victory side by side with her rival, just like I did.

By Sunday, the day where Salma Esmee and I will go to the movie theaters, I've accepted it—I finally realized the truth that had been staring me in the face all along. Due to past heartbreak, I didn’t want to fall in love again but here I am in Spain. As I stood in the mirror, looking at the nice casual outfit I've put on (imagine what outfit you want, reader <3) I knew with absolute certainty that what I’ve felt went beyond rivalry with Salma, beyond competition.

It was love.

In that moment of clarity, my resentment melted away. I knew that I couldn't keep denying her feelings any longer, but a fear started to grow inside of my heart. What if it's too late? 

Salma did notice my resentment towards her. There were times where I’ve blown her off because of that. I couldn’t blame her if she started to hate me for what I've done to her. 

Four hours later, The Challengers movie ended. I’ve sat in-between Esmee (on my left) and Salma (on my right) in the movie theater. The movie was good but I had the urge to look at Salma at times. Once, I looked down at her hand that wasn’t too far from mine. As much as I wanted to reach to hold her soft hands, I couldn’t do it. What if she pulled away? What if things would’ve been awkward between us? I didn’t risk it. 

When we hugged Esmee as she left the theater, it was Salma and I in the parking lot. I could’ve said bye and left too, but Salma wanted to say something to me. Esmee and her gave each other an unknowing glance, so I believe Esmee might know what Salma is feeling. 

“Y/n, Why do you hate me?” Salma frowned. My heart broke as I bit my lip in nervousness.

“I don’t.” I said I looked at her with a sad smile. 

“Yes you do. Every time I wanted to talk to you at practice, you always ran away to talk to someone else. I’ve noticed that you’re the only person that never congratulated me separately after a goal. I’ve seen the way you’ve brightened up people’s days with your compliments, love, and hugs. Why can I not have that Y/n? Did I do something to you for you to hate me? Just tell me because I don’t want to start off next season knowing that you might hate me for something I might’ve done.” Salma took my left hand and held it with both of her soft, moisturized hands as she looked me in the eyes.

A tear fell out of my left eye as I felt guilty. I’ve fucked up. I’ve hurt Salma and she doesn’t know why— I need to tell her how I feel. 

“Salma, I don’t hate you at all. I am so sorry for what I've done to you. All you did—really—was be great on the pitch. When I came to Spain, I noticed how loved you were by everyone. You had the minutes, skills, awards, and recognition that I could dream of having. However— I’ve admired you more than everyone else at the same time. I know that's hard to accept due to what I've done to you, but I felt like you were too good for me. I look at you more than everyone else. I wanted to hug you and congratulate your success with you but the vulnerability scared me. I’ve been hurt before so in order to protect my feelings, I’ve covered it up with resentment— Salma, I am in love with you.” By the time I told her that I love her, tears poured down my cheeks and Salma held me in a hug, tightly, as she cried too. 

“Y/n, I am in love with you too. That's why it hurt me when I believed that you might’ve hated me.” Salma said through her tears.

“I am so sorry–seriously. I don't hate you. I love you. I will never hurt you like that again, I swear.”  I said. 

After that night, we started over and became lovers. Our undeniable bond blossomed between us. The team adored our relationship and were happy for us. I did keep my promise, I never hurt her again. I’ve found love in giving my love to her without the fear of getting hurt. After the debut game in the 24/25 season, we walked off the pitch hand in hand, my heart fluttered as I know this is the beginning of our longtime relationship. 

<3

[maxsimagination]

𝗰𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗯𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 -𝗲.𝗱𝗲 𝗮𝗹𝗺𝗲𝗶𝗱𝗮

summary: psg celebrate their win by going out for the night and elisa isn’t happy with how close sakina is to yn

-> !! fingering, car sex !!

-> let’s pretend psg make it to the finals

𖦹 masterlist

𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗟𝗔𝗦𝗧 𝗚𝗔𝗠𝗘.

the final of the division 1 féminine.

paris saint-germain vs lyon.

it was my first final with psg for this season, having just joined the club from liverpool. it was big change, going from the wsl to the french league but so worth it.

both me and fellow australian, clare hunt had joined the team but she'd come from the a-leagues. in the almost year i'd spent at the french club, i'd met all of the players and they were all really welcoming.

the first player that greeted me was elisa, the slightly taller defender bumping into me on my first day.

since then we'd hit it off, become almost best friends and started dating after a couple months. now we were walking onto the field together, to play for the championship.

nerves were rolling through my body; the pre-game jitters never got easier. our captain grace led us out to the pitch where the lyon players were lined up and waiting.

it didn't take long and everyone was ready, in their positions. the whistle blew and i shot forward, we were off.

——

half time came, we were 1-0 down by a shot from ada hegerberg.

after the break everyone was determined to at least equalise. it felt like a lifetime but finally the ball was booted halfway up the field by our goalie and i was on it immediately. weaving through the defenders wasn't easy, i had wendie renard and ellie carpenter to get past before their goalie.

i was smaller, more agile however, and i managed to sneak past them and shoot a clean shot straight into the top left corner of the net.

the crowd went wild and i jumped in the air out of happiness. we were equal now, 1-1.

the second goal came roughly 10 minutes after my first, korbin had made a brilliant pass to lieke, who was bolting towards the box, 2 defenders hot on her heels. i was just on the right wing, close enough to the goal to get a tap in, and that's exactly what i did.

lieke saw me unmarked and slid the ball across and i made a one touch shot into the bottom right corner. the goalie didn't know what was happening by the time the ball was in the net.

the stadium erupted again and leapt in the air again. finally we had a chance, we were almost there.

when that final whistle blew after 5 minutes of injury time, i sunk to my knees. we had done it.

the whole team, subs included, ran onto the pitch in a huddle that ended more like a crushing pile of bodies. i wiggled my way out of it and found elisa.

"we did it mon amour, we won! thanks to you!" she picked me up and pressed a kiss to my forehead. i giggled and wrapped my legas around her body, to hold myself up. the whole stadium was filled with the cheers of the psg fans, but at the same time, the humiliated silence of the lyon fans.

i felt bad for the team, they had played their best but it wasn't enough. but the cheering of my team bought me back and both me and elisa were wrapped up in celebration again.

——

the girls had dragged us all out to a club, celebration they claimed. so i was dressed in a deep blue, shimmery dress that i thought matched our team colours perfectly.

elisa drove us while the other girls made their own way to the chosen club. it was semi-crowded when we got there but we found everyone else at a table and sat down.

sakina announced that the first round was on her and almost ran over to the bar to order.

around 3 rounds later and sakina, me and a couple other were on the dance floor. sakina was easily more drunk than me, hence why she was practically grinding on me. i wasn't too bothered, quite enjoying myself actually. we danced in sync with the music, matching all the other swaying bodies on the floor.

however i knew one person wouldn't be too happy, because i could feel her glare from across the room. elisa wasn't normally that jealous but when she was, i always ended up under her so i couldn't say i didn’t enjoy it.

the song ended and i twirled sakina away from me and she latched onto another teammate to dance with. i made my way over to where elisa was sitting, sliding in next to her.

"bonjour, mon amour." (hello, my love.)

my hand slid onto her thigh instinctively, elisa leaned her head down to mine to catch my lips in a searing kiss. when we pulled apart she had a hungry look in her eyes.

"sakina is too touchy."

i chuckled at how grumpy elisa looked, rubbing her thigh in comfort.

"do you want to get out of here?"

i didn't have to whisper, the club was already loud, but elisa heard me and was all too happy to grab my hand and get up. we bid goodnight to our teammates and headed for the exit.

our car was parked outside and we made a beeline for it. well, elisa did, i was just dragged along. however, she grabbed handle of the backseat not the front seat.

"elisa, what are you doing? we have to drive home?"

she didn't answer, just pulled me in with her. her lips were on mine the second the door clicked shut, hands roaming up and down my sides.

we pulled apart for a brief second then her lips were on my neck. she trailed her way down to my chest where she slipped the straps of my dress down to play with my nipples. a satisfied groan left my lips and i wriggled under her. she took her time now, giving equal amounts of pleasure to both the left and right breast.

"eli..."

"yes, mon amour?" (my love.)

she knew what she was doing to me, a cocky grin plastered on her face when she looked at me.

"hurry up and fuck me!"

i didn't think it could happen but an even cockier grin was now sported on her lips as she hiked my dress up to show my blue, lace panties.

"all dressed up for me, are we?"

a blush covered my cheeks at her words, i did have tiny hope that we would end the night like this but in her car, i never would have guessed.

her fingers were now hooked in the sides on my underwear, and with a glance up to me for consent, she pulled them down. her fingertips grazed my clit, before dipping further down to my soaked hole. she gathered my juices in her finger and brought it up to her mouth, not breaking eye contact once.

my cheeks heated with a blush again and i could feel the tingling feeling travel down to my groin.

"so wet for me, bébé." (baby.)

"elisa, please. just touch me already."

she did as i asked, fingers finding my clit and immediately rubbing small circles around it. i hummed, the pressure on the bundle of nerves was sending little shockwaves through my body and it felt so good.

my hips bucked up into her fingers, desperate for more friction.

"eli, your fingers inside me please."

she pressed a kiss to my lips, which turned into a make out session, while she thrust two fingers into me. elisa set a steady pace, before pushing a third finger in.

i moaned into her mouth at the stretch, urging her to keep going. i could feel the coil in my lower stomach start to tighten.

"elisa, 'm close. don't stop."

she kept going, if anything she sped up, determined to make me cum. elisa rubbed against my clit, adding to the pressure of the already-tight coil.

i mentally thanked whatever god was in our favour for the tinted windows elisa had on her car. i wouldn't be able to live this down if she didn't. inside the car, there wasn't much speaking, only the sounds of her fingers slapping against my wet folds and my moans. i was just on the edge, i could feel myself clenching faster, then suddenly i was there.

"elisa, i'm cumming!"

"cum for me bébé, all over my fingers." (baby,)

i didn't need any further assurance, i let it go and found myself clenching uncontrollably around elisa's fingers as she helped me through my orgasm.

slowly she pulled her fingers out, licking them clean then pressing a kiss to my lips so i could taste myself on her lips.

once i'd come down from my high, she made sure to clean me up as best she could, slipping my underwear back onto my hips and pulling the dress straps up over my bare chest.

"well clean up properly at home, yea?"

[wherethefireliliesgrow]

Clerestory Rendezvous

Yoo Jimin x Reader

GENRE: bittersweet, fluff

TYPE: One Shot

Karina, her collar pulled up to shield herself from the chilly November air, hastened her steps along the stony road toward the cathedral. The drizzling rain intensified the coldness, causing goosebumps to rise on her arms beneath her thin sweater. She inwardly cursed for forgetting to bring an umbrella, but quickly adjusted her golden locks under her baseball cap and ascended the final set of stairs with determination.

Karina was in France for the week, as part of AESPA's world tour for the European leg. With Gislle's help, she managed to slip away from her manager's watchful eyes and embarked on a solo train journey from Paris to Lyon. While Karina had a genuine love for Paris, she had grown weary of the constant red carpets and the intrusive camera flashes that followed her everywhere she went. Above all, she needed some space away from Winter, her bandmate and former lover. All she longed for was a peaceful escape, where she could remain anonymous for a few days. That was why she found herself shivering in the rain, making her way towards another captivating cathedral that had caught her attention.

Standing in front of the towering wooden doors of the cathedral, Karina drew in a breath in awe.Despite the early hour, the darkness of the approaching night seemed to envelop the limestone structure, enhancing its celestial beauty. The warm glow of candlelight danced on the reflective stone walls, while hushed prayers reverberated throughout the sacred space.

Karina settled onto the smooth wooden bench at the front of the cathedral, her hands instinctively finding their place on her chest as she prepared to immerse herself in a sincere prayer. Her gaze wandered upward, drawn to the mesmerizing play of muted colors that scattered through the clerestory windows above. The ethereal light painted the stone walls, infusing the space with a captivating warmth that seemed to beckon her deeper into the sacred embrace of the cathedral.

With every ounce of her being, Karina hoped and prayed for the solace she so desperately sought, yearning to escape the clutches of heartbreak that had plagued her for far too long.  As tears traced their path down her cheeks, each droplet carrying the weight of her emotions, Karina tenderly wiped them away, her touch gentle against her dampened skin. It felt as though an eternity had passed, time distorted in the depths of her inner turmoil. Gradually, she allowed her eyes to flutter open, and in that moment, she found herself captivated by a pair of soft brown eyes, gleaming with a mix of curiosity and understanding, on the bench next to hers.

Startled, the owner of those eyes quickly averted their gaze, fumbling with the contents of their backpack in a flurry of nervousness. Karina's pulse quickened, uncertainty washing over her. “Does she know who I am?” She muttered in panic.

But before Karina could rise from the bench, the girl timidly approached her, clutching something in her hand.

"I'm sorry if I'm intruding. It's just that you seemed like you needed this," the girl said softly, placing a packet of tissues in Karina's hands.

Furrowing her eyebrows, Karina scrutinized the unfamiliar girl before her. She appeared to be around the same age, her eyes wide and brown, adorned with delicate dimples that graced the corners of her mouth. Dressed in a cozy white fur coat and jeans, she had an undeniable cuteness about her. Karina couldn't help but be momentarily captivated, momentarily forgetting that she may be unintentionally staring at the stranger like a creep.

You faltered under the intense gaze of the mystery blonde, whom you happened to spot crying during your weekly visits to the town cathedral. As an art student studying in France, you often frequented this particular cathedral to capture the enchanting play of light on its walls.

"Sorry if I made you uncomfortable," you apologized again, breaking Karina out of her trance.

"No, it's fine. Thank you for the tissues," Karina responded with a warm smile, causing your heart to skip a beat at her effortless beauty.

With her finely sculpted features, luminous eyes, and cupid's bow lips, Karina seemed like the most magnificent sight to behold in the Musée du Louvre. She appeared almost too perfect to be human, but her gentle smile and tear-stained face served as a reminder of her humanity.

You bit your tongue, feeling slightly self-conscious, and shifted your gaze to the marble floors, averting your eyes from the angelic figure before you. After a brief moment of contemplation, you reached into your pocket and pulled out a small folded piece of paper, placing it in Karina's hands. Confusion flickered across Karina's face as she gingerly unfolded the paper.

To her surprise, it revealed a sketch of her side profile, captured in the act of gazing at the clerestory windows through the lens of her film camera. Though rendered solely in pencil, the drawing was truly captivating. It skillfully portrayed the melancholic expression on Karina's face, capturing her soft features and the essence of her being. The picture seemed to convey a thousand words, telling Karina's story.

"I'm an art major," You explained awkwardly, attempting to justify yourself and prove that you weren’t just a creep but rather someone with an obsession for capturing the beauty of art.

"Usually, I focus on architectural design. Figure drawing isn't really my forte, but you are perfect for it."

Karina raised an eyebrow and playfully smiled, "I'm perfect, huh?"

Blushing, you stumbled over your words, "I m-mean, perfect for capturing in artworks. You look like you have thousands of stories to tell."

"Thank you for the compliment, Miss..." Karina trailed off, expecting you to fill in the blank.

"Y/N. My name is Y/N," you replied.

Karina found the way you said your name so effortlessly comforting. Unlike her stage name, which felt like a heavy burden, the way your name rolled off your tongue seemed light and carefree. It made her realize how much she longed for that kind of simplicity.

"Well, Miss Y/N, can you sign the picture? I'd like to brag in the future that I met one of the most famous artists in the world," Karina grinned, although her smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

You laughed and signed your name on the back of the paper. "What's your name?"

Karina hesitated, unsure whether to reveal her true identity. Even though you seemed like the kind of person who wouldn't be affected by her fame, she still wanted to keep it hidden.

"Jimin," she said, opting to give her Korean name.

"Jimin," you repeated with a smile. "I like your name."

Karina had never been particularly fond of her name, considering it too ordinary. But hearing you say it, with a hint of an accent, made it sound more intimate and endearing.

Before Karina could respond, a soft buzz from your phone interrupted the comfortable silence. You checked the message, grabbed your bag, and turned your attention back to Karina.

"I have to go. It's been very nice meeting you, Jimin," you said, extending your hand.

"You too, Y/N," Karina replied, clasping your hand in hers and shaking it gently. "Thank you for the picture. I really like it."

You shyly shrugged and began to walk away. However, after a few steps, you suddenly stopped and looked back at Karina.

"I hope you find your happiness," you said sincerely. "Whoever or whatever is making you cry alone in a foreign cathedral, it will pass."

Karina sat there in silence for an hour, pondering over the words you had spoken. She knew she deserved happiness, and she understood that her journey with Winter had come to an end. The fame that came with being an idol often left her feeling isolated and detached from the world. She was unhappy and lonely, but she had to conceal her emotions behind a mask of makeup and smiles.

It was pouring by the time Karina decided to leave the cathedral. The rain fell relentlessly from the night sky, as if the heavens themselves were shedding tears for her misfortunes. She stood in front of the towering wooden doors, feeling a mix of annoyance and despair.

Finding a place to stay without ending up drenched seemed like an impossible task. Frustrated, she paced back and forth for a few minutes, attempting to call an Uber but to no avail. Just as she was about to give up, a beaten-up faded blue truck pulled up, its headlights illuminating the church courtyard like a guiding light.

You swung open the truck door, umbrella in hand, and rushed towards Karina. She was pleasantly surprised, thinking that their brief encounter earlier in the day would be the last time she would see you.

"I noticed you didn't have an umbrella with you today," you panted, brushing raindrops off your jacket as you shielded Karina from the downpour.

"The rain can get pretty heavy towards the end of the year, so it's always a good idea to have one handy."

"Thank you," Karina murmured gratefully. She was taken aback by the kindness you were showing a stranger you had just met.

"Do you need a ride?" you asked, noticing that she had the Uber app open on her phone.

"It's okay," Karina shook her head, not wanting to impose any further. "I'm trying to catch an Uber."

"Getting an Uber here can be quite difficult. It's quite far from downtown Lyon," you explained, patting her shoulder to ease her nerves.

"Come on, I'll drive you to your hotel."

"I actually haven't booked one yet," Karina admitted, shivering from the rain.

Her clothes were soaked, and water dripped from her golden locks.

"It's fine. I can lend you some dry clothes first," you said, tugging the taller girl towards your truck, hoping silently that you weren't making a terrible mistake.

"Please don't be a serial killer. Please don't be a serial killer," you prayed in your mind.

It was unlike you to offer a ride to a stranger, let alone invite them into your home. But Jimin seemed like a nice girl, albeit a sad one.

You turned up the heat in your truck and reached under the car seat for a blanket to cover Karina. 

"So..." you began, trying to break the silence as you carefully maneuvered through the dark, winding country roads. The rain continued to pour relentlessly. 

"What brings you to Lyon?"

"Just to rest for a few days," Karina replied vaguely.

"How many days are you planning to stay? I can recommend a few places," you offered.

"I'll be here until Saturday, then I leave for Paris," Karina replied.

"Ah, the day after tomorrow," you nodded, squinting your eyes to see the road better. "Are you traveling alone?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?" Karina turned her body to face you. "Are you planning on abducting me?"

"What?" you spluttered, taken aback by the unexpected remark. "No! I just wanted to make sure you'll be fine."

Karina's laughter tinkled like music, her head thrown back in a melancholic yet beautiful display. She seemed like a damsel in distress, but you knew deep down that she was not someone who needed saving.

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After half an hour of driving, you finally arrived at your flat in the city. It was a small two-bedroom apartment near your university, where you spent most of your days drawing until the sun rose, often with a glass of wine in hand as you raced against deadlines.

Karina followed you as you climbed a short flight of stairs to the second floor of the building. Your flat, although small, felt cozy and inviting. Art pieces adorned the walls, and various art supplies were scattered across the kitchen island. A small TV and a gray cushioned couch were positioned near the balcony door, while a large bookshelf filled with books occupied an entire wall.

You led Karina to your room. "You can find some spare clothes in my closet. The bathroom is down the hall."

Karina flashed you a grateful smile and slipped into your room to change into dry clothes.

With a sigh, you shrugged off your jacket and made your way to the kitchen. The exhaustion on Karina's face was evident, with dark circles under her eyes and a melancholic expression whenever she fell silent. Taking a look inside your fridge, you were relieved that you had gone grocery shopping the day before.

You decided to prepare a comforting meal of Bibimbap, guessing from her accent and mannerisms that Karina might also be Korean. Hoping to alleviate any homesickness she might be feeling, you set about making a traditional Korean dinner, accompanied by a bottle of French wine for a unique experience.

"It smells really good," Karina's soft voice echoed from behind you.

Turning around, you saw the taller girl wearing your thick university hoodie and sweatpants. She had removed her makeup, and the tips of her hair were slightly damp from the shower. You couldn't help but stare, finding her adorable and warm in your clothes, creating a sense of home.

"Thanks, I thought you might appreciate something familiar," you replied with a smile. Despite her towering height, she seemed small and vulnerable. The sadness in her eyes never seemed to fade, even when she laughed.

"Feel free to look around. The food will be ready in ten minutes."

Karina nodded and squeezed your arm in gratitude before wandering off to explore the living room. Being an avid reader, she perused your extensive bookshelves until she stopped at the end.

"You listen to Taeyeon?" she exclaimed, holding up an album by Taeyeon. "I thought you'd only listen to classical music or something."

"That's a bit stereotypical," you chuckled. "I actually stumbled upon her singing on the streets of Berlin during a show a few years ago and was immediately captivated by her talent. That girl can sing."

"Yeah, she's really talented," Karina agreed, gazing at the album cover of Taeyeon's album.

It felt surreal to her that she had lunch with Taeyeon just a few days ago, and now she was on the other side of the world conversing with one of her fans.

"And pretty too, just like you," you added. "You both have a similar aura."

Karina felt her face grow warm, quickly diverting her attention back to the bookshelf.

"Yeah, our company has a particular taste," she mumbled.

"Huh? What?" you asked, not catching her words clearly.

Shaking her head dismissively, Karina replied, "Oh, it's nothing."

It was a close call for Karina. She mentally scolded herself for almost revealing her connection with Taeyeon. You seemed observant, likely due to your artistic skills, and she didn't want to inadvertently disclose too much information.

Karina helped you bring the food out to the balcony, where a wooden table and chairs were set in the middle, along with a cozy bean bag chair in the corner and string lights adding a touch of charm.

The food you had prepared was delicious, and it made Karina long for home even more. Despite being extroverted, she rarely felt comfortable opening up to people so quickly. However, in your presence, she felt a calming effect, as if you made her forget the painful things that often plagued her thoughts.

Before she knew it, after three glasses of wine, Karina found herself pouring out her troubles to you. She rambled about a failed relationship, her head resting on your shoulder as you sat together on the bean bag. She waved her glass of wine emphatically as she spoke.

"How could she leave me for someone else when I gave her everything?" Karina slurred, sniffling from both tears and the cold.

You hummed in agreement before getting up to fetch a blanket for the drunken blonde.

"No, don't leave me!" Karina pouted. "Everybody leaves me."

Chuckling, you assured her, "I'm just getting a blanket for you." Her adorableness touched your heart, and the sight of her feeling so insecure and hurt awakened your protective instincts. You couldn't fathom why anyone would intentionally break her heart.

"If you come back safely, I'll give you a kiss," she declared, nodding to herself.

"It's best to save your kisses for someone you genuinely like," you laughed nervously, your heart fluttering at her words.

"I like you. You're so pretty and nice," Karina slurred, tilting sideways and giggling at you. "I'm a very good kisser, so it's a win-win situation."

Laughing again, you bent down to gently tuck her hair behind her ears. "You will find your happiness. If someone makes you break down in front of a stranger, seeking affirmation, then they're not worth your tears."

After rummaging for a spare blanket, you returned to the balcony only to find Karina fast asleep. Her head drooped with a half-empty glass cradled in her chest, her tears glistened on her pale cheeks under the now clear night sky, and the moonlight reflected on her halo of blonde hair.

"It's unfair how someone can be this beautiful even when they're drunk," you whispered to yourself, approaching the sleeping girl and carefully carrying her to your spare room.

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Karina felt the sunlight on her face when she woke up. She kept her eyes closed and hummed in satisfaction at how comfortable she felt. It had been a while since she had slept so well. As she lay there for a few seconds, she suddenly realized that this wasn't her bed, and she couldn't recall going to a hotel. Panic set in, and she sat up quickly, scanning the room for any signs of danger.

The room she found herself in was cozy, with clean white sheets on a soft bed and a fluffy pillow that bore the imprint of her drool (she was a messy sleeper). Despite its small size, the room was meticulously decorated, with a polished desk and mahogany wooden closet doors. The scent of soft flowers and oil paint lingered in the air, a scent that reminded her of you.

You.

Groaning, she buried her face in the bed at the thought of you.

Yesterday, she had lost control and unloaded all her troubles onto you. She couldn't remember much, except for the way your eyes softened and how you wiped away her tears with your warm hands. She recalled feeling a tingly sensation when your eyes met, and she couldn't shake off the memory of wanting to lean over and kiss you. Being drunk was definitely a wrong move, and now she was experiencing a pounding headache from the hangover.

A soft knock came from the door, accompanied by your gentle voice, "Jimin? Are you awake? Can I come in?"

Karina quickly composed herself, sitting up straight and fixing her hair.

"Yeah, come in," she replied, clearing her throat a few times to dispel the sleepiness in her voice.

You entered the room with a plate of food in your hands and placed it gently on the edge of the bed.

"Hey, are you feeling okay?" you asked, your eyebrows furrowed with concern. "I got you some medicine for the headache."

Karina squeezed your hand gratefully as she swallowed the aspirin with the water on the tray.

"Sorry for making you uncomfortable yesterday," she fidgeted, picking at the blueberry muffin you had prepared for her. "I'm normally not such a lightweight."

"You didn't," you assured her with a smile, sitting down next to her on the bed.

"I actually quite enjoyed your impromptu performance of Lady Gaga's 'Bad Romance.'"

She groaned in embarrassment, and you couldn't help but laugh at how she could look so much like a little girl at times, especially when her playful side emerged.

Karina was captivated by your laughter, with your head thrown back and the silver frames of your glasses slipping down your nose. She thought you looked incredibly beautiful with your hair tied up in a bun and wearing an oversized sweater with shorts. She enjoyed the way you treated her, so gentle and kind, without a care in the world. She knew it was likely because you didn't know who she was, and she wanted to preserve this simplicity a little longer. Her heart unexpectedly yearned for you, and it left her both confused and happy.

"Spend the day with me," Karina blurted out. 

"I mean, could you take me to some good places in Lyon? I could use a tour guide."

You raised an eyebrow at her sudden invitation. "Where did the mysterious brooding stranger from yesterday go?"

She gasped playfully, feigning offense. "Excuse you, I was not brooding. And I actually just wanted you to be my Uber driver."

You pushed her playfully, causing her to fall back onto the bed.

"Finish your breakfast and get changed. Your bags are in the closet."

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The two of you headed to Parc de la Tête d'Or, your first stop—a beautiful garden with a lake and a small zoo. Karina had expressed her desire to go somewhere she could practice her photography, so you thought this would be the perfect place. It was one of your favorite spots, as you had spent countless hours there during your first year of college for one of your classes.

Karina was like a kid in a candy store, excitedly exploring and jumping around, eager to see everything. She took so many photos that you worried she would use up all her film before noon. It brought you joy to see her mood lifted, no longer carrying that haunting look in her eyes. She looked even more beautiful like this, if that was even possible—carefree and happy. You knew that your friendship was temporary, as Karina would be leaving for Paris early the next morning, but you were glad that you could bring a genuine smile to her face, even if only for a little while. You cared for her, perhaps even more than you should.

"Hey Y/N!" Karina called out from behind you, her voice filled with excitement.

Turning around with a smile, you were met with the sight of Karina snapping a photo of you.

"Hey!" you protested, realizing she had been capturing moments of you throughout the morning.

"What? I like to take photos of pretty things," she replied smoothly, taking your hand in hers and tugging you toward the lake.

You couldn't help but feel your ears heat up at her comment and the sensation of her warm hand interlocked with yours. She definitely wasn't making it easy for you.

After some persistent begging, Karina managed to convince you to go on a paddle boat with her. You had always been hesitant because of your limited swimming abilities, but her pouty face was impossible to resist.

"If you fall into the water, I'll save you," she said with a wink, exuding confidence in her flirting. "You could be my Lois Lane."

Her words sent your heart racing, and you knew you had to get used to her flirty manner. True to her word, when the boat nearly tipped after hitting a rock, her arms instinctively wrapped tightly around your waist, pulling you close. The combination of her breath on your neck and her ear-piercing screams sent goosebumps down your arms. You convinced yourself it was the latter that caused the reaction.

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The next stop was Croix-Rousse. Karina spent nearly two hours tasting everything the market had to offer. It amazed you how someone so slim could consume so much food. You loved the way her eyes lit up with excitement when she discovered a new dish, so you ended up buying even more just to see her happy.

"Look!" Karina called out joyfully, running toward you with two bracelets in her hand. "I got one for each of us."

The bracelets were made of two threads of dark blue string, each adorned with a small silver charm. The charms had the words Le destin décide qui entre dans votre vie, mais vous décidez qui y reste engraved on them.

"Do you know what it says?" you asked, a bit confused about her choice.

She shrugged nonchalantly. "The old lady said it was perfect for us and gave it to me for free."

"What old lady?" you inquired, puzzled, as you hadn't seen any elderly women as you walked through the market.

Karina seemed equally perplexed.

"That... one," she trailed off. "Weird, she was just there."

Shrugging again, she dismissed the thought. "Never mind. Can you put this on? I want to take a picture."

You nodded and helped her put hers on before tying yours around your wrist. Karina happily snapped a photo with her phone, making it her home screen.

"I'm glad I met you," she said, her lips gently brushing against your cheek before pulling you toward the next destination. "I'll never forget this trip."

As the day progressed, you couldn't help but realize that you felt the same way. This encounter with Karina had touched your heart in ways you couldn't explain, and you knew this day would be etched in your memory forever.

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After climbing the hills to see the beautiful sunset, you took Karina to one of your favorite restaurants in Lyon. As you ordered fluently in French, Karina stared at you, captivated by your presence. She couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of freedom and joy when she was with you. The pressures of being an idol and the pain of her past relationship faded away, replaced by the warmth and happiness that radiated from your companionship. She knew deep down that you were never meant to be together, but she couldn't help falling for you.

"What are you planning to do when you graduate?" Karina asked, taking a sip of wine.

"Hmm... I'm not sure yet. I'm thinking of visiting my parents back in Korea before finding a job here," you replied.

"You should! I could be your Uber driver when you visit," she suggested playfully.

"Whoa, I didn't know Yoo Jimin could drive," you teased, earning a light slap on your arm.

Unbeknownst to you, calling her by her real name caused a pang in Karina's heart. She hadn't revealed her career as an idol to you yet, and she wasn't sure if she ever could.

Throughout the dinner, Karina couldn't take her eyes off you. She wanted to capture every moment, every detail of your presence in her memory. While she knew that life would go on after she left, she cherished the time she had with you and wanted to etch those memories deep within her heart. You had unknowingly become a source of hope and positivity in her life, changing her perspective on things and erasing her negative thoughts. Above all, she didn't want to forget the warmth and reassurance she felt when your eyes met, yearning to have you in her arms every morning.

The ambiance under the lamp posts as the evening progressed created an enchanting atmosphere.

Karina's eyes sparkled as she leaned in and whispered, "I really want to kiss you."

Your heart pounded in your chest, and the intensity of Karina's gaze slowly chipped away at your self-control.

"What's stopping you?" you replied, unable to resist the magnetic pull between the two of you.

In that moment, Karina leaned over the table, her lips meeting yours. The connection was electrifying, and a surge of emotions overwhelmed both of you. It was as if fireworks erupted, and the scent of her perfume intoxicated your senses. Karina deepened the kiss, pouring all her adoration for you into that single moment, fearing it might be her last chance to express her feelings.

Briefly pulling back to catch your breath, you couldn't help but let out a laugh as Karina whined and tried to pull you back for more.

"Whoa," she breathed, her voice filled with exhilaration.

"It's way better than yesterday," you said.

Confused, Karina looked at you and asked, "Yesterday?"

"Yeah," you replied with a laugh, "You actually drunkenly kissed me yesterday before throwing up. Can't believe I'm that bad at kissing."

Embarrassed, Karina hid her face in your neck, unaware of her actions from the previous night. "You're a really good kisser," she said dejectedly, feeling apologetic. “I’m so sorry.”

"I liked it," you reassured her, pressing a gentle kiss on her temple. "I'd gladly accept any kiss from you."

Karina pulled away from your embrace and looked at you with a serious expression. Her thoughts raced in her mind as she struggled to articulate them into coherent sentences

"I think I’m falling for you," Karina whispered, her voice filled with vulnerability.

You nodded, your eyes reflecting the same sentiment. "As I am for you."

"But..." Karina exhaled, struggling to find the right words.

"But we can't be together," you finished her sentence, understanding the unspoken obstacles that stood between you. A bittersweet understanding passed between the two of you.

Karina's gaze fell to the ground, her heart already aching at the thought of leaving you tomorrow.

"We can't be together," she repeated, trying to convince herself as well. "At least for now."

"It's okay," you reassured her, gently taking her hands in yours. "Even if we have to part ways here, I hope that I've made your little getaway to Lyon worthwhile."

Karina traced the bracelet on your wrist, feeling the engraved letters on the charm beneath her fingertips.

"You make me feel happy again."

"I'm glad," you whispered, your heart heavy with longing. "You deserve the world."

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The drive home was filled with silence. Karina held your hand on her lap as you drove, lost in her thoughts. The idea of being separated from you, even for a short while, felt unbearable. After bidding each other goodnight, she wordlessly knocked on the door to your bedroom. Without hesitation, you let her in, holding her close in your arms until sleep eventually claimed her.

The next morning was tinged with melancholy and tearful kisses. Karina didn't want to leave, but she had a performance that night. On the platform, she pulled you into a tight embrace, closing her eyes and inhaling your scent. It was likely the last time she could hold you like this, but she hoped against hope that it wasn't.

"I know this is selfish of me, but will you meet me again?" she asked, cupping your cheek with her hands.

"What do you mean?" you inquired, your heart skipping a beat.

"I'll come back next year, to Lyon." Karina had made a promise to herself last night before drifting off to sleep. She would come back to you, no matter what.

"If you want me to."

"Of course I want you to," you replied, a flicker of hope lighting up your heart. The fact that she wanted to see you in the future lifted a weight off your shoulders.

"Promise me you'll wait for me at the cathedral where we first met," Karina requested, her gaze determined.

You nodded, your commitment unwavering. To be honest, you would gladly follow her anywhere.

"Under the clerestory windows?"

"Under the clerestory windows," she confirmed, her resolve unwavering.

With that, she pulled you in for one last kiss, savoring the taste and memorizing the shape of your mouth before boarding the train.

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As Karina rummaged through her bag to find tissues to dry her tear-stricken face, her hand brushed against a rolled-up piece of paper. She unrolled it, and her breath caught in her throat at the sight. It was a drawing of her leaning on the rails, gazing at the sunset atop the Croix-Rousse hill. The beauty of the sunset was perfectly captured with oil paint, the orange streaks scattered across the paper. You had even added jewel-like flecks of gold and yellow on her face, capturing her childlike glow of joy and carefreeness. Was this how you saw her?

Her heart swelled with the feelings she had for you, her heartbeat quickening. She knew deep down that you would be waiting for her, no matter what.

Flipping the paper over, she saw your neat handwriting in the bottom left corner. It was addressed to her.

Jimin,

I hope that when life becomes overwhelming for you, you'll hold onto the memories of the sunset on your face, the echoes of the cathedral bells in Lyon's streets, and the moments we shared to bring you comfort.

You deserve boundless happiness, never doubt that. I'll immortalize you in my art, and perhaps one day you'll come across one of my works when you're feeling down. I'll paint your silhouette everywhere until you no longer feel pain or loneliness.

Le destin décide qui entre dans votre vie, mais vous décidez qui y reste.

Fate decides who enters your life, but you decide who stays.

I hope you choose to stay, Jimin.

P.S. Good luck at your concert. Spicy is my favorite song to work out to at the gym.

Karina dropped the paper in shock upon reading the last sentence. You knew who she was all along, and yet you didn't let it affect your feelings for her.

She grabbed her phone and quickly typed a message to you:

"I'll stay. Wait for me."

"See you during our rendezvous under the clerestory windows."

Jimin was finally happy.