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l-anna-art · 4 years ago

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Wild extract of my clone!AU (eng/fr)

The subject of suicide is mentioned in this excerpt, even if it's light. If you’re not okay with it, be careful.

___________________________

"I'm not you, yet everyone sees you instead of me."

He squeezed the frame in his hands.

"Why did you do that?"

"I guess I was tired," someone finally said.

Izuku jumped at the sound of the voice and stared, perplexed, the child appeared beside him. Forest green hair and emerald eyes, the little boy was an exact copy of the subject of the photo. He looked at the illusion and, after observing for a moment the photo Izuku was holding, the illusion gave him back his look with a smile. It seemed fake, though.

"What?"

The child shrugged his shoulders.

"I was tired," he repeated.

They remained silent for a long time, simply observing the photo in Izuku's hands. The little boy was sitting on the bed next to him, swinging his legs in the air.

"Was it that... hard?" Izuku ends up asking.

"Huhu," he nodded. "I was often laughed at. Some of them played some pretty nasty pranks too. Thumbtacks in the shoes, shoving or writing nasty things on my stuff. Sometimes some would disappear. Sometimes I was ignored for days, and Kacchan could be difficult too." He paused, then looked at the white-haired boy. "But his quirk is incredible, you know. With time, he'll probably make a great hero."

He became pensive for a moment.

"It's just too bad he uses his quirk so much on others."

"A quirk, no matter how incredible it is, doesn't excuse everything," Izuku replied. "Look what you're became because of him. And I don't think a hero is supposed to act like that," he mumbled. "Nor do I see how a bully could become a hero. In fact, they're completely opposite."

The child pouted.

"Perhaps. But hey, it's Kacchan. He's always been like that. Explosive."

Izuku couldn't deny it. The few time he had spent with the teenager had quickly put him on edge. The explosions and the incessant screams of the blond were not really his cup of tea.

"But you know, he's not so bad! He's just very stressed by all the expectations people have of him and he's a little terrible at dealing with it. Not that he'll ever admit it."

The boy's laughter resonated throughout the room, soft and clear.

"If you were so happy for your friend, why did you have to do a such thing?"

The laughter faded, and the boy's look suddenly grew old, showing an expression far too tired for such a young child.

"I've probably reached my limit," he thought aloud.

"Izuku?"

The two boys turned to the new voice, staring at Inko who had entered the room.

"Who were you talking to?"

Izuku blinked. Then, he turned his head to look at the empty room of any child, before shifting his attention to the picture on his lap.

“To no one,” he said.

___________________________

FRENCH VERSION:

___________________________

"Je ne suis pas toi, et pourtant tout le monde te voit à ma place."

Il serra le cadre dans ses mains.

"Pourquoi as-tu fait ça ?"

"J'imagine que j'étais fatigué," finit par dire quelqu'un.

Izuku sursauta au son de la voix et regarda perplexe l'enfant apparut à côté de lui. Cheveux verts forêt et yeux émeraudes, le petit garçon était l'exacte copie du sujet de la photo. Il regarda l'illusion et, après avoir observé pendant un moment la photo qu'Izuku tenait, l'illusion lui rendit son regard avec un sourire. Il semblait faux, cependant.

"Quoi ?"

L'enfant haussa les épaules.

"J'étais fatigué," répéta-il.

Ils restèrent longtemps silencieux, observant simplement la photo dans les mains d'Izuku. Le petit garçon était assis sur le lit à côté de lui, et balançait ses jambes dans le vide.

"C'était si… dur ?" finit par demander Izuku.

"Huhu," il acquiesça. "On se moquait souvent de moi. Certains faisaient des farces assez méchantes aussi. Des punaises dans les chaussures, des bousculades ou des choses méchantes écrites sur mes affaires. Parfois, certaines disparaissaient. Parfois, on m'ignorait pendant des jours, et Kacchan pouvait aussi être difficile." Il fit une pause, puis regarda l'enfant aux cheveux blancs. "Mais son alter est incroyable, tu sais. Avec du temps, il fera probablement un super héro."

Il devint pensif un moment.

"C'est juste dommage qu'il utilise autant son alter sur les autres."

"Un alter, aussi incroyable soit-il, n'excuse pas tout," répliqua Izuku. "Regarde où tu en es à cause de lui. Et je ne pense pas qu'un héro soit sensé agir comme ça," il marmonna. "Je ne vois pas non plus comment un intimidateur pourrait devenir un héro. C'est même deux notions complètement opposées."

L'enfant fit la moue.

"Peut-être. Mais bon, c'est Kacchan. Il a toujours été comme ça. Explosif."

Izuku ne pouvait pas le nier. Le peu de temps qu'il avait passé avec l'adolescent l'avait rapidement mis à bout de nerf. Les explosions et les cris incessants du blond n'étaient pas vraiment sa tasse de thé.

"Mais tu sais, il n'est pas si mal ! Il est juste très stressé par toutes les attentes que les gens ont sur lui et il est un peu nul pour le gérer. Pas qu'il l'avouera jamais."

Le rire du garçon résonna dans la pièce, doux et clair.

"Si tu étais si heureux pour ton ami, pourquoi as-tu dû faire une telle chose ?"

Le rire s'estompa, et le regard du garçon vieillit d'un coup, arborant une expression bien trop fatiguée pour un si jeune enfant.

"J'ai probablement atteint ma limite," pensa-t-il à voix haute.

"Izuku ?"

Les deux garçons se retournèrent vers la nouvelle voix, fixant Inko qui était entrée dans la chambre.

"A qui parlais-tu ?"

Izuku cligna des yeux. Il tourna ensuite la tête pour regarder la pièce vide de tout enfant, avant de reporter son attention sur la photo qui reposait sur ses genoux.

"À personne," dit-il.

#Before the excerpt #Izuku began to discover the boy's past #and saw videos of him when he was young #which allowed his subconscious to recreate a version of the original Izuku #tw suicide #Clone!AU #bnha

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lis-likes-fics · 4 years ago

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English, Please

Part 6: Exhaustion and Enegry Drinks? Your Favorite! Can’t Say The Same For Elijah...

~~~

You were a little cranky. You hadn't gotten as much sleep as you intended to get the night before because you were studying for a test and almost pulled an all-nighter.

So here you were, running on only half an hour of sleep.

Little did you know, Elijah had the same situation as you, except he was up all night grading papers and preparing a test for the week.

All of your teachers picked up on your prickly behavior quickly. You were usually really kind and respectful, but you were a little snappy toward everyone.

"Hey, Y/N/N!" Caroline greeted happily when she got up to you in the hall, about to head to your third period.

You growled, "What, Caroline?"

She made a face, "Jeez, just saying hi. What's wrong with you?"

You rubbed your temples, "I'm fine. Tired."

"I can see that."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Hey, Y/L/N, what's got your panties in a twist?" Damon asked as he came up beside the both of you.

You had to keep yourself from snapping at him. Literally. You were not doing so well.

"Tired. Do something and I'll bite you," you threatened full-heartedly.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes, digging in his bag. He gave you an energy drink and told you, "Take this, or you'll end up getting detention with one of the teachers."

Detention with Elijah wouldn't be so bad...

But you really needed a mood lift and a little more energy could give you that. You sighed and drank from the bottle, thanking Damon.

"This is alcohol, is it?" You asked him, lifting a brow.

He rolled his eyes again, "I'm trying to keep you from detention, not throw you in a suspension. Have a little faith."

You rolled your eyes at the Salvatore Brother and got to Klaus's class with Caroline.

You were in a better mood by the time the class ended and were ready to go see Elijah. You couldn't wait.

Oh, a side effect of energy drinks that you tend to have? You got...testy. How you loved to challenge and antagonize people.

You couldn't wait to see how Elijah would fair against you.

So you walked into French class, getting through the door. Usually, you were the first person in so you could steal a kiss, but today you were next to last. Already off to a good start.

Elijah looked up at you when you walked through the door with no one in particular, that very small, very silent smirk on your face.

He narrowed his eyes which followed you halfway to your seat. He cleared his throat and started teaching.

You tapped Stefan's shoulder in front of you, whispering a little, "I'm bored."

He furrowed his brow, "Ceci est votre classe préférée. C'est le cours préféré de tout le monde. Comment tu t'ennuies? (This is your favorite class. It's everyone's favorite class. How are you bored?)"

You shrugged, "Just am. The teacher's no fun."

Stefan rolled his eyes and turned back to his desk, "Concentrer, Y/N. (Focus.)"

You let out a huff and Elijah turned around, a hand on his desk and his ruler in hand. He only used the thing to point at the board or screen when he was using it.

"Y a-t-il quelque chose que vous aimeriez partager avec tout le monde? (Is there something you would like to share with everyone?)" He asked sternly.

Stefan shook his head, "Non, Professeur. (No, Professor.)"

"Êtes-vous sûr? Je suis sûr que j'ai entendu l'anglais. (Are you sure? I'm sure I've heard English.)" Elijah raised a brow, looking to you for an explanation.

You concealed your smile and shrugged, "Non, Monsieur."

He narrowed his eyes at you before turning back to the board. You muttered, "That's 'cause you speak it, dumbass."

"Y/N!" Stefan whisper-shouted.

"Y a-t-il autre chose? (Is there something else?)" Elijah asked, his voice more firm than before.

"Non, Professeur," you told him. He eyed you again and you crossed your legs from one side to the other. He licked his bottom lip between his teeth and you had to keep yourself from smiling at the effect you had on him.

He turned back to the board once again.

You sat in your seat, not paying much attention. You already knew what he was teaching, you got a sneak peak at his lessons last time you were with him.

In fact, he let you do it after he'd finished putting it together. The only reason it was more challenging for you than for everyone else was because he had you do the work while he fucked you, having you read it out loud as you did your work.

That was a fun night...

You tapped your fingers on the desk quietly and thought for a moment. You smiled and grabbed a piece of paper from your bag,

You scribbled a note on it and passed it to Stefan. 'Don't his hands look so hot? Mm, those hands...'

Stefan's eyes widened very slightly and scribbled on another piece of paper, throwing it over to you. 'Y/N, he's your teacher.'

You rolled your eyes. 'I can still fantasize. Besides, we're seniors. I'm out by the end of the year.'

'What are you saying?' He scribbled back.

'I can fantasize about those hands, that's what I'm saying. Those big, perfect, beautiful hands.'

Stefan sighed heavily, 'Y/N! Behave!'

'I'm just saying. He's hot. Just attractive.'

Stefan shook his head and went back to his work, not responding so he could use the last few minutes to do his work.

The class came to an end and Elijah announced, "Au revoir, classe. (Goodbye, class.)"

Everyone got up, packing as they got ready to leave the class. He added, "À part toi, M. Salvatore et Ms. Y/L/N. (Except for you, Mr. Salvatore and Ms. Y/L/N.)"

You almost smirked. Stefan spoke up, "Oui, Professeur Mikaelson." He put the pieces of papers in his bag and went to zip it up.

Elijah shook his head, "Avec les notes, s'il vous plaît. (With the notes, please.)" He didn't turn around as he said this.

Stefan shot you a look and everyone left the class, giggling and murmuring about your "misfortune".

You both went to the front of the classroom, standing in front of his desk. Elijah held his hand out for the notes and Stefan handed it over reluctantly.

"Vous avez une détention, Y/N. (You have detention, Y/N.)" Elijah told you not yet reading the notes. "Merci, M. Salvatore. Vous pouvez partir. (Thank you, Mr. Salvatore. You can leave.)" He said this as he sat down in his seat.

"Quoi? (What?)" You questioned, feigning surprise. Stefan nodded and left the room, shrugging at you as he left. You mouthed "traitor" at him as he walked out the door, closing it behind him.

You turned back to Elijah, smirking a little. He looked up at you and cocked a brow, taking in a breath.

You folded your hands behind your back, rocking back and forth on your feet. You looked over his desk to see the notes, scanning over them as you told him, "Vous trouverez les notes familières. Après tout, je te l'ai déjà dit... (You will find the note familiar. After all, I already told you...)"

"You're going to make me say it?" He asked.

You questioned, "Dire quoi? (Say what?)"

He sighed, "English, please."

"As you wish. I still have a class after this, you know," you told him, quirking a brow.

He spoke as he peaked at you over the notes, "Actually, you have lunch and then you have Kol. You'll be fine."

He began reading the note, drowning the room is silence. His brows shot up as he read it, clearly amused by the notes.

"That's was a little dangerous of you, dear," he told you as he tore the pages and threw them away.

"Maybe I'm feeling a little dangerous today," you told him, licking your bottom lip into your mouth.

He let out a rather aroused sigh and said, "What's gotten into you today? You were talking in class, passing notes. Are you looking you be punished?"

You leaned forward a little, teasingly, "Maybe I am, sir."

Elijah stared at you, his eyes falling to your lips. You were so out of character, but he still loved every bit of it. Oh, you would have to be punished for your behavior.

He spoke, "Don't his hands look so hot? Mm, those hands..." He was repeated your notes to you. The tone in his voice made you so wet. But you wouldn't cave. If two could play that game, then two would.

You nodded, speaking in the most seductive tone you could muster, "Those hands... Those big, perfect, beautiful hands."

You closed your eyes, imagining them inside of you, giving a light moan as you bit your bottom lip. You could tell by the way he sighed and shifted in his chair that you were winning.

You should be sleep deprived more often...

He lifted his hands, setting his elbows on the table. He showed them off, looking at them as he turned them around so you had a good view of them. He asked, "These hands? The ones you love to feel inside of you. The ones you've sucked and fucked?"

You almost lost it then. His tone was so perfect and his hands moving the way they were were making you uncomfortably desperate.

But you wouldn't break.

You swallowed your moan and nodded, "Yes, those very ones. The ones you slide in and out of me, and it's always easy to because I'm always so wet for you. How I love those hands."

You were back on top again because he closed his eyes, no doubt imagining your slick wetness. He loved imagining you.

He finally stood from his desk, adjusting the cuffs of the already perfect sleeves of his already perfect suit. He was just doing it to get to you again.

And it was working.

He moved closer to you and you had to adjust, now looking up at him instead of down. The height difference made you swallow hard.

He noticed and used it to his advantage, "You love seeing me over you, don't you, my sweet?"

You nodded, "And you love seeing me under, nd over, and beside, and bent over that desk or your knee."

Your wetness was now pooling in your panties, wetting your inner thighs. You shifted slightly, just enough, because Elijah heard the slight sound of that slickness and almost completely lost it. You could see it in his eyes; he was holding on by a thread.

"Oh, my dear. The things you do to me," he spoke, so close to your face now.

You licked your lips, "I accept your surrender."

He chuckled lightly. Now you were also hanging on by a thread.

It was whoever spoke first.

And you almost did.

But he had you.

All you were going to say was 'If you're going to punish me, go ahead.'

But he used your weakness against you, leaning into your ear and telling you in that raspy, deep, seductive tone of his.

"If you want to be my good girl, all you have to do is sit on that desk for me. I'm sure I can find a suitable way to punish you for your misdeeds."

Fuck.

You lost. You weren't even mad.

You let out a shaky breath and used whatever breath was left to moan. You sat on the desk obediently, spreading your legs for him desperately.

He smiled, "I win."

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get over here and fuck me already."

Continue Reading on Wattpad or Ao3.

~~~

Suit and Staglist: @avala-moon�� @xxwritemeastoryxx @melodiclovesong @thebrotherssalvatore321 @strangerliaa @njeancastro316 @dumble-daddy @mrs-salvawhore @deviously-innocent

#elijah mikaelson #Elijah Mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson x y/n #TVD #the vampire diaries #the originals #the originals fanfiction #the vampire diaries fanfiction #Professor x Student #professor mikaelson #elijahmikaelson #the originals x reader

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childotkw · 4 years ago

Note

Tu pourrais faire un extrait de Hadrian qui rencontre dumbeldore canon et lui dit tous ses défauts, à quel point il est mauvais et comment il ruiner la vie de harry. Et avec Harry et snape qui écoute ?

Could you make an excerpt from Hadrian who meets canon!Dumbledore and tells him all his faults, how bad he is and how he ruined Harry’s life? And with Harry and Snape listening?

Well, I didn’t go full hard core destroying him, because even Hadrian wouldn’t want to rock the boat that much, but he does tell Dumbledore off.

“I’m going to stop you there,” Hadrian interjected, sounding so genuinely apologetic that it could only be a lie. Harry blinked in surprise, because people - people didn’t interrupt Professor Dumbledore.

The man in question frowned, his expression strangely aggravated when he looked at Harry’s counterpart. While Hadrian was odd, Harry didn’t think he warranted such a dark look.

“You are telling me that you purposefully left him cut off from all the information regarding the political climate of the Wizarding World all summer, no note, no warning of the situation he would be returning to - and now try to, what, indirectly blame him for antagonising people that do not believe Riddle is back?” The derision in the other boy’s tone was scathing. “No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’, Potter?” Snape sneered from across the room.

“It’s ‘Evans’, Snape,” Hadrian replied, sickly sweet, causing the potions’ professor’s cheeks to whiten in fury. “Get it right or stop addressing me at all.” Then, with grace Harry wished he had, Hadrian turned back to Dumbledore, dismissing Snape completely. “And I meant that you don’t get to do this.”

“This matter does not concern you -” Dumbledore began to say, rising to his feet.

“I think it does,” Hadrian cut in once more, brutal. He stepped forward, and Harry stared at the other’s back in bewilderment. No one...was he trying to protect Harry? “I am used to your breathtakingly poor decisions in my own world, but I would have thought you knew better here then to sacrifice children for your cause.”

Dumbledore flinched back, and even Snape shifted uncomfortably. Hadrian’s eyes blazed, no mercy evident on his face.“You think I cannot see what you are doing?” He whispered, and there was a poisoned weight to this words that Harry did not understand. “You think this little song and dance will continue with me here?” He stalked forward, hands braced on the desk and carelessly knocking over some of the trinkets Dumbledore kept there.

Hadrian leaned forward, teeth bared. “You are a fucking fool, Dumbledore. There are so many differences in our worlds, but that - that is still the same.”

#anonymous #consuming shadows #hadrian breaking into another dimension

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lu-undy · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 25 - SBT

Here it is!

"Meow."

Lucien woke up to a soft sensation on his face. Soft, but noisy… The fluffy ball purred and purred against his cheek and mouth.

"Perle, laisse-moi dormir, s'il te plaît…"

[Perle, let me sleep, please…]

More purring and the Frenchman's eyes slowly opened. He sighed.

"Me voilà réveillé maintenant, tu es contente?"

[Here, I am woken up now, are you happy yet?]

She mewled and it mixed in with her purring. Lucien smiled at the soft sounds.

"Tu as encore dormi dans mon lit?"

[You slept in my bed again?]

"Meow."

"Tu sais que tu as ton propre lit, non?"

[You know you have your own bed, don't you?]

"Meow." She put a paw on Lucien's head in his hair and played with the salt and pepper locks. He smiled. It was such a childish and innocent thing to do.

It had been a few weeks now that he adopted her and Perle had always refused to sleep in her bed. Lucien would put her there but she would always climb on his big bed and sleep next to him, on his very pillow sometimes.

"Meow."

She played with his hair, again and again until he raised his eyes to her and she looked down. He raised his hand and took her delicate paw with his index and thumb. The pads on her toes were pink and so small…! Her paw itself was extremely soft. She let him stroke it and stared in his eyes with her deep blue ones.

Perle purred and moved to brush herself on his mouth. He smiled and kissed her.

"Oui, ma petite, moi aussi je suis content de te voir."

[Yes, my little one, I too am happy to see you.]

She loved his kisses and purred as loud as her tiny body could. Lucien chuckled.

"Maintenant que je suis réveillé, je ferais mieux de me lever. Tu viens?"

[Now that I am woken up, I had better get up and do something useful. Do you want to come along?]

Lucien got out of his bed and like a reflex, he turned and opened his hands on the bed. Perle jumped on his palms and he gently put her on his shoulder while going through his morning routine. The only part that she was not participating in was his shower.

The first few days, she would cry and mewl at the base of the shower space. She would jump in too, run to Lucien's ankle and hold on there while complaining repeatedly about the wetness of the water. But the poor little kitten would rather get soaked than be far from her master.

However now, Perle and Lucien both had developed a way for this little comedy to stop. He would leave her outside of the shower but would continuously talk to her from inside. She would answer too, and that way, she didn't feel left behind. Sometimes he would tell her about his day, others, he would just play with her.

"Perle? Je vais sortir, mon petit… et… bouh!"

[Perle? I will now come out, my little one… and… booh!]

"Meow!"

Lucien peeked his head out and Perle mewled her enthusiasm. He went back to his room with her on his shoulder again and put her on the bed to choose his suit. While he put it on, she watched him and as she soon got bored, she climbed down the bed and got closer to the mirror that Lucien was facing.

Perle tilted her head left and right trying to understand who that white kitten was and what she wanted. Hm. She raised an uncertain paw and tried to touch the other kitten's.

"Tu ne te reconnais pas? C'est toi, Perle."

[You don't recognise yourself? It's you, Perle.]

"Meow!"

Now, there were two Luciens too! What the hell was that sorcery!

Lucien smiled at her bewilderment and finished adjusting his tie around his neck.

"Allez viens, on va petit-déjeuner."

[Come along, we will have breakfast.]

Lucien exited the room and went through the corridor when he realised that he didn't hear the awkward gallop and the rhythmic tics of Perle's little claws on the tiled floor. He turned his back and looked down. She hadn't followed him.

"Perle?"

He went back to the room and found her fighting her reflection in the mirror still.

"Perle?"

He called again from the threshold but she was too absorbed in her fight with that other vicious white kitten to listen.

"Mon bébé?"

[My baby?]

She stopped sharp, pricking her ears up, and raised her eyes to him, standing at the door.

"Tu viens?"

[Are you coming?]

"Meow!"

She ran at him and he squatted down to carry her and drop her on his shoulder again before heading for the main door.

"Bastien a dit qu'il viendrait ce matin. J'ai commandé quelque chose pour toi."

[Bastien said he would come today. I have ordered something for you.]

Lucien put on his vest and jacket, and went to retrieve the plastic box that the young man had left at his door, the day before. He had tried an omelette with onions and potatoes and Lucien found the result very promising, even if a few more herbs could have enhanced the flavours. The bell rang at the door.

"Ah…"

He opened the door and Bastien was there with a package in his hands.

"Package for you, L! Oh," Bastien saw Perle on her master's shoulder. "Hello, Pearl."

The baby cat hissed.

"Doucement, Perle."

[Calm down, Perle.]

Bastien chuckled.

"She doesn't like people?" He asked.

"Non, the only one she tolerates is me as far as I know." Lucien answered. "My apologies, she is a bit aggressive."

"It's alright."

"Ah, and I have a box for you, Bastien. I have left a note with my comments inside, but it was very good."

"Oh! Thank you so much!"

"Thank you."

Bastien took his box and went away.

"Alors, ma petite Perle, regarde ce que Papa Lulu t'as commandé."

[So, my little Perle, look what Papa Lulu ordered for you.]

Lucien froze. The last time he had called himself Papa was… He took a deep breath and screwed his eyes shut, frowning. The simple word "Papa" was enough to make his stomach turn. He needed a moment.

"Meow?" Perle brushed herself on him and his shoulders relaxed.

He sighed.

"Ce n'est rien." He lied.

[It's nothing.]

Lucien went to the table and with his knife, he opened the small cardboard box neatly.

"Voilà."

[Here it is.]

He removed the paper here and there and extracted a pink collar with a silver pendant, as well as a harness and leash. Those were dark red and made of leather.

"Comme ça, tu peux aussi te dégourdir les pattes."

[With this, you will be able to follow me around on foot.]

He gently put Perle on the table and put the collar on. Her name was engraved on it and behind, his own name and a phone number, in case she got lost. The pendant itself was shaped like a heart. Lucien then helped her in her harness and attached the leash to it.

"Now, let's have some breakfast, shall we?"

"Meow!"

They exited the suite and soon, the hotel entirely. Perle hadn't complained when Lucien put all those things on her. She was quite happy about it. Now, she could walk without fearing that Lucien would abandon her. Not only had he promised, but he now was linked to her all the time via that leash. So as long as she felt some very light tension on her shoulders, she knew he was there.

"Perle, attends."

[Perle, wait.]

She stopped, sat down and looked up at him.

"Quand le petit bonhomme est rouge là-bas, on attend. On ne traverse que quand il passe au vert."

[When the little man is red over there, we have to wait. We cross the road only when he turns green.]

Lucien explained calmly. But then, it hit him. He had gone through that before. His mouth had said those words. Ha, raising Perle really felt like raising a child. Again.

"Meow?"

"Why? Because otherwise a car might pass by and hurt us. So we have to wait for them to stop."

Perle was sitting at the edge of the pavement. She raised a paw in front of her.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk…!" Lucien pushed her paw back on the pavement with the tip of his expensive, varnished, dark brown shoe. "Non, non, non, mon bébé. Tu attends sur le trottoir."

[No, no, no, my baby. You wait on the pavement.]

The light switched to red for cars and green for pedestrians.

"Maintenant, on regarde à droite et à gauche pour être sûr, et on peut y aller."

[Now, we look right and left to be sure, and we may go.]

They crossed the street. The other pedestrians half guessed what Lucien was saying and only smiled at his fatherly tone with his kitten. But the Frenchman couldn't care less about what other people thought. His entire world was at the end of that leash. His entire, fluffy, tiny, baby world.

Soon, they entered Victoria's diner.

"Hey L!"

"Bonjour, Victoria."

[Hello, Victoria.]

"Oh, hello baby Pearl!" Victoria came closer and the baby cat hissed.

"My apologies, she doesn't really like people."

"She likes you though. Weird taste she has, that baby kitty." Victoria said with a smirk as Lucien sat at his usual table.

"V…" He answered.

"What? It's true!"

"Fair enough." Lucien admitted with a smile.

"Meow!" Perle mewled. She tried to climb on the banquette to join Lucien, but the edge was in plastic and she couldn't get any grip on it to climb.

"Ah, attends, viens ici."

[Ah, wait, come here.]

Lucien scooped her and put her on his lap.

"So, what will it be for you guys?" She asked.

"Coffee and croissant for me. And if you have a bit of milk for her, as usual…?"

"Sure!"

"What will you have?" He asked her.

"Uhm, just a hot chocolate."

"Add it to my bill please, and come back quickly, she's hungry." Lucien said, seeing how Perle gnawed on his fingers.

Victoria nodded and disappeared.

"Tu as faim?"

[Are you hungry?]

Perle dug her teeth a bit deeper against Lucien's fingers.

"Aïe, d'accord, j'ai compris, tu as faim, pas la peine de mordre."

[Ouch, fine, I get it, you are hungry, no need to bite.]

"Meow!"

"Tsk, tsk, tsk." Lucien raised his index and looked at the the kitten seriously. "Pas la peine de geindre non plus. Et dis pardon, tu m'as mordu."

[No need to complain either. And say sorry, you have bitten me.]

"Meow!"

"Perle, tu veux que je me fâche?"

[Perle, do I need to tell you off?]

"Meow…"

"Je te pardonne. Mais ne recommence plus, d'accord?"

[I forgive you. But don't do it again, alright?]

Lucien put his hand flat on the table, palm facing upwards. Perle put her tiny paw in before jumping entirely in it and laying down.

"Here we are, coffee and croissant for the old man, milk for the kitty, and hot chocolate for me." Victoria laid them all on the table and sat opposite Lucien.

"Ah, many thanks, V. Perle, dis merci."

[Perle, say thank you.]

"Meow." She answered and went to the small plate with milk, to lap it.

"C'est bien, ma belle."

[Very good, my beautiful one.]

Lucien scratched her head and raised his cup to Victoria.

"Bon appétit."

"Thanks, to you too."

They both took a sip and it cleared their minds, especially Lucien's.

"So, you owe me, old man."

"Do I?" He asked.

"You got hired at the Queen Victoria or not?" She asked.

"I did. And here," Lucien put a paper on the table. "For you and your boyfriend."

Victoria blushed.

"How did you know? Did Joe tell you?"

Lucien smiled.

"Non, but I can tell when someone is in love."

"Oh, can you?" She teased.

"Mh-hm." He nodded. "Look at you, your cheeks are more pink than before, you wear clothes with brighter colours and you definitely smile more." Lucien explained.

"Oi! Are you saying I was grumpy before?" V asked.

"Well, I wasn't the one to say it." He answered with a chuckle.

"Oh yeah, you can laugh, you were grumpy too until you found Pearl, eh! And now look, you have completely adopted her, collar, leash and everything! You're even educating her as if she was a kid."

He nodded as he bit in his croissant.

"Oui, indeed, I do. She follows me almost everywhere."

They both looked at the baby cat who was lapping at the milk enthusiastically.

"Oh wait, those are actual free dinners?!" Victoria exclaimed when she read the leaflet that Lucien had given her.

"Oui, I got hired and I am the lead singer there now. I organise and manage the shows. You should come to see. The food is quite good, and the shows are the best."

"Sure, the shows are the best, eh? So much for bein' humble."

"Pardon my honesty." He said with a smirk.

"Jesus, you never stop…!"

He winked at her.

"But yeah, as much as it pains me to say it, you held your word and got hired in the poshest place in all of Oz…"

"Ha, and you had doubts…" He shook his head.

"How did you do it?" She asked.

"My usual confidence and a bit of charm."

"Christ almighty! You need to be told how to be humble!" Victoria said, exasperated.

"I don't think I need to be taught that." He arrogantly added, just for her to facepalm, and she did.

"Anyway, I'm happy you could find a job, and above all, someone to keep you company." Victoria said, looking down at Perle.

"Meow."

She was licking herself, trying to clean the milk on her face but couldn't reach it all.

"Viens, je vais te nettoyer."

[Come here, I will clean you.]

Lucien grabbed a paper towel and Perle hissed. She hated it.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk. Allons, ça ne va pas durer longtemps."

[Come on, it won't last long.]

He wiped her face and she clawed in the paper to shred it, hissing again. Lucien let go of it and let her destroy the thing. It stuck to her claws and paws, which made her even more mad. Both him and Victoria chuckled at the raging war between the kitten and the paper towel.

"Does she still cry when you leave?" Victoria asked.

"A bit, oui, I hear her mewling and clawing at the door. But when I come back home, I find her asleep on my pillow in the bed."

"Aww, such a cute baby she is."

"The most adorable, I think." Lucien said, looking at her with kind eyes.

-- Later, Lucien's suite --

Lucien had repeated the piece he wanted to play and sing for the next concert. It wasn't an easy piece, non, but he would do it. He would sing it in front of Duchemin, for her, that woman.

Perle was lying on the piano, her eyes half closed, staring at him. He stopped and took a deep breath before taking a glance at his watch. Lucien then stood up and went to put on his jacket.

Perle jumped down from the piano to the seat in front of it and finally the floor.

"Meow!"

"Je dois sortir de nouveau."

[I need to go out again.]

"Meow?"

"Non, tu ne peux pas venir, c'est pour le travail, ma belle."

[No, you can't come with me, it is for work, my beautiful one.]

Lucien pulled his trousers' legs up slightly and crouched down to scratch her head. Perle started mewling repeatedly. She knew he was about to go and leave her.

"Non, ma petite, je suis désolé, tu ne peux vraiment pas venir. Ce sont des affaires d'adultes, c'est bien trop dangereux pour un bébé comme toi."

[No, my little one, I am sorry, you really cannot come. This is adults' business, it's way too dangerous for a baby like you.]

He scooped her off her floor and kissed her head while she brushed herself against his mouth.

"Tu restes sage pour moi?"

[You keep quiet for me?]

Perle sat in his palms.

"Meow."

"Très bien. Je suis fier de toi."

[Very good. I am proud of you.]

He kissed her head again and heard her purr before dropping her on the floor again and leaving the flat. He locked the door and waited.

There was one muffled meow.

-- Maurice's street --

"Bonjour, Maurice."

"L, what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I have a matter to discuss with you. That, and a few questions."

"Do you need somewhere more calm?"

Maurice's question might have sounded idiotic as the dirty street was as calm as the air itself could be. But that was exactly why Lucien needed somewhere else. After all, one can't hear a conversation clearer than in pure silence.

"Oui, s'il te plaît."

[Yes, please.]

Mundy stood up and Lucien followed him. A few moments later, they found themselves in the beggar's hideout, underground.

"So, what can I do to help?"

"I went to the old hangar." Lucien started. "But someone showed up that ruined my plans and intentions."

"Ah?"

Lucien instantly saw the fake surprise in Maurice's eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me that there would be someone else?" The spy asked.

"I didn't think it would be relevant." Maurice answered. "But please, tell me how he managed to ruin your strategy, I am curious."

Lucien pointed to a chair. "May I?"

"Of course."

Both of them sat on wooden chairs, around the large oval table.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Lucien asked.

"Be my guest."

"Many thanks." Lucien offered one to his host but Maurice declined. He lit his one and recounted the story.

"I intended to get myself captured so that Duchemin's men would take me straight to him. From there, I would deal with him."

"But?" Maurice anticipated.

"But, this hunter appeared and freed me from my captivity. A brilliant sharpshooter I must say. I know very few people who would have managed to pull the shots he did from such a distance. Every single bullet hit their target, not a single miss, and what bullets…? Custom made darts that I had never heard of before, a clever design."

There was the shadow of a smile on Maurice's lips.

"So I wonder." Lucien went on. "Who is he and why did you not tell me about him?"

"Ah, well, those questions both require long answers." Maurice cleared his throat. "What did he tell you about himself?"

"That he is a hunter but his preys are poachers, not beasts. If not for those outstanding shots he took, I would have taken him for a local hippie. However, there is something in his impressive accuracy that my head cannot quite understand. No simple hunter can be that skilled. Even during my time in the army there were atrociously few people who could shoot with such precision on so many shots. Non, there is more to that man."

Lucien paused to catch his breath.

"He told me he is also after Duchemin. I told him it was stupid and he would end up dead. His answer struck me."

"What did he say?" Maurice asked.

"Don't care." Lucien quoted the tall hunter.

Maurice smiled.

"Doesn't that remind you of anyone?" The beggar asked with a smirk. "Someone who wants Duchemin dead more than anything else?"

The Frenchman frowned and took a drag off of his cigarette.

"Is he my enemy?" He asked Maurice.

"Did he seem like one?" Maurice answered.

"Why do I have the feeling that you are hiding something about that man from me?" Lucien asked.

"Maybe that is because I am."

"Why not tell me?"

"Maybe that is because you have to find out for yourself."

Lucien raised his sharp eyes to Maurice. The beggar was smiling through his bushy grey beard.

#tf2 sniper #tf2 spy #sniperspy #SBT

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morkshmallows · 6 years ago

Text

Serenade

A Markhyuck story in which Mark serenades Donghyuck in French because he’s in love (but also kind of a coward)

Extract: At random moments, for no apparent reason, Donghyuck will request a song, and Mark will find himself obliging. Then, for 3 or 4 minutes, Donghyuck will give him his undivided attention, and Mark will have to pretend that it doesn’t make him so nervous he might faint.

Word count: 1.6k Part: 1/3

A/N: This is an AU where Mark grew up in Québec and therefore speaks French! Originally meant to be crack, but Markhyuck makes me soft and hhh yeah, fluff/angst it is, I guess. Hope you’ll enjoy it! ^^

“Emmenez-moi au bout de la Terre… Emmenez-moi au pays des merveilles,” Marks sings softly, watching the city’s nightscape through the car’s window.

“Is that French?”

Mark glances back, meeting Donghyuck’s round eyes.

“Yup,” he replies. “It’s a song.”

There’s a sense of wonder on the younger’s face. “It sounds nice,” he declares. “I like it.”

Mark blinks. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Donghyuck says with a shrug. “Can you sing for me?”

“What?” he asks, lips curving a dumbfounded smile.

Donghyuck brings a hand to his heart.

“Serenade me, hyung,” he demands solemnly.

“Shut up,” Mark fires back, looking away, and he can feel his ears turning bright red.

A smile blossoms on the younger’s face. “For real. I like your singing voice.”

Marks studies him for a second. “Okay,” he lets out.

And he sings for Donghyuck.

From then on, it kinda becomes their thing. At random moments, for no apparent reason, Donghyuck will request a song, and Mark will find himself obliging. Then, for 3 or 4 minutes, Donghyuck will give him his undivided attention, and Mark will have to pretend that it doesn’t make him so nervous he might faint. Somehow (perhaps because it’s his literal job to perform), that never happens, but he still comes out of those interactions shaken up, and it feels unfair to him that Donghyuck doesn’t have to experience the same gripping anxiety.

The members don’t mind their little game. Sometimes, they even drop in to listen, and their presence breaks the intimacy of the endeavour. Mark finds that it’s both a relief and a bother. He’s is the only one amongst them who speaks French, but Donghyuck likes to brag that he can tell what Mark is saying by just looking at him.

“You’re an open book to me,” he lilts, grinning. “Regardless of the language.”

And that’s true, for the most part. Generally speaking, Mark isn’t one to hide his emotions, and Donghyuck has been around him for a long time. Still, Donghyuck doesn’t know everything.

He doesn’t know, for example, that when he smiles, Mark feels like the world finally makes sense. That when their skin brush, there’s a warmth that spreads from Mark’s core to the tip of his toes. Or that when he isn’t around, Mark can’t help but see him in everything.

In retrospect, there’s a lot Donghyuck doesn’t know.

The first time he does it, it’s an accident. Hyuck wants a song, and the only one his mind supplies is an old love song he hasn’t heard in years.

“On dit que le destin se moque bien de nous, qu’il ne nous donne rien et qu’il nous promet tout,” he sings, staring at his feet. “Paraît que le bonheur est à portée de main, alors on tend la main et on se retrouve fou.”

Donghyuck must realize that Mark is avoiding his gaze; being his usual bratty self, he lies his head on Mark’s lap and forces their eyes to meet.

“The hell?” Mark exclaims, and Donghyuck clicks his tongue with an annoyed expression before pressing the older to go on with a hand movement.

Mark tries to push him away, but the kid is persistent, and in the end, Mark doesn’t have the heart to use all his force.

“Continue!” Donghyuck whines.

An exaggerated sigh.

“Pourtant quelqu’un m’a que tu m’aimais encore,” Mark sings with reluctance. “C’est quelqu’un qui m’a dit que tu m’aimais encore…”

As the words escape his lips,

As he melts into Donghyuck eyes,

“Serait-ce possible alors?”

He realizes that he means what he’s saying.

“Serait-ce possible alors?”

As the verses spill out,

He’s talking to Donghyuck,

He’s serenading Donghyuck.

And every time after that,

Every time Donghyuck asks him to sing,

He chooses a love song.

“Hyuck did really well on that on that photoshoot,” Mark comments.

“You keep babbling about him,” Johnny sighs, shaking his head.

“Me?” he replies, taken aback.

“I know you think he’s great,” Johnny continues. “That he’s cute and funny and charismatic and blah blah blah… But you never say it to his face.”

Mark frowns. “Well, I…”

Johnny glares at him with irritation and a lingering fondness. “You should be more sincere.”

When Mark steps into his room, he finds a body curled up in the middle of his mattress.

“Jeez,” he mutters, shaking Donghyuck by the shoulder. “Go back to your own bed.”

“No,” the younger replies, voice muffled by the pillow.

“Dude, I’m tired…” Mark says, dropping by a very immobile Donghyuck.

“Me too.”

Marks rubs his temples; it’s not like it’s the first time something like this happens, and he knows that Donghyuck always wins.

“Move,” Mark instructs, pushing himself onto the bed.

Donghyuck groans but complies, and as soon as Mark is fully under the blanket, he wraps his legs around him.

“Hyuck,” Mark scolds, doing his best to keep a steady voice. “It’s too hot, stop.”

“Sing me to sleep,” Donghyuck replies groggily.

“Are you serious?”

“Mhm.”

“I’m exhausted.”

“Please.”

A short silence.

“What song?” Mark hears himself ask.

“Anything soothing.”

Mark considers the request.

“Moi je n’étais rien et voilà qu’aujourd’hui,” he begins, almost in a whisper. “Je suis le gardien du sommeil de ses nuits...”

“Go on,” Hyuck urges, squeezing his body a bit tighter.

“Je l’aime à mourir.”

He takes a deep breath, and the air smells of Donghyuck’s shampoo.

“Vous pourrez détruire tout ce qui vous plaira.”

Donghyuck hums along, and the vibrations send a shiver to Mark’s back.

“Il n’a qu’à ouvrir l’espace de ses bras pour tout reconstruire…”

The younger nuzzles against his side.

“Tout reconstruire,” he murmurs. “Je l’aime à mourir.”

As the song nears its end, Donghyuck’s breathing evens, and Mark thinks about running away (to the kitchen, to the street, to anywhere but here), but a minute passes, then ten, thirty.

Mark is still there.

He stays.

He always does.

Every now and then, Mark allows himself to confess a thing or two under the protection of their language barrier.

“Criss que t’es beau,” he mumbles.

Donghyuck frowns. “Was that an insult?”

“Uh…” Mark utters. “No.”

The other stares. “Right…”

Eventually, he starts doing it more often, and it always feels like a huge weight off his shoulders.

“Ce serait le fun, que tu m’aimes aussi,” he whispers as Donghyuck falls asleep against him for the third time that week. “Qu’on soit ensemble. Que j’puisse dire que t’es à moi.”

It’s all fun and games until one morning, when his body is functioning on 3 hours of sleep and his trilingual brain fucks up. Donghyuck is making tea, and despite his bed head, he looks absolutely lovely.

“I’d kiss you,” Mark says under his breath.

There’s a pause, and as Donghyuck eyes fill with confusion, Mark realizes his terrible mistake.

“What?” the younger lets out.

“What?” Mark echoes, and he considers yeeting out the window.

“What did you just say?”

“That I… miss… you.”

Hyuck doesn’t seem any less puzzled. “I’m right here though?”

“Yes,” Mark agrees slowly. “But we haven’t had much time to properly hang out recently.”

A pause.

“That’s true,” Donghyuck concedes, and he turns back to the tea. “Do you wanna go see a movie this weekend?”

“That’d be cool,” Mark declares, trying to breathe normally.

Donghyuck looks up again and smiles,

And there go Mark’s efforts.

After that unfortunate event, Mark calms down with his impromptu love confessions. If Donghyuck asks for him to sing, he’ll only agree if he can think of a song that has nothing to do with romance.

They’re walking back from the convenience store when Donghyuck requests something new. Mark protests, Donghyuck insists, and Mark would punch the boy if he wasn’t so damn cute. After a his mind runs around for a minute, he somehow ends up settling for the Canadian anthem.

He sings the beginning quietly, and Donghyuck is skipping besides him, and god, can he not?

“...car ton bras sait porter l’épée, il sait porter la croix. Ton histoire est une épopée des plus brillants exploits.”

A deep inspiration.

“God keep our land, glorious and free, Ô Canada we stand on guard for thee, Ô Canada we stand on guard for thee!”

There’s a pause.

“That was English,” Donghyuck notes.

“Yeah...” Mark confirms, running a hand through his hair. “I only know the bilingual version, sorry.”

Donghyuck pouts. “It’s not that I’m ungrateful or anything…” he says, and Mark snickers. “But why the hell would you pick your national anthem?”

“It’s the first thing that came to my mind,” Mark lies.

“That’s so random.”

Mark mumbles something about running out of ideas.

“Can’t you go back the to the old ones?” Hyuck wonders. “I feel like I haven’t heard them in a while.”

“Oh, uh…” Mark says. “They’re a bit too cheesy.”

“As far as I’m concerned, they’re just pretty,” Donghyuck retorts with a laugh. “Besides, they sound much more romantic.”

Mark’s heart skips a beat.

“Romantic?” he parrots, in a daze.

Donghyuck offers a wide grin. “French is the language of love, isn’t it?”

“R-right.”

“Plus, you always get super intense when you sing in French,” he says. “You’re super into it. It’s almost the same level as when we’re in the recording studio.”

A nervous chuckle escapes Mark’s lips.

“I guess it’s because it’s your first language.”

“Yup,” Mark agrees, vigorously nodding. “That’s why. Obviously.”

Donghyuck sends a wink his way.

“I know you well,” he says.

Mark can't do anything but smile.

A/N: Est-ce que j’ai écris ça essentiellement pour faire sacrer Mark? Pas mal, ouais. No regrets hahahah

ps: Translations to the parts in French here!

> Next

#markhyuck #nct fics #nct imagines #nct scenarios #mark lee #haechan #lee donghyuck #kpop fluff #kpop angst #dokiginal work #(not formatted for mobile fghjk sorry)

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city-by-the-sea · 5 years ago

Text

Character Introduction: Asbel

Finally, here’s what I promised: the introduction drabble for Asbel! (my sunshine boy™) Enjoy!

(Land of Hope WIP intro, if you’ve forgotten what he’s part of)

*****

"What? Me? No, no! Not at all!"

Asbel was frantically waving his hands, trying to apologize in front of the merchant who was turning even redder by the second.

"It has to be your fault that my cargo hasn't arrived!" the big man thundered, pushing his finger against the young man's chest. "You were supposed to take care of the message, and the shipment should already be here if you weren't a good-for-nothing fool!

- But I can assure you, it's not my fault! I conveyed your terms to Rolven, she confirmed the deal and that's it! She never mentioned a longer shipping time!

- Oh really? Then what am I supposed to do with my clients that are waiting for their beams? If she needed more time than we agreed, she should have let me know! How do I know you didn't just forget to ask her?

- What? No, not at all! I'm telling you, I told her everything!

- And what about the time you forgot for Garmann's meeting, hm? Or the deal between Vance and Harril? It's not the first time you screw up a mission because you just can't remember what you're told! I don't even know why your father insists on keeping you!

-The mee- But that was- For crying out loud, I swear I didn't forget anything! She didn't say anything! She must have been delayed by the rain! It's not my fault!"

The merchant crossed his arms and glared down at him, frowning.

-"The rain. Whatever. But I'm still the one who's going to be stuck dealing with the angry customers. Let me tell you, the next time you get in the way of my business you can bet that your father will be hearing about you!

-But I didn't-

- Now get out of here! I have better things to do than listening to your whining!"

Asbel clenched his fists, gave him a brief nod and left. Behind him, the man was grudgingly undertaking to scribble something in a ledger already covered in notes.

"Perfect. Another problem. Like I didn't already have the worst record in town." Asbel stepped inside and put his errand bag down. "And one morning wasted!" he muttered, blowing against the blond hair that had strayed out of his braid.

-"So I take it you had problems with Verik?"

Asbel froze, then put his head out through the study door. He sighed, with relief this time.

His sister was seated in front of a sea of files and sheets, her sandy hair pulled in a tight bun. She was staring at him like she was waiting for something, but her eyes shone with an amused light.

-"Hell, you scared me! I thought Dad was here! The later he hears about what happened, the happier I'll be…" he said wearily. He took a few steps in the room and sat on the corner of a table.

-"Did it go that wrong? Verik should have expected delay, the upstream villages have been writing about the bad weather for the last three weeks. He's not the only one who's been having trouble because of it."

Asbel let out a strangled laugh. He was agitated, his legs swinging under the table.

-"If you want to go talk to him, believe me, I won't stop you! But it's so much easier to blame me… He even brought up Garmann's meeting! Even though it wasn't even my fault, he's the one who didn't mention he needed a interpreter! And an Ilmani, at that! Not the kind of guy you can find at any turn!"

His sister was staring at him, her gaze inscrutable. His hands fell back to his side.

-"I know that if I keep getting in trouble I'm gonna have to find another job again. But I swear I'm doing my best…"

His sister kept her gaze on him for a few moments more, then turned back to her desk, straightened up her already perfect pages and picked up the ink reed she had put down.

-"All trade with the villages has been cut for five days. It was time to send some people to see how they are doing and lend them a hand, anyway. I'll try to learn how Rolven's shipment is going, it might calm down Verik's clients." The light scratching of the reed on the paper now seemed to hold all of her attention. Asbel let himself slide from the table, his feet hitting the floor with a muted sound.

-"I… Sor- Thanks.

-Dad will surely leave the council late, Verik will have calmed down by then. In the meantime, pass by the archive to see if they need you. There are still people in this town who appreciate your work." Asbel raised his head, hearing the warmth in his sister's voice. She was looking at him again with a slight smirk and one raised eyebrow. He stood a little straighter and smiled at her cheerfully.

-"Well, it's a good thing the most fearsome penpusher in the city has my back! Beware, or she could bury you under paperwork and bills!" The only answer he got was a paper ball shot in his direction as he ducked out towards the exit. He saluted his sister one last time:

-"I'm going to try to make myself useful! See you later!"

Already immersed in her files once more, she waved at him vaguely. He tiptoed out of the house, grabbing his bag on the way.

-"Try to make myself useful. Mmh. Try, that's the word." he muttered, gazing at the city that stretched out before him.

*****

That’s it! It might be a little blunt and pretty unclear, but it’s normal! I’ll probably do more straightforward character presentations one of these days, but this is meant only as a way to introduce my characters in the first chapters.

You’re free to ask questions if you really want to know more, though! But be aware that this is the very beginning of the novel, so the things you see here are not gonna stay unchanged...

Don’t hesitate to ask to be added to the taglist!

@iced-ginger-tea @bloomseey-writes @lottieiswriting @imturtlelyawriter @awkwardplantwrites

I’m adding the French version below for those who might be interested!

*****

"Quoi? Moi? Non, non! Pas du tout!"

Asbel agitait frénétiquement les mains en signe d'excuse devant le marchand qui empourprait à vue d'oeil.

"Si mon chargement n'est toujours pas arrivé, c'est forcément de ta faute! tonitrua le large homme en pressant son doigt contre le torse du jeune homme. C'est toi qui devais te charger du message, et la livraison devrait déjà être là, si tu n'étais pas un imbécile bon à rien!

-Mais je vous assure que je n'y suis pour rien! J'ai transmis vos termes à Rolven, elle a confirmé l'accord et c'est tout! Elle n'a jamais mentionné un délai de livraison plus long!

-Ah vraiment? Et comment je suis sensé faire, moi, avec mes clients qui attendent leurs poutres? Si elle avait besoin de plus de temps que convenu, elle aurait dû me le faire savoir! Comment je peux être sûr que tu n'as pas juste oublié de lui en parler?

-Quoi? Mais non, pas du tout! Je vous assure que je lui ai tout dit!

-Et la fois où tu as oublié le rendez-vous de Garmann, hein? Et l'accord entre Vance et Harril? C'est pas la première fois que tu foires une mission parce que t'es pas fichu de retenir ce qu'on te dit! Je sais même pas pourquoi ton père s'obstine à te garder!

-Le ren- Mais c'était- Bon sang, je vous jure que je n'ai rien oublié! Elle ne m'a rien dit! Rien! Elle a dû être retardée par les pluies! Ce n'est pas de ma faute!" Le marchand croisa les bras et le toisa, les sourcils froncés.

-"Les pluies. Ouais. En attendant, c'est moi qui vais devoir me coltiner les clients furieux. La prochaine fois que tu me causes des problèmes, ton père entendra parler de toi, tu peux en être sûr!

-Mais je n'ai même pas-

-Allez, file de là ! J'ai autre chose à faire que de t'écouter pleurnicher!"

Asbel serra les poings, salua le commerçant d'un signe de tête et sortit. Derrière lui, l'homme s'attelait en grommelant à noircir un peu plus un livre de comptes couvert de notes.

"Parfait. Encore un problème. Comme si j'avais pas déjà le pire tableau de chasse de toute la ville." Asbel passa le seuil de la maison et posa son sac de coursier dans l'entrée. "Et une matinée de perdue!" marmonna-t-il, soufflant pour repousser les mèches blondes qui s'échappaient de sa tresse.

"J'en déduis que tu as eu des problèmes avec Verik?"

Asbel se figea, puis passa la tête dans l'encadrement de la porte du bureau et eut un soupir, de soulagement cette fois.

Sa sœur était assise devant une mer de dossiers et de feuilles, ses cheveux sable remontés en un chignon strict. Elle le fixait, l'air d'attendre quelque chose, mais une lueur d'amusement dansait dans ses yeux.

-"Bon sang, tu m'as fait peur! J'ai cru que Papa était là! Plus tard il apprendra comment ça s'est fini, mieux je me porterai..." dit-il avec lassitude. Il fit quelques pas dans la pièce et sur le coin d'une table.

-"Ça s'est si mal passé que ça? Verik aurait dû s'attendre à du retard, ça fait trois semaines que les villages en amont parlent des intempéries dans leurs missives. Il n'est pas le seul à qui ça cause des problèmes."

Asbel eut un rire étranglé. Il était agité, ses jambes se balançant sous la table.

-"Si tu veux aller lui en parler, crois moi, je te retiens pas! Mais c'est tellement plus facile de m'accuser moi... Il a même mentionné le rendez-vous de Garmann! Alors que c'était même pas de ma faute, c'est lui qui n'a pas précisé qu'il lui fallait un interprète! Et un Ilmani en plus! Pas le genre de gars qui se trouve à n'importe quel coin de rue!"

Sa sœur le fixait, son regard indéchiffrable. Ses mains retombèrent piteusement à ses côtés.

-"Je sais bien que si je continue à avoir des problèmes, je vais encore devoir trouver un autre travail. Mais je fais de mon mieux, je t'assure..."

Les yeux de sa soeur restèrent posés sur lui quelques instant de plus, puis elle se retourna vers son bureau, remit de l'ordre dans ses feuilles déjà parfaitement ordonnées et reprit le roseau à encre qu'elle avait posé.

-"Tous les échanges avec les villages sont coupés depuis cinq jours. Il était temps d'envoyer quelques personnes jeter un œil et leur donner un coup de main, de toute façon. J'en profiterai pour voir où en est Rolven avec la livraison, ça devrait calmer les clients de Verik." Le grattement du roseau sur le papier, léger, semblait maintenant attirer toute l'attention de la jeune femme. Asbel se laissa glisser au sol, ses pieds touchant le plancher avec un bruit sourd.

-"Je... Dés- Merci.

- Papa sortira sûrement tard du conseil, Verik sera calmé d'ici là. En attendant, passe voir aux archives si ils ont besoin de toi. Il y a quand même des gens dans cette ville qui apprécient ton travail." La chaleur dans la voix de sa sœur fit relever la tête à Asbel. Elle le regardait de nouveau, avec un léger sourire en coin et un sourcil relevé. Il se redressa un peu et lui sourit joyeusement.

-"Heureusement que la gratte-papier la plus redoutable de toute la cité couvre mes arrières! Prenez garde, elle pourrait vous enterrer sous la paperasse et les livres de comptes!" La seule réponse qu'il obtint fut une boulette de papier lancée dans sa direction tandis qu'il s'esquivait vers la sortie. Il adressa un dernier salut à sa sœur :

-"Je vais essayer de me rendre utile! À plus tard!"

Déjà replongée dans ses dossiers, elle lui fit un vague signe de la main. Il quitta la maison sur la pointe des pieds en reprenant sa besace au passage.

"Essayer de me rendre utile. Mmh. Essayer, c'est le mot." marmonna-t-il en regardant la ville qui s'ouvrait devant lui.

#another one done!#my writing #wip #land of hope #asbel!#i love him but i still can't write him quite right #i'm working on it...#he'll be easier to understand once he's with the others

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forasecondtherewedwon · 6 years ago

Note

You are such an awesome writer! Could you do 56 with choni?

Thank you, Anon!! Amazingly, this is the very last Choni drabble from all those requests. It was a good one to go out on.

56. “I’m sorry, what? I keep getting lost inyour eyes.”

What did a word like ‘emancipation’ mean when you behaved in the same waysyou always had, trod the same tired halls, filled the same slot in the highschool social order? Cheryl felt like as much of a seventeen-year-old smalltown cheerleader with a murderer for a pater as she ever had while living underthe torment of her mother’s domestic reign, so when Polly came to town on anextended visit with her twins, Cheryl requested that she stay with Nana Rose inorder to give the old woman a chance to spend time with her great-grandbabies.Just like that, Cheryl was left to her own devices, free to grow, to explore,to learn, to… Paris!

This was what she’d been born for, Cheryl realized one morning, drinking anextravagantly priced coffee at the crack of dawn while first light projectedthe scalloped peaks of the neighbourhood buildings down onto the street ofcobblestones. Surely, she had been switched at birth, born the child of aFrench couple after an unfortunate twist of fate found them in Riverdale with apremature delivery. What other explanation was there for the rightness Cherylfelt throughout her being as she jaywalked in tea dresses and kitten heels, orread Les Fleurs du Mal for hours on a bench overlooking the Seine?

A month passed like one of the ‘5-6-7-8’s she used to shout at her cheersquad and Cheryl found she had perfected the glamourous ennui of the French, tromping the boulevards of le neuvième until she could reconstruct the PalaisGarnier with her eyes shut to the golden sunshine of late summer. She’d seenall the main attractions several times over and while her overwhelming preferencewas to venture out on foot just to breathe Paris in, on the days when itrained, she began to search harder for new diversions.

Which was how, one afternoon,Cheryl darted out of an almost empty boutique and sprinted for theuncomfortably cramped entryway of a little museum between cloudbursts.

The girl behind the front desk practically glared at her, glancing up from her folded-over novel as Cheryl shook the water from her coat over the rubber mat. Cheryl ignored her while she acclimatized, pulling her long red hair out from inside her coat and peering around. It was a small gallery, full of moody-looking portraits. Parfait, she thought, and approached the girl who grew less and less sullen the closer Cheryl came.

“Voulez-vous une visite guidée, mademoiselle?”

“Oui,” Cheryl accepted witha ready smile.

“English? American?” the girlenquired, smiling back now and coming out from behind the desk.

Cheryl sighed. How did they alwaysknow?

“Yes,” she admitted, feeling herheart speed up a little as the girl brushed by her, leading her into theforemost room of the gallery, “but you can give the tour in French. I’m happyto get more practice with the language.”

“Me too, with English,” shelaughed. “I study it at school.”

Her laugh, like so many things inthis city, charmed Cheryl, who found herself extending her hand toshake.

“Cheryl.”

“Toni.”

“Is that French?” she wonderedaloud, feeling too comfortable with her guide to fear giving offense.

“Really it’s Antoinette,” Toni admitted,“but using my nickname means fewer odd comments.”

“You don’t say,” Cheryl jokeddryly. “I can’t imagine why a name like Antoinette would be unpopular in Franceof all places.”

Toni laughed again.

“Viens, Cheryl. I can see from your outfit that you have remarkable taste. Ithink you will enjoy our portrait collection.”

As she was led through the rooms(which stretched deep into the building, making the narrow gallery much largerthan Cheryl has suspected), she considered her guide. Clearly, this place had amuch laxer standard for employee appearance than the Louvre, for example. Tonihad several piercings up her ear, not to mention hair the colour of some of themost beautiful pastries Cheryl had seen during her informal, self-guided tourof Paris’s bakeries and patisseries early on in her trip. Very quickly, Cherylwas devoting all of her attention to watching Toni as the rich oil paint facesof brooding 18th century aristocrats seemed to slide past.

Eventually, in the middle of aprepared speech about the woman in the painting they were currently standing infront of, Toni caught Cheryl staring and gave her a flattered sort of smile.

“I’m sorry, what?” Cheryl said with a laugh. “I keep getting lost in youreyes.”

Toni flushed, but a definiteconfidence sprang into her expression.

“Yes, the subject’s gaze isparticularly haunting,” she said, making an excuse for Cheryl’s forwardness bygesturing to the artwork. “You are not the first to comment on―”

“Jepense que tu sais ce que j’ai dit,” Cheryl challenged with a toss of her hair.

“It’s true, my English isexceptional,” Toni replied, acknowledging that she did indeed know what Cheryl’sintention had been.

“Ah, I love a girl without a shredof false modesty,” Cheryl praised. “When are you done work?”

“Now.” Toni grinned at her beforeleading her back towards the front of the gallery. “Did you eat before you camein? I could show you a place.”

“Please,” Cheryl encouraged. “I’mhere to explore.”

#my writing #drabble #riverdale drabble #choni drabble #riverdale #riverdale fanfiction #choni #choni fanfiction #cheryl blossom #toni topaz #nana rose #polly cooper #riverdale au #choni in Paris

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commentcestchaud-blog · 6 years ago

Text

J'ai jamais apprécier Kanye West, il y a bien son morceau Stronger que j'aime beaucoup mais le personnage m'a jamais vraiment attiré. Un bon gros molosse du capitalisme américain à mes yeux.

Mais franchement le type depuis qu'il pète les plombs (si t'écoutes les médias hein) il est tellement mais tellement remonter dans mon estime. Bon voilà ça vaut ce que ça vaut hein. Mais je trouve ça formidable qu'un artiste aussi influent balance de ces pavés dans une mare beaucoup trop lisse depuis trop longtemps.

Le meilleur pour moi c'est son passage chez TMZ où le gars te sort dans le plus grand des calmes "l'esclavage des noirs pendant 400 ans, 400 ans ? Ça ressemble à un choix"

Et les teubés bien-pensants américains se sont directement insurgés en liant directement ses propos à la traite des noirs. Seulement la traite des noirs en Amérique dont le début est daté à 1619 s'est arrêté officiellement en 1865 ce qui fait 246 ans. Mais si tu ajoute 400 ans à 1619 tu tombes sur 2019.

Même si les propos de Kanye dans cet interview ne sont pas très très clair, ce qu'il essaie de mettre en évidence c'est un esclavagisme mental encore présent aujourd'hui. Il le dit lui même "nous choisissons d'être esclave".

Si tu comprends l'anglais oral et que t'as un peu de temps voici l'interview de Kanye de chez TMZ

Les propos qu'il tient dans cet interview, bien qu'un peu confus, sont remplis de vérités à mes yeux et pas seulement au mien apparemment.

T'as aussi ce concert, après lequel il a fini en psychiatrie, LA CHANCE, où il tient un discours bien enragé et extrêmement intéressant. Voici le lien

Enfin bref, Kanye West gagne tout mon respect en fesant ça c'est admirable de voir quelqu'un avec autant de notoriété tenir un tel discours.

Pour conclure sur une note musicale :

youtube

My wife said, I can't say no to nobody

And at this rate we gon' both die broke

Got friends that ask me for money knowin' I'm in debt

And like my wife said, I still didn't say no

People tryna say I'm goin' crazy on Twitter

My friends' best advice was to stay low

I guess it's hard to decipher all of the bills

Especially when you got family members on payroll

The media said it was outlandish spendin'

The media said he's way out of control

I just feel like I'm the only one not pretendin'

I'm not out of control, I'm just not in they control

I know I'm the most influential

That TIME cover was just confirmation

This generation's closest thing to Einstein

So don't worry about me, I'm fine

I can see a thousand years from now in real life

Skate on the paradigm and shift it when I feel like

Troll conventional thought, don't need to question

I know it's antiquated so sometimes I get aggressive

Thank God For Jay Electra, he down with the mission

Did it with with no permission, on our own conditions

Most Blacks with money have been beaten to submission

Yeezy with the big house, did it way different

Never listen to Hollywood producers

Don't stare at money too long, it's Medusa

The ultimate Gemini has survived

I wasn't supposed to make it past 25

And you're lookin' at the church in the night sky

Wonderin' whether God's gonna say hi

Oh, you're lookin' at the church in the night sky

And you wonder where is God in your nightlife

Yeah, you're lookin' at the church in the night sky

(Father, father, father...)

Wonderin' whether God's gonna say hi

The night sky, yeah, I feel like I'm home, yeah

I've been wakin' the spirits of millions more to come

A million illegally downloaded my truth over the drums

I believe in the children, listen to the kids, bro

If the phone ringin', go and get your kids ho

Brother Don Muhammad told the minister about the presentation

He sat back and smiled

Black on black lies is worse than black on black crime

The Jews share their truth on how to make a dime

Most black men couldn't balance a checkbook

But buy a new car, talkin' 'bout "how my neck look?"

Well... it all looks great

Four hundred years later, we buyin' our own chains

The light is before us brothers, so the devil workin' hard

Real family stick together and see through the mirage

The smokescreens, perceptions of false reality

Who the real owner if your boss gets a salary?

I am one with the people

I am one with the people (real)

I've been woken from enlightened man's dream

Checkin' Instagram comments to crowdsource my self esteem

Let me not say too much or do too much

Cause if I'm up way too much, I'm out of touch

I'm prayin' a out-of-body experience will happen

So the people can see my light, now it's not just rappin'

God, I have humbled myself before the court

Drop my ego and confidence was my last resort

I know, I know he got a plan, I know I'm on your beams

One set of footsteps, you was carryin' me

When I turned on the news and they was buryin' me

One set of footsteps, you was carryin' me

When I was negotiatin' with Apple, it was Larry and me

Told Tim Cook to call me, I was scary to see

I would've took a hundred million and gave 20 to Hov

I heard it's the way they did it when we only had a stove

But it's better that I stayed at home with my folks

Cause if Jay a billionaire then I'ma never go broke

Only thing I ask is next time I'm on stage we all go

We all go

Not just by myself, lookin' for niggas like where's Waldo

She got the same shoes as my wife but she copped 'em at Aldo

Modern day MJ with a off the wall flow

My life, walk all over me

Walk all over me

I'm deliverin' everything I've ever sent to you, bring

Fly, fly, fly overseas

Fly overseas

Oh, anywhere, everything but in between

Yeah, you're lookin' at the church in the night sky

Wonderin' whether God's gonna say hi

Oh, you're lookin' at the church in the night sky

And you wonder where is God in your nightlife

Yeah, you're lookin' at the church in the night sky

Wonderin' whether God's gonna say hi

Oh, you're lookin' at the church in the night sky

And you wonder where is God in your nightlife

Please face me when I speak

Please say to me somethin' before you leave

You've been treatin' me like I'm invisible

Not visible to you

Oh the invisible truths they sold

I can't quite understand the games you play

Understand, understand

Understand I'm standin' under oath

And I promised I, I wouldn't fall anymore

But I'm cryin' at the bar

I'm wishin' that you saw my scars

I'm wishin' that you came down here

And stood by me

Like you knew me

But I feel so alone

Like I don't know anyone but the night sky

Yeah, you're lookin' at the church in the night sky

Wonderin' whether God's gonna say hi

Oh, you're lookin' at the church in the night sky

And you wonder where is God in your nightlife

Yeah, you're lookin' at the church in the night sky

(Father, father, father...)

Wonderin' whether God's gonna say hi

Oh, you're lookin' at the church in the night sky

And you wonder where is God in your nightlife

(Father, father, father...)

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winsister91 · 7 years ago

Text

Le Mal Du Pays

Word Count: 1325 Warnings: Some mild angst, heavy fluffage, have google translate at the ready

A/N: This was a challenge. I love it! Something different to turn into fluffy wonderful goodness. Thank you for the request @samisimportant ! I hope it’s okay :)

My Masterlist

~ Sam and forever tags are open! ~

Y/N sat on the roof of the Impala, watching the sunset over the lake. Watching the blood orange hue of the sun’s light reflecting from the water made her miss home...and her family. Picnics by the Saint Lawrence River, full of laughter and smiles. Walking down the cobbled streets of Old Quebec at night, the stunning Château Frontenac looming over, illuminated beautifully like the town’s own personal star. The Cathedral-Basilica just a stone’s throw away. It was so stunning, and she took all those things for granted when she was there. She’d give anything to go back.

Dean cursed. Bringing her back to reality. He was tinkering away under the hood of the car, evidently pissed that his baby had broken down. She never broke down. Y/N knew well enough not to comment and stay away while he worked. So she sat, looking over the picturesque lake that Baby had decided to conk out next to.

She thought about her friends. Her mum. They probably all thought she was dead. When hunting took over her life she kept it secret to protect them from it all. Then she went and pissed off some high ranking vamp and went on the run, cutting all ties. She didn’t want them dragging into it. She could never forgive herself if they got hurt because of her.

Now here she was. Riding life out with the Winchesters. “Saving people, hunting things, the family business”. Homesickness aside, she truly loved her new dysfunctional family. Dean was like a protective older brother, and Sam...he was a wonderful friend. He was stood down on the lake’s edge, looking out, lost in thought just like Y/N. He turned on his heels and headed back over. Catching her eye, they shared a smile. Some wavelength telling each other that they needed some positivity in the form of a simple, facial gesture.

“Son of a bitch!!!” Dean barked, throwing his tools like a child in a tantrum.

“Dean, calm down,” Sam chuckled, patting his brother on the back before climbing up to join you on the Chevy’s roof.

“Hey!” Dean yelled, “One of you sat up there I can deal with. Two of you? You scratch or dent anything I swear to god I will dent you in the heads!” “Well let one of us help you then,” Sam laughed. “No!” the older Winchester pouted, “It’s fine, I got this.” “Vous avez dit qu'il y a deux heures et nous attendons toujours!” Y/N chuckled. The boys stared. Dean with a raised eyebrow and Sam with a look of concern.

“Uh…” Dean mumbled in confusion, “In anglais please?”

“Sorry…” Y/N said, confused herself as to why she switched language, “I just said...it’s been two hours and...you know just forget it.”

She jumped down off the roof and moved to the lakeside. Standing where had stood previously. She rubbed her forehead, Where the hell did that come from?

°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。°。

Dean eventually got Baby back up and running. Proclaiming his awesomeness, he drove them all to the nearest dive motel to crash for the night. Y/N didn’t say a word for the entire drive. More flashes of home kept plaguing her mind. Her Mum’s smile. Arriving at her room, Y/N threw herself onto the bed, clenching her eyes closed. She wanted to hear her Mum’s voice. She could easily pick up that phone and do it. Just call. Tell her everything’s okay. Ask how everyone was. Tell her she missed them. But she couldn’t do it. She’d already turned their lives upside down once by vanishing. Randomly calling two years later? She’d just flip it again. The confusion, the questions, putting them back in danger just by being associated with her. No. It was out of the question.

A knock came from the door, and a voice from behind. “Y/N?”

“Sammy?” she replied, “The door’s open…”

The doorknob clicked and Sam tentatively stepped in, a sympathetic smile on his face.

“Hey,” he said, sitting on the bed next to you, “Dean’s got to the bar.”

“Obviously,” Y/N snorted.

“So I…” Sam scratched his head, “Wondered if you wanted to rent a movie or something?” “I’m…” she sighed, “I’m not sure if I’m feeling it. Just want to go to sleep.” “That’s a shame,” he shrugged, pulling his whole body onto the bed. He folded his arms behind his head and laid back on the pillow next to her, “Because I know something’s wrong, and I’m not going anywhere until you talk to me.”

“It’s fine Sammy,” she chuckled, “I’m okay, just...feeling a little homesick.” “Le mal du pays,” he nodded, “I thought so.”

“What did you just say?”

“Le mal du pays...that’s French for homesick right?”

“Yeah…” Y/N smiled, “Since when did you know French?”

“J'ai suivi un cours en ligne. Un nouveau passe-temps,” Sam winked.

“Pourquoi?” she asked, her cheeks flushing.

“Pour toi,” he explained, “En outre, cela dérangerait vraiment Dean si nous avions nos propres conversations secrètes juste devant lui.”

Y/N laughed, playfully elbowing Sam in the ribs. He laughed with her, catching her elbow before it came in for a second jab. Silence fell as they stared, sharing a moment of nothing but smiles.

“Why don’t we take some time off?” he asked, “Go to Quebec, see your family.”

“Our job’s don't exactly warrant us time off Sammy,” Y/N sighed, “I can’t go back. It’d only cause more pain rather than joy now. It’s been too long.”

“Absurdité!” Sam protested, “We dealt with the Vamp you were worried about. There’ll be questions sure, but just be honest with them and they’ll understand.”

“They’ll think I’m crazy!” she scoffed, “Mum would probably never let me out of her sight again.”

“Just think about it,” Sam insisted, flashing his trademark puppy dog eyes, “S'il vous plaît?”

“Fine,” Y/N answered reluctantly, “But only because you’re being so damn adorable.”

They rented a movie. Y/N wasn’t lying when she said she was tired though. The motel room was cold and Sam was warm and inviting. His arm draped across the headboard provided a nice cubby hole for her to nuzzle into. Not a half hour had passed before the weight of her eyes got the better of her.

Movement woke her. A shift in the mattress. Opening her eyes, she could see Sam getting up. He delicately pulled the sheets and laid them on her.

“N'allez pas Sammy,” she mumbled sleepily, “restez avec moi?”

He smiled, laying back down on the bed next to her. She nudged herself closer as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

“Je suis ici,” he whispered, tucking a stray hair behind her ear.

“Merci Sam,” she hushed, “Tu es si gentil.” She felt his chest heave out with a chuckle, then the warmth of his lips pressing on her forehead.

“Et vous êtes belle,” he said after a pause.

Y/N was awake now. She lifted her head to look up at him, confusion in her eyes.

“You know what you just said, right?” “Positive.”

She tilted her head to process. Losing herself in his hazel eyes. She was speechless. Heart thumping in her rib cage like it was trying to break free. He was the one that let her ride along with him and Dean. He was the one that helped her track down the Vamp that got her into this mess. He was the one who had been secretly learning her home language behind her back because he was sweet. He was the one looking out for her. He was...Sam, her rock.

“Sam…” she whispered as she moved up to look him directly in the eyes, “Fils de pute…”

They smirked at each other, staring once again. Y/N leant into him as he held her cheek, and she let him guide her. Guide her lips into his.

Tags! Forever Posse: @sofreddie @chelsea072498 @ria132love @untitled39887 @chicagolove88 @akshi8278 @sis-tafics @younoeatcheeseyounobefat @mandilion76 @teamfreewill92 @supernaturalmagicfolk @emoryhemsworth @musicistobeheard-blog @pheonyxstorm @mrswhozeewhatsis @turnttover @itspronouncedsatanbitch @the--real-wombat @xagateophobiax @samisimportant @jensen-gal @castiel11235

#supernatural #spn #fanfiction #spn fanfic #sam x reader #sam fluff

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jeveuxvivrelongtemps-blog · 7 years ago

Audio

Cette chanson représente beaucoup pour moi, en plus d’être entraînante, elle donne de l’espoir, je vais vous mettre quelques extraits des paroles qui vont parler d’eux même.

(La traduction se trouve en italique)

“ [...] I feel like I'm out of my mind Je me sens comme hors de moi It feel like my life ain't mine Comme si cette vie n'était pas pour moi [...]

I don't wanna be alive Je ne veux pas être en vie [...] I just wanna die today Je veux juste mourir aujourd'hui [...]

I've been praying for somebody to save me, no one's heroic Je priais pour que quelqu'un me sauve, personne n'est héroïque And my life don’t even matter Et ma vie ne compte même pas I know it I know it I know I'm hurting deep down but can’t show it Je le sais, je le sais, je sais que je suis profondément blessé mais je ne peux le montrer I never had a place to call my own Je n'ai jamais eu d'endroit à moi pour être moi-même I never had a home Je n'ai jamais eu de maison Ain't nobody callin' my phone Personne n'appelait mon portable Where you been? Where you at? What's on your mind? Où étais-tu? Où es-tu? A quoi penses-tu? They say every life precious but nobody care about mine Ils disent que toutes vies sont précieuses mais personne ne s'inquiète pour la mienne

[...]

It's the very first breath C'est le vrai premier souffle When your head's been drownin' under water Ta tête était noyée sous l'eau And it's the light that's in the air Et c'est la clarté dans les airs [...] It's holding on though the roads long Cela tient debout, même si la route est longue Seeing light in the dark, yeah, these things Et voyant la lumière dans les choses ténébreuses And when you stare at your reflection Et lorsque tu fixes ton reflet Finding hope in who it is Sachant finalement de qui il s'agit I know that you'll thank God you did Je sais que tu remercieras Dieu pour l'avoir fait

[...] I know you're the reason I believe in life Je sais que tu es la raison pour laquelle je crois en la vie What's the day without a little night? Qu'est-ce qu'une journée sans un peu de nuit? I'm just tryna shed a little light J'essaie juste de verser un peu de lumière It can be hard Ça peut être dur It can be so hard Ça peut être si dur But you gotta live right now Mais tu vas vivre maintenant You got everything to give right now Tu as tout à donner maintenant

[...]

I finally wanna be alive Je veux finalement être en vie I don't wanna die today Je ne veux pas mourir aujourd'hui I don't wanna die Je ne veux pas mourir [...]

Pain don't hurt the same, I know La douleur ne fait pas souffrir de la même manière, je sais The lane I travel feels alone La voie que je traverse donne la sensation de solitude But I'm moving 'til my legs give out Mais je bouge jusqu'à ce que mes jambes lâchent And I see my tears melt in the snow Et vois mes larmes fondre dans la neige But I don't wanna cry Mais je ne veux pas pleurer I don't wanna cry anymore Je ne veux plus pleurer I wanna feel alive Je veux me sentir en vie I don't even wanna die anymore Je ne veux plus avoir envie de mourir

Voilà, il n’y a pas vraiment besoin d’explications, je pense que chacun interprète la chanson comme il veut, voici juste comment je comprends les paroles et ce qu’elles font appel en moi :

On ressent parfois ce grand vide en nous, on ne voit plus vraiment de raisons d’exister, parce que nous même on ne vit plus vraiment, on survit juste. On n’est plus qu’une coquille vide. On ressent cette solitude. [Et même si parfois on est réellement seul, (ça c’est moi qui le dit ce n’est pas dans la chanson), on n’a toujours quelqu’un a qui parler même si ce sont des professionnels de la santé ou quelqu’un qu’on ne connait pas il faut parler de notre mal être à quelqu’un !] On pense qu’on n’a personne a qui parler, et on ne veut même pas en parler pour ne pas inquiéter, on se dit : “De toute façon à qui pourrais-je en parler vu que je n’ai plus personne, et que personne ne tient réellement à moi ?”. Les gens autour de nous ne nous aident pas vraiment. C’est parce qu’ils ne se rendent pas compte de la situation et de sa gravité, ou que simplement ils n’ont pas la faculté de comprendre, et dans ce cas il faut se tourner vers quelqu’un de compétent.

Et puis quelqu’un ou quelque chose fait qu’on trouve un sens à la vie, fait qu’on puisse enfin de regarder sans plus se haïr. Et même si c’est dur, que le chemin est long, il faut se battre et ne jamais abandonner, on peut toujours s’en sortir, même avec l’aide de quelqu’un, il faut juste en prendre conscience. C’est réellement quelque chose de difficile, mais la vie vaut tellement le coup d’être vécue, et comme ils le disent dans la chanson, ramenez de la lumière dans votre vie !

Prenez soin de vous, n’hésitez pas à me dire ce que vous avez pensé de cette chanson, de mon analyse, de comment vous vous interprétez ces paroles, et partagez les un maximum, il y a toujours des gens à aider.

#khalid #logic #alessia cara #1 800 273 8255 #suicde #mutilation #dépression #aide #soutien #positive #vibes

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jadisjavaisuncoeur · 7 years ago

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#denoncetonporc #denounceyourpig

A toi, alors que je devais avoir 10 ans, m'a suivie alors que j'étais avec ma cousine jusque dans les magasins en nous insultant et alors que j'allais me mettre à pleurer de peur, elle m'a dit "Pas maintenant !" et je n'ai plus jamais pleuré à cause l'un de vous.

To you, when I was around 10, followed me when I was with my cousin up to inside the shops insulting us and as I was starting to cry, she just told me 'Not now !' and I never cried again for any of you.

A toi, alors que j'étais au collège, assise sur le sol en attendant la reprise des cours, qui t'es positionné ente mes jambes, a eu un mouvement de bassin obscène et léchant tes lèvres, m'as dit « Parfait pour s'amuser un peu. »

To you, in middle school, when I was sitting on the ground during recess, who just stood between my legs, had an obscene hip move and, licking your lips, told me « Perfect for some fun. »

A vous deux, au lycée, alors que je marchais vers ma prochaine classe, qui m'ont arrêté pour me dire « Ca te dit pas de me faire une branlette espagnole ? »

To the both of you, in high school, as I was walking to my next class, stopped me to tell me « What about you jerking us off with your breasts ? »

A toi, alors que j'avais 18 ans, à qui j'ai croisé le regard afin de ne pas te rentrer dedans et te toucher, t'es autorisé le geste de me caresser la joue et m'as demandé « Comment tu vas, chérie ? »

To you, when I was 18, whom I cross look with so not to bump into you and touch you, allowed yourself to caress my cheek and asked me « What's up, baby ? »

A toi qui a dit à un de nos amis communs « Je suis incapable de la regarder dans les yeux, ses seins sont juste trop énormes. »

To you who said to one of our common friends « I can't look at her in the eye, her breasts are just so huge. »

A toi qui, ma première année de Strasbourg, m'as suivi du local poubelle jusqu'à devant la porte de ma chambre et m'as forcé à prendre ton numéro alors que j'ai refusé de te donner le mien.

To you, during my first year in Strasbourg, followed me from the garbage bins to my door and forced me to take your number after I numerously refused to give you mine.

A toi qui, l'année dernière, étais trop occupé à regarder ma poitrine de ta voiture pour remarquer que le feu était passé au vert.

To you, last year, too busy staring at my chest from your car that you missed the light going green.

A vous deux pour qui j'ai dû rentrer chez une amie que j'ai dû faire passer pour ma copine afin d'être sûre que vous serez assez loin pour que je sois sûre d'être en sécurité, qui avez bloqué la porte avec votre pied pour demander mon nom et après un refus, mon numéro.

To the both of you who made me come into my friend's house, after telling you she was my girlfriend, to be sure I could go back out safely and put your foot in the door just to ask my name, and after a refusal, my number.

A vous tous qui avez totalement ignoré mon refus jusqu'à ce que je mente sur l'existence d'un copain.

To all of you who ignored my 'no' until I lied on the existence of a boyfriend.

A vous tous qui, apprenant que j'étais bisexuelle, m'avez proposé des plans à trois, à quatre, à cinq.

To all of you who, learning I was bisexual, asked me for a threesome, foursome, fivesome.

A vous qui ne me connaissez pas, qui ne m'avez jamais rencontré, mais commentez à ma copine la taille de mes seins.

To all of you who don't know me, haven't met me, but comment to my girlfriend about the size of my breasts.

A toi qui, Mercredi dernier, a essayé de m'embrasser alors que je rentrais chez moi.

To you who, last Wednesday, tried to kiss me as I was walking home.

A vous trois qui, alors qu'encore une fois je rentrais chez moi, Vendredi, m'avez suivi pendant cinq minutes entières en me sifflant.

To the three of you who, as once again I was walking home last Friday, followed me for a solid five minutes, whistling at me.

A vous, que j'ai arrêté de compter, qui avez commencé avec des 't'es belle' et avez fini avec des 'va te faire sauter, salope' alors que je vous ignorais.

To all of you, I stopped counting, who started with 'hey gorgeous' and finished with 'go fuck yourself, you slut' as I ignored you.

A vous tous qui avez essayé de me coincer contre un mur alors que je dansais en boîte de nuit.

To all of you who tried to trap me against a wall as I went clubbing.

A vous tous qui vous êtes sentis libre de m'attraper les fesses parce que j'avais l'audace d'être partie danser.

To all of you who felt free to grabb my ass because I had the audacity of going dancing.

A vous dix qui, pendant les quinze minutes de marche que rentrer chez moi prend, avez trouvé tous différentes façons de me faire sentir objectifiée.

To the ten of you, during the fifteen minutes it takes to walk home, found different ways to make me feel objectified.

A vous tous que j'ai oublié mais dont je sais l'existence.

To all of you I forgot but whom I know the existence of.

A vous tous qui m'avez fait oublier les autres parce que vous avez assez normalisé ce genre de comportement pour me faire penser 'juste un de plus'.

To a of you who made me forget about the others because you normalizes that behavior against me and made me think 'it's just one more'.

A vous tous qui me faites sentir honteuse d'être femme et souvent, dans les événements les plus quotidiens.

To all of you who makes me feel ashamed of being a woman and often, in the most daily gestures of life.

A vous tous qui font que mes amies me demandent trois fois 't'es sûre que tu ne veux pas dormir chez moi ?' quand je m'apprête à rentrer.

To all of you who make my friends ask me three times 'Are you sure you do'nt want to sleep here ?' when I get ready to go home.

A chaque putain d'entre vous qui, alors que je reviens sur ces événements, me faites sentir reconnaissante parce que, c'est vrai.

To every fucking one of you who, when I think back to these events, make me feel grateful because, it's true.

Ca aurait pu être pire.

It could have been worse.

#i need to work back on it but heh #denoncetonporc

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hamilkilo · 7 years ago

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Communication is Key

Prompt: I have a prompt! How about hamilsquad where the reader is a polyglot and the squad finding about the different languages at random times? Like she randomly answers a question in French to Laf or sings in Spanish to John when he's ill or starts cursing someone out in Arabic or something? Pairing: Poly!Hamilsquad X Reader TW: spicy language, attempted google translate, multilingual-rough translations, mention of bees???? Fluff and sass A/N: sorry this took so long! I finally finished it though! I loved writing this! It was fun to explore different languages, and I'm sorry if they are incorrect! Please, if something is wrong, let me know so I can fix it! I want you to feel correctly represented! If you want me to tag something, please tell me! I want you to feel safe when reading my work! I love you! Please enjoy! Word Count: 1291 When you first met the boys, you were standing in the garden section of Walmart on a warm, spring day, hoping to buy some flowers for your flower box. You had kept an eye on the gorgeous men walking around, casually listening in on their conversation. They were funny, so it took a lot of your restraint to contain the laughter. They heard it though. You couldn't help it. "Qu'est-ce c'est?" The tall one cried out as he held a plant over his head. "C'est vingt et cinq pour une petite fleur? Une petite fleur! Qu'est-ce très spécial avec ma fleur?" You couldn't stop yourself from replying. You hardly ever got to speak French. No one spoke it in your area. "C'est un, comment a dit, Fleur de Africa. C'est impossible pour tu tues. Très résilient. Et, regard!" You had joined them and you gently brought the flower back down so you could admire it. "Il est très beau!" "Alex," John whispered, "what are they saying?" Alex grinned as he watched you interact with Lafayette, pointing to the petals and complimenting their colors in French. "Laf was outraged by the price. '25 for a small flower! What's so special about my flower?' If you ask me, I'd say the flower we took from his was worth a little more than 25," he sniggered to John, and they high fived. You ignored them and continued talking with Laf. "She said that it was an African Flower and that they're impossible to kill. They're resilient and pretty." Alex continued explaining. John leaned down and whispered to Alex, "Creo que es muy bonita." You blushed to yourself, replaying their words in your head. "I think she's very pretty..." You smiled at them as Alex's eyes searched theirs. "Hace calor que ella pueda hablar un idioma diferente." Alex replied, watching you as you handed Laf the plant. You glanced up at Laf with a small smile, "I think it's hot that you can speak a different language." You repeated Alex's words to Laf, changing it to "you" instead of "she", and he blushed. "Oh, merci. Uh, je m'appelle Lafayette, et c'est Hercules. Fais attention pour Alex et John. Ils parlent l'Espagnol et ils sont insensé. Mais, je les aimes." You went over it one more time in your head. He said his name was Lafayette, then he discerned Herc, Alex, and John. Your eyes bounced from face to face as Alex and John continued to whisper in Spanish, which Lafayette mentioned the spoke. You already knew that. He also mentioned they were foolish. You could already tell they were troublemakers. But he also said he loved them. You continued to converse with Laf in French, still eavesdropping on the other two. Herc had followed a bee around, clearly left out of the entire thing. He looked content in bee watching though. Laf had liked you so much that you had swapped numbers and had started texting in French. You and him grew together quickly. You had all met up for coffee once, and you were waiting in line, when you noticed an Arabic woman struggling to communicate with the barista. Se kept repeating a phrase, but the barista couldn't get it. You went up to her, and the barista opened her mouth to chase you off, but you turned to the woman. You asked her what she needed. "ماذا تحتاج" She replied that she wanted an iced Pink Drink. "انا اريد Pink Drink. مثلج." You nodded and turned back to the barista, translating for her. She nodded and gave you the total, but you covered it for the woman. She argued with you, but you had insisted. You converted lightly in Arabic as you waited for your drinks. She mentioned how she liked the weather today and that it was nice to meet people she could talk to. John stood at the back of the line, shook, as he listened to the foreign, beautiful language that flowed between you two. Once you got your drinks, you said goodbye, and you went your separate ways. You went back to wait with John, who just stared at you for a moment. "That was bad ass. What language was that?" He asked you as you slurped the pink drink you had also gotten. "Arabic," you elaborated in between sips. "Wow! French, English, and Arabic! That's awesome!" You shrugged. He didn't know the half of it. He smiled at you, and you smiled back, knowing you know more than he did. John had gotten his drink and the other three's drinks, and you went with him back to where the others were sitting. "Y/N can speak Arabic!" He exclaimed, and all eyes were on you. "Oh wow! That's so cool!" Herc seemed really excited, and he patted you on the shoulder. You nodded shyly. "You should've seen her! It was so cool!" John sat down by Alex and they held hands. They began to chat casually in Spanish to each other and you sat down in the arm chair. You lightly conversed back and forth with Laf in French, and then in English to include Herc. John and Alex were off in their own little La La Land. The next time you guys decided to meet, you had gone to a Mexican restaurant. Alex and John ordered in Spanish, then began talking with the waiter in Spanish. They had a good talk about how cute you were. You smiled politely, forming a plan. You had gotten a bit annoyed with them talking about you like you weren't there. It was too much like high school. They talked on and off in Spanish throughout dinner, but you kept Laf in English mode so that Herc was involved. When the waiter came back with the ticket, you handed him your card. "Soy multilingüe, perra." Then you turned and waved to the other boys that were staring at you. "¿Qué? yo hablo español. Tal vez si pasas más tiempo hablando conmigo y menos hablando de mí, Usted recogerá en eso y realmente podemos tener una conversación decente." You looked to Herc, and explained. "Papi and papi over here were talking to the waiter about how cute they think I am. The waiter agreed that I have a nice ass. I said to him, 'I'm multilingual, bitch.' Then I said to these two, 'What? I speak Spanish. Maybe if you spend more time talking to me and less about me, you will pick up on that and we can actually have a decent conversation.'" "Damn," Herc chortled. "That's cold. I love that!" He high fives you while Alex and John glanced back at each other and then at you. "Sorry," Alex finally said. "We're not used to people being able to understand us. We usually don't find many multilingual people." "It's cool. Just maybe next time, tell the girl you think she's cute, not just whisper about it?" You eyes them as they both flushed crimson. "Hey, Y/N," John beckoned you closer to him. "I think you're cute." You'd been dating the boys for about a month or two, and they'd picked up on the fact that you're a polyglot. You never did tell them which languages you spoke, they just figured it out when you yelled at a guy on the train in Korean for feeling you up. You also gave a sweet, Japanese woman a flower and talked to her about your day. You never ceased to amaze them with the number of languages you were seemingly fluent in. What could you say? You loved talking to people. You loved communication and words. You loved all the different ways you could say I love you to people.

#hamilton #alexander hamilton #hamiltrash #hamilsquad #polyamory #polyhamilsquad #poly!hamilsquad #laurens #lafayette #john laurens #mulligan #marquis de lafayette #hercules #hercules mulligan #fanfiction #fanfic #my work #my writing

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venisemonamour · 5 years ago

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Tu cherches un moyen, une astuce ou une technique pour apprendre du vocabulaire en italien de manière originale, sans passer par des listes classées par thématique avec juste la traduction et un exemple à côté ?

Je te présente mon ALFABETO ITALIANO !

En réalité, j’ai organisé cet événement sur Instagram en publiant 1 mot par jour pendant 3 semaines, mais je veux le partager avec toi sur le blog aussi pour que tu puisses facilement lire et relire le vocabulaire que je te propose de manière plus agréable que sur un réseau social.

Et je prévois même de faire plusieurs éditions pour t’aider à découvrir encore plus de mots et d’expressions en italien : tu pourras les retrouver dans la catégorie spéciale APPRENDRE DU VOCABULAIRE EN ITALIEN.

Le but est de te faire deviner le sens de chaque terme, sans utiliser d’images ni donner la traduction, mais avec un mélange d’exemples, d’anecdotes, d’explications et d’exercices en italien et en français !

Prêt.e pour la première édition de mon ALFABETO ITALIANO ?

Comme tu le sais, l’alphabet italien comprend seulement 21 lettres… alors c’est parti pour 21 mots qui, je l’espère, te permettront d’enrichir ton vocabulaire dans la langue de Dante !

AMORE

Quoi de mieux que de parler de notre AMORE pour l’Italie et l’italien pour bien commencer ?

En ce qui me concerne, c’est la langue qui est d’abord entrée dans mon cœur, puis le pays et sa culture.

« Je veux avoir l’Italie dans ma vie et parler italien tous les jours. »

C’est à peu près ce que je répondais au lycée à chaque fois que l’on me demandait ce que je voulais faire de ma vie.

Et j’ai eu la chance d’étudier la langue, la littérature et la civilisation italiennes de manière approfondie à l’université, puis de vivre dans 6 villes italiennes : Padoue, Florence, Piacenza, Venise x3, Macerata, Busto Arsizio.

« J’ai donné mon cœur à l’Italie et Venise a pris mon âme. »

J’en ai donc profité pour voyager dans (presque) toute l’Italie, encore et encore, et pour toujours… parce que je rêve de découvrir et de redécouvrir toutes ses régions, provinces, villes, villages et bourgs.

Et ce que j’ai remarqué depuis 2009, c’est que je me retrouvais à chaque fois à Venise pour y vivre et/ou y voyager, comme si l’univers faisait tout pour me ramener à cette ville et me faire comprendre que ma place s’y trouvait.

C’est la raison pour laquelle j’ai choisi de m’établir de manière permanente sur cette île unique, dove mi sento come a casa mia, pour vivre de ma passion.

Et toi, peux-tu m’expliquer ton AMORE pour l’Italie et l’italien ?

BRINDISI

Je pense que tu connais (au moins de nom) la ville du même nom qui se trouve dans les Pouilles.

J’ai visité plusieurs endroits de cette magnifique région, mais alors BRINDISI j’y suis passée en coup de vent un soir pour prendre un train de nuit direction ANCONA pour ma correspondance jusqu’à MACERATA où j’ai vécu en 2013/2014.

Parlons à présent de BRINDISI en tant que nom commun.

Dans ce cas précis, on utilise ce terme lorsqu’on lève son verre pour boire en l’honneur/à la santé de quelqu’un ou de quelque chose.

L’expression précise pour cela est : FARE UN BRINDISI.

Esempi :

Fare un brindisi agli sposi.

Fare un brindisi in onore degli ospiti.

Et il y a également le verbe BRINDARE si tu préfères !

Est-ce que tu connais ce mot, l’expression qui en découle et son verbe ?

Et as-tu déjà visité Brindisi ou une autre ville des Pouilles ?

CANTINA

J’ai choisi ce mot parce qu’il s’agit d’un faux-ami.

Eh oui ! CANTINA ne veut absolument pas dire CANTINE en français !

Voici quelques phrases pour te laisser deviner sa véritable signification :

La cantina è un locale che si trova per lo più nello scantinato di un edificio.

Ho spostato tutti i vestiti che non indosso più ed i libri che non leggo più in cantina.

Mi fa paura andare in cantina perché fa sempre buio.

Et il a même un deuxième sens :

La cantina è anche un locale seminterrato per produrre o conservare vini.

Voilà, maintenant tu sais que la prochaine fois que tu voudras parler de CANTINE, il ne faudra pas utiliser le mot CANTINA en italien parce que ce n’est pas vraiment la même chose !

Alors, as-tu deviné ce que signifie en français le mot CANTINA ?

Et sais-tu comment on dit CANTINE en italien ?

DOLCE

Parlons maintenant de bouffe… et plus précisément de DOLCE !

Je vais te faire une révélation : je préfère largement le salé au sucré/doux.

Tu as là le premier sens de DOLCE.

Donc tout ce qui est boissons sucrées, bonbons, patates douces et autres, ce n’est clairement pas ce qui me fait raffoler !

Pour te dire toute la vérité, le seul dessert que j’aime est le… TIRAMISÙ !

Et voici le deuxième sens de ce terme !

Mes parents, mes sœurs et mes nièces me répètent que c’est juste parce que c’est italien… mais c’est faux parce qu’il existe une tonne de desserts 🇮🇹 (ou pas, d’ailleurs) et rien que d’y penser, ça m’écœure !

Alors oui, on peut être folle de l’Italie et de sa gastronomie mais NE RESSENTIR AUCUNE ENVIE FACE À SES DOLCI (et à aucun autre dolce de n’importe quel pays, d’ailleurs).

Et toi, tu aimes les desserts ?

Quel est ton dolce* italiano préféré ?

* Tu peux aussi utiliser le mot français DESSERT, mais bon, on est là pour parler italiano et utiliser des mots italiens !

EVIDENZIATORE

Je ne sais pas si tu connais déjà ce mot, mais je suis sûre que tu l’utilises et/ou l’a déjà utilisé (peut-être quotidiennement) par le passé !

Et pour te le faire comprendre, je vais juste t’expliquer ce que c’est, mais sans utiliser sa traduction en français :

Il s’agit d’un objet qui est très utile lorsqu’on lit et qu’on veut prendre des notes… mais attention, ce n’est ni un stylo, ni un crayon. Il existe en plusieurs couleurs et on pourrait dire qu’il ressemble à un gros feutre.

Pour finir, je précise aussi qu’un EVIDENZIATORE sert à… EVIDENZIARE !

Alors, peux-tu me dire ce que signifie EVIDENZIATORE (et donc EVIDENZIARE) ?

FINTA

FINTA fait partie des premiers mots que j’ai appris et adorés en italien, et je ne saurais même pas te dire pourquoi !

Je crois que c’est l’expression dans laquelle ce mot est utilisé qui me fait rire et sourire : FARE FINTA*.

Elle est trop belle, non ?

No, non sono una tipa strana!

Bon allez, voici quelques exemples :

Lorenzo fa finta di stare male per non andare a scuola perché non ha studiato per l’esame.

Le vacanze sono finite ma facciamo finta che sia ancora estate.

On a aussi l’expression FARE FINTA DI NULLA que l’on pourrait paraphraser de cette façon : FARE COME SE NULLA FOSSE STATO.

Esempio:

Alessio ha problemi finanziari ma fa finta di nulla e continua a non cercare lavoro.

* Je te donne aussi son synonyme : FINGERE.

As-tu compris ce que signifie FINTA ?

Connaissais-tu les deux versions FARE FINTA et FINGERE ?

Laquelle préfères-tu utiliser ?

GIUNGERE

Il s’agit une nouvelle fois de l’un de mes mots préférés en italien.

Ecco alcuni esempi:

Siamo giunti a casa.

È giunto il momento di cambiare lavoro.

Abbiamo discusso per ore prima di giungere ad una conclusione.

On remarque que le verbe GIUNGERE s’emploie avec l’auxiliaire ESSERE et qu’il est suivi de la préposition A.

J’aime beaucoup utiliser GIUNGERE (+ a) parce que je le trouve moins commun et plus joli que son synonyme ARRIVARE… qui rappelle d’ailleurs trop le français !

Mais GIUNGERE a aussi une autre signification :

Hanno giunto le mani per pregare.

Dans ce cas, c’est l’équivalent du verbe UNIRE. Là encore, je préfère GIUNGERE qui me paraît plus « élégant » et éloigné de la version française !

La lettre G t’a donc apporté 3 verbes au total : GIUNGERE, ARRIVARE, UNIRE.

Lequel préfères-tu ? Pourquoi ?

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HOTEL

Tu t’attendais à quel mot commençant par la lettre H en italien ?

Je sais, c’est un mot français, mais ce n’est même pas de la triche parce qu’il n’y a juste pas de mot italien commençant par cette lettre… alors quitte à choisir un mot étranger, autant prendre un mot français !

J’ai donc 2 questions pour toi aujourd’hui :

1/ Quel est le mot italien pour HOTEL ?

2/ Connais-tu d’autres mots étrangers commençant par la lettre H et s’utilisant en italien ?

INSEGNARE

C’est un mot simple et compliqué à la fois.

Ti spiego!

Oui, il signifie bien ENSEIGNER.

Mais pour nous, francophones, il a un double sens : APPRENDRE.

Et on ne fait pas toujours la distinction entre ces deux verbes qui ne veulent pas tout à fait dire la même chose.

C’est pour cette raison que quand on veut dire APPRENDRE en italien, on utilise instinctivement IMPARARE (qui est effectivement le bon mot en apparence) alors que le verbe approprié est INSEGNARE.

Tu te sens perdu.e ?

Voici quelques exemples concrets :

Michele insegna l’italiano in una scuola media.

Lucia vuole insegnare il perdono ai suoi figli.

On utilise le verbe INSEGNARE dans les deux cas, mais la première phrase signifie ENSEIGNER alors que la deuxième APPRENDRE.

Altri esempi con IMPARARE:

Gli alunni imparano la lezione di matematica.

Ho imparato a guidare.

Dans ce cas, le sens est bien (et toujours) APPRENDRE.

On peut aussi opter pour le verbe INSEGNARE pour dire (plus ou moins) la même chose en changeant juste les sujets :

La maestra insegna la lezione di matematica agli alunni.

Mio padre mi ha insegnato a guidare.

Est-ce que tu arrives à voir la différence entre INSEGNARE et IMPARARE ?

En ce qui me concerne, c’est l’une des premières erreurs que j’ai faites (et dont j’ai mis du temps à me débarrasser, car c’était juste une mauvaise habitude) lors de ma première année en Italie.

Mais ne t’inquiète pas, il suffit d’un peu de pratique pour mieux employer INSEGNARE ou IMPARARE, puis ça va finir par devenir spontané et tu te demanderas même pourquoi tu faisais cette erreur avant !

Et pour commencer la pratique dès maintenant, n’hésite pas à écrire des phrases avec les 2 verbes INSEGNARE et IMPARARE dans les commentaires !

LINGUA

Je ne vais pas te demander quelle est selon toi la plus belle langue du monde… parce que si tu lis cette phrase sur ce blog, c’est qu’on est d’accord sur la réponse : L’ITALIANO 🇮🇹

Et d’ailleurs, je suis sûre que tu penses comme moi que la question ne se pose même pas parce que la réponse est… SCONTATA (pas de panique, je t’explique ce mot à la lettre S) !

Mais alors pourquoi ai-je choisi ce mot (très simple par ailleurs) pour la lettre L ?

Eh bien ! je voulais juste insister sur l’importance des langues étrangères quand on est timide, et même en général.

Même si aujourd’hui tu as l’impression que tu ne seras jamais capable de parler italien en public (= 2/3 personnes, pas une assemblée) parce que tu n’arrives même pas à le faire en français et en France, ça peut changer.

Tu peux réussir à diminuer ou à vaincre ta timidité… grâce à l’italien.

J’étais comme toi, j’avais peur de parler devant les gens et je n’osais même pas aller acheter du pain à la boulangerie.

Puis l’italien est entré dans ma vie et m’a aidée à améliorer mes interactions sociales malgré ma timidité.

C’est étrange à dire, mais c’est grâce à une autre langue que je n’ai plus peur de parler en français avec d’autres personnes, peu importe que je les connaisse ou pas.

Et aujourd’hui, c’est en parlant italien que je me sens vraiment moi-même !

Et toi, est-ce que l’italien t’aide à être moins timide ?

MUSICA

Étant donné que tu es passionné.e par l’Italie et sa langue, je suppose que tu écoutes et aimes déjà la MUSICA ITALIANA, vero ?

Alors j’ai quelques questions à te poser :

Quelle est ton chanteur, ta chanteuse ou ton groupe préféré ?

Et ta chanson préférée ? Perché?

Aspetta, non è ancora finita!

Je profite du mot du jour pour te rappeler le pouvoir de la MUSICA pour apprendre l’italien en chansons.

Peut-être que tu écoutes justement des chansons pour améliorer ton niveau d’italien… mais voilà, tu te rends compte que ça ne marche pas vraiment et tu te demandes alors comment faire pour retenir les paroles de manière efficace et les réutiliser au quotidien.

Bonne nouvelle : tu peux t’inscrire à mon Festival della canzone italiana inspiré du célèbre Festival di Sanremo pour découvrir comment apprendre du vocabulaire et améliorer ton italien à l’oral ET à l’écrit grâce aux chansons !

NOTEVOLE

Il s’agit une nouvelle fois de l’un de mes mots préférés en italien.

Ecco alcuni esempi:

Pietro è un uomo di notevole intelligenza.

Ha riscosso un notevole successo.

Si tratta di un’opera di notevole interesse.

Ce qui me plaît le plus dans cet adjectif, c’est son côté élégant par rapport à son synonyme : IMPORTANTE.

Et tu as donc compris ce que signifie le mot du jour !

J’aime aussi beaucoup utiliser son autre synonyme que je trouve tout aussi noble : RILEVANTE.

Quelques exemples :

Quest’aspetto è molto rilevante per me.

Ha avuto un ruolo rilevante nella storia.

Il terremoto ha causato danni rilevanti.

Tu peux les alterner comme tu veux au lieu de toujours utiliser le très connu IMPORTANTE, mais n’oublie pas que le sens de NOTEVOLE et RILEVANTE est plus fort que celui de l’adjectif IMPORTANTE dont l’utilisation est plus courante et plus simple dans la vie de tous les jours.

Alors, as-tu deviné les équivalents possibles en français de l’adjectif NOTEVOLE et de son synonyme RILEVANTE ? Qu’est-ce qui est IMPORTANTE, mais plus fort encore ?

OROSCOPO

Domanda 1

Est-ce que tu lis ton OROSCOPO ?

Domanda 2

Tu y crois ?

Domanda 3

Quel est ton signe astrologique ?

Per quanto mi riguarda, leggo l’oroscopo solo quando vado dal medico.

A volte ci credo, altre volte non ci credo… dipende da cosa dice!

Ecco i segni zodiacali:

– Ariete

– Toro

– Gemelli

– Cancro

– Leone

– Vergine

– Bilancia

– Scorpione

– Sagittario

– Capricorno

– Acquario

– Pesci

Io sono dello Scorpione e ne vado molto fiera!

E tu:

Leggi l’oroscopo?

Ci credi?

Qual è il tuo segno zodiacale?

PARLARE

Je n’ai aucun exemple de phrases à te proposer, ni d’explications à te donner parce qu’il n’y a pas plus PARLANT (haha) que le mot du jour !

Mais j’ai quelques questions à te poser :

Arrives-tu à PARLARE italien ? (ou tu préfères parler ITALIANO ?) (je me fais rire toute seule)

Si oui, que fais-tu pour continuer à pratiquer la langue à l’oral ?

Si non, qu’est-ce qui t’empêche le plus de réussir à parler italien ?

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QUALSIASI

Pour ne pas changer, voici un autre de mes mots préférés en italien : QUALSIASI.

Et avant même de chercher à comprendre ce que signifie cet adjectif indéfini, il faut savoir qu’il doit toujours être employé au singulier.

C’est la seule chose importante à retenir pour bien l’utiliser.

Maintenant que l’on est d’accord sur ce point, on peut passer à quelques exemples.

QUALSIASI + NOM ou NOM + QUALSIASI :

Mi puoi chiamare in qualsiasi momento della giornata. (= ad ogni momento della giornata)

Non è un libro qualsiasi, ti consiglio di leggerlo! (= un libro come tanti altri)

Farò qualsiasi cosa per te. (= tutto)

Non posso accettare qualsiasi lavoro! (= tutti i lavori)

L’adjectif QUALSIASI peut aussi être suivi d’un verbe conjugué au congiuntivo… même si dans ce cas, il serait préférable d’opter pour son synonyme QUALUNQUE* :

Qualsiasi decisione prenda, sono d’accordo con te.

Qualunque decisione prenda, sono d’accordo con te.

Qualsiasi cosa dica, ha sempre ragione.

Qualunque cosa dica, ha sempre ragione.

Mais dans la vie de tous les jours, tu peux remplacer les deux adjectifs indifféremment !

* QUALUNQUE fonctionne de la même manière que QUALSIASI (= au singulier).

Alors, as-tu trouvé toutes les traductions possibles de QUALSIASI (et QUALUNQUE) dans les phrases ci-dessus ?

RITORNO

Je suis sûre que tu connais déjà le mot RITORNO, mais on va faire comme si tu le découvrais seulement aujourd’hui parce qu’un petit rappel ne fait jamais de mal à personne !

Et on commence directement par des exemples de phrases en italien :

Un biglietto andata e ritorno per Roma.

On préfèrerait un aller simple, mais bon… c’est déjà ça !

Dopo le vacanze, il ritorno a scuola o al lavoro è molto difficile !

Je sais, c’est dur à entendre… mais plus tôt tu l’acceptes, mieux tu te sentiras !

Alors, quel est ton prochain andata e ritorno en Italie ?

SCONTATO

Il s’agit de l’un de mes mots préférés en italien et ce terme a plusieurs significations selon son utilisation, donc je commence directement avec plusieurs exemples pour que tu puisses noter toi-même les différences :

Durante i saldi, i vestiti sono scontati.

Significa che il prezzo dei vestiti è in offerta per un periodo di tempo limitato.

Sinonimo di SCONTATO in questo caso: ridotto, ribassato.

Non bisogna mai dare nulla per scontato, né l’amore né l’amicizia, perché tutto può cambiare nella vita.

Il film non mi è piaciuto perché la storia era troppo scontata.

L’espressione DARE PER SCONTATO viene usata 1/ per dire che siamo certi di una cosa e che non la mettiamo assolutamente in dubbio, oppure 2/ quando rimaniamo delusi perché una cosa ci sembra troppo prevedibile.

Sinonimo di SCONTATO in questo caso: 1/ sicuro, certo ; 2/ ovvio, banale, previsto.

As-tu compris ce que veut dire SCONTATO dans les 3 exemples ?

Et est-ce que ce mot te plaît autant qu’à moi ?

TELEFONO

Je pense que tu n’as pas besoin que je t’explique la signification de ce mot, ni que je te fasse un dessin… donc je vais essayer de compliquer l’exercice, ou au moins de le rendre plus pratique, en te posant une question.

C’est aussi une manière pour moi de te faire participer pour que, même si tu ne connais pas la réponse, tu fasses l’effort de faire les recherches toi-même…

…parce que c’est aussi et surtout de cette manière que tu auras plus de chance de retenir et de mémoriser un mot ou une expression.

Ecco la domanda:

Est-ce que tu connais un autre mot (= synonyme) en italien pour dire TELEFONO ?

Et comme je suis gentille, je t’aide en te précisant que je fais référence à l’équivalent italien du TÉLÉPHONE PORTABLE !

Aspetto la tua risposta nei commenti!

UBICARE

La lettre du jour est le U,

et le mot du jour est UBICARE,

qui est un synonyme du verbe SITUARE.

Et ça devrait te suffire pour comprendre sa signification, vero ?

Mais je te donne quand même quelques explications :

UBICARE fait plutôt partie du langage administratif ;

L‘utilisation du participe passé est très fréquent avec ce verbe.

Esempi:

Il museo è ubicato in periferia.

L’appartamento è ubicato al piano terra di un edificio storico.

La chiesa è ubicata all’interno del cimitero.

Est-ce que tu connaissais déjà le verbe UBICARE ?

ZERBINO

Pour bien finir, je te présente (encore) l’un de mes mots préférés (pour sa prononciation) en italien : ZERBINO.

Si tu ne l’as jamais rencontré depuis que tu apprends la langue de Dante, voici une petite explication en italien :

Lo zerbino è un piccolo tappeto che trovi davanti alla porta d’ingresso di una casa.

È molto utile perché serve a pulirsi le scarpe prima di entrare in casa.

Et voici la deuxième signification du mot ZERBINO :

Quando una persona è completamente sottomessa e lascia che gli altri la sfruttino, allora diventa uno zerbino.

Alors, as-tu compris ce que veut dire ZERBINO ?

Et est-ce que ce mot te plaît autant qu’à moi ?

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J’espère que tu as apprécié mon alfabeto italiano que j’ai lancé pour t’aider à apprendre du vocabulaire en italien et que tu as pu effectivement découvrir de nouveaux termes, ou au moins mieux les comprendre si tu les avais déjà lus/entendus un jour.

Et comme tu peux le voir, je t’ai parfois présenté plusieurs mots par lettre : tu repars donc en réalité avec plus de 21 nouveaux termes dans ton vocabulaire en italien !

Et maintenant ? Qu’est-ce qu’il te reste à faire ?

N’hésite pas à répondre aux questions que je te pose à la fin de chaque lettre dans les commentaires ou par email pour voir si tu as bien compris la signification des mots ;

Je te conseille vivement de faire plein de phrases avec chacun des mots et de le faire pendant plusieurs jours de suite pour t’habituer à les employer au quotidien, cela va te permettre de les retenir naturellement ;

Tu peux t’entraîner directement dans les commentaires ou par email si tu veux que je te dise si c’est bon ou pas.

Et si tu veux une nouvelle édition pour continuer d’apprendre du vocabulaire en italien, tu peux me le dire en commentaire, en message privé ou par email !

Aspetto le tue risposte e le tue frasi nei commenti oppure per email 😀

BONUS

Tu aimerais garder une trace de tous ces mots italiens pour faire les exercices pratiques et relire les explications et les exemples à chaque fois que tu le souhaites ? Ou peut-être même pour les accrocher/coller où tu veux chez toi pour t’habituer à les intégrer dans ton vocabulaire au quotidien ?

Rejoins le club privé de la team #jeparleitaliano pour recevoir mon alfabeto italiano sous forme de fiches numériques individuelles et réviser le vocabulaire en italien que l’on vient de voir partout où tu veux et comme tu veux !

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Si cet article t’a plu, n’oublie pas de le partager sur tes réseaux sociaux, d’épingler l’une des images ci-dessus sur Pinterest et de me dire en commentaire ou par email ce qui t’empêche d’apprendre l’italien et/ou d’améliorer ton niveau !

Apprendre du vocabulaire en italien avec mon alfabeto italiano Tu cherches un moyen, une astuce ou une technique pour apprendre du vocabulaire en italien de manière originale, sans passer par des listes classées par thématique avec juste la traduction et un exemple à côté ?

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atlaswriting · 6 years ago

Text

As he speaks my eyes fall to his hands, too afraid to look at his face, terrified at the horrors I’ll find waiting. Slowly I force myself to. I drag my eyes up and lock with his—I can feel my own dark eyes begin filling with tears I would normally try and fight, but the struggle in my chest isn’t there and they hopelessly fall down my cheeks.

The lack of control tightens a knot in my chest, spreading to my throat. I cough and take a deep breath in.

His words fill my head and move around like smoke. I close my eyes trying to straighten them out, dissect them.

The stray comment glares back at me violently, I pop my eyes open and notice for the first time he’s looking at me, eyes filled with tears, wide and hopeful.

“But sometimes, I don’t even have her,” Abram admits, “I’m lonely Elise and you—you were the first person who gave me the time of day here—and yes you hurt me, but that doesn’t change anything.” I open my mouth to speak, but the words fall apart letter by letter and I’m stunned silent, “We have a connection, and I… think we need each other. I can forgive you, can you forgive me?”

He’s so close now. The tiny goose bumps that rise are on my skin give away that I’m not as calm as I’m trying to be. I clench and unclench my jaw. I glance down at his hands again which were wringing together, raw, and I reach out. Wrap my hands over his to stop him and hold on tightly.

“Of course I forgive you Abram,” I pause, “Should I call you Kai now?” I ask, brows crease in faux-puzzlement. I said his name so many times to myself the last few years that it feels foreign in my mouth, like it doesn’t quite fit. “You’re right, we need each other. I’m sorry I’m a brat.” I add, only half joking.

“You deserve better you know,” somehow how fingers have tangled together. Abram doesn’t bother pulling away and neither do I. This time, it’s my turn to move closer. His shoulder is pressed to mine and I imagine all the times I needed, desperately, to be this close to him, Kai. My Kai. “You deserve someone who loves you all the time. You are more than a sometimes, Abram, more than an afterthought.”

I lean my head closer to his, a dangerous mix of fire and a couple sips of bad beer were clouding my judgment. But before our lips could touch, a loud yell pulls my attention back toward the cabin.

“We should probably go back,” I tell him, standing up as the words rush out of my mouth. My cheeks are on fire and are incinerating everything they touch—I feel the heat rise to my ears and down my neck, “I think Sophie is going to eat your goalie boyfriend.”

As we close in on the distance to the cabin, I notice Sophie standing scary close to Brody, he keeps laughing nervously. She’s tall, incredibly beautiful and intimidating. A small blond cuts between them, her fingers curled tightly around a bottle of beer. She’s small, no taller than me, but I can feel her personality radiating all the way toward the door.

“Oh shit,” Abram mutters, moving past me to be by his friends side.

“It isn’t nice to flirt with other girls boyfriends,” the blond says, “I don’t know what kind of prep school you came from—but I have no problem showing you what public school teaches you.”

“Ellie,” Brody and Abram chastise in unison.

“Prep school is for fake rich people,” Sophie says, non-chalantly, “but I guess you wouldn’t know that with your knock off coach bag and Target jeans?”

“Sophie,” I bite, slamming down my beer on the counter.

Ellie grins, “your master is calling, little girl, I’d go now.”

“Oh, sweetie,” Sophie rolls her eyes, “my manicure cost more than your entire outfit. If I wanted to ruin it, you’d be digging your own grave.”

“Sophie,” I say again, finally moving my feet and walking over to her. My arm curls around her waist and tugs her back, but the little blond follows.

Brody jumps down from the counter, arms out, like he knew what the girl was going to do even before she did. When she lunges at Sophie, her grabs her and pulls her back into his chest like it was nothing. She fights against his grasp but he’s a goalie, he’s all muscle and hatred.

“I’m sorry,” I mouth to Abram as I pull Sophie away from the commotion. “You know,” I say to her as we get into her car, “You don’t have to be a complete bitch to everyone we meet.”

She laughs, applying another layer of matte lipstick, “I learned from the best.” She replies lovingly fluttering her lashes at me.

When I get back to my dorm, I lay in bed. Pulling out my phone.

Kai: I had a rough night. All I wanted to do was talk to you.

Kai: Is that even possible anymore?

Kai: Are we even possible anymore?

I close my eyes, trying to remember that what Abram told me—he had never told Sylvia. The revelation started my heart beating something fierce—maybe that was a good thing, maybe he was starting to love Sylvia a little less.

Instead of replying, I open up Abram’s instagram and send him a direct message.

I’m going to bed and I can’t stop thinking about that blond girl. She was totally going to cut Sophie. Lol.

Abram: I wish we got a picture together. Commemorate the first night you weren’t mean to me J

Gross. You don’t want that. Trust me.

For tonight, I don’t let Sylvia text him back.

For tonight, I am all me. Ugly as that may is.

♡ ♡ ♡

I make a bee-line for the library, where I know Abram will be.

When I see him sitting beneath a pile of books, shirt sleeve rolled to his elbows I nearly stop in my tracks, but I make myself walk forward.

“Listen, I need you to not ask any questions, just go along with what I say, okay?”

He looks up and around, alert, “I don’t know if I like the sound of—,”

“Mama!” I say loudly as the clicking of her heels enters the room a few moments before she did. She walks over to me, places her hands gingerly on my shoulder and presses two kisses into the side of my cheeks. I pull Abram into a standing position, loop my arm through his and lean my head on his shoulder, “This is my boyfriend—Abram Kempe.”

Cerise sucks in her cheeks, hollowing out the already skinny area—she looked like a corpse. But she smelled expensive—so it evened out, “Tu ne m'as pas dit que tu avais un petit ami,” she says in French, “il sent bon marché.”

“Mama!” I snap, I look toward Abram and hoped his time in French hasn’t taught him to keep up with the speed of a native French speaker, “He’s going to come to dinner with us tonight, as my guest.”

She laughs, opens her mouth to say something awful but Abram cuts her off by holding out his hand, “Pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Allaire, I can see where Elise gets her charm.”

Apprehensively she shakes his hand in a dainty grip, but stares in disgust the whole time, like the slightest touch from him was going to make hers fall off.

“Eight o’clock, mon cher,” my mother says in broken english as she heads toward the door, “Don’t be late.”

When she’s out of ear shot, I fall into the seat across from where Abram was working.

“I’m your boyfriend now?”

“For tonight, please. That woman is awful, I can’t handle it alone.” I let my head fall into my hands, “I’ll make it worth your while?”

His lips tug into a half smirk, “You have to wear my home jersey at our next away game.”

I visibly cringe backwards, “Excuse me? I don’t think so. Those colors don’t match with anything I own.”

“It’s the schools colors,” Abram argues in a sing-song voice, “besides you’ll look cute.”

I feel myself blush, “Fine. But just once.”

“Four games.”

“Two.”

“Deal.” Abram holds out his hands and I shake it. The electricity of his touch rivals a thunderstorm. I could feel it radiating up my arm.

♡ ♡ ♡

The restaurant is fancy and with Abram by my side, I feel uncomfortable. He’s dressed nice, his sleeves are rolled down ( I wish they weren’t ) and he has a fitted blazer pulled over his shoulders. I looked around; completely unaware Middlebury even had a restaurant to my mother’s standards.

“Abram, what is it you do, at the school I mean?” I watch her carefully, waiting for her jaw to unhinge so she can swallow him whole. As they’re walking, I reach for a piece of bread in the middle of the table. Cerise is quick to slap at my head, softly tsk-ing my under her breath, “Pas ce soir. Cette robe est petite, no?”

I drop the roll and pull my hands into my lap, keeping my eyes on the table.

“I play hockey—actually, Elise has come to all my games so far, I’m glad I have my own personal cheerleader.”

The older Allaire laughs, leaning back in her chair and tearing a roll apart, letting every other piece pass her lips, “Hockey! My Elise watching hockey? I don’t think so,” she shakes her head, “that girl has hated hockey ever since her papa, haven’t you, chéri?” she looks at me expectantly.

“Mama is right,” I look at Abram, “I can’t stand hockey. I go because—,” I reach forward and cure the hunger pains with a large gulp of water, “I have nothing else to do. Sophie likes it.” I lie.

Cerise rolls her eyes, “That girl is no good; I told Elise that from the beginning. Bastard children, they’re not even real heirs, if you ask me,” she shrugs.

“Mama,” I whisper.

We order our food and I can’t help but stare at the salad in front of me, envious of the steak that sits on my mother’s plate—more than half of which will be thrown out.

“What does your father do?” Cerise begins cutting her steak into tiny pieces, “Your mother?”

Abram’s quick, “My mother is dead and my father owns Rose Publishing.”

Nearly dropping her silverware, my mother places a hand to her chest, “Rose Publishing? No kidding? So you must have good taste,” she glances toward me, “what in the world are you doing with my daughter then?” It sounds like a joke, but Cerise doesn’t know how to.

“I’m fond of your daughter—and not fond of my father,” Abram says between mouthfuls. He’s making it a point to talk with his steak pressed to the side of his cheek, “I grew up with my mother. We lived in an apartment in Boston, rent controlled. We shopped at Stop and Shop and got our clothes from the Sally’s—the Salvation Army, on good days.”

I take a bite of lettuce to hide the smile growing on my face. The look of horror on Cerise’s face was pure gold.

“De quelle charité as-tu choisi ce garçon?” My mother asks me.

“Je pense que celui en ville. Harriet’s Consignment,” Abram replies coolly before I can.

Both of us stop and stare at him. He’s still eating, still smiling.

He continues, “C'est de là que viennent tous les bâtards.”

The rest of our meal is in silent. I rebel the tiniest bit by reaching over and placing my hand above his knee, giving it a squeeze before pulling it back into my lap.

“Elise,” my mother says, placing her fork down, she’s hardly eaten anything, “That’s enough don’t you think?”

“I think she can say when she’s full,” Abram’s finished his plate and was leaning, both elbows, on the table.

I smile at him, then look toward her, gently laying my fork across my salad, which still looks untouched, “I’m full,” I tell the both of them, “I must’ve eaten a big lunch.”

She and her driver drops us off at the school, but she stays close to my side, making sure Abram returns toward his side of the dormitories. We’re standing at my door when she finally speaks, “That boy is an embarrassment. I trust you’ll do the right thing and end it?”

“I’ll do no such thing,” I argue, offended she would ask me to end my non-existent relationship with Abram.

“It’s for the best, darling; we don’t associate with people like him.”

“Hockey players? Or poor people.”

She laughs, an airy, light hearted laugh and kisses both of my cheeks, “Both.”

♡ ♡ ♡

In the bathroom of my single is where the real demons creep in. Once I shut the door, it’s fair game and I can feel the stare from the mirror. When I look up, the reflection looking back at me is distorted, disgusting and cruel.

I strip from my dress, jump into a burning shower and let the water baptize me. It does little to help because even after I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed until my skin was raw and tender, when I get out, I still feel the same: dirty.

I tug on a pair of sweatpants and sweatshirt, lean over the bathtub and use my toothbrush to slide down my throat. Again and again until the remnants of my stomach are emptied into a toilet.

There’s a sharp knock at the door which forced me to stop heaving, “Sophie go away, I’m not in the mood.”

Another knock. I stand, rinse off the handle of my toothbrush and my mouth, I swing the door wide open, surprised to see Abram standing there.

“Come with me.”

“It’s late—past curfew, my mother didn’t see you did she?”

He shakes his head, “I waited until I heard the gates of Hell open up. Then I knew it was safe.”

I laugh and repeats himself, “Come with me.”

“Do you see how I’m dressed? I look like a mess—I just got out of the shower.”

He reaches out, wraps his hand in mind and pulls my behind him, “You look fine. Beautiful even, now let’s go.

I follow him around the building, careful to dodge the teachers just itching to give us detentions—not that we needed anymore. Abram stops us when we’re in the courtyard behind the school. There is a half circle of trees and a clearly that he sits down in, patting the ground beside him.

“It’s not going to eat you,” he assures me, I wonder if my face is showing the uncertainty I’m feeling.

I sit down and then he pulls me so we’re laying down, “What are we doing?”

Abram points toward the sky, “My mother and I used to drive a few hours away from the city. We’d bring a blanket and dinner. We didn’t need to talk, we didn’t need to listen to the radio—we would just sit in each other’s company.” He explains, “She had a strange way of making everyone around her feel so… sure. I don’t know how she did it. That’s one of the things I miss most about her. How sure I felt.”

I lean my head against his shoulder and reach down to grab his hand. I don’t know if I should—or if he minds, but it makes me feel better.

“That’s how you make me feel, Abram.” I say softly, tasting the truth in my mouth. The admission feels uneasy and I begin wondering if Sylvia weren’t around—do I have a shot?

I lean my head back so I can look at him, the overwhelming desire to kiss him swells in my throat. Instead, I opt for a small kiss on his cheek, dangerously close to the corner of his mouth.

“How do you know French that well?” I ask, relaxing back into the ground, “I thought my mother’s head was going to explode.”

#thread: ablise #thread: all

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