#cleo always had the best heels | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

deityoftherain · 17 days ago

Text

love like lavender - Galaxy Duo Oneshot

Rating: Teen

Relationship: Gen

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Status: Completed Oneshot

Word Count: 2,129

Summary: Scott and Pearl loved each other, but not in the way their society wanted. Their love for one another was more like lavender, devoted and pure, but not romantic in nature. With pressure from their families and the rest of the ton, the two form a plan... (regency era lavender marriage divorce quartet au)

Full fanfic underneath the cut! Please reblog, leave kudos on the AO3 fic slash notes/likes here on Tumblr, comment either place, and etc if you enjoy the story :D

Scott’s mother was always a romantic. She would go on and on about how marrying one’s best friend was the best way to guarantee a love match, and how Scott’s father was the love of her life, but Scott had always been a skeptic at that sort of romanticism. He never felt that sort of way about his best friend, even when everyone else seemed to expect it.

He later found that he fancied other men, not women, so perhaps that had something to do with his lack of attraction the way his mother described it. When it came to men, well… maybe he was a bit of a romantic as well. When Scott was around Martyn, his closest male “friend”, his heart sped up and his stomach did somersaults, but in a strangely pleasant way. He had never felt anything quite like it before, and he didn’t want to lose it any time soon.

That being said, according to the recent round of gossip spreading throughout the ton, he was head over heels for his best friend, Pearl Moon. It would be laughable, considering what they meant to each other and their affections for other people, and he would have laughed if it wasn’t their best option. Hold on, let’s rewind a bit.

“I just don’t know what to do, Scott!” Pearl pressed her face into Scott’s chest, tears running down her face as her body shuttered with each muffled sob. “Father has barred me from seeing her until I find a husband.”

Scott ran his hand through her hair– she preferred to leave the blonde and brunette locks down and loose, despite her father’s protests– to provide comfort, his sympathies going out to her. As a man of high status, he had more privileges and freedom when it came to marrying than she did. Sure, he knew people talked because he spent so much time with both Pearl and Pearl’s lover, Cleo, without courting either of them, but that was more likely to damage their reputation over his. He wrinkled his nose at that sort of mindset, but changing the mind of their society was not a task he could take on single handedly. Scott’s control of the ton’s collective opinion was rocky on a good day, as much as he wished otherwise.

Luckily, he was able to present himself as honorable, and as one who would never touch a lady like that outside of marriage– not that he would otherwise. At least, not without consent and necessity. Besides, even if his eyes did wander that way, his father was a respected and influential business man. People in the ton would be foolish to go against him and his family name, one that Scott shared.

“‘You’ve spent far too many seasons on the marriage mart, moon pie!’” Pearl started to quote her father as she rolled over on Scott, now using him like a chaise lounge. “‘You can’t keep rejecting or driving away these perfectly respectable suitors!’ I wish he would stop presenting them to me! Or me to them. I don’t fancy any of them.” “As much as you and I understand that you fancying a man is never going to happen,” Scott remindered, though he understood as much as he could her irritation, “your father nor the ton won’t. I doubt such a concept has even crossed their mind.” “I know, I know.” Pearl sighed exasperatedly. “I still don’t like it though. He’s afraid I will become a spinster, but it honestly doesn’t seem so bad of a fate. Cleo and I could become spinsters together, living together away from this town. Maybe we could have a garden together, living off the land so we have less need for a nobleman’s money. We may be known as disgraces and shame our families, but it seems a better fate than being married off to some man! No offense.”

“None taken.” Scott couldn’t help but chuckle, though there was a tinge of bitterness to his tone. Not at Pearl, of course not, but at the situation they were stuck in. “Pearl, I get it. You already know my views on having to marry a lady one day. In fact, I am unsure how much longer I can push off pursuing one before the pressure of providing an heir– a legitimate blood heir– becomes greater, too much to ignore.” “I wish I were a man sometimes,” Pearl confessed after a beat of silence, dragging her finger against the embroidered designs of her dress. “I would be free of the homemaking and social duties required of a woman.”

“I would switch with you if I could.” Scott jutted out his lower lip in a pout, one that made Pearl roll her eyes affectionately at when she glanced over at him. “I am expected to take on Father’s estate, and manage the behind-the-scenes. It involves a lot of maths, Pearl, and you know I’ve never been good at maths.” Pearl snorted at that truth, covering the lower half of face with her hand. “I would try to comfort you by saying that claim is false, but even I am better at maths than you, and you have had many more lessons in the subject than I.”

“Uh huh, alright, go on,” Scott rolled his eyes as if in annoyance, but his playful smirk said otherwise, “keep rubbing salt in my oozing, infected wound.”

“Hey, I’m just the messenger.” Pearl raised her arms, as if in surrender.

“Have you brought anything to heal my wound?” Scott continued with the bit. “Lavender, perhaps? It is furiously screaming, painful and full of puss.” “Ew, gross” Pearl whined, half-heartedly pretending to push him away. “I don’t need to hear about your disgusting fake infection.” “You’re the one who rubbed salt into it!” Scott pointed out.

“And I regret it!” Pearl shot back, a shiver running through her body.

“I sure hope so!” Scott gasped as if offended, pretending to clutch his pearls like some of the older women in the ton did when scandalized.

“Ugh, just take your lavender oil,” Pearl dramatized, handing him an imaginary vial of lavender oil to accelerate his fake-wound’s healing, “and leave me be!”

“See, was that so hard?” Scott took the imaginary vial and poured the air-liquid over his heart.

“I hate you so much, actually,” Pearl claimed, though a smile shone on her lips. “I don’t know why we’re friends.” Scott cheekily quipped back, “I love you too!”

The two burst into a fit of giggles as the scene ended, their own ridiculousness knocking them over the edge. Once their amusement died down, Pearl added on to their previous conversation topic, “If it makes you feel better, I’m sure you could throw a better ball than I could.”

“I have no doubt,” Scott agreed as his eyes hazed over with an almost wistful yearning. “I always loved helping Mother design the themes and plan all the details. It is one of the only times I was allowed to spend so much time with her growing up, instead of with my nanny.” “I wish we could do as we pleased, regardless of what is between our legs,” Pearl huffed, “or, I wish we could switch roles, just the two of us, at least.”

“It would make our current predicament easier, but, alas,” Scott almost ended there, but he continued just to humor his best friend, “no matter how many times Martyn and I lay together, a heir won’t be produced. If it were possible, I could talk my way into the church allowing us to marry.”

A shuttering laugh escaped Pearl’s lungs as she attempted to control herself. “If only that were how it worked.”

Yes. If only. Scott couldn’t help but be disappointed that their hypothetical couldn’t be reality. Not out of any wish to be a woman or be with child himself, but simply because their lives would be easier that way.

The two laid as they were for quite awhile, finding peace in their platonic acts of affections and comfort. Scott was startled, however, when Pearl suddenly shot up with her face lighting up as it did when she got an idea. “Scott, you should court me! We should get married.”

“What?” Scott gaped at her, baffled that she even would suggest such an idea. He had thought they were on the same page when it came to their relationship. “Pearl, you know I love you, but not like-”

“Not a love marriage, silly.” Pearl grabbed his hands, practically vibrating from excitement. It was quite darling, Scott must admit. “But they don’t need to know that! We could say we’ve been courting in secret. No one would doubt us! We see each other enough for it, and you know the servants have caught us cuddling more than once.” “This is true,” Scott hummed, beginning to understand where she was going with the idea. “I’m sure there have been rumors of us courting already, so that would help make our lie believable.” “It would be believable anyway, with or without the servant’s gossip,” Pearl dismissed mildly. “Friendship this strong between a gentleman and a lady without romance sparking is almost unheard of. Plus, it’s what they will want to hear. We would only be confirming what they already believe to be true.” Hesitance tugged at Scott’s mind, but he was coming around. “I’m not saying you’re wrong, but–” “But nothing!” Pearl interrupted, bopping her fingertip against his nose and giggling as Scott went cross eyed. “Scott, you’re overthinking it. Stop being anxious for a moment and trust me: a marriage would solve both of our problems.”

“It would get Mother off my back,” Scott considered thoughtfully.

“There you go!” Pearl cheered, accompanied with the clever little giggle she often got when she believed a plan of hers was working out.

“And, if we get Martyn and Cleo on board, they could marry each other! Or I could marry Cleo, and you Martyn.” Pieces started to fall into place, a more detailed plan already starting to form in Scott’s mind. “If we are all married, the ton’s attention will move off of us. I don’t believe anyone would bat an eye if we chose to live together as two couples, as long as we have a convincing enough story.” “Exactly.” Pearl nodded enthusiastically, extremely pleased and more relaxed than before. She pointed her finger, bouncing it against his chest several times. “Scott, you need to get a ring made for me, or perhaps for Cleo if Martyn would rather fake-court me, and talk to Martyn and Cleo about our plan. Father would kill me if he knew I went to see her after he explicitly told me not to.”

“Don’t you see Martyn tomorrow?” Scott inquired, recalling an event Pearl informed him of previously. “At the banquet his family invited yours too? Perhaps you could ask him then?” “That’s right!” Pearl’s grin only widened at the recall. “I’ll talk to him then, but you need to talk to Cleo for me. Please? And tell her that I miss her presence dearly.”

“I can slip her a letter,” Scott offered, “if you have more to say.”

Scott was almost dazed by how instantly Pearl detached herself from him. She stumbled out of his hold and off the bad, nearly dashing over to the private writing desk Scott kept in his bedroom. “Of course! I shall note my affections for my love now. You do the same so that I may hand him your words at the banquet.” “We should arrange a time for the four of us to gather,” Scott proposed, “so that we may discuss the plan in full before everything gets started. Courting rules will fall into place once we are officially courting, which would restrict us, in a way, placing more attention on our actions.”

Pearl paused her letter writing, furrowing her brow in though. “We won’t be unable to gather as discreetly as we are now.”

“Exactly.” Scott joined her by the parchment, ink, and quill. “I think we should explain in full once we are together, and alone.”

Pearl turned her attention back toward her letter before promptly tearing out what she had already written. She tore the remaining parchment in half, dipped her quill in the ink once more, and then transcribed a few simple lines onto both halves. Once she finished, she picked up one of them and handed it over to Scott. “Ensure this gets to Cleo, and I’ll make sure Martyn sees this. Does the time work for you?” Scott let his gaze drop to Pearl’s handwriting, promptly reading the invitation. It wasn’t very long, but it had enough impact to make him almost giddy with anticipation. “It’s perfect.”

8 notes · View notes

systastic · 4 months ago

Note

Hey, do you mind if we could get 2-3 level 3 simpsons alter packs?— /genq

It’s alright if not, but we’re in a bit of something right now.

this request came out of left field and hit us with a steel chair. (/lh) you bet you can. -❤️

sorry it took so long — we know nothing about the simpsons and had to deep-dive into the wiki! -🌲

name :: lisa, mary or marie, hazel, wendy, molly, astrid, cleo, margot

age :: 14 to 16

pronouns :: she/her, they/them

roles :: academic (all classes), posier, medicine taker, negotiator, assidumate

species :: human-adjacent

gender identity :: demigirl

orientation :: hard lesbian. boys disgust her

source :: the simpsons

aesthetic :: light academia

appearance description :: hazel is only a few inches shorter than her brother, but he still relentlessly teases her about it. despite her young age, wendy is often dressed up to look her best: a pearl necklace, clean dress, and heels (to make her taller). her hair is well-maintained if not a little frizzy by virtue of genetics. molly keeps her clothes clean, doing her laundry every week without fail and ironing out her shirts and pants to keep them tidy. it does little to stave off the crumbs astrid picks up from sitting down around the house… if only her father didn’t eat so many donuts.

personality description :: being the moral center of her entire family is exhausting, but somehow lisa manages to do it. she is strict on herself and her family, but for good reason — in her eyes, they are incompetent bumbling idiots who desperately need her help. (worse yet? she isn’t entirely wrong!) lisa is highly intelligent, extremely thoughtful with her responses and actions, and is a huge believer in both balance and karma. her voracious appetite for learning has earned her academic and musical accolades alike. being surrounded by idiots (her words, not mine!) can make margot feel isolated from other people in her circle since they don’t always share her tastes. despite that still, hazel sticks to what she knows is right and does her damndest to make the world a better place. and yes, they’ve tried to get their family to help too, but… well, that isn’t an easy task.

likes :: reading long and highly complex novels, daydreaming about her future, playing the saxophone, preparing herself for the real world, looking like an adult (clothes, makeup, and jewelry), malibu stacy dolls, ponies and horses, the itchy and scratchy show

dislikes :: her brother’s antics, being overlooked, not being taken seriously or being treated as “stupid”, people who claim to be superior to her, self-proclaimed intellectuals (they often aren’t very smart)

front triggers :: marching band practice, engaging in a battle of wits, dealing with stupid people, having to appear professional

signoff :: 📚, 🎷, or 🐴

image source here

name :: bartholomew (bart), maxwell (max), quinn, rocky, cedric, nathan (nate)

age :: 15 to 17

pronouns :: he/him

roles :: hobbyist (skateboarding), sportsman, guzzler, coach

species :: human-adjacent

gender identity :: male.

orientation :: gay

source :: the simpsons

aesthetic :: punk, trashy raver, chaotic academia

appearance description :: nate is a rebel with a cause and he knows it! he opts for leather jackets and vests, pop art tees with either pictures or words slapped on front, occasional sunglasses, and jorts. yes, jorts. nobody has stopped him from it before, so why would they stop him now? cedric opts to take his shirt off when he can, like for sporting events, swimming, and costumes among other things. he pretty much always has pants with pockets to stuff his hands into (it gives him that extra cool factor). when not trying to dress up, quinn opts for the good old fashioned t-shirt and shorts combo. oh, and he always wears sneakers. always.

personality description :: to anyone else, nate seems like a normal teenager: a troublemaking little shit who causes mischief and chaos wherever he goes regardless who it’ll end up affecting. in truth, his actions come from a sore lack of attention, prompting him to act out as a way of gaining people’s attention. this has morphed into a practical joker attitude; max plays pranks on people he likes to show that he cares, and pulls mean-spirited ones on those he doesn’t like. while he can be impulsive and selfish at times, bart does give a shit about his family. he tries to help them and offer his support in the only way he knows: pranks and checking up on them, making sure they’re okay and that his wisecracks didn’t leave them worse for wear.

likes :: pulling pranks, reading comic books, playing video games, playing the drums, goofing off, using his slingshot or yo-yo, skateboarding, ned flanders, his sister (she is pretty darn useful and he appreciates someone smart being on his side), and watching tv, particularly the krusty the clown show

dislikes :: girls (cooties…), doctor’s appointments, goody-two-shoes, his sister, having to take any sort of responsibility, watching his dad eat (how does he do it? does he have a black hole in his stomach?), having to take care of / be responsible for his sisters, and his younger sister lisa (he thinks she’s way too smart for her age and a know-it-all, but does like her as a member of his family)

front triggers :: things pertaining to skateboarding, rock n roll songs, childish cartoons, superhero movies

signoff :: 🛹, 🏹, or 🩳

image source here

name :: marge, minerva*, esther, diana*, lisa anne, joanne, roslyn, theresa

age :: 36 to 38

pronouns :: she/her

roles :: chef, transportation helper, steward, assidumate

species :: human-adjacent

gender identity :: female. doesn’t really understand all this gender stuff that well.

orientation :: heterosexual

source :: the simpsons

aesthetic :: high cleancore, 50s suburbia

appearance description :: being an older woman requires a certain manner of dress to seem appropriate. marge is a master in this ancient art of motherhood; she has one outfit that she really likes, owning multiple of the same dress in case the one she’s wearing gets dirty. thanks to diana’s past careers, her closet is also chock-full of past uniforms: her mayoral suit, flight attendant uniform, and police officer uniform among others. she keeps her hair up out of her face so that it doesn’t get in the way during her day to day life. similar to her daughter, lisa anne wears a string of pearls around her neck. these are more for comfort than anything. what’s a woman to do without some sort of accessory?

personality description :: generally quite kind and sweet to people, esther almost never swears, though she has come very, very close. she is fiercely protective of her family and can be a bit of a mama bear when provoked. occasionally has fits of explosive anger when being pushed too far — but this always falls apart and prompts plenty of apologies to the people involved. anything that is out of her definition of a normal life is revered as something special, and she takes joy in the moments where she can indulge in new things and experiences. marge often seems to be quite tired and overworked - and she is, what with having to take care of her hapless husband, mischievous son, and intellectual daughter all at the same time.

likes :: cooking, cleaning, taking care of her children, her family, going to church, being able to use her French, being active and able-bodied, new experiences, her home life, baking for school affairs or birthdays, and being able to test out new dishes with her family.

dislikes :: the homeowners association, nosy neighbors, her husband coming home late from the factory, filth and grime in her kitchen, losing her baby, bart’s incessant need to be moving and active at all times, losing control over her house / being uprooted as matriarch, and her husband’s inherent laziness.

front triggers :: dirty dishes, childcare, weaponized incompetence both at home and in the workforce

signoff :: 🍳, ⛪️, or 🏠

image source here

* == name of a deity, use with caution!

#banner creds: @thecutestgrotto #alter packs #baa blog #bah blog #build a alter #build an alter #build a headmate #headmate creation #headmate pack #kitty creations #level three #level 3

3 notes · View notes

ericmatthvws · 2 months ago

Text

closed starter for: @shcrtnsweet plot: childhood sweethearts (with a twist) okay but a plot where close childhood friends reunite — except muse a was in love with muse b growing up, and muse b became muse a’s best friend’s high school sweetheart. muse a concealed their feelings for muse b all throughout their friendship, in high school & college, although both muses definitely had feelings & felt sparks for one another long before muse b started dating muse a’s best friend. despite the connection they’d felt, neither wanted to jeopardize any of the friendships between the three, and ultimately, muse b ended up married to muse a’s bff… except now, years later, muse a and muse b reunite at muse a’s best friend’s funeral. imagine the hurt of losing a loved one but having the comfort of yet another loved one?? blurred lines, tension, second-guesses…….

cleo never expected that this was the way she was going to be reunited with one of her oldest friends sure people loose connection and what not she had been around people who had lost people but never expected someone so close to her, scanning her soft brown eyes around the room they stopped searching when they found who they were looking for through the crowded the day was painful enough loosing their loved one, they say things like this always brings people back together or it ruins a relationship "i'll be right back" cleo whispered gently to the person she was talking wearing black heels and her long black dress her hair hanging down her shoulders as she walked over to her friend "well well well….look at who we have here" she gave a soft half smile it was nice to see someone familiar even if it had been such a long time. "now I was expecting glow sticks and a foam party….If I recall that's how they wanted to go out with?" the female chuckled lightly trying to remember little bits of how they used to talk with their friends about this kind of day would happen.

#∗ —— ❝ interactions 》 cleo marshall #shcrtnsweet

4 notes · View notes

teamr3dofficial · 2 years ago

Text

Just a drabble at the top of my mind

“Red, are you there?” A voice chimed in the earpiece she wore. Connection was finally back as she sighed in relief, herself being separated from her team for far too long, as while she was fleeing, Zack and Ivy were still waiting for her, which was the plan, until VILE decided they had no more patience for her little cat-and-mouse game they were always playing.

Heels clacking against the rooftops of households, her breathing got heavier steadily, she’s been running for a very long time, with Tigress still hot on her tail, and two more operatives she hadn’t bothered introducing herself to, though they already knew who she was. How could they not? Brunt’s “mama bear” rants were infamously known throughout the island, as well as Maelstrom’s schemes and Cleo’s complaints about her. Only Bellum had seemed to be silent about her, though she still despised the scarlet thief.

“Player, good that you’re here. I have three operatives chasing me. What’s the best rout-” She started, only to be cut off.

“Sharp right, now.” Player instructed, and she followed without a second thought.

The quick and unexpected turn left the two newbies skidding to a halt, before colliding into each other, leaving Tigress to be the only chaser. What can I say? Tigress is good at her job, VILE made a good choice in accepting her.

“Carmen Sandiego.” The tiger lady growled, in a dangerously low voice.

“That’s my name,” The woman in red shot back, more smugly than she should have been.

Whatever it took to get on the tiger’s nerves, am I right?

Wrong. Karma for Carmen, ACME had also decided to join in on the fun. Just wonderful, no, no. Really lovely. Maybe it did serve her right.

As of right now, she may or may not have been running out of roof to run, with ACME aware of her location, and VILE on her tail, this was a little risky, but she still trusted Player.

“Where now?” She quickly asked.

“See that gap between the rooftops? Jump over it.” Player responded.

Gradually, she gained speed, as well as momentum, as she did a jump dive to the other side, it being incredibly risky and with just a mere split second, she dodged the smoke guns that ACME fired at her from the gap, it being too close a call.

The dangers of being “La Femme Rouge”, I guess.

But they were going to need way more than just that to catch her, or they may as well give up.

#teamr3dofficial #red writes #cs #carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego #cs acme #cs vile

24 notes · View notes

rueitae · 1 year ago

Text

Season 3, episode 1: the Luchadora Tango Caper

Liveblog for @csweekly

Ahhhhh each time I watch this episode i don’t remember at the beginning how utterly fun it is. And then by the end I’m grinning so hard.

VILE has their new hq! Scotland! Maelstrom head over heels to have a LITERAL castle. Dare I say he’s giddy.

WHAT even are the Cleaners. Drama enjoyers and costume enthusiasts. Always dressing for the occasion. Clearly shows that you can look apathetic but love your job. (Including actually cleaning like I legit think they enjoy it and that’s what gives them zen)

The Cleaners deserved to be in Milan. They got the shaft.

Brunt you JUST bought the place don’t destroy anything.

Cleo’s levels of petty here are unparalleled. She is so not pleased 😂

“Way to go new guy” 😂😂😂😂 Brunt has to once again deal with a new colleague she’s not really fond of. Lol

And yet Carmen is fine! We as the audience know that but it’s cute the Faculty think they’ve won for once.

VILE is actively searching for Carmen? Interesting there. Before this it’s been fairly passive. But now they seem to want confirmation of her demise? Or to off her once and for all.

Awww Carmen’s cute the way she lands on top of the metal detectors.

Player brings up a very good point. It DOES belong to her whatever’s in there (a line she later uses on Chief).

THIS SCENE

The way Carmen IMMEDIATELY goes soft she didn’t even know what her father looked like until now. She HAS HIS EYES. The emotion of this 😭😭

This is the banter of best friends. Player IMMEDIATELY jumps at the chance to coo over baby Carmen as is his right. And Carmen already had her moment looking at the passport photo so her mind is already on the next step. She acknowledges that YES she was a cute baby but we are in caper mode and Player immediately snap to like “image analysis. On it” one of my favorite interactions. Actually reminds me a lot of their conversations in the first two episodes during the Eye of Vishnu caper. Gives off the same vibes.

Okay but the box is under “Vera Cruz”, the Alias given to Carmen’s mother. I’m…actually really curious just how involved she was. Could then she OR Dexter have access to that box? Did she do it for him? Honestly I’m having the most amusing time thinking that the box was easy for Carmen to open because Dexter would also enter the bank like a thief and store his things. He would not have needed to, but I enjoy thinking about like father like daughter.

Ivy and Zack familiar enough with dancing to make comparisons. Interesting. Noted.

Hello Spinkick. I do love his intro tho. “May I have this dance” “who may I have the pleasure of declining” your lessons with Cleo are showing, Carmen.

Hi Flytrap. Not as good of an intro but high points for getting the line “it takes two to tango”

SHADOWSAN BEST intro. The way the light splits his face light/dark and he QUIPS that they couldn’t take his class and that he can STILL TEACH THEM A VALUABLE LESSON. He’s learning to banter and was probably tailing at least Flytrap this entire time. I’m so proud of him.

THE FIGHT ENDS SO FAST. And omg whose IDEA was it to tie them up on the flagpole. Under normal circumstances I would say Carmen but I think Shadowsan is gaining a mischievous streak.

I love the softness when Shadowsan takes the tracking mark off of Carmen.

Awww of course it’s the city name 🥹 it’s such a beautiful code name because as we are about to discover, Carmen was likely born there.

Brunt is so angry but I’m more amused at Maelstrom’s disbelief. I don’t think he’s ever this perplexed or distressed in the entire series.

SHADOWSAN AND IVY ONE ON ONE. VERY RARE INTERACTION. All concern about Carmen 😭 such a short scene but it shows us the long way that Shadowsan’s come with the siblings. He acknowledges them, likely endeared after the events of Stockholm. He knows they care fiercely for Carmen and will be there for her as friends. It’s SUCH a beautiful moment i could cry. Shadowsan’s got no idea who Carmen’s mother is, and knows it could cause her further heartache. If a thief, what kind? Pure thief flows through her veins. If civilian…then how much does Carmen tell her? How much did she know about Dexter? (A Spy chasing Dexter is my theory, willing to be wrong).

But also a neat idea to sort of sideline Shadowsan in a way? Being the decoy because he can handle both operatives. He’s still very present in the story, but contributes in other ways (until the second half of s3 I’m vibrating in excitement)

Okay but you did not give Shadowsan this talk when he decided to do fieldwork? I appreciate the foreshadowing though. Thanks Maelstrom.

Carmen meets her mother’s neighbor and GETS A NAME. Fully aware Carlotta could also be a code name but it’s better than nothing. Gosh the neighbor is so sweet. The way Carmen’s eyes go WIDE at being recognized as someone else and her face when she realizes she takes so much after her mother but she can’t be emotional right now fhghcbvhcvc going insane. It’s so good for Carmen that she’s actually getting somewhere.

LOL Chase. And Julia being all stiff about it when JUST last season she was the one practicing quips in the mirror. Julia does NOT look happy AT all after what went down last season. She’s at her metaphorical lowest. She knows she’s right about Carmen being good but can’t prove it. Again and again Carmen strikes out for unknown reasons and it has to be SO frustrating for Julia. Meanwhile Chase gets everything he wants now. I’d be sore and petty and looking for a new job too. (While doing your current job? For shame Julia)

The flashback of the photo being taken PLEASE. It’s tooth rotting cute.

Every season, Player gets one wallop of a zinger. This season, it’s “I’m sorry, did you not attend a school for thieves?” I am HOWLING. It’s even better with the unimpressed look on his face. I’ll say it again. Carmen is the moral compass on this team 😂 this little exchange exudes the best friend sleepover gossip vibe. Including Carmen’s disgusted sigh of giving in.

Imagine if Lupe Peligro actually was Carmen’s mom. 😂 this intro 😂 Ivy and Zack are ride or dies here just attacking at the knees and it doing nothing.

Color theory! She’s wearing a yellow shirt and has a blue/yellow mask. So definitely Carmen friendly.

THE WAY IVY SLIDES AWAY.

I LOVE the way Lupe Peligro indulges Zack. A little bit of danger, but also the pure delight on the sibs faces when she acknowledges that they are fans. Even Ivy trying to be grown up responsible big sis cannot resist.

So sweet that she offers Carmen a good time at the match 😭 this is why Carmen loves the world. Everywhere she goes, she meets the kindest people 🥹 Lupe did not have to go that hard, but she did for complete strangers who broke into her home.

Devineaux’s swagger 😂😂😂 also!!! Chief will never let him live down those car crashes.

Awww everyone is looking for Carmen. She’s going to the match, but all eyes are on her. (I see Brunt’s taxi arriving the same time as the ACME car)

IT IS SCRIPTED THAT WAY. But the way Lupe wants to keep it secret from Zack is so precious. She may not be Carmen’s mother but I think she adopted all three anyway.

Ahh poor Carmen is ready to relax, having NO idea that Brunt is just next door. Seeing ACME ruins it all. I love Zacks mild complaint vs Ivy’s quick to be on the job.

The way Chase gestures to the trophies 😂😂😂😂 poor Julia just wants to UNDERSTAND.

The way Carmen recognizes that track suit right away and CANT RUN. She TRIES. The absolute FEAR in Carmen’s eyes. There is no mistake how much danger that Carmen is in. Brunt already tried to kill her, already tried to turn her against Shadowsan. There’s only one thing she’s here for. Totally blindsided Carmen. I LIVE for it.

Carmen is so brave but Brunt and the audience know her true feelings.

Lupe just TAKES Brunt!!!! I Love this fight!!!!! So much!!! The “mi casa my fight” MHM

This is fantastic. Because Brunt goes up against someone who CAN take her. That hasn’t happened before. Carmen has always evaded. Brunt has been this immovable and undefeatable force since the beginning of the series. Now, this is a crescendo.

It began with Shadowsan. Protecting Carmen from Brunt in the basement in Poitiers. Player did his part by telling Carmen to stall.

Player, Zack, and Ivy protected her from Brunt in South Africa, by keeping red drone secret and tackling Tigress before she radioed for help.

Now, a civilian physically got in between Carmen and Brunt. Lupe totally takes Brunt to task here. We see Carmen’s shocked and bewildered face through Devineaux’s pov. She’s extremely concerned for Lupe here. Carmen knows what Brunt can do.

(And Shadowsan will bookend it later in s4)

I just. I love Carmen understanding that she can be the protected one. It’s okay. She does so much for others.

The ref all “oh the crowd likes it whatever!”

Carmen’s distraction gets her cuffed by Devineaux. He actually gets a win for 2 seconds 😂 the way “not a good time, Devineaux” becomes Carmen’s mantra for him 😂

She just DRAGS him with. PERPETUATING VILEs assumption that Chase and Carmen are working together.

The way Carmen briefly looks at Chase in disbelief when he takes Brunt’s not-compliment. Carmen is just in a constant state of “really” when it comes to Devineaux and it’s so funny.

OUCH

Carmen’s so lucky that the cuffs are push button activated.

The subtitles say he’s whimpering 😂😂

And now that Carmen has her wits about her, the tag team against Brunt is spectacular.

Bellum is so chaotic while Maelstrom and Cleo are legit concerned 😂😂 they couldn’t say butt dial because kids tv

The way Maelstrom says “Coach Brunt! Noo” is just SO funny to me coming from him.

Do…do the Faculty sit at that table like 24/7? It’s night in Mexico. Scotland is 6 hours ahead, it's like 2AM. Or do they pull all nighters on big risk capers? Imagine, the rest of the Faculty angry because Brunt leaves and that means they have to sit at the table until she returns or something.

Awww Carmen’s so nice to get Chase to a quieter place. To which he immediately wakes and the comedy of the century continues. What an EXCELLENT way to shake up the car gag.

!!!!!!! Carmen tells Lupe everything! I love this because after everything, Lupe definitely deserves an explanation. And immediately picks up on why. Lupe has proven she can handle herself in a fight. If VILE comes back for her, she’ll be okay. Ish. Knowing Carmen’s story at least allows her to be prepared. But Carmen doesn’t know if her mother can or not. To find her would put her in danger, as this not-caper proved. It’s also good for Carmen because she’s putting her trust out there. Lupe quite literally saved Carmen’s life that night.

SONIA’s COMING

“If I had a daughter, I’d want her to be just like you” SCREAMING. Carmen needs these people in her life 😭 Brunt wanted a daughter but clearly isn’t proud of Carmen now. Lupe's old enough. She knows that is exactly what Carmen needs to hear.

It is SO chilling to see Brunt humbled before the Faculty, not being able to take her seat back right away.

And then Maelstrom goes into Halloween mode dhcgcccfv. Like legit that’s SUCH a great fade out for the episode but also so silly!!!! Like we go from super serious implications of Brunts face being seen to Halloween costumes!

I’ll take it because we get the Viking episode in s4

Such a heartwarming episode!!!!

#carmen sandiego #carmen sandiego 2019 #carmen sandiego weekly #csweekly #cs weekly #cs liveblog #the luchadora tango caper #oops I guess I’ll be doing the interactive special next Saturday lol

13 notes · View notes

lunaloveslife39 · 1 year ago

Text

Monster High Height Headcanons

Abbey-7 feet- no explanation needed

Draculaura -4’10- transformed into a vampire sometime around year 400 at age 16. Doubt she would have had proper nutrition growing up before she was transformed into a vampire

Clawd-6’6- He’s a werewolf and a basketball player. He’ll probably get taller as he gets older. Likely stopping around 6’11sh. Wiki also says he’s tall and fit.

Clawdeen-6 feet- She’s a werewolf but she’s two younger then Clawd so she’s a bit shorter. She’ll likely stop growing around 6’5ish. Although it doesn’t matter much since she wears huge platform boots

Cleo-5’3- Would be average height for when she was alive as a human. Wear heels all the time and is intimidating so no one will say anything about her height.

Deuce-6’1- He’s fit and a basketball player. Probably won’t get much taller, maybe an inch or two. Doesn’t care much about his height. When Cleo was a total bitch and diva she definitely wouldn’t date anyone under 6 feet because if she did they’d look shorter or the same height as she when she does wear heels.

Operetta-5’4-I always imagined her as a short feisty southern girl. She’s also still somewhat human so it makes sense for her to have an average human height. I also like her and Johnny having a large height difference.

Toralei-5’3- I feel like she’d be the same height as Cleo. Based on that one episode she likely didn’t have the best childhood meaning she didn’t have access to food all the time. Being short also makes it easier for her to sneak around.(I also just love short characters who are intimidating) One time Toralei and Cleo kept coming to school wearing slightly taller platforms to one up each other. It ended with them basically wearing stilts to school

#monster high #abbey bominable #draculaura #clawdeen wolf #clawd wolf #cleo de nile #deuce gorgon #operetta #toralei stripe #I have more height headcanons that I might post later if anyone wants to see them

8 notes · View notes

bardofsomerset · 5 months ago

Text

Allison Russell at Omeara, Part Two: Live and Singing

Previously, in Part One, I was introduced to the music of Allison Russell and made the big decision to go to London and see her in concert. This caused me to reminisce on all the other concerts I've seen, hence, Part Two, with even less Allison Russell in concert than the first part.

Maybe it’s because my taste in music leans so heavily to before I was born, but going to watch live gigs has always seemed a rare and special thing. I’m never going to get to see Nina Simone or Dusty Springfield or Ella Fitzgerald in the flesh. When I saw Cleo Laine for the first time, she was in her eighties (having lost absolutely nothing of that voice) and I was the youngest person in the audience by a few decades.

That’s been a bit of a recuring theme since my first ever concert (not including musicals, which play a bit differently), seventeen years before I ventured out to see Allison Russell. When I took my seat in front of Joan Armatrading’s stage, I was very aware that I was possibly the only child in a room full of adults.

(Well, technically Joan Armatrading was the second concert, but as the first one started an hour and a half late and we had really bad seats, I don’t count it as a full experience.)

Joan Armatrading…there was no first listen to Joan Armatrading. Those melodies crawled into my ears while I was still in the womb, and they’ve been floating through my body ever since. She’s my mother’s favourite, has been ever since the 1970s heyday of Back to the Night and, of course, the eponymous album that introduced the world to “Love and Affection”, the song you probably know best:

youtube

I hear that opening and I’m a child again, home and safe and certain of the shape of the world. Funny, really, when uncertainty is part of the fabric of the song. It’s not music I “discovered”, there was no moment when it found me, but that makes it important in a whole different way. It’s how I grew with it, when the lyrics stayed the same but something changed in the way I listened; how every subsequent replay remade what I thought I knew.

It’s probably fair to say Mum was more excited than me as she directed the car through the growing evening darkness of 13th October 2005 and took us into Bristol. Yeah, there was some budding anticipation, but after that failed first gig I didn’t really understand. I could be sitting comfortably at home and still hear my favourite songs. I liked Joan Armatrading, but not in the way Mum did. How could I, without all those decades of following her, without those songs echoing through all the days of my life? You can trace the history of a person in their album collection, but I was barely a teenager. I hadn’t had time to build musical connections like that.

Plus, there was the fact that my literary analysis wasn’t quite at the level it is today. Joan Armatrading is a poet, and not one who explains her every thought and feeling to you. She wraps mysteries around her lyrics, leads you in and leaves you to draw from them what you will. Back then, I still didn’t have a clue what it all meant (I mean, I’m not going to say I understand it perfectly now, but I can see silhouettes and build something meaningful around them). It can be hard to fully appreciate something that you don’t understand.

Did preschool me hearing “Drop the Pilot” for the first time have any comprehension of a bogey outside of something that came out of your nose? Nope. Did I have the faintest conception that the titular “Rosie” might be a man in lipstick and heels? Not at all. I just knew I liked the songs with a faster rhythm, the ones where I could sing along with enthusiasm. “Drop the Pilot” is still one of my favourites, and that’s partly because I remember how it felt as a child, and partly because I can hear it now in a way that was impossible back then.

There was no sitting up in the gods this time like that failed first concert, we were right there in the front row, knees to the stage and almost in the centre (a feat that wouldn’t be repeated until 2014, when my parents finally bought me tickets to see Elaine Paige, after previously missing her twice. That evening took me through every show she’d ever played, every character I’d never had the chance to see, where every slight hunch or stretch of her shoulders was all that was needed to turn the actress who sings into someone completely new).

Any worries about disappointment vanished the moment Joan Armatrading took her place.

I may have preferred the more up-tempo tunes when I was little, but on that night, sat in what was still known as the Colston Hall, before renovations and renaming rebirthed it as the Bristol Beacon, it wasn’t “Drop the Pilot” that hit me most. It got me, don’t get me wrong, I think pretty much every song landed twice as heavy as I’d ever heard before; in that way that only happens when you and the singer are barely a breath apart, but the moment of the night was one I hadn’t remotely expected.

By the time we reached that point, I’d already seen tunes that I thought I recognised shimmering with a new kind of life. I’d journeyed through songs that were completely unfamiliar, but that settled as old friends by their final note. My ears had opened to the jokes and backstory woven between the music, the phrases delivered in that Birmingham accent, until it was suddenly clear to me that the disembodied voice coming through my speakers for so many years was actually a real human being. Just like the rest of us, except there was that melody, that talent, so far beyond my imagination.

It couldn’t have been better. That’s what I thought, but it turned out there was another space I didn’t even know needed to be filled. When the end was rolling close, but the audience wasn’t ready for her to leave, that’s when Joan Armatrading decided to sing “Willow”:

youtube

“Willow” wasn’t one of my quick and bouncy tunes where I already liked to sing along. I wasn’t yet at the point in my life where I could dig into its deeper meaning. When it started to play, I didn’t even know the words. It was immediately clear that everyone else did, so all I could do was listen to them, and to her.

I knew by this point that Joan Armatrading was a poet, but somehow that was the moment where it became real to me, when her voice and theirs drew out those shapes from the lyrics. I could hear it in the thunder, see it illuminated in the edge of the lighting, wrap myself in the softening storm. “Willow” was shelter from everything else in the world, leaving nothing but us. Everyone was singing along, even me, and I still didn’t know the words exactly. It just felt right.

It was the first time I realised that a concert isn’t you watching them. It’s them sharing with you. It’s you giving back. For so many of the people in that audience, it wasn’t just that moment but all the memories that accompanied it, reliving every replay since the original 1977 release. I found myself joining them in a place they created before I was born. It was learning not just the lyrics, repeated in every chorus, not just the melody, poured nectar-like over the congregation, but also how to experience the song as a living thing.

I’ve seen Joan Armatrading twice more since then, first at Warwick Arts Centre (one of the great advantages of attending the University of Warwick was having that right there on campus) with two brilliant supporting acts – part of her mission to bring attention to the local talent who it’s sometimes easy to miss, in this case Jamie Sheerman and Chris Wood – and once again she fed her distinctive lines of humour between some of the most beautiful love songs ever written. Now I was finally in a place to hear “Dry Land” (one of that small cluster of early songs that weren’t hers alone, but with lyrics by Pam Nestor) and “The Weakness in Me”. I was ready to wonder how I ever missed their depth before.

Second was at my old friend the Playhouse, right at home in Weston-super-Mare. That was when she was scaling down her touring and it was just her on the stage, an entire band within one woman’s fingers. There was nothing between her and us. She made the switching between instruments look so easy, and she crafted those songs into whole new shapes yet again.

In between, I heard the way other musicians, famous and important and influential ones, talked about her, the way they all honoured her with such boundless respect. I watched the documentary, the one about how in the 1970's no one had seen or heard anything like her before, and that’s still true today, about all those poor, confused white, male record execs who saw a black woman who wasn’t singing blues or jazz or soul and didn’t have a clue how to respond, whilst she just kept on doing her own thing and the listeners kept finding her, because you might not be able to describe Joan Armatrading’s music in relation to anything else, but you know it’s something special. By the time I was in my twenties my appreciation was on a whole new level. Small me couldn’t have conceived of it.

When I was at uni, Joan Armatrading became one of the artists I played as an antidote to homesickness. She just reminded me of listening with my mum. She was top of a list of singers that also included Leonard Cohen, Tom Waits and Elkie Brooks. Other than Tom Waits, I’ve had the immense privilege of seeing all of them live.

Leonard Cohen I saw twice (July 2009 in Liverpool, September 2013 in Cardiff), and both times he seemed so bemused that we’d all made the effort just to go and listen to him. He took off his hat and pressed it to his heart, ever the gentle romantic, a poet who sang whilst his backup, including the Sublime Webb Sisters (his description) turned the occasional surprise cartwheel and band members, including the man he called “maestro of the wind”, played along. He rendered the full version of “Hallelujah”, the proper one, no verses cut and no meaning lost, enough to silence the drone of all those inescapable covers (I once had to watch a performance of “Hallelujah” by a choir of teenagers in a Christmas concert. It didn’t have quite the same weight), and he sang all the melodies I try to press on people when they complain Leonard Cohen’s music is depressing. Who hears “Anthem” or “If It Be Your Will” and feels anything less than hope? As for all when he asked that audience to see you naked, and made his vows of devotion, I’m pretty sure there was some actual swooning amongst his long-adoring fans. Even in two big arenas, not remotely intimate spaces, there was still a closeness that’s hard to describe.

Then there was Elkie Brooks, with that voice worn in over decades, with every new texture just elevating the whole. She’s going on her Long Farewell Tour in 2024 and beyond, so if you want to see her, now’s the time. I’ll definitely be there.

youtube

We saw her in Yeovil, at the Octagon (I think this was May 2010), a present to make up for missing her most recent appearance in Weston. She has this gift, Elkie Brooks, across all the genres, whether on her own or back with the woefully unappreciated Vinegar Joe. One moment you’re in a pub or bar, rowdy and rousing, dancing, probably on the table, with a glass in your hand. Then you stop, dead still, ears clinging to each lingering melody as she takes you to a club 1940-something where it’s long after dark and the music curls around you like smoke.

(Also, as I discovered when searching for the best videos to illustrate this section, she was once a cavewoman.)

When we saw her, she was half apologetic about the fact she had a new album out. It was just after the release of Powerless and, perfectly understandably, she wanted us to buy the CD. That meant she needed us to hear stuff like the title track and “Why”, which for someone still relatively new to all this were two absolutely beautiful songs, but for everyone else clearly didn’t have the weight of the classics. I can’t find it on YouTube, but her version of “I Can’t Make You Love Me” was the first I heard, and remains pretty close to Bonnie Raitt’s for me.

Elkie Brooks knew the new album was not the main reason her audience was here. She was very aware that most of them (this was another one of those concerts where I was a different generation to everyone else) had been loving “Lilac Wine” and “Pearl’s a Singer” for many, many years. They were going to need to be satisfied.

How do you keep a song alive on the hundredth time through? The thousandth? What’s left other than reciting it like a child with their times tables? Can you really find a new emotion every night, whilst still keeping the core that made people love it back then?

The answer was in her own personality, in the spaces where she found room for character and conversation. The knowing pause and raised eyebrow on “I drink much more than I ought to drink” in “Lilac Wine”, a moment that made us all chortle. Introducing “Pearl’s a Singer” and playing up her exasperation at just how many times she’d had to perform it. After all, its success took even her by surprise back in 1977. We couldn’t help but laugh again, just before she emphasised how she was going to need our help to work up her enthusiasm:

youtube

(Obviously not a concert version, but the closest I could find to how it was when I heard it.)

We obliged, hanging on that moment of stillness in the middle of the song before rushing into the acceleration. You could tell, through every moment of that gig, that Elkie Brooks was someone who’d lived her whole life on the stage, that she knew and understood every inch of it, so utterly comfortable with every shift in tone, with how she reached us and how we responded. There wasn’t a single moment when that connection wasn’t there, us and her and the music all together.

Which brings us back to Cleo Laine, who, as I mentioned, was in her eighties when I saw her. July 2009, I’d just finished the first year of my A-Levels and she was more than fifty years into her career as Britain’s greatest jazz singer. I swear if Cleo Laine was American, she’d regularly be mentioned in the same breath as Ella Fitzgerald and Sarah Vaughan. That quite frankly ridiculous vocal range (four octaves? Five octaves? I’ve heard it debated, but either way, seriously?). That glorious scat singing (the whole video is worth watching, but go to 6.35 for when it starts getting really fun). The fact she decided to do an album of Shakespeare set to jazz. I mean, really, is it possible to design something more specifically to my taste?

youtube

If we’re talking concerts that were particularly special to me, not just my mother, then we have to talk about Cleo Laine. My mother still has a role to play (we share a lot more music than I do with my dad, though he’s probably the reason I like country, and he was also the one who stood next to me through the non-stop, three hours and no interval experience at Cardiff’s Millennium Stadium as Bruce Springsteen piled the energy higher and higher, until he sent off all his band and perched there at the end of the stage, just him and his guitar, playing “Thunder Road”). No, my mother was the one who bought me a Cleo Laine CD one day, having seen it at random in a shop, and told me she thought I’d like it. Being a teenager, I ignored her. That was very silly, as I discovered when I finally hit play.

Jazz doesn’t have to work as hard as other music to make me fall in love with it (don’t ask me to explain the technicalities of why that’s true. It’s not a conscious thing), but that CD wasn’t actually a particularly jazzy one. At Her Finest took the songs of some of the great songwriters: Billy Joel, Stevie Wonder, Stephen Sondheim, each of them so capable of creating an image, a story, an insight into our own nature, and it strummed them to that unmistakable, unsurpassed voice. Into this potent mix, Cleo Laine had added her own pen, painting lyrics over the rippling melody of “Cavatina” to create “He Was Beautiful”. What all those tracks had in common was a humanity, poured into words and music and feelings, that found its way deep inside you.

That first time I saw Cleo Laine live was in St George’s Hall, Bristol, where we’d also later see Curtis Stigers jazzing things up. It literally used to be a church, one small enough to hold everyone close. It was a most appropriate sort of venue for a divine experience. We were only a couple of rows back, right at the heart of it all, and it almost seemed she was staring directly at me as she sang. At other moments she didn’t forget to look up and to the sides, to the people tucked in at the edges who weren’t necessarily in the line of view. She was there for her audience. I had no doubt she saw every one of us.

The thing about someone having that much experience on the stage; they have so many stories. There’s nothing they haven’t seen, no escapade they haven’t enjoyed. Dame Cleo Laine and Sir John Dankworth were side by side, and their banter flitted between every song, the embodiment of a 50-year marriage and shared life between two people who understood each other’s music better as much or more than they did their own. They would be mocking each other one minute, then harmonising perfectly the next. She’d make fun of him, he’d menace her with his clarinet while she wasn’t looking. Behind them, shoulders curling around the deep, heavy voice of the double bass, their son Alec carried the family tradition in fine form.

They dusted every moment with fun and good humour, like they’d just invited us into their everyday lives. One time, as Cleo was introducing a song, she told us she’d first heard it sung by a lady (I can’t remember who and it’s really annoying me) who’d been 91 at the time. Still a decade away from that, despite being well past what most people would consider retirement age, with absolutely impeccable delivery, she explained, “It gave me great hope.”

On the other hand, when she sang “Sonnet 18”, or as you may know it, “Shall I Compare Thee to a Summer’s Day”, the world stopped.

youtube

Melody by John, lyrics by that Shakespeare guy. I mean, as Cleo herself said, if someone wrote you a poem like that, would you have any option but to fall in love?

The second time we saw her, a few years later, John was gone but the whole rest of the family was there, children and grandchildren: Jacqui, Alec and Emily, singing and playing along, and we were in their back garden at The Stables near Milton Keynes. A shared communion indeed.

We saw Jacqui Dankworth on her own once, back in Weston, just a few days before I left for uni. Cleo Laine had sung the classics, but this night was about something new, songs I’d never heard before. I could hear the similarities to her mother’s voice, and the differences too. She’d inherited something special, but despite the almost irresistible urge to compare, there was no denying she could stand alone. That was also my introduction to Charlie Wood, his piano dancing around her voice as they both fed off the other. They weren’t married yet, but the connection between them came alive in every note.

At uni, I saw Alec Dankworth with his Spanish Accents in the Warwick Arts Centre. Someone said to me once, and I think it might be true, that it’s impossible for a double bass to sound bad. No screeching, no wailing, none of those completely inexplicable noises that my saxophone sometimes decides to randomly make when I blow it. There’s just something about that deep, earthy rhythm that gets right into your blood.

Getting the CD of Back to You signed after Jacqui’s gig, she asked if I was a musician (I think it was because I was again on the young side of the audience and that was the most obvious reason for me to be there), always a slightly awkward question. Technically, I suppose, but not really how she meant. She also commented on my unusual name.

That’s another recurring theme at these events. Lesley Garrett (possibly the most exuberant singer in the world, and equally enthusiastic about encouraging my own singing), and Clare Teal (Yorkshire again, a voice so familiar from the radio, who’d introduced me to so much jazz, but who I’d only recently realised was a singer in her own right) would both say similar things. “That’s an unusual name.” “Are you a musician?” like there was anything comparable between me and them.

Of all the concerts that have been and could have been, of all the old favourites given new breath and surprise discoveries brought to life in the chamber of an auditorium, only one still seems like a dream, like something like that could never have happened. Aretha Franklin had given up on international tours long before I became a fan. There was no chance she’d be coming to the UK any time soon.

No, she wouldn’t come to me, but I did go to America in 2011, one year on a university exchange, from Warwick to Vanderbilt, from Coventry to Nashville. Flicking through the internet and seeing that Aretha Franklin was on a US tour and suddenly realising, “yes, I’m in the US.” Opening the list of dates and seeing “Ryman Auditorium, Nashville” and barely taking time to consider. I walked to the Ryman (I wanted to make sure it was an easy journey so I’d know I could do it on concert night) and I bought my ticket there and then, taking the opportunity to do a little tour of the building too. I didn’t realise quite how much history was in the Mother Church. Yet another religious experience hallowing the halls where music plays.

It was raining on the night, the weather was absolutely foul and I was not looking forward to trudging down Broadway, but it turned out one of my professors was going with her family and she offered to give me a lift. I had a very good seat, down and near the front, but frankly I could have been sat on the roof outside, right in the heart of the weather, and it still would have qualified as the experience of a lifetime.

I’ve been trying to construct a narrative for that evening, one that sums up every moment and emotion, the crowd of that stage with its band and more band and singers and dancers filling in every corner, the second piano they rolled on halfway through so she could play for us on the most beautiful (and longest) version of “Bridge Over Troubled Water” that’d I’d ever heard, the audience overflowing with love and her love in return, the fact that not a single word or note mattered in the face of that feeling, but I don’t think it exists. Could any description do it justice?

It’s a good place for music, Nashville. I realise you already know that, but I also saw Sonny Rollins while I was there (a very good reminder of what the saxophone is meant to sound like when I’m struggling myself), and I took in Memphis the Musical just weeks before I actually visited Memphis for the first time. A lot of fond memories accompanied that long year, despite the lonely moments and the homesickness.

There have been other concerts as well: the ancient energy of Clannad twisted into something cool and modern under the roof of Warwick Arts Centre, Natalie Williams at Ronnie Scott’s (as much about the venue as the music, fabulous as that was), Tony Bennett at the Royal Albert Hall and Sir Willard White at The Forum in Bath, barely a word spoken between those classic songs perfect phrased, Gladys Knight at the Royal Albert Hall with love and celebration, several slightly overwhelming Big Gig performances with the Guides where we sat next to the aeroplanes and watched the dots on the stage who were presumably the artists we were there to see. But live performance had fallen by the wayside a bit, and not just because of the pandemic, when I made the decision that this time, on this tour, I was going to stop putting things off until the next opportunity and make an active effort to put myself in the same room as Imelda May.

My first encounter with Imelda May came when “Johnny’s Got a Boom Boom” was playing on the radio with somewhat unavoidable frequency, and I didn’t mind because every time I’d nod my head and tap my foot, thinking to myself as I heard that unmistakable, bouncing off your bones bass line, “I like that beat. It’s pretty cool” Then I went on my way, working on my A-Levels. At some point, I did see an interview in person, saw her with that hair and those lips and that look in her eye, and my vague thoughts added, “She looks pretty cool too.”

Then, a few years later, I saw this performance on the Graham Norton Show:

youtube

Not only did I again think “I like that beat”, this time I also had to smile at the lyrics:

"I love your nails, even your entrails I love your soul, even your little mole Yeah I love you inside out

I love your arms and your laugh out loud charms I love your wits, and all your wobbly bits I love your lungs, and your talking tongue Yeah I love you inside out"

I might not have a competent musical ear, but I know what good words look like. These were clever, and funny, and not long after, when I happened to be a in a music shop with money to burn, I bought Mayhem in its entirety as an album. It wasn’t planned. I spotted the CD in the ranks, I remembered that performance, and there was a spontaneous decision that I’m still glad about more than a decade later.

Those first two albums I bought, in fairly quick succession: Mayhem, then Love Tattoo, became the albums I played when I was tired and I needed a burst of energy, whether to my hands or to the thinking parts of my head. They were (and still are) what I turned up loud when housework needed doing, even if they made basic tasks take longer because of the constant need to dance, and even if I could only play them when I was on my own because yes, I still felt compelled to sing along very loudly. They made life a little bit easier and a lot more fun. They could blast me into a writing mood, but sometimes I’d have to wait until the CD finished because I couldn’t concentrate on my words when my ears were still hanging on hers.

Tribal was the first album I ever preordered before it had even been released, claiming the bonus EP despite the fact I didn’t at the time own equipment capable of playing vinyl. It was also the first time I watched an official Imelda May music video, and I still go back to It’s Good to be Alive” whenever I need an immediate pick me up that’ll make me grin so loud you can hear it. Or you could, if I wasn’t alone in the house with the speakers on full blast, crushing every other sound under the vibration of that rhythm.

Then came Life Love Flesh Blood. Before Outside Child, no album had ever come into my life with such a definite force. There were the interviews with Imelda May first, some that I heard and some that I read, promising that it would be something different. Was that a good thing or not? I was reasonably certain that the quality of the singing would make any shape of melody worth a listen, but would these new tracks have that same energy, that mix of humour and humanity, that made the previous records so precious? I was excited, yes, because the odds seemed good, but there was a little trepidation too.

I’m not sure what I was worried about, really. I love those rockabilly rhythms but my favourite songs on Love Tattoo and Mayhem are the slower ones: “Knock 123” and “Kentish Town Waltz” respectively. You can linger in the lyrics, and in all the power and control thrumming through that limitless voice, and you can feel every inch of meaning bleeding into you. The first time “Call Me” poured through the radio, it stopped me like those two had, and all my doubts were scoured away in the echo of that first perfect note.

Caught in the pain and the pleading of Life Love Flesh Blood’s first song, feeling its ache in my ears and my chest, I knew there was something special coming. Then I saw the guest list for Jools’ Annual Hootenanny, saw her name, and I was very ready to hear what came next. It turned out it was the kind of sound that claws itself into your spine. My music, written especially for me.

youtube

Yes, she had new hair and a new style, but she still had that look in her eye. That command to pay attention. It was coupled with something else. Without that beat, there was a new kind of vulnerability, one that would tremble throughout the album. Behind the evocative notes of that title, “Black Tears”, behind that striking, captivating image, was a darkness and a pain that spilled out until it swallowed the world.

Somehow, I ended up buying Life Love Flesh Blood twice. Two CD versions, both preorders with bonus tracks. They had a different image on the front, and one had a signed insert whilst the other had extra, extra bonus tracks (the ukulele versions), so they were technically different. No regrets.

No, it wasn’t like the previous albums, but sometimes music finds you at exactly the right time. It wasn’t a happy period, and I was wallowing, to put it mildly. A series of songs with “the world’s not perfect but we can still make it better, I’m not perfect but I’ll still try my best” as a central message? A battered hope depicted through all those admitted mistakes, through humanity in all its shallow, selfish, prideful moments? The declaration that love is something we can actively choose, and that we have to keep choosing? I can’t overstate how important it was for me to hear that.

It's a highly personal album, like you’re being allowed a glimpse into someone else’s soul, but somehow it also manages to distil humanity as a species:

"I've chased away my demons But I'm human at my best

So come adore me But know I'm going to fall Off of this pedestal That I hope you put me on"

I’m going to try and explain why this works for me, but I’m not sure there’s a better way to say it. How does someone write something that brilliant? Place so much depth in such simplicity? The tension there, that conflict between who you want to be and your actuality, the intense desire for someone else to see you and the fear of what will happen when they do, the hope that they’ll love the idea of you and that creeping voice reminding you that the idea is unsustainable? All you can do is your best, but is your best really worth that much? Romance and reality in the same hand; all the difficulty and beauty of being human.

If those few lines of “Human” gave me feelings, then the entirety of “When It’s My Time” ran through me like a blade. It’s not often I see depictions of religion that match the people of faith that I know, not borderline saints, not judgemental bigots, but everyday humans who are so aware of how impossible it is for them to have all the answers, and yet who are so willing to keep trying to understand better, to try and be better. It’s the faith that tests itself every day and comes through on the other side, that admits its own doubts and frailty and is all the stronger for it.

It’s also that conflict again, that precarious balance of hope and helplessness. How do you accept your own imperfections? Is it possible to do better when you’re so intimately aware of your own flaws? Can you find the value in trying, even when you know you won’t succeed? Where do you put your faith? How can you be so small and so human in such a big, complicated world?

I know some people complained about the new sound in Life Love Flesh Blood, but listen to “Proud and Humble” and “When It’s My Time” back-to-back. One leans more into the triumph, the other’s more pleading, but both are pretty explicit about their faith and failure. “I’ve done wrong but that’s not the sum total of me. Look at what I tried to do. Lord, love me like I love you.”

That same wry humour that I loved in “Inside Out” is still there as well, especially in “Bad Habit”, otherwise known as the catchiest song on the album, the one I’m most likely to keep humming for weeks every time I hear it.

"Spending money like I have it A bad habit, spending money like I have it

…

The doctor said 'Girl to my surmount There's nothing wrong with you But you bank account!'"

In other places, it flips the script the other way round. Songs like “Big Bad Handsome Man”, where he tempts you and it’s enticing and celebratory become songs like “Sixth Sense” and “How Bad Can a Good Girl Be”, where the temptation calls directly into your own darkness. Rather than looking out at him and his devilish charm, they take a more introspective route and dare to explore the less palatable side of that desire.

The album is also about love. Like with Allison Russell, I love how Imelda May writes about love. This the woman who admired “all your wobbly bits” for “Inside Out” and then on the same album included “Kentish Town Waltz”, one of the best bits of storytelling in song I’ve heard, absolutely devoid of anything that resembles the ideal of romance whilst still being one of the most romantic things you can possibly imagine.

I love how this love is never flashy, never about grand gestures. It’s about everyday drudgery that you choose to share, about a whole range of choices that you need to make for a love to work. It’s the stews lasting three days into four, it’s knowing you’re going to fall off of the pedestal you hope they put you on, it’s not fear, it’s home, and all that’s good and bad about that. On 11 Past the Hour, it’s “Diamonds” that carries that theme best:

"Don't need to wish on stars We don't have to reach that far Everything's right where we are"

I thought no love song could stop “Kentish Town Waltz”, but “Diamonds” is pretty close. They’re different in tone, but they’re both about the grounded side of love, about a reality that isn’t full of sparkling glamour but is all the stronger because of it. Imelda May writes about love in a way I don’t think I’ve seen from anyone else. It’s never flamboyant, sometimes it’s annoying, but it’s also a way of living.

It doesn’t even have to be set to music. When 11 Past the Hour was announced, I did as I’d done for the last two albums: listened to every single as it was released, poured over every interview to try and eke out the details, and as soon as it was possible, put myself down for a preorder. This time, rather than a bonus EP that I couldn’t play, the extra was a disc of poetry, yes, set to melodies, but spoken, not sung.

Now, 11 Past the Hour is a pretty evocative title in its own right. That’s not a bit of casual speech, it’s an image with some depth to it, the kind that that’s at once instantly understood and enduringly enigmatic. This album was following on from Life Love Flesh, Blood, which had already been pushing the poetic pretty hard, that had managed some points when I thought the lyrics turned almost Leonard Cohen-esque:

"You got my mind In the gutter of love"

Now, however, for Slip of the Tongue, the melody drew back a little so you could see every syllable of each word, though when read in Imelda May’s voice there was music anyway.

Lay those lines out in isolation and they carry their own weight. Here’s love again, in “Home”, perhaps the best of them all. “It’s choosing kindness over being right”. It’s not all harmony though, there’s the punch and the dance of “GBH”, then the shock awakening of “Elephant’s” first line, there are moments of delicacy and violence colliding together, there’s questioning and uncertainty and humanity, the things I love so much in her music. Then every time you think you have a grasp on the images and the feelings of Slip of the Tongue, there’s moment of transformation into something more.

Since then, I’ve bought the A Lick and a Promise poetry book. It now on the desk next to my laptop, where I can pick it up and dip in at leisure whenever I have a craving to see words painted like art.

Of course, you can’t ignore the songs of 11 Past the Hour. It’s a fairy tale from that opening “'Twas”, it’s a romance where sweetness and sorrow sit side by side, it’s intimacy danced under an open sky. We travel a long way over the course of this album, from Ireland to London to Mexico to the most war-torn corners of the world and all the roads in between. There are temptations and doubts and darkness, as we’d expect. “I’m no psychopath” says the woman who once celebrated how, “I go with a psycho” There’s triumph that bursts forth in “Made to Love” in a similar way to how it roared in “Should Have Been You”. There’s storytelling. It rewards every listen, and every relisten, as you try to unravel all its questions and their uncertain answers.

Seeing Imelda May in concert shouldn’t really have been that difficult, as she has several great advantages over most of my other favourite singers. For instance, she is still alive, in good health and actually touring in the UK on a regular basis. The only real reason it hadn’t happened was that I hadn’t got round to it. I was sure I would one day.

A new album meant a new tour, so in the aftermath of 11 Past the Hour I poked around her website to find dates and destinations. Bath. Bath was on the list. It was the perfect place for it to happen. Bath is one of my favourite cities and I’ll take any excuse to wander there. There’s so much history in every street, but not the heavy kind. It’s beautiful in the pale stone of the buildings and almost mystical in the shimmering waters.

Of course, I’m not actually anywhere near Bath at the moment. I’m stranded a long way from home and don’t know when I’ll be able to get back on a more permanent basis. That meant that when I took a casual look at those tour dates, as I’d done nearly every year since I became an Imelda May fan, Bath didn’t represent the city of closeness and convenience, but instead an excuse. I could combine it with a trip home, not the long-term settlement that I really wanted but still an improvement on my current status.

As always, my mum jumped on the opportunity to encourage me to socialise, this time by suggesting I go with one of the members of that three-person social network of mine. Asking him to come wasn’t actually that difficult. It’s hard to believe when you see me craning my neck to look at him, but we met when he was shorter than me. We’re friends in the way that’s only possible with someone you’ve known since before you had a memory. We’re close in the way that no matter how many paths you both travel, whether in philosophy or physical space, you know you’ll always come back, and that when you do you’ll be able to just pick it up again. We started a conversation nearly 30 years ago and whilst it’s curled many ways in between, it hasn’t stopped since.

That meant that something as simple as sending him a message didn’t have to be debated and worried over, that I knew before I started that I wasn’t overstepping. Of course, that wasn’t the same as knowing he’d say yes, or even if he’d like Imelda May’s music. Not that I was too worried about that second one. He’s a musician, a proper one who can hear the things I miss, and that means that his musical genres can basically be divided into “good” and “not for me.”

I didn’t send him links at first because I was still trying to decide which tracks would make the most representative sample, but I did offer to make recommendations if he wanted to listen. He was enthusiastic about coming even without hearing a single note. “I’m sure I’ll love her music. I’ve not heard of her but feel free to send anything over.”

After some debate one my part, I decided on “Johnny’s Got a Boom Boom”, as that was the one I was pretty sure he’d have heard on radio if he’d ever encountered her without realising, the Graham Norton performance of “Inside Out” that had pushed me over the line into a fan, and the “Black Tears” video from Jools Holland that had made me realise just how special Life Love Flesh Blood would be. There needed to be some old and some new if he was to fully appreciate her.

Then he started wondering if going to see her without having a clue what to expect would actually be more of an experience. It was a month later when he messaged me that he’d finally decided to listen to the links “I love the three that you sent and while I like the 50s Rock n Roll stuff, her latest album is blowing me away! Her voice is incredible no matter what genre she's singing but I like this latest stuff the best.”

I may have bounced up and down slightly with excitement.

(In case you’re wondering, yes, I did later turn him towards Allison Russell – “I love Hy-Brasil, the atmosphere and harmonies are amazing” – followed by a deep plunge into the Silk Road Ensemble as he fell into the many layered wonders of Rhiannon Giddens.)

When I went to buy the tickets, there were two options. Yes, I could have just gone with the regular ones, which would have got us to a decent position in the stalls, but the very front few rows were only available as part of a VIP package. A VIP package that also came with the right to watch the soundcheck, and attend a Q&A afterwards, plus a special gift. That was ridiculously enticing and if I’d been on my own, I wouldn’t have been able to resist.

Was it fair to ask someone else to buy a VIP ticket to see a singer that they hadn’t heard of a month ago just to indulge me?

Yes, I decided, it was worth it, and if he wanted I’d cover the difference between this and a regular ticket so he wasn’t too put out.

It was just after I’d bought the tickets that he messaged and told me he was having trouble rearranging his shift at work.

“Don’t do anything yet,” he said as I rechecked my confirmation e-mail.

There were a very nervous few days before that one was resolved, and all that was left was to wait for Tuesday 12th April.

When the day rolled round, I was already in a good mood. I was home, in Somerset, and that’s always been the best thing to help me breathe. I wasn’t worried about finding the venue, because I’d been to The Forum before. There was no stress about getting back to Bath Spa station before the last train, because as you’ll know if you’ve ever been to Bath, getting to The Forum basically involves leaving the station and turning left, and getting back is just as simple. Everything was in such a clear line.

His dad gave us a lift, him from his house and me from my B&B, and from the car to the station to the train we picked up that conversation we’ve been dipping in and out of for so long. We’d left at lunch to allow plenty of time to get something to eat and be at The Forum before the soundcheck began, which meant we also had time to wander around one of my favourite cities in the world.

You can’t walk through Bath without feeling its age, the echo of all those Victorian voices, the shape of all those Roman constructs, the song of that older time before stories had words, when the Pagans first touched the magic in its waters. We talked, and we talked, and the sun was bright but still cool enough, as you’d expect in early April, and the streets were lively, but not crowded, and there was really nothing that could be changed to improve that day.

We walked past a bookshop and I felt that irresistible pull, and unlike the vast majority of people who know me, who wouldn’t have trusted me to leave again, he said “We can go in if you want.” Yes, even though we were still on a schedule. Drifting between the shelves, running fingers over all the intrigue and excitement promised in every different colour papering the spines, until yes, if we wanted to have something to eat before the soundcheck started, we needed to move a little quicker.

A little vegan café full of garlic mushrooms and katsu curry. Conversation about music of course, but also comics and politics and personal lives and all the topics in between. His music degree had led him into a career as a postman, clearly such a natural choice, but now he was making a change. He had decided to become a music therapist, was just starting his early reading before the course started, and that meant he could talk through the deconstruction of a melody in a whole different way, to how it could bypass and jumpstart parts of the brain that were otherwise losing their connections.

We came to a halt in the sun and sounds outside of The Forum, that curve at the point of the road, the art deco cinema turned dance school turned bingo hall turned church, a model of architectural beauty like all of its city. Forum is an ancient word, it takes you back to those Romans again, and it sounds like a conversation, like something for people to share. It’s a name that carries a lot of ideas. And of course, this was yet another concert venue on sanctified ground, a site dedicated to both God and music over the course of a life.

No one else was there when we first arrived, but others soon followed, coming up in their ones and twos, presumably for the same purpose as us. I watched them with curiosity, all those different looks and different voices but united intent. If we hadn’t all been stood outside of that same door, could we even have known the music we shared?

Eventually, those doors opened. It was finally time to step inside.

#Bardic Writings #Youtube

1 note · View note

lavastories · 2 years ago

Text

A Love Like Crimson Roses - POV Fiona

I look through the window, where I see kids outside playing tag and two couples walking towards their car. It made me wonder if life was always this calm and peaceful. I mean, from the ups and downs my family was going through with money issues, I couldn't help the thought that crawled up into my head. It wasn't everyday, I would sit here and think about life; but today was just one of those moments.

"Fiona! Your going to be late!" my mom called from downstairs. I sighed in frustration, that I would have to go to school today. It was enough that I was already unpopular and nerd to boot. I walked away from the window "I'm coming mom!" I took one more look in the mirror. I wasn't sure if my yellow shirt with black strips complimented my black high heel boots but I was willing to try to get noticed this year. I gathered my school bag and unplugged my new phone from its charger, making my way downstairs.

When I got down, I heard my mom and dad fighting again. I made sure to listen in and stay in the corner by the stairs "You think I don't want to get a job?! I would prefer a job now, then to have you complain about every damn second." And there it was. The reason why they were always fighting. My dad lost his job about a year ago and mom had to take up extra shifts at the clinic to make ends meet. So, in other words. Dad was jobless and mom was over-worked. Before the argument can take on a desperate turn, I stepped out from the corner pretending I only just got downstairs "Okay, I'm here. Mom your ready?" Mom gave dad one last glare before turning to me "Of course, lets be on our way." As we made our way out the door, I gave dad a tight hug of hope that everything was going to be okay, and followed mom out the door.

The drive to school was quiet until we hit a red light that was ten blocks away from the school "How much did you hear?" I turn to her while her face was still focused on the road "I guess you knew your seventeen year old daughter was there, huh?" she sighed "You know I don't like it when me and your father fights." I rolled my eyes at how rich that sounded "You don't like it but you guys do it anyway. Why?" the light turns green and she puts on her best smile "Well sweetie, that's life." I couldn't help but laugh at that response "Right, and I'm in high school." I say sarcastically. I turned to look out the window to avoid having anymore conversations. I already knew everything she would have said to make it seem everything was going to be okay. But, I knew better then to believe that..

It was first period and I'm standing by my locker waiting for my three best-friends. Tori, Sasha, and Cleo. We've been best-friends for as long as I can remember. Tori was always the jock in our group. Sasha is the fashion icon, while Cleo and I were nothing but geek without the charming. But we were the prefect group of friends. As I take out my chemistry book, Sasha and Tori shows up both at my sides "Omg Fiona, I'm so loving the black boots." Sasha squeals as Tori rolled her eyes "Only our own fashion icon would know what's in and what's out." We laughed as Sasha pouts "It would have been better if you put in as much as an effort as Fiona, Tori." I laughed even more when Tori gave Sasha the death glare and Sasha putting up her hands like she got caught by the cops. As I'm looking around, I still wasn't seeing any signs of Cleo "Guys, where is Cleo?" While Sasha was to busy fixing her everyday make-up, Tori answers my question "I think she could either be at the library or in study hall." I nod. That did seemed like Cleo. This was finals week. It would only make sense she would be in either of the two cracking down on some studying time by herself. So, we all knew it was better not to disturb her. As we are making our way to chemistry, there he was. Seth Kingston. The only guy I've been crushing on since freshmen year. Seth is not just a drama major but a genius. Plus he was also popular and the quarterback for our schools Red-hawks, football team. And the only one that would ever match up to him is his best-friend Ajar Felon. He was good-looking and a genius, probably more then Seth. But he was the bad boy. As much as he was smart. He was trouble.

As Sasha looks at me, I glared at her "What?" Tori rolled her eyes "Oh come on. Sasha stare could only mean one thing. Are you gonna walk your smart ass over there or are we gonna have to push you to make things happen?" I quickly turn to Tori "You wouldn't dare." Sasha giggles "Oh Fiona. As prefect as my tinted lips are and how awesome I nailed this amazing eye-linear cat eye. Trust and believe--" before Sasha can finish her sentence, we heard I voice behind us "Your blocking my way." as we slowly turned around, it was Ajar Felon. He was dressed in all black. His black shirt cling to all the right places of his upper body. I couldn't help but feel this urge.. this urge to want to kiss him as soon as our eyes made contact. Ajar and I stood there, staring at each other in that moment. A moment that felt like an eternity and for some unbelievable reasonable moment.. I think he felt it too. As I can feel Sasha's and Tori's stares on me; Sasha clears her throat and moves me sightly to the left, making room for Ajar to pass "Sorry, she usually doesn't space out like this." Ajar, who is still looking at me breaks the connection to look at Sasha ".. Whatever." and makes his way pass us. While Sasha collects herself, Tori spoke up "Okay. Don't mean to sound like I read something from the twilight zone. But that was super creepy." I looked at her, wanting to say something but couldn't make out the words. Which part exactly did she find creepy? The part, where he showed up? Or, was it the part where I felt for the first time I felt like kissing someone that wasn't Seth?.. Of course, I didn't say that out loud. I was already creep out enough as it was, with me wanting to kiss the bad boy and all.

Trying to focus my attention to what Mr. Webber was teaching in class, I was still thinking about Ajar. It was the first time I felt like I was being sucked into this invisible force. Something I can't explain. Biting down on my pen nervously; I heard my name "Ms. Lynn?" I was finally able to bring back my thoughts to planet earth, and missed the question that was asked "I'm sorry. What was the question?" Mr. Webber sighs "Ms. Lynn, what I hate more then kids not paying attention; is kids who makes me repeat myself." I look around class, where I felt every eye staring at me. Slowly lowering myself down in my seat, I softly let out a sorry. Mr. Webber shakes his head in disapproval "Don't make it happen again." I nod. And the bell rang. Everyone gathered up their stuff and made their way outside of the classroom.

Great. Just flipping freaking great! Not only was Ajar in my head but he was making me mess up in class too. Ugh! I can feel this day already turning out to be a bust.

Lunch time rolls around, and I wanted nothing but to be alone right now. I wasn't feeling up to talking to anyone let alone being around them as well. I wasn't feeling myself, so I made my way to the backstair case where a lot of people don't know exist. When I got there, Ajar Felon was sitting in my spot and I let out a more of frustrated attitude then I wanted "You've gotta be fucking kidding me." Ajar notices the frustration in my voice and smiles "Well nice to see you too." he says.

I can feel him mocking me "I didn't know anyone knew about here." Ajar looks at me, like if he's suppose to care "Well neither did I." I felt this wasn't going to be a conversation of who was here first and who gets to leave. So, I wasn't sure what to talk about in this moment. I stare at him, and there it was again. This feeling when I see him. Like I'm being pulled to him. I never use to feel this way before with him. Why now?

Ajar looks at me and gets up. Slowly walking towards me. Before I knew it, we were only about 2 inches from each other. His hand traveled to my cheek and he says in a soft whisper "You feel it too, don't you?" my mind was starting to feel fuzzy. I wasn't sure if it was just his cologne or just the fact he was this close to me. Close to where I can feel his touch. I close my eyes, responding back in a hush tone "What is this feeling.. Ajar Felon?" I feel his other hand travel up my right arm, as I feel the space between us closing. His voice goes hush "I don't know.. For some reason. I'm drawn to you. I wasn't feeling this way before today.." and that's when I opened my eyes and pushed him away "Before today?.." He looks at me. I can see he is just as lost as I am. We both didn't know what was going on. I've literally spent as long as I can remember pining after Seth Kingston. And now, I'm feeling this whole new connection with Ajar Felon, and I have no idea where it's coming from. In all honesty, I still like Seth. But what I was feeling for Ajar wasn't making any sense.

What was even more weird, was that we both feel it. And we both wasn't feeling this way before today..

What the heck was going on?..

#ALLCRseries #chapter 1 #Ajar #POV

1 note · View note

paigenoelchas-blog · 2 years ago

Text

Hot or Cold?

One shot

Jake x Mc

Prompt from @x3kristax3. Thanks for the idea. Jake and MC meet for the first time.

warnings: language, attempted assault

It was girl's night. They rented a taxi so they could all relax and have a good time. Hannah decidedly needed a break from Thomas. They were madly in love, but he could be a bit on the needy side. Cleo and Hannah hadn't had much time to hang out since she opened the bakery. The gang had all put on some weight too, thanks to Cleo's "friends eat free" policy. Lily and Dan were a thing that surprised everyone except MC. She knew they deeply loved the people they chose and were both fierce and unpredictable in their desire to protect those people. And Jessy, well Jessy was single and ready to party. MC suspected that she had started drinking long before she met up with the girls, The last year had been rough on her. Grief can do funny things to people, but tonight she was gorgeous and free, and MC wanted to let her stay that way. Hannah and MC knew they had to keep an eye on her. Lily kept texting Dan and MC would have probably been annoyed had she not been doing the same thing with Jake since early this morning.

MC pulled out her phone to send a quick text to Jake. They hadn't met yet, because it still wasn't safe, but their daily texts which were almost continuous on the weekends, had solidified their relationship. MC couldn't wait to meet him in person.

MC: We made it. We are here.

They had gone to the next town, which was bigger than Duskwood, and definitely had a cooler vibe. The streets were filled with neon lights and the cars pulling in and out of the club created a warm glow. People were dressed in their best and tiniest clothes. It was a new building made of bricks painted black. The owners had worked really hard to make this the best place in town. Even from the outside, you could feel the booming of the music. The line to get in stretched around the side of the building but they had a secret weapon. Jessy. She was the one everyone wanted to be or to be with. We had no problem getting inside.

Jessy comes close to MC and yells in her ear, though MC thought she meant to whisper. Proof that she had already been drinking. Jessy was loud when she was drunk. "I am so glad we all did this. I love you girls." MC nods. She is right. We are all lucky to have each other. Jessy is wearing a short strapless black dress and some heels that make her taller than MC. She is stunning, but the thing is, her heart is even more beautiful.

Jake: How is it? I know that you didn't want to go out.

MC: I wanted to go out with the girls, I just didn't want to go here.

Jake: To the club?

MC: Yeah, dancing with strange guys isn't my idea of fun anymore.

Jake: :)

Jake: That pleases me.

MC: You have nothing to worry about. None of them are you.

Jake: Are you still going to dance though? That is the best thing about the club.

MC: It is just that the men tend to get handsy on the dance floor.

Jake: Then dance with all of the girls.

Jake: Those men better not get handsy with you.

MC: I can take care of myself. It's Jessy I am worried about.

MC: She is gorgeous tonight and drunk. That is a bad combination.

Jake: How is she drunk already? You've only been there 30 minutes.

MC: I think she got a head start, that is why I am concerned.

Jake: What are you all doing? I want a play by play.

Jake: You all at a club is a fascinating idea.

MC: Well, Jessy is drunk and she is yelling excitedly at everyone.

MC: She is always making friends.

Jake: Of course. Jessica is a delightful woman.

MC: Hannah is with Cleo, cutting and serving cake.

Jake: What? Who brings a cake to the club?

MC: Apparently Cleo does.

MC: There are many boys around her.

MC: Maybe she knows something we don't?

MC: Hannah is watching out for Jessy and laughing at Cleo.

Jake: ???

MC: Cleo is trying to flirt. It is pretty funny.

Jake: What about Lily?

MC: Texting Dan, but pretending that she is using the restroom.

MC: She is also glaring at any man who comes near her.

Jake: What are you doing?

MC: Texting you, but I am pretending to be in the line for the bar.

Jake: Well, I bet you look incredible.

As MC reads the last message Jessy runs up to her, "MMMMMMMMMMCCCCCCCCCCC, this line is too long. I need to dance." She begins pulling MC out to the dance floor but MC pauses for just a minute.

MC: Duty calls.

The girls all rush to the dance floor. it is packed. People are everywhere. Young and beautiful, full of glitter and bad ideas. The girls use their best dance moves, but no one is impressed. MC, of course, decides this is the perfect opportunity to make the worst moves possible. They are in a crowd of sweaty, shiny people and they are laughing so hard that they can't breathe. Men try and cut in, but the women of Duskwood are no fools and they deflect the advances of these men, not letting any of them get too close.

After a while, MC signals to Jessy that she needs a break. She leaves the dance floor and plops down on the closest possible couch. It is big and comfortable, made of black leather with plenty of room for all of her friends. She notices, as the friends all fall next to her on the couch, that she has a message from Jake.

"I think we all need some drinks." I declare. She is anxious to check her message, "They are on me."

"Lemon drops" Cleo states. "We want lemon drops!"

"Ok" MC declares, but before she leaves, she makes eye contact with Hannah and mouths, "Watch her." to Hannah who nods in acknowledgment.

MC makes it to the bar which is glass and shining with every possible brand of alcohol, many that she has ever heard of. There are people struggling to get up to the counter to yell out their drink orders. This is going to take a while.

Jake: Don't drink too much, you won't like it in the morning.

MC: How do you know that I am drinking?

Jake: Call it a lucky guess.

Jake: You are in a club and it is girl's night.

MC: I am being careful, Jake. I promise.

Jake: Couldn't they have sent someone to help you with those drinks?

Jake: I wouldn't want you to spill them on that exceptional red dress.

MC: How do you know what I am wearing?

MC: Are you here?

Jake: Someone had to keep you all safe.

MC almost dropped the phone. Looking up quickly she scanned the room for him.

MC: Where are you?

Jake: Come and find me. Right now, you are cold.

MC: What do you mean cold? Do you mean the kids' game?

Jake: That is exactly what I mean. Still cold.

MC smirks, then takes two steps to the left.

Jake: Colder. You are freezing now. It is like the Arctic.

MC backs up and takes two steps to the left.

She then looks up and quickly scans the room. Her eyes dart left to right.

Jake: What are you looking for? You don't know what I look like.

Jake: How will you recognize me?

MC: You will be the guy staring at his phone instead of me.

Jake: Trust me, I am more than capable of doing both.

Jake: I can't take my eyes off of you.

MC shivers, his words doing crazy things to her.

Jake: You are getting warm, but like a summer day in Switzerland.

Jake: Not in Africa.

MC takes three more steps and looks up. It is then that she sees him leaning against the wall. His posture is one of equal parts confidence and exhaustion. His hair is a little long and he wears scruff on his cheeks. It speaks of the lack of amenities that his life affords him. MC thinks he looks just fine, well more than fine if she is being honest with herself. A smile crosses his face, one of satisfaction. When her emerald eyes meet his sapphire ones, the electricity can be felt across the room.

They walk toward each other, never losing that connection between them and never looking away from each other's eyes.

MC can almost reach out for Jake's hand when a group of people rushes between the two of them. Someone grabs MC's arm and pulls her along with the crowd and her phone drops to the ground.

Once the people pass, Jake scans the room, expecting her to be there. When she is not, He texts.

Jake: MC?

There is no response.

Jake: MC? This isn't funny. I am getting worried.

Then he remembers the GPS on her phone. He has never been so thankful for it before. Jake tracks her phone to a potted plant. The phone was fine, just separated from its owner.

He makes his way around the bar looking for MC the entire time. Finally, in the back, hidden in a dark corner almost behind the bar, he sees that red dress.

A man is holding MC's arm tightly and talking forcefully.

"Hey baby, " he says, "My name is Joe. What are you up to tonight?" He is sweaty and way too close to her face. MC is mad and trying to free her arm from his grasp. She can't keep her mouth shut.

"Trying to avoid men like you."

His grip tightens. He is not amused. "Listen, let me buy you a drink and loosen you up a bit"

He smiles, but it stops short of his eyes.

"No thank you. I am kind of here with someone and he will be looking for me. I would appreciate it if you let go of my arm." She tries to act tough, but her voice waivers.

Joe leans in closer, "A lot of women would be very happy to spend tie with me." As he speaks, spit sneaks out of the corner of his mouth.

MC responds in almost a whisper, "Well then, you should go and find one of them."

She manages to get her arm free for a minute, but he is stronger than her and grabs it again. She doesn't think she will be able to get away this time.

Why, she wonders, is no one around to stop this creep?

His mouth is on her ear now as he whispers, "It would serve you well to stay away from a place like this if you are going to be such a tease."

"I am not a tease." She says through gritted teeth, avoiding eye contact with him at all costs.

"That dress you are wearing," he snarks, "says otherwise."

He pulls her in close to his waist at the exact moment that Jake sneaks up and puts his body between Joe and MC. Joe still holds on to her wrist, but the power that he had over her is now lost.

"Let her go. NOW!" Jake's voice is firm and full of fire. He doesn't budge.

"Oh yeah, Buddy," Joe states as his ears turn red, "what are you going to do about it?"

"Trust me, you don't want to find out the many ways that I can make you suffer." The two men stare at each other, their eyes locked in a battle of wills. Finally, Joe backs off and releases MC's hand. Jake moves her behind him. refusing Joe any further access. "

"Bitch." Hey says under his breath. MC feels Jake tighten and his fist clench. He was turning around in response.

"Don't waste your time on him." MC begs, "...waste your time with me."

She pulls his body toward her and he grazes her cheek with the bar of his hand, "Time with you is never a waste, especially not in this dress."

"What is it with this dress?"

"It is an exceptional dress for an exceptional woman."

MC blushes and puts her hand on his cheeks so their eyes meet. His hands found their place on her hips and they remain there.

"Thank you for saving me. If you hadn't been here, I would have been in real trouble." MC has tears in her eyes.

Jake takes her hand in his and kisses her palm then intertwines their fingers. He leans in to whisper in her ear, " I won't ever let anything happen to you now that I don't have to leave your side. You are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined."

The music in the club may be pounding but all that MC can feel in the pounding of her heart.

"Did you say that you dint have to leave?"

"I did and I meant it."

A huge smile crosses her face, her dimples deep as the smile grows.

She pushes up to stand on her tiptoes and kisses him on the cheek. "You are more handsome than I would have ever believed and I can't wait have you by my side."

He pulls her in close to him, his hands now on her back, their eyes lock and all of the unsaid things were suddenly understood. Slowly, his hand moves to her hair, and his lips graze hers softly. He pulls away and she whispers, "Cold."

He winks and kisses her again. This time the kiss is passionate. She feels all of the weight of their separation and all of the joy that comes from the hope that is in front of them.

"You're getting warmer," she says as they pause to catch their breath, "like a summer day in Switzerland, not Africa."

"Is that a challenge?" He asks.

MC raises one eyebrow. "Absolutely it is."

As he leans in to kiss her this time, his tongue begs for entrance. She allows it and they explore each other's mouths. Her hands reach up around his neck and his arms hold her close to him, his big hands covering her back.

"Warmer," she whispers, though she is out of breath. "...like Italy or Greece."

He chuckles. " We can do better than that." His hands drop to her ass and hers to his chest. His lips, which started out at her mouth, slowly make their way to her neck, and then her collarbone. As her knees go weak, the words escape her lips. "Hot. Like Africa, the Sahara Desert."

He moves away from her, an expression of pride on his face.

"Where are you going?" she pouts.

He puts his hand to her face and looks into her eyes adoringly.

"Well, I was hoping to get a little handsy, but I didn't want to do it in a place like this." He responds with a wink.

She blushes.

"Do you think you could skip out on the rest of the girl's night?" He asks hopeful.

She winks, " I think that can be arranged." She answers as she pulls out her phone.

MC: Lily, Do you think you can get everyone home safe? Especially Jessy.

MC: I have to put out a fire."

Lily: Sure, but if that man you have been making out with is the fire, then we definitely have some things to discuss. Tomorrow morning?

MC: Make it tomorrow afternoon. Call first. :)

She grabs his arm and laughs as she pulls him out the door. The night is alive. Everywhere MC looks seems brighter and more vibrant than it had been when they entered the club. He pushes her into the wall and kisses her like he had waited for this moment for all eternity and he wasn't going to waste it. His hand creeps under her skirt and hers moves under his shirt feeling his taut muscles. They lean closer to the wall and each other. After a few minutes, he pulls away, knowing that if he doesn't stop now, they wont make it back to Duskwood.

He is panting but still stroking her har, she is straightening her dress and he is smoothing his shirt.

"I like you handsy." She says, still in a fog of lust and love.

" Mmmmmm" He groans in agreement.

"Let's go put out that fire," Jake says and turns away from her and hails a cab.

"Was it this hot when you got here?" He asked her with a smirk on his face.

"Not even close," MC responded with a kiss on his cheek and a twinkle in her eye.

She giggles and they step in a cab headed to an amazing night and and even more incredible life.

#duskwood fandom #duskwood #duskwood jake #duskwood everbyte #jake x mc #duskwood fanfiction #everbyte #jake duskwood #everbyte duskwood #duskwood cleo #duskwood dan #duskwood fanart #duskwood jake x mc

238 notes · View notes

mediocre-writerr · 3 years ago

Text

always and forever [lizzie saltzman]

lizzie saltzman x fem!reader

requested by anon: can we get an angsty lizzie saltzman x fem!reader where reader sacrifices herself for lizzie

*not my gif*

Fighting off bad guys was something you did often. It was easy to. In a school full of supernatural creatures who fight off other supernatural creatures, there was really no way you could escape it. Especially when your best friend was literally leading the charge.

But this time was different...she wasn’t here to lead the charge and tell you what to do. She was the one you needed to get back. No matter what it took.

“How do we know that this plan is going to work? Hope is the definition of unhinged and that’s coming from me,” Lizzie told the group as all of you finally found a solution to stop Hope.

Everyone turned to you. You were always Hope’s right hand man when it came to missions. She’d be there and she’d tell you what to do, but now that she was gone you had no idea what the hell you were doing.

“We don’t, but if it worked in the therapy box, it’s worth a try. The only thing we do know is that Hope doesn’t want to be found, but when she comes to us that’s when we’ll try,” Cleo came in and you looked at her sending her a grateful smile as she nodded.

You headed back to your room, the one that felt so much more emptier now that your roommate had turned off her humanity and ran away. You and Hope were attached at the hip since you were younger.

Your parents were on Klaus’s side when he took over New Orleans from Marcel. He considered your parents some of his best friends even if they were just normal human beings, so you naturally grew a bond with Hope.

When your parents died trying to save Cami from Lucien, only becoming targets of his own, since that day the Mikaelsons’ had sworn to protect you no matter what. Then when Klaus and Elijah died, there started a new bond. A new type of ‘Always and Forever’ that you heard so much about growing up around the Mikaelsons’.

Ever since that day you and Hope swore to protect each other no matter what. You followed her to the Salvatore Boarding School and now that her humanity was gone you made it your mission to bring her back.

There was a soft knock on your door, catching your attention. The blonde Saltzman was at your still opened door, watching you intently, “You didn’t have much to say after the therapy box,”

“I don’t know if this is going to work,” you whispered and there were beats of silence as she sat on the foot of your bed next to you, “What if this doesn’t work?”

Lizzie intertwined your fingers together, “We’re going to get her back with you leading the charge, there’s nothing we can’t do,”

“I hope you’re right,” you told her, staring down at your intertwined hands.

The siphoner hooked her finger underneath your chin and you were met with blue. She leaned in softly to press against your lips and you got lost in the familiar feeling of her lips on yours.

Sure, growing up you and Hope were attached at the hip, but there were a few things that you differed from. One of them being your opinion on the blonde Saltzman. You knew they had their differences growing up, but you found yourself head over heels for Lizzie and surprisingly she felt the same way.

“Hope may be unhinged, but if there’s anyone who can bring her back it’s you. She’s lucky to have you Y/N, I know I am,” she whispered and you smiled at her softly, taking her into your arms.

Her head rested in the crook of your neck as your chin laid on the top of her head before placing a kiss to her perfect blonde hair. You could feel her smile against you, “Have I told you that I love you today?”

“Hmm, I think that you’ve told me a couple times, but one more can’t hurt,” she teased and you chuckled softly pecking her head once more.

“Well, I love you so much,” you told her, “Now come cuddle with me,”

Without receiving an answer, you crashed the two of you down onto your bed causing her to giggle. You propped your head up onto your hand and started peppering her face with kisses. The more you did it, the more her beautiful giggles emitted from her mouth.

“Babe!” Lizzie drew out and you smiled softly before finally coming down and you finally laid back down next to her. She got comfortable resting her head onto your chest. Your arms instinctively wrapping around her to protect her as you played with her blonde locks.

That sweet moment turned sour quickly. It’s like Hope heard all of your plans because later that night you and the Super Squad heard that Hope was in the town square of Mystic Falls.

You and the Super Squad had her surrounded, “Well...I was hoping for a fun night, but I guess this works too,” she stated, staring at all of you, “What are you gonna do? Kill me? I can’t be killed,”

“I’m not gonna kill you,” I whispered, shaking your head, “I can’t kill you,”

“Oh I know you can’t. You’ve always been the weak one out of the two of us,” she told you.

Lizzie scoffed, “At least she’s not hiding her traumas by using a defense mechanism. She has lost people too Hope! Not to mention lost her parents because they were trying to save your dad’s girlfriend!”

“Lizzie, c’mon, she doesn’t know what she’s saying,” Josie whispered.

“Oh, but I do. Did she ever tell you the story about why she had to get turned into a vampire?” Hope asked, speaking up to the rest of the group.

“She tried saving me, which was a dumb move in itself because how can a human save a tribrid? I could’ve easily defended myself, but she let her emotions get the best of her, just like she always did,” Hope ranted, “So of course, on the brink I had to turn her,”

“Telling that story doesn’t bring back any of your humanity? Your best friend almost dying to save you!” Lizzie exclaimed, extremely fed up with Hope’s bullshit.

Hope thought about it for a second, “Nope not really,”

“Y/N is stronger than you will ever be and she doesn’t need to turn off her humanity or activate another side of her to prove that,” the blonde argued.

“She did once, I guess even though you guys have been dating for the last three years she didn’t feel the need to tell you about her ripper side,” Hope stated with a shrug and Lizzie turned to you, but your eyes were on her watching her every move.

“When Y/N turned she was actually a lot of fun: parties, drinking, feeding. She was crazier than Kaleb ever was when it came to her blood lust. She killed so many innocent people in New Orleans. Obviously she turned it back on which was a really dumb move, I understand why you kept it off,” she said turning to you, “It’s so much more fun this way! No emotions! No heartbreak! No grieving or loss! Just fun!”

You noticed out of the corner of your eye Ethan vanished from the group, using his newly found powers to attack her from behind. But in a blink of an eye it vanished. Hope was holding him by his neck, smirking at you, before throwing him against the wall.

“Nice try,” she shrugged.

The tribrid whispered a small spell causing everyone to get knocked onto the street. Well...the plan didn’t work.

You don’t know what was happening. Everything was happening so fast. The only people left standing were you and Hope. The rest of the Super Squad was knocked unconscious.

“You don’t have to do this you know. You can come home Hope,” you lectured her, “We promised each other always and forever, so there’s no way I’m leaving you behind,”

And it was like a lightbulb clicked in her head. Her gaze landing on Lizzie who was slowly regaining consciousness. You tried to beat her to Lizzie’s body, but her newfound vampire speed beat yours by a mile.

“Hope no,” you told her.

Lizzie’s bright blue eyes met yours and you smiled at her sadly, “You know, you talk a whole lot about always and forever, so prove it. Let’s see how far your loyalties actually lie,”

Hope cut her hand with a knife that Ethan was carrying and shoved her hand into the blonde’s mouth, forcing her to drink her blood, “No! Stop!” you yelled as you watched your girlfriend squirm and struggle in her arms.

“What do you want? What do you need me to do?! I’ll do anything! Just stop!” you screamed.

Hope laughed darkly, “Love makes you weak Y/N, don’t you see that?” she grabbed her chin forcefully, “One snap and she’s dead, I will kill your girlfriend and I’ll leave her to suffer that hunger that she can’t satisfy from anything other than blood. I won’t allow her to turn. I’ve heard stories about how painful that starvation is,”

“Just get to the point Hope,” you scolded, clenching your jaw as you saw the blood drip around Lizzie’s mouth.

“Either she dies a slow and painful death or you turn off your humanity,” she negotiated, “Imagine all the fun we can have! We can bar raid, compel people to give us drinks, and feast every single night! It’s fun Y/N! Always and forever, right?”

“Y/N, you can’t,” the blonde told you.

The thing that Hope didn’t know was that you told Lizzie all about your ripper ways. You knew your best friend and you knew how turning off your humanity can cause you to say anything to hurt the other person. So you told her.

“Lizzie?” you whispered and she just hummed in response, “I need to tell you something. When we face off with Hope she’s going to mention things that I did back in New Orleans when I first turned. I wasn’t the best newborn vampire. I killed a lot of people and I didn’t care about the consequence,”

You could feel that her eyes were on you, “I have tried so hard since that day to be better and do better. All the shit I put Hope through, all the pain that I caused to so many people. I never wanted to do that to anyone. So from that day when Hope got me back I promised myself I would never turn it off again,”

“That’s why you want to get Hope back so bad, huh? Because she tried everything in her power to get you back despite all the pain and damage you caused,” you nodded.

“I can’t let her down again,” you whispered, “If I can’t bring her back, I fail her. I fail our bond that we swore to keep and after everything she’s done for me...”

Lizzie cut you off by placing a soft kiss onto your lips, “We’ll get her back,”

“Give me one second,” Hope said, vamp speeding away with Lizzie still in her grasp, only to appear two seconds later with another woman in front of her, “C’mon Y/N, just a little taste,”

You looked at Lizzie and back at the girl who was shoved towards you. Hope stared at you with expecting eyes and you could practically feel the girl’s pulse from where you were standing.

The smell was overwhelming. You had been on a strict blood diet that consisted of half human blood and the rest rabbit blood. Something that you and Dr. Saltzman agreed would be best for you.

You avoided Lizzie’s eyes as you took a deep breath and hovered over the girl’s neck. The monster-like veins forming as you could feel your fangs hovering over the neck. And with one last whiff, you dug your fangs into the girl’s neck.

The coppery taste flooding your tastebuds and it was like you couldn’t stop. Your eyes locked with Hope and she had a satisfied smirk on her face while Lizzie looked at you absolutely terrified.

You pulled away from the screaming girl and turned to Hope, “There I had a taste, now let her go,” you told her, trying to fight the urge to feed again and your best friend could tell.

“Drain her,” Hope said simply.

“What?” you whispered.

“You heard me. Your humanity is still on and I’m pretty sure the deal was humanity off and then Lizzie gets to go free,” the rest of the Super Squad started coming to their senses.

“Y/N! I’m not worth it!” Lizzie’s cheeks were flooded with tears. You let out a shaky breath, “I’ll be okay, I’m going to die by my 21st birthday anyway. You can let me go,”

You shook your head, “I can’t...I can’t do that,” you looked into the bright blue eyes that made you feel like you were a normal teenager, “I love you Elizabeth. Promise, you’ll bring me back,”

Lizzie let out a soft cry, “I love you. I will always love you no matter what. Just don’t do this,”

“I don’t have a choice baby,”

You sunk your teeth into the girl’s neck until you could feel her go limp into your body. Hope grabbed your shoulder, squeezing it slightly, “Turn it off,” you stared into her compelling eyes before nodding.

Poof. Gone.

Hope let out another dark laugh, “And here I thought you were weak. Are you ready to take on the world?” she asked.

You gave her a sinister smirk, “Always and forever,” you told her as you dropped the girl’s lifeless body onto the street before following after her to your new adventure.

#lizzie saltzman #lizzie saltzman imagine #lizzie saltzman x reader

197 notes · View notes

kookies2000 · 2 years ago

Text

So I just heard that Nickalodian released a Monster High live action movie. Saw a review and I'm greatly disappointed.

One, Frankie is non binary. Great! Thank you! It makes perfect sense for them to be non binary because they're made up of different body parts. So who knows where those parts came from. I like it. But the reason it upsets me is because the people in charge make it feel like forced representation. Why? They 100% ignored the lesbian coding on Clawdeen. Wasn't it confirmed as well that she's a lesbian? It feels like they ignored that fact about her and made her straight and gave the LGBT+ representation to soemone else. It just feels off.

Ghoulia, why? They had her talking english instead of speaking zombie. And she's not even besties with Cleo! Why is Lagoona Cleo bestie? Ghoulia and Cleo were super close in the show.

And Cleo, what did they do to her? She's the stereotypical mean girl. Now don't get me wrong, I love the roles of mean girls. They always have the best stories to tell and the best charater developments. My favorite being Sasha from Amphibia. Not to mention how fun it is to write them. But Cleo was never the stereotypical mean girl. She was a spoiled diva, there's a difference! She was rich, pampered, and cared about looks, yes. But she was also generous and the top girl who'll support her freinds no matter what. She genuinely cared about others and spoiled her fiends as well. Didn't she make the sweet 116 birthday party for Draculura? What about the Boo York Movie? Wasn't that her movie where she shined the most? How she's willing to put her feelings aside and give everyone what they want? She's too sweet and kind to be in that mean girl role. What was that cat girls name? The orange one that loved being mean and bullied Draculura? She was the mean girl, not Cleo!

And the one thing that gets me, like really really really really reeeeeeeeeeeeeeaaaaaaaly gets me. Cleo and Duce. They aren't a couple in this movie. Why? WHY!? They were the power couple of the school! They have a great relationship and a wonderful dynamic. They have nothing but love between them. The only issue they had in their relationship was class status. Duce was a lower class and that's why Cleo family didn't like him. And to add salt to that wond on my childhood is that he dates Clawdeen. Not the charater that was confirmed lesbian!!! ( Was she confirmed lesbian? I don't remember.) But it just feels wrong. Clawdeen just doesn't give me that feeling that she's into guys. Didn't they have a whole episode where she rejects every guy in her school during a speed dateing moment.

And then the representation in the show was taken away. Every monster had an accent to determine where they're from. Abby is Russian I believe. Draculura is from Transylvania. Cleo is Egyptian. Even Clawdeen had some kind of accent. It just feels off.

And the fashion. Monster High was a fashion line for dolls. Where's the fashion in the movie? Where is it?! No glitter, no ruffles, where are the 12 inch heels!?!? The over the top make up. Every charater at least had some make up. And Lagoona wasn't blue but Frankie is green?

Ok! I got that out of my system. It's just, why? How? How do you mess up a popular franchise like this?

#monster #monster high #movie #just a rant

11 notes · View notes

sxnnimoon · 3 years ago

Text

Little One pt.2

I am telling you guys right there is to be a LOTTTT more smut within this series. This is only the beginning. Hope you all enjoy part 2 as much as part 1 !

Paring- OT7 x Reader (poly)

Summary- Through your husbands line of work they take a week or more off to spend some time with their wife.

—————————————————————

Arriving at Celeste you were in awe at how many people were always here. Not wanting to brag but your club was by far the best at bringing in not only money but also people. You knew what people wanted. The feeling of letting go with a hint of sexual tension and endless booze. You all went up to your usual spot. Right in the middle up top so you had a view of the whole place.

“Y/N,” said your favorite waitress Cleo.

“Lo! So good to see you.” You said hugging her. “How’s everything?”

“Everything is actually amazing. Tonight has been nothing but smooth.” She smiled.

“I meant with you silly.” You nudge her arm. “How’s baby girl?”

“Of course!” she giggled. “She’s amazing, finally almost ready for school. I may just cry.”

“Well don’t, you may make me cry.” You smiled, rubbing her arm.

“The usual I presume?” She asked.

“Boys?” You looked at your husbands.

A round of yes’ and sures were heard.

You laughed.

“Yes and get something for yourself as well!” You pointed after her.

She nodded.

“You are just too nice.” Namjoon said, pulling you into his lap.

“She’s an amazing worker and mother.” You smiled. “I think I’ll keep her around.”

He nodded.

Once the drinks were brought you downed a few shots to start.

“You better behave tonight.” Yoongi said.

“Whatever do you mean?” You smirked at him grabbing another shot.

“You know exactly what he means.” Taehyung said from beside him.

You giggle at the memory of you fighting off some drunk guys who started a fight with Chi. You were buzzed but boy did you impress your boys, not a scratch left on you. That was a night to remember.

“I’m gonna go dance.” You said practically bouncing in Joon’s lap at the beat of the music. “Anyone wanna join me?”

“I’ll meet you in a few minutes.” Kookie said.

You smiled, shaking your ass as you headed for the dance floor. You found your girls at the edge of the dance floor talking with Cleo.

“Ladies.” You said hugging Chi from behind.

“Someone’s on one.” Said Skye laughing.

“I’ve had a few shots. I feel amazing.” You smiled, running your hands down your body.

They all giggled.

You removed your blazer leaving you in your dress as you didn’t wanna get warm.

“Shall we?” You said pulling them to the floor.

They all yelled in excitement.

Fever by ENHYPEN started playing and you all were grinding on each other. You were in your element. From above your boys watched you. They were in awe of you.

“You gotta see her. She looks hot.” Hobi said.

“That dress.” Jimin said. “I had no idea it was backless.” He bit his lip.

“She’s playing with fire tonight.” Yoongi said.

“This is gonna be a LONGGGGG week for her.” Tae said, smirking.

“Look at her grinding on them.” Joon said. “She knows what she does to us.”

“I’m going down.” Kook said.

They all nodded, eyes still on you.

Letting the music take you, you felt a pair of familiar hands on your body.

“Nice of you to join me.” You smirked, grinding into him.

“You looked too good, I had too.” He held your hips in place.

You hummed, throwing your head back into him.

“Beside,” he began “the show you put on with Chi and Skye, you were killing us.”

“You enjoyed it?” You turned to face him.

“Baby I am so close to taking you right now.” He said. “So what do you think?”

You turned back around grinding hard into him.

His grip on you tightened.

“Don’t start this little one if you know what’s good for you.” He growled into your ear.

“But I like it, baby.” You pouted. “Don’t you?”

You stepped away from him, hands running on your body as you moved your body to the beat of the song.

“Let’s get a drink kitty,” Chi said, pulling you from Kookie.

“Bye baby.” You smiled leaving him on the dance floor.

He shook his head before making his way back upstairs.

“She will be the death of me.” He said plopping down next to V.

“She’s trouble that one.” Yoongi said, sipping his drink.

“Girl you are so gonna get it when you get home.” Chi said.

“Ugh you are so lucky.” Skye said.

“All that dick and they're good looking? I’d be prancing around like that too.” Chi said.

You giggled.

“They treat me like royalty, I wouldn’t have it any other way.” You smiled while sipping your drink. “Besides, they liked the show we put on for them.” You smirked.

“Oh really now?” Chi said.

“Maybe we should take it up a notch.” Skye said.

You knew exactly what they meant.

“Let me find the perfect song.” You smirked walking away.

Sacrifice by Black Atlass ft. Jessie Reyes began playing. You knew what this song did to them, especially if it involved you.

Taking your girls to the middle. You all started off solo before moving in together. Chi in the front, you in the middle and Skye behind you. The boys were watching you like hawks. They knew you had your way with women but boy did it rile them up seeing you like this in the middle of them. Both of them kissing on you as you grabbed Chi's ass pulling her closer. This was nothing new between you three. You had your few share of moments between each other but it never meant anything and never ruined your friendship over it. You knew what you were doing and you were pleased to look up and see them all staring, you blew them a kiss before going back to dancing as the song was coming to an end. Making your way back up top, all eyes were on you.

“You,” V began. “Will be the death of me.”

“Did you enjoy the show, my love?” You bit your bottom lip.

“I should take you here right now,” Hoseok growled. “Let everyone know what a naughty slut you’ve been.” He bit your neck. Earning a moan.

“Shall we head home then?” You put a finger under his chin.

“Let’s go.” Yoongi said, pulling you away.

Walking through the club to leave the girls spotted you being rushed away. They giggled. They knew what kinda night was underway for you.

“Don’t break her!!” Skye yelled.

“We have a retreat after your vacation. She’s gotta be there.” Chi added.

You laughed at them waving bye.

Getting into the limo you were placed on Jimin’s lap.

“You were naughty tonight.” He whispered in your ear making you squirm.

“Do you know the things we wanna do to you?” Hoseok said into your other ear.

“I wasn’t that bad daddy.” You moaned out as Jimin began doing circles on your nipple. Hoseok pulled your dress up, exposing you. The cool air hitting you made you moan.

“No bra or panties?” Yoongi said. “It’s like you wanted a punishment.”

“But look at how wet I am for you daddy.” You whined out at them.

They groaned, they loved you in this state. All turned on and willing to do anything for them.

“Touch me baby.” You whined at Jimin who was running his finger on your thigh getting very close to your heat.

“Not here princess, we’re almost home.” He whispered.

You let out a whine.

“Keep it up little one or you won’t be getting any dick tonight.” Jin said sternly.

You instantly shut up.

“That’s a good girl.” Namjoon said.

Once home they all hurried inside, Jimin holding your waist kissing on your neck as you walked in the house.

Once inside he pushed you into the door leaving a trail of wet kisses on you.

“Tonight Jimin and Hobi have their way with you.” Jin said. Earning a whine from Jungkook.

“It’s okay Kookie, you can have a taste tomorrow.” You said biting your lip.

“You’re in for princess.” Hoseok said, putting you over his shoulder.

He entered the play room (Red Room if you will) placing you on your feet.

“That was fun.” You giggled.

“It’ll be more fun once these clothes are gone.” Jimin said.

“Strip baby.” Hobi ordered.

You pulled the straps down your arms before letting the dress slip to your feet leaving you in your heels. They both looked at you in awe. The curviness of your body drives them crazy. You bent down to undo your heels when they stopped you.

“Leave them princess.” Hoseok said.

You stood back up.

“Aren’t you both a little too dressed.” You crossed your arms.

They began undressing, your eyes practically ready to fall out at the sight of them. You were ready for them.

They saw you staring, Jimin beckoned you with his finger to come to them. You instantly got on all fours and crawled. Once in front of them you were eye level with their cocks. You reached out for them only to be swatted away.

“Bed. Now.” Hoseok ordered.

You got onto bed waiting on your back. The quietness of the room only made you more anxious. You were about to speak when you felt a mouth on you, making you cry out. You grabbed onto what you could that thing being Jimin’s head. The things he was doing to you were incredible.

“Jimin.” You moaned out. “More..please.”

“You want more baby?” He said in between licks.

He soon entered a finger making you moan loud. You felt the bed dip, looking over you were met you Hobi’s dick.

“Open little one.” He said.

You opened eager to taste him. He entered with ease , starting off with a slow pace before ducking your throat. You were in heaven.

“I’m gonna add a second, okay baby?” He asked.

You moaned out against Hoseok's dick as a second finger entered you. The vibrations from you caused Hobi to groan, almost bottoming out.

“I-I’m close.” you moaned.

“No you’re not.” Jimin said, removing his fingers.

You whined at the loss of contact.

“Don’t be a brat Y/n.” Hoseok growled. “Ass up.”

You got up quick.

“That's a good girl.” Jimin said coming up behind you.

He began running his tip against your opening.

“I-I need you..now.” you moaned out. “Stop teasing.”

“Why should I?” He began. “You’ve done nothing but tease us all night.”

“But you enjoyed it.” You giggled.

Jimin slapped you on the ass. You moaned loud.

He entered you slowly, letting you adjust to his size. The amount of times you have had them all in you and yet you still couldn’t handle it.

You cried out gripping the sheets as he entered you fully.

“Move baby.” You said.

He began slow, building up a steady pace. You were a morning mess.

“You like when hyung fills you up?” Hoseok said watching Jimin fuck you.

You cried out.

“Answer him.” Jimin said earning a slap to your ass.

“Yes Hobi,” you moaned out.

“What was that?” He said getting close to you.

“Yes daddy.” You mewled out.

“Good girl, look at you taking his cock.” He cooed.

“I’m gonna cum.” Jimin moaned.

“Cum baby.” You yelled out. “Give it to me.”

A few more strokes and he bottomed out. You collapsed, laying on your stomach for a few seconds before Hoseok flipped you over.

“Get ready baby.” He smirked.

Sex with Hoseok was something else, he was always tying you up and doing everything in his power to please you.

“We’re not going all out tonight.” He said entering you. “ I’m not going to last very long.”

You cried out as he began a brutal pace. He knew exactly what to do to get you to cum. You could feel the knot beginning to form in you, you were close.

“I’m close Hoseok.” You moaned.

“Me too baby,” he said almost out of breath. “Just hold out for a bit, ok?”

You nodded trying your hardest, you ended up clenching around him making him lose focus.

“Cum for me princess,” he said.

You cried out as you released on him. He came soon after. You were out of breath, you couldn’t wait for what the next few days brought you. They took notice of your state and knew you were to pass out soon,

“Let’s clean up baby and then you can head to bed.” Jimin said already working to clean you up.

After cleaning up they placed you in your bed, both getting in on either side of you. Both wrapped their arms around you making you feel safe, you soon began to drift off to sleep.

#imagines #imagine #bts mafia au #BTS #bts mafia fic #mafia bts #bts mafia imagine #mafia fic #mafia au #smut

175 notes · View notes