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jackiequick · 1 year ago

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Duck, duck, duck, duck, Goose! | Top Gun Fanfic 🧸

Top Gun AU✈️

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Pairing: Nick Bradshaw x Carole Bradshaw , Pete Mitchell & Tom Kazansky

Summary: When it came to kids Carole, Iceman and Maverick only had to worry about two. Bradley and his young brother, Dane. Then came Jenny. It seemed fit, 3 for 3! But when another Mitchell kid, came along they realized they had more on their hands. 4 for 4!

Characters mentioned/include: Audrey, Buzz, Wraith, Slider, Hazel, and the rest of the 86’ class

Timeline: Post-Top Gun (1986), Pre Top Gun Maverick

Warning: Canon character death mentioned

Fic type: Fluff and humorous, with small moments of angst

Previous fic —> Click here

———

There were moments like this where if you told Maverick and the others years ago, that kids would be part of the agenda they would’ve laughed at you so hard and through you were crazy.

But then the kids started coming over the years.

It started with Goose and Carole. High school sweethearts destined to get married and have kids of their own, where everyone can only wish to have a portion of what they had.

Of course, they had little Bradley Bradshaw or baby goose as he was nicknamed.

Adorable little blonde boy with cubby cheeks and a curious little smile that meant determination. He looked just like his father in every way, Maverick would tell his nephew that years to come.

It was great being a little group of 4. Memories made and laughs saved.

But sadly, then Goose died after a training accident while Carole and Bradley were there to visit them. Maverick felt horrible, so did Iceman, Audrey and the rest of the 86’ class. Gloomy painful days were to come after that.

However there was a flip side, a little surprise to come after the clouds were blowing away.

And that little beam of sunlight became Dane Bradshaw many months later.

Carole didn’t know she was pregnant at the time until Audrey pointed out how fuzzy she felt lately and honestly they couldn’t have been happier in that moment.

Maverick lightly joked, “Wow! I guess Goose really take you to bed.”

“Oh Mav, play nice and that was a little secret.” Replied the Carole with a smile joking back.

Sunset chuckled, “And made sure to leave a bag of surprises afterwards.”

—

Goose really did leave a bag of surprise afterwards but they didn’t know that yet until years later.

Duck, duck, duck, duck, Goose!

—

Dane Bradshaw was the spitting image of his mother with such a warmth and gentle smile to him, he was nicknamed pooh bear.

Him and Bradley were only 2-3 years apart in age, but there will be moments where they acted like they shared the same brain cell. Being silly little ducklings, surprising people with their charm and sweet tactics.

There were days Carole would come home to the kids (along with Maverick) causing a mess in the house baking. Days where the boys will go playing with water guns and end up getting Audrey’s clothes wet.

Or with Iceman, where Bradley would show their uncle an idea for an airplane to build with boxes and other items in the house. Meanwhile Dane would collect all the ideas, wanting to go big or go bold enough to shine with their plane where Ice couldn’t have the heart to say no.

Other times, Dane was the sweetest thing in the whole entire world. A gushing image is a gentle breeze holding up flowers to his aunties such as Hazel and Audrey, making get well cards for his mama. Hugging his uncle Mav and teasing his uncle Ice with a little grin.

But he was also very protective, him and his brother, being a guard dog when it comes their mother. That goes for Hazel, Valkyrie, Audrey and whatever other lady in their lives.

————

Speaking on ladies, they were surprised at the time she arrived. It was an unexpected surprise indeed as for she came at an old hour of the night. No alert, no phone call or an letter from the post man.

Just an knock on the door in a carrier held the first half of The Mitchell-Bradshaw clan. Jennifer Penelope Mitchell, or as she was nickname princess.

Don’t worry she gets a handful of nicknames later on, so do all the kids!

Pete and Ice were in total shock at the bundle of joy brought to their attention but welcomed her with open arms nonetheless.

It took Maverick a long couple of hours, even days to fully get his head around the fact he had a daughter.

It wasn’t until Carole met her and saw the cheeky little smile that she said, “Yup, Pete she’s yours alright!”

“Yes she is.” Audrey added, blowing raspberries into her cheek.

The girls fell in love with Jenny overnight, engulfed by her sweetness but since she was Mav’s kid the girl hated to sleep and very silly. According Iceman she was stubborn like her father but Audrey would say she’s stubborn like him instead.

When Carole brought the boys to meet their cousin/future best friend, Bradley was taken back by Jenny and Dane was curious rather shy about the ideas.

“Mama! Does that mean I have to share a room with her too?” Bradley asked pointed to the girl.

“Wha’ she do?” Dane added, his vocabulary and grammar not very accurate yet.

It was silly, since Dane Bradshaw was close enough be to around less than 2 years older than her but he was curious about the situation, not wanting to share the spotlight with anyone. Same thing when for Bradley, even though he was the oldest.

Carole had to correct them saying, “No boys, you don’t have to share a room with her. And she is just a baby, so she doesn’t do much yet. But I think you guys are gonna like her a lot.”

And as always, Carole Bradshaw is correct!

Since Bradley quickly warmed up to Jenny wanting to show her everything and take the girl everywhere he went like the big brother he is to Dane. Especially when Jenny got older he got to joke around, watching over her and and play with her a lot more.

Bradley nicknamed her Jenny Penny.

Dane, since they were somewhat closer in age range per say, the two were pretty close. Dane being softer, very silly toward the girl and more importantly being protective, catching up on new things with things he learned at school and playing with her a lot of the time.

He nicknamed her JenJen.

Eventually the boys would give her the classic nickname and future callsign, JenPen.

But Jenny Mitchell wasn’t the one who got nicknames, because to her Bradley was Brad Brad and Dane was Danny Boy.

Even though as the years went on, her nicknames for them changed to Chicken and Engineer.

———

Soon enough Baby Goose, Pooh Bear, and Princess had a 4th to complete the group (hopefully)…

…Daffy Duck!

Other name being used for Austin Mitchell.

If one Mitchell kid wasn’t enough, look no more to a second one! That was another surprise that left Carole, Iceman, Audrey and Maverick himself flabbergasted at the news. But it’s wasn’t an total surprise since Maverick was known for being in the dating scene a long time, falling in and out of love with several women because the attraction was a strong thing.

Like a lot things, it never lasted too long ending up in heartbreak, loneliness and confusion, thinking it was a short fling.

But as we learned that every actions has an equal opposite reaction. That resulted in his son, in which he chuckled and sighed in awe of the little smile that entered his world. He fell in love with his kid the moment he met him.

Slider joked, “Alright, either Maverick needs to do something about the love making around here or Goose had an grand ol’ conversation about bringing four ducklings with the big man upstairs when he left?!”

Iceman glared at his best friend jokingly, “Very funny, buddy. There is no way Mother Goose had this all figured out and planned for this to happened. It was just fate!”

Maverick shut them both up carrying his son in his arms and said, “Oh shut it you two! Before we know it you’re popping out kids of your own.”

Carole smiled, “My husband wouldn’t do such a thing, even if he did I think theses were gifts. Look how cute they are!”

~~~~~

Two blondes and two brunettes, all wrapped into a cute little gift baskets from Mother Goose himself.

“Yeah no Slider’s right, Nicholas Bradshaw brought down four ducking after his departure!” Audrey added a few minutes later.

~~~~~

Austin Mitchell was a spitting imagine and reminder of his father, times 10! From his brownish-green eyes to his nose, even the floppy mess of chocolate brown locks. His smile was no different, giggling about his favorite things and moving around with so much energy that he could become the next marathon runner for god’s sake.

But like any kid here, especially a kid that belongs to Maverick Mitchell, Austin was a clumsy boy knocking into everything and getting himself stuck in troubling situations. It was cute but also kinda annoying.

“A little tornado warning should come with him.” Joked Wraith once he met the boy with a smile.

Nonetheless he was loved. Jenny was only two years old when she got her baby brother, wanting to parenting him and keep the little guy out of danger with a pout. But then again, she was also very clumsy and cheeky herself so they both ended up in a little sticky situation.

Seriously, both kids were found in the kitchen once eating one of their father’s favorite sweet treat, being honeybuns, while on the floor giggling.

Iceman snorted so loud seeing his niece and nephew happily eating the dessert that his only questions was, “How did you two get your hands on it in the first place?”

“Unca Iceee!” Austin only yelled with a little smile and sticky fingers.

“You wan’ some?” Added Jenny with the similar little smile.

Other times, Austin would be the only one brave enough for certain things, dragging Bradley along to meet new people such as when they met Wraith or Buzz for the first time. Austin scared poor Wraith with his chaotic tendencies meanwhile Buzz laughed his ass off.

Plenty of times, that chaotic charm the young boy naturally held would bring a smile to the faces he meets, like when he met Ark and Hazel. When Austin finished hanging out with Hazel, she wanted to keep this boy for herself.

…but there were some moments where Austin’s shining personality mixed with the wrong crowd.

Let’s just say Ice and Mav enrolled him into little league baseball practice for one week, but midway through that same week the coach had to call Audrey to take the kid back home. Because due to Austin’s style, tiny temper and competitive nature when his team wasn’t winning, he decide to use his baseball bat and hit one of the kids from the other team with it.

The kid went as far as to chase the other children around the field in revenge and when Audrey heard that, she couldn’t help but laugh out loud. She knew it was a bad thing and they probably had to enroll him into a different sport, but the image in her head of her nephew chasing the other kids around like a Looney Tune character was too funny.

“Yup, he was definitely Pete’s son.” She said with a smile, picking up her nephew to take him out for ice cream and a small lecture onto how it’s not nice to hit people.

Let’s just say Audrey wasn’t the only one laughing at the news that day about why Austin Mitchell might not return to baseball practice that week.

————

Speaking of Austin, since he was hopefully the last baby for now at least, they decided to set up a color coordinated system for the kids.

That meant if gifts were given, certain items were being delivered, and everyday things like cups, hats, sweaters, backpacks, socks and or etc. each child had their own version of one.

Hell, each kid had certain days set on the calendar, where they all had to do something the other wanted. Like park, mall, trips to the beach and or going to the movie theater.

It was Carole’s idea! So there were no fighting, especially since they were all so little at the time.

Bradley’s things always had a cherry red dot, cute little red label or red post it note on them. (Sometimes apple or red-orange color)

Dane’s things always had a sunny yellow dot, little yellow label or yellow post it note on them. (Sometimes bumblebee or yellow-green color)

Jenny’s things always had a rosy pink dot, little pink label or pink post it note on them. (Sometimes lilac or pink-red color)

Austin’s things always had a sky blue dot, little blue label or blue post it note on them. (Sometimes olive or blue-green color)

And honestly, it was pretty helpful at the time when they were just little kids. Since they knew once they got older, all four of them would pick certain colors to wear, act differently for types of situations and understand the concept of what is not their stuff, don’t take.

But of course like any set of children, no matter what you did or how many times you had to lecture them about a topic, they will always fight about something. Like toys, bedding, backpacks, clothes, food and things to do together.

Like when Bradley and Dane were fighting over a certain Star Wars backpack they saw at Walmart to take for back to school time.

Or when Austin and Jenny were arguing about a DC LEGO sets they both wanted to buy, Batman or Superman sets.

They were kids! You can’t prepare for everything, so the parents always stepped in making the decision for them or had to settle on a small compromise on what’s the verdict.

——

Nonetheless, they were good kids that’s what matters.

Yes, they were all different ages with vastly different views on things and personalities but that’s what makes them unique.

They care about their children way too much and thanked Goose for sending such a wonderful set of surprises and memories to come.

But the question that the adults tend to have on their minds was, how would the world handle their set of ducklings as they grow up?

What kind of experiences they will have?

Who will fall in love and who will get their heart broken?

Will there be friends or foes that come they’re way?

So many questions but only time will tell…

———

Thank you so much for reading this! 🎬 I know, it’s not exactly formatted like my other stories per say but it was an interesting way to introduce theses kids.

What was your favorite part? 💕

Please like, share and comment for more stuff like this! ✈️

Tags: @gcthvile @msrochelleromanofffelton @gaminggirlsstuff @topgun-imagines @starkleila @whitewiccan @comfortzonequeen @sherloquestea @theloveoftoms @mandylove1000 @mallowbee4 @rooster-84 @djs8891 @novavida and etc

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4evahaka · 2 years ago

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Helen Louise (Wheeler) Riddle was a founding member of the #SigmaChapter of the #AlphaKappaAlpha at #UniversityOfSouthernCalifornia (1922), & FIRST Black Woman to graduate from #USCLawSchool (1927). She married #JohnThomasRiddle, a USC graduate and #USCFootball player. Group photograph of about 125 members of the #AlphaKappaAlphaSororityInc in the courtyard behind Kerckhoff Hall at #UCLA. Helen Louise Riddle is standing in the next to last row within the center arch, centered between the ladies who are 3rd and 4th from the right in the last row under the center arch representing the #SigmaChapterAKAs. A flower-covered sign reads: "#Boule1932." Naida McCullough was a school teacher in Los Angeles, and a charter member of the University of Southern California Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority. She served as president for the USC branch. In 1925 she also was a temporary #FarWesternRegionalDirector and she established the #AlphaGamma Chapter at #UCLA. She was a well-known concert pianist and art patron. Corine Stovall was a member of the Stovall family of Los Angeles, and was active with events for the Stovall Foundation. She was active in clubs and events aimed at community uplift, often called the African American clubwomen’s movement.. Hortense Taylor was a member of the Los Angeles branch of Alpha Kappa Alpha sorority. She was active in clubs and events. Dr. Alice Watkins Garrott was a dentist who married dentist. Dr. Alva Curtis Garrott. Top row from left: Corine Stovall, Ph.G., Minnie Mitchell Wickliffe, Ph. B., Vada Somerville, D.D.S., Alice Garrott, D.D.S., La Verne Martin, Junior Liberal Arts. Bottom row from left: Hortense Taylor, Junior Liberal Arts; Grace Broyles, A.B.; Helen Wheeler, Junior Law; Naida McCullough, Grad. Music; Hazel Baskins, Senior Liberal Arts; Edith A. Jones, A.B. #AKAExcellence #AKAHistoryIsBlackHistory #AKA1908 https://www.instagram.com/p/CoNuLQ1Pjzc/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

#sigmachapter #alphakappaalpha #universityofsoutherncalifornia #usclawschool #johnthomasriddle #uscfootball #alphakappaalphasororityinc #ucla #sigmachapterakas #boule1932 #farwesternregionaldirector #alphagamma #akaexcellence #akahistoryisblackhistory #aka1908

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angeli-marco-writes · 4 years ago

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∘◦ ♪ ◦∘ Timothée Chalamet - Concerto ∘◦ ♪ ◦∘

A/N - I wrote and posted this almost a year ago on my Wattpad. My writing has evolved a lot since then, but I’m still proud of this piece, and hope you enjoy it. I do not know Tim, nor do I claim to in any way. This is a work of fiction and entirely my own.

Warnings - smut. Detailed (but protected and consensual) sex, slight BDSM, overstimulation. Cursing. Legal alcohol consumption and smoking. Also 10k words of sickening fluff though, even the smut is fluffy.

Summary - At a classical music concert, the last person you expect to meet is a young man as charming and suave as Timothée. And the last thing you expected is for him to invite you back to his flat. Turns out music really is food for the soul, and other things...

IT’S A FRIDAY EVENING IN NEW YORK CITY. The sun is setting behind the towering silhouettes of undulating buildings all across the city, the moon casting shadows all around au contraire to the luminescence of building lights, beaming all around as well as the street lamps, bringing colour and light to people’s faces in the dark.

You’re standing on the pavement outside Symphony Space Concert Hall on the Upper West Side, people watching. Nothing more or less conspicuous, just observing everyone flooding into the hall, though none of them seem to be under 50 years of age. After checking the time, you take your phone out of the pocket attached to your delicate silk jumpsuit you’re wearing for the night, the one reserved for classy parties and sophisticated concerts only (though very handy). You open the email holding your ticket for the evening, a Poulenc appreciation concert, and you show it to the bouncer who grants you entry to the auditorium.

The room looks incredible. Photos of Francis Poulenc, as well as some old parchment sheets of his music spread out delicately over the usually bare walls. The lights create a perfect ambience in the hall for what's sure to be an incredible evening. The red velvet seats are half full, dotted with people at least twice your age, except from one seat near the front where you can see merely a defined jaw and brown curls. On the stage stands two glossy black grand pianos, slotted beside one another with plush velvet stools and their lids propped up, allowing one to see the inner workings of such wonderful instruments. Behind the pianos are seats enough for an entire orchestra, creating a crescent moon shape. A couple of the seats already have instruments atop them, aching for their owners to play beautiful melodies with them. You make your way down to where your seat is, familiar with the layout of the auditorium. You’re on the right hand side of the centre stalls, third row back, but as you arrive, there’s a boy you saw earlier, not much older than yourself.

“Hi, do you mind if I squeeze past?” You ask him, watching his head jolt up from the programme to reveal a mop of beautiful dark brown curls framing his chiselled face, piercing green eyes with flecks of hazel when the light changed direction. You recognise him, an actor, you simply can’t place him.

His look of incredulity melts into a smile. “Sure.” He says, moving his legs so that you can squeeze past and take your reserved seat on his left. He turns to face you, smiling. He’s wearing a crisp navy suit with a pale blue shirt and a matching tie. He looks well presented, and by his nervous and lopsided smile, you guess that he’s rather nervous to be at the concert alone too. “Timothée.” He tells you, holding his hand out.

You return his gesture, smiling right back at him, and tell him your name. “You here alone?” You ask him, turning in your seat to get a better view. He nods.

“Thought I’d be the only under fifty here.” He laughs, “I’m 24 by the way, but I shan’t ask your name since you're a lady.” You can't help but laugh at this, just a little giggle at how sweet he is, but your interaction is cut short as the lights turn down in the auditorium but shine brighter on the stage, and a full orchestra enters the stage, accompanied by their instruments, two pianists and a conductor. Murmurs in the hall settle down to a faint hum while the musicians tune to the sound of the oboe, and then begin to play.

The music is mesmerising, starting with orchestral pieces with faint piano accompaniment, then just a nocturne for piano, split between the two lead pianists. You could listen to it all night, but an interval has to come. As the lights slowly turn back up, you see an infantile smile on Timothée’s face, as though he’s just watched the most excellent thing in the world.

“Come on,” you say to him, smiling sadly while you tap his knee, “let’s get a drink.”

He reluctantly stands up to follow you out of the auditorium and to the small bar area. You order two margarita’s without consulting him, but he seems grateful as you sit beside each other on a high table, people watching once again.

“What's your job then?” He asks you, making small talk.

“I’m a piano major at Juilliard, teaching piano on the side though.” You respond, and he seems really taken aback. His jaw falls a little slack while his eyes bulge a tad.

“Wow, you must be excellent!” You blush a little at his words, elegantly taking a sip from your drink while he eyes you carefully. You feel awkward under his gaze, though flattered nonetheless. He’s gorgeous, and he’s complimenting you and accepting drinks from you, what a night.

“What about you?” You inquire. He's an actor, you know that, but asking means that you may be able to get some more context and maybe it’ll click where you’ve seen him before. He clears his throat, and you can see some older people walking by who pull faces, judging the pair of you, but you brush them off.

“I’m an actor, mainly small films though.” He says, remaining vague. You don’t push much more, realising that he probably likes not being fawned all over for once, so you simply ask of the favourite names he’s had the honour of working alongside, which must be an uncommonly asked question because a light flickers behind his eyes.

“Selena Gomez, Steve Carell, Armie Hammer, Saoirse Ronan, Emma Watson, Robert Pattinson, Maia Mitchell…” He begins to list, but only when he mentions Maia does it click. You aren't huge into films, but you have seen him in a film with Maia Mitchell and Maika Monroe a few years ago.

“Hot summer nights, right? You were in that?” His cheeks turn a magnificent crimson and he bows his head as though embarrassed. He mumbles something along the lines of ‘not my best performance’, but you disagree. “I think you were wonderful, and did you mention Armie Hammer?” He nods again, seeming a little brighter. You take another sip from your drink, and he follows suit, watching your poised movements.

“Call Me By Your Name.” You nod in recognition, you remember watching the film when it first came out and loving the music from it.

“You’re excellent you know, at piano I mean, and the intimate scenes aren’t half bad either, you make them better.” You say with a teasing smirk on your painted lips, making Timothée’s eyes widen again. You chuckle and grasp his hand, dragging him into the auditorium for the second half.

The second half is a whole concerto, Poulenc’s Concerto For Two Pianos And Orchestra. Ten minutes in, Timothée’s hand finds your thigh and seems very comfortable, so comfortable in fact that you don't dare move it. As the concerto flows further on, his hand slides further up your clothed leg and squeezes your upper thigh a little You tense under his touch, infatuation and lust filling every cell and exiting through your pores, just waiting for more passion to fill your body and make you drunk on the feeling.

When finally the concert ends, both of you stand to applaud the musicians for a solid few minutes, and you could swear you see a tear leaving Timothée’s mysterious eyes and rolling down his heavenly made, painfully defined cheekbones. While you clap, you surreptitiously edge closer together, millimetre by millimetre until you’re hip to hip with elbows nudging. Your head comes up to his chin, making you feel a little small, but you’ll feel even smaller once your heels come off. Once the majority of the audience have filed out, you grasp his hand and pull him through the crowds where you stand on the corner of the pavement, only metres from the venue. You’re reluctant to loosen your grip on his slim hand, as he is with yours.

“Cigarette?” He offers, holding a half full box out to you. You half smile and shake your head in refusal.

“I don’t mind if you do though.” You say, meeting his gaze. “I love the taste of smoke when I kiss someone.” You add in a whisper, leaning up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear. He goes rigid, making you smirk to yourself. This is going to be a good night.

He lights his cigarette and takes slow drag, only looking away to blow the smoke in an opposite direction to you. How respectful, you think, as your stomach fills with butterflies and bubbles with anticipation. He puts it out on top of a bin and throws it away without littering, and just that small and helpful gesture makes you crave his touch, having his fingers trace your sweaty skin and making your body tingle, your back arch with desire and pleasure.

“Wanna get a drink?” You ask, pointing to a nice bar across the road. You’re desperate to sleep with him, but not without pleasantries first. He, however, shakes his head and intricately entwines his fingers with yours.

“I’ll do you one better than a drink.” His smirk sets off a different kind of longing in you, forcing your body to follow him wherever he takes you.

As you walk, he starts conversation, but you’re so breathless from the desperation speed walking that your answers are brief. He asks you why you attended the concert, only to remember that you’re a music student and piano teacher; so in turn, you ask him the same question.

“When I was doing Call Me By Your Name, I had to learn the piano, and while I was learning classical pieces, I kind of just fell in love with classical piano music, I don’t know.”

His nervousness is sweet, making him appear far more humble than anyone of his stature would usually be.

You get to his building after a twenty minute dash in heels, and he pulls you flush against him while entering through the revolving doors, allowing you to lay your weight on him for a moment while you gather your breath. You feel his heartbeat thudding and racing against his ribs, reverberating against your own chest. You turn around to face him and place your hand on his chest.

“Breathe.” You say to him, allowing him to release a long held breathy chuckle. You leave the doors, both laughing, and fervently press the buttons to wait upon a lift. “So,” You then continue, breaking the silence where only your breaths were heard. “Favourite piano piece from the Call Me By Your Name soundtrack?”

“Hallelujah Junction!” You both answer at the same time, just as the lift doors open. You fall into the lift in a fit of giggles, clinging onto each other. You find yourself with your back pressed against the cold metal handle bar in the elevator with Timothée’s face inches away from your own. Your breath mingles together. As soon as he presses the button to his floor, he nudges his nose with your own.

“God, you're so beautiful.” he says seconds before his mouth is pressed hotly against your own, kissing you with an unrivalled passion. Your lips mould and move together like it’s second nature. His one hand holds your waist while both of yours grip his face, feeling a slight stubble.

The lift dings and he drags you out, unlocking his apartment door and leading you inside.

“Welcome to Casa del Timmy.” he says while hugging you from behind, allowing you to get a full view.

His apartment is stunning. Sleek, yet also vintage. Your eyes follow across the perimeter through a door to the left, where he has an office area containing a sleek white desk with a mac and a stack of papers and pens, next to it is a vintage white bookcase stacked as high as possible with novels of all shapes and sizes, and even an indie style rug underneath a colourful modern dining set..

The door next to the office is a kitchen, white countertops with wooden cupboards and a beautiful view of the city out of the window. To the right is a set of glass doors that open onto a small balcony where you can see the whole city, even Manhattan and Brooklyn depending which way you look and how the moon beams down. There’s a closed door right in front of you and through the entry hall and living room which you assume is his bedroom held behind a golden doorknob.

His living room, where you remain standing, holds an array of house plants with a couple of very comfortable looking plush sofas, his TV stand as well as his coffee table look like polished vintage items, refurbished from a flea market maybe, while his book shelf and rug are grand and modern. The best part of all though is a grand piano in an oak wood, matching the wood from his television table, and you become instantly entranced by the instrument that you don’t even notice the velvet stool or the perfectly organised cabinet of music, with a guitar propped up against it.

“Wow.” You breathe. Timothée grips you tighter, trailing kisses across your shoulder and up the side of your neck, inhaling every few seconds to treasure the scent of your perfume. Gardenia, rose champagne, grapefruit, davana; heavenly. You grip his hands with your own, holding them tightly where they’re settled on your tummy. You roll your head against his shoulder to give him better access to kiss you, but he stops abruptly and leads you to the piano stool. He opens the cabinet and pulls out a well loved piece of music.

“I know it’s for two pianos, but let's have some fun.” He says, grinning at you, an infectious smile that you can’t help but return. Hallelujah Junction, first movement. He puts the music out on the piano and takes a seat beside you, your thighs touching and hands overlapping as they begin to glide over the keys.

Playing this piece is second nature to you, allowing you to find your way easily, slipping your fingers between Timothée’s, and the white and black keys. You begin a harmonious melody spanning the whole of the piano, but after only a couple of pages, you realise that its not working as your notes cross over, making it very difficult to play on just one piano. You laugh together, but only for a moment before he is trailing his tongue up your neck, then your lips, and delving inside your mouth. You gasp, moaning into the passionate kiss that he’s giving you, and within seconds you find yourself straddling his lap on the piano stool. You trap his thighs between yours, moving and grinding your hips a little against his to receive more friction where you can feel how needy he is.

Within seconds, he has your legs wrapped around his waist and his teeth on your clavicle. The pleasure makes sounds escape your lips that you didn’t even realise were possible. You knot your ankles as he stands up with one hand around your waist and the other feeling his way around his apartment. After a few funny missteps and close calls of him dropping you while only walking the expanse of his living room, he pins you against his bedroom door, finding your lips again

He gently pokes at your dusty pink bottom lip with his tongue, slipping his tongue back into your mouth, exploring avidly and devouring every taste of you that he can muster. You do the same, but become too infatuated by his taste to put much more passion into it: gin, mint, bergamot and smoke. Smoke, sugar and sin, the most deadly combination of them all, and that's all you can smell on him, making you moan even louder. An erotic moan that makes Timothée twist open the handle to his bedroom door as quickly as is humanly possible.

He as good as throws you onto the bed, but undeniably, it turns you on a lot to see his dominant side this early on into the evening. He doesn't seem like the type to pin you down and boss you around, but as he shuts his bedroom door and delicately takes off his probably very expensive shoes, you can see a glint in his eye, almost as if he’s planning on doing unspeakably pleasurable things to you. Just the thought makes you wetter than before.

As he locks the door and shuts his shoes away, you take a quick look around the room. His bed is nice, comfortable and exquisitely large, like other things you hope. He has a nice colourful throw, vintage looking pillows to match his nightstand, holding only a pillbox, a glass of water, hand sanitiser, and a box of tissues. The simplicity makes you want to laugh, but you restrain yourself. He has a big dresser to match his bedside table with the drawers a little skewwhiff and clothes poking out. His wardrobe is fitted to the wall and by the looks of it, surprisingly neat too. That much cannot be said for his sofa though. A plush, light grey sofa sits on one side of his room just away from the window, and it's covered with clothes. At least he made the bed though, that's more than you can say for most 20-odd year old mans rooms that you’ve been into.

He sheds his blazer and crawls up to where he left you on the bed, needy and craving more. He looks down at you with desperation in his eyes, and you can’t help but to attack his lips, threading one hand in his beautiful dark curls while the other nimbly pulls open his tie and undoes his shirt. You shrug it off his shoulders and run your nails up and down his spine. You feel him shiver beneath his touch while your hands travel all over his body. His shoulders, his biceps, his toned stomach; he’s skinny, but has enough substance to him to be strong and sexy as hell.

“You’ll kill me if you stop.” He whispers, followed by a string of breathy curses. His eyes roll into the back of his head, giving you ample opportunity to grasp his shoulders and slip the pair of you over, pinning him beneath you. His eyes flit all over your face before kissing you again.

“You are so freaking beautiful.” He mumbles between kisses. He slips his hands up to find the zip of your jumpsuit which he slides down crazily fast, only breaking the kiss to shrug it off your shoulders. He just lies in awe, noticing that you don’t have a bra on beneath it. His tongue darts out from between his lips as he examines every undulation of your body, following the swell of your breasts right down to your hips. Your nerves return under his scrutiny, making you want to hide your face, but instead he holds your wrists behind you.

“You never have to cover up,” he says, nothing more or less than genuine love in his eyes, “not for me.”

Despite only meeting him hours ago, you know that you can trust him, so you ungracefully clamber off his lap and lie on your back to shimmy off your burden of a jumpsuit. He practically leaps at the opportunity to worship your body, before him in only your panties. He starts at your ankle, placing feather light kisses all the way from your ankle, up your leg, not minding the slight harshness of your legs, and only stops at your knee joint to switch his lips to his tongue, licking a straight line all the way up your inner thigh, stopping centimetres from where you need him the most. Not through any of this ritual does he break eye contact though. He skips over your panties and only pulls them down a little to trail kisses from your pelvic bone, up past your navel, through the valley of your breasts, and finally back to your lips. He makes you feel things that you could only dream of before meeting him.

“Timothée…” you breathe, hearing his breath hitch in his throat at the way your tongue curls around his name.

You reach between the two of you to his trousers. You undo the belt buckle with ease and push his trousers off his hips and down his thin legs, allowing him to kick them off at the bottom. He seems embarrassed, wearing Y-fronts that make more visible just how much he wants you.

“How about we strip together?” You offer, and Timothée reluctantly nods. He pushes himself off of you and stands up, giving you a hand to stand up as well. He still hasn’t taken his eyes off you since the moment you left the concert hall. “3, 2, 1…”

You both remove your underwear, pushing them down your legs and stepping out of them, only to step closer together so that your chests are flush against one another. He moves his hand up to cup your face, brushing your hair away from your face while tilting your chin up, capturing your lips in a lustful yet also sensual kiss.

He nudges you and your legs hit the bed, making you topple over and break the kiss from a giggle, but he doesn’t seem to mind and only laughs with you, moving your body further onto the mattress. He doesn't go to you again, he just lies beside you and dances his fingers absently down your pubic bone, ghosting circles around your clit.

“Jesus Christ.” You exclaim at the sudden feeling. Timothée kisses your jawline, but adds in between kisses, “Less of that, darling, I’m Jewish.”

You can’t help but laugh at him. You know he’s joking, just trying to mess with you, but as a punishment for laughing, he thrusts two fingers inside you with no warning, making you cry out in a mixture of both pain and overwhelming pleasure.

He pumps his fingers in and out of you, never going deeper than the second knuckle even when you cry out for more. Only when your moans turn to gasps for breath and you’re writhing beneath him does he delve in further and add his thumb to your clit, giving you a more intense orgasm than you’ve ever had before.

You immediately feel blood rushing back to your cheeks, colouring them from embarrassment, but Timothée doesn’t mind. He removes his hand from your core, and makes sure your eyes are fixated on his every movement as he licks his hand clean of all your cum. You’re so turned on that you even reach for his own hand, interlacing all your fingers except for his index one, of which he takes the hint and slips it into your open mouth, allowing your tongue to curl around it, making him groan.

He slips further down the bed and locks his eyes onto yours, you can see different shades of green and hazel in them and a whole world locked behind those beautiful eyes. Slowly, he delves into your heat, licking up everything that his hands missed. His mouth works wonders, sending your mind into a state of mild euphoria. The tip of his nose nudges your clit and you can feel yourself involuntarily gasp, so when Timothée finishes savouring every taste of you that he can get, he harshly bites your sensitive clit for just a moment, stimulating parts of your mind and body that you didn’t know could feel pleasure, let alone pleasure that intense.

He comes back up and kisses your lips, planting his hands in your hair as you kiss him back and get lost in the moment, your tongues dance together in an exploration, an experimentation of passion.

You pull away after a minute or so, gasping for air. Timothée examines your face for a moment, and you find yourself once again losing your thoughts and sanity in his eyes, until you feel the tip of his throbbing cock brush against your bare thigh. You feel bad for how much he’s been neglecting his own levels of desire in order to pleasure you, so you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock. He takes a sharp intake of breath and flutters his eyes closed, his long dark eyelashes twitching alongside his eyelids whenever you grasp harder or pump him.

He’s surprisingly big, causing you to take longer while rubbing your hand up and down his member. Half way down one thrust, you squeeze his cock a little, hearing him whimper a little. The mere sound of him drowns your core in want. You edge your way down the bed and swallow as much of his dick as you can take until his tip hits the back of your throat. He lets out the most sensual guttural groan that you’ve ever heard, his eyes still closed while placing his hand on the back of your head to keep you steady. You bring your head back up to look at him while your tongue swirls his tip, his mouth is parted a little with breathy moans of your name escaping every once in a while, his eyelids switching from being lazily half open to squeezed so tightly shut that they wrinkle a little.

You go back down slowly, inch by inch, hollowing your cheeks. You work your hand in the part of him that won’t fit in your mouth and continue to bob your head up and down. You lick a strip up a vein on the underside of his dick, making him near enough scream your name. With one final bob of your head where you deep throat him, you pull away with plump lips, climbing up his body to straddle his waist. He looks up at you with wide and loving eyes, pulling you down for a sensual kiss.

“Are you clean?” He asks breathlessly, kissing down the hickeys that he’s already littered your skin with.

“Yeah, i got tested after my last break up a few months ago, and I haven’t been with anyone since. Is that because I just…” He nods and you laugh a little, the vibrations from his chuckle rumble throughout your body.

“I did the same, but I’ll still…” You get what he’s saying and climb off him. He flings open the top drawer of his bedside table and after a minute or so of rooting through it he pulls out a condom packet and places it next to his glass of water. You give him a questioning look with your brows knitted together, but Timothée just smiles at you. He slips one slim arm beneath your back and the other under your knee joint before scooping you up and holding you close to his chest.

“Well hey there Timothée.” You say with a chuckle, secretly astonished at how strong he is, because with one arm still holding you, he throws away the decorative pillows and pulls the duvet back, throwing you onto the mattress and leaping on top of you. You smile into his kiss, savouring every second of the feel of his lips pressed hotly against your own, the taste of smoke driving you crazy.

He pulls away and sits up, tearing open the condom packet and grasping his hand sanitiser. He flicks the lid open and squeezes it liberally onto his hands before applying it and rubbing it into yours. “Are you sure?” He asks you, and your urgent kiss to his jawline is followed by a string of fervent reassurances that you are desperate to have him inside you, though you respect that he wants consent and that he wants to be clean. He slips the condom on, his eyes trained on your lips and the way they part from wanting every few seconds. He’s enjoying torturing you and making you wait, the same way that you edged him but denied him orgasm.

He slips the condom on and slowly enters in one smooth stroke. You gasp at the contact, especially how deep he goes with the first thrust, so deep that his pubic bone hits your own. He reaches for the duvet and he pulls it up over his shoulders, covering the pair of you since he can see that you’re shivering a little in the open. He looks for reassurance, but then begins to thrust inside you, holding his weight above you. You can see his biceps tensing while trying to hold his weight up and keep a steady rhythm.

“How about we spice this up?” He suggests, a sly smirk playing on his lips. He cocks an eyebrow, and the sun hits his face at an angelic angle, only making him more beautiful. You nod eagerly to him, only making his smirk grow wider.

“Yes Mr Timothée,” you say, triggering a dominant smirk to relight behind those stunning eyes.

“That's Mr Chalamet to you tonight, Miss.” Words cannot even explain how wet he makes you by saying that, already making your mind want to submit to his every want. You let out a whimper and remove your hands from his hips to lay above your head on the pillows. He joins his fingers around your wrist and proceeds to lay his slender hand flat against your wrists, preventing you from moving.

“Is this okay?” He asks, his movements coming to a halt. You nod and kiss him again. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

He must really enjoy what he’s doing to you. “Yes Mr Chalamet.” You reply, making your eyes as doe like and innocent as possible.

Timothée’s thrusts restart, faster this time. You moan louder, ecstasy filling every inch of your spent body before you’ve even properly begun. His moans are lower, more like groans, all of your name. It sounds heavenly coming from his lips, the way his mouth moves when he says your name just makes it better. His hips hit yours with vigour, adjusting to get a better position where he hits the best spot inside of you.

“There Timothée!” You scream desperately, your back arching on the mattress while your hands fight to break free. Submitting isn’t as easy as you hoped.

“I’m close.” He warns you and frees your wrists, but he doesn’t let your hand go too far. He interlocks his fingers with yours, using one elbow to prop himself up. His thrusts turn sloppy, more fervent, and just as he’s finishing, he digs his thumb into your clit.

Your entire body turns limp, screaming his name in a state of complete euphoria like you’ve never felt before. It travels from your brain to the tips of your fingers, setting a fire in your belly and making your toes curl. Your back arches so far off the bed that your chest becomes pressed against Timothée’s, your breasts moving in time with his breathing. You feel him come to his own climax, silencing his screams by kissing you with more passion than he has before.

You ride out your highs, but the level of pleasure illuminating every nerve ending in your body means that you don’t notice Timothée pulling out and disposing of the condom, you only notice when he flops down beside you on the bed and pulls you closer to his slightly sweaty body. You rest your head on his chest that seems to be glowing in the moonlight from the sheen of sweat. He absently plaits your hair, staring off into the distance. The faint thudding of his heart within his ribs comforts you, it's a little faster than would be normal, making you smile a little.

“How was that?” His hand grips around your shoulder even tighter, pulling you closer to his body. He seems content in simply holding you, maybe he just enjoys cuddling. “Wait, don’t answer that.” He corrects himself, his pupils dilating and his excellent, angelic body going rigid. You chuckle to yourself, drawing circles on his chest with the pad of your forefinger,

“Excellent, Mr Chalamet.” You tease him.

“I wasn’t too rough, was I?” He looks fearful, fretting, it's evident in the sudden sulk of his face, pulling his cheeks and forehead down. You shake your head again, slowly but surely moving your leg to lie over his. Ye inclines his neck to place a gentle kiss to our hairline, and you can feel him smile into it.

“Timothée?”

“Yes beautiful?” Just his simple words make you giggle and blush, such a sweet sentiment from a gorgeous and well meaning man.

“I’m hungry.” You say, feeling slightly embarrassed. He laughs, you feel his body move from it, and he proceeds to pepper your face with the softest and sweetest kisses possible.

“I’ll make us some food, grab any shirt you want and meet me in the kitchen.”

You watch him pull on a pair of grey sweat pants and walk out. His pale hips sway just a little as he walks, and he looks so lanky from where you’re laying on his bed, the covers pulled up around your chest. He kissed your forehead before heading to the kitchen, what kind of a man does that on the first night? He’s a famous actor and the most gorgeous man you’ve ever seen, let alone a couple of years above yourself. He really knows how to please a girl, your skin rises in tiny goosebumps of pleasure while a shiver shoots down your spine and leaps across your synapses just at the mere thought of what he did to you, by far the best climax you’ve ever had.

You slowly slide out from under his warm, plush covers that smell just like him, only leaving with severe reluctance that melts away as soon as you shrug on the pale blue button down that he wore for the concert. Only a few hours ago you’d met at a concert for old people, already having a common interest that few your age have, yet he’s so eager about classical piano which is so special to you. You fiddle with the buttons, leaving the top few open in hopes of another round - he is making you an almost-midnight feast after all.

You walk out of his room and pad barefoot across his living room floor, only to have a little grey cat come and rub at your feet. You lean down to tickle behind its ears, hearing it meow, and you continue your way too where Timothée has left the kitchen door open for you. He’s standing over the stove with some ingredients laid out on the spotlessly clean countertops. You smile in spite of yourself, running a hand through your messy hair before wrapping your arms around his torso from behind. You place a couple of kisses to his shoulder blades until he turns around and picks you up in one swift movement, sitting you on the counter so that you meet his height.

“It looks better on you.” He whispers, pulling you closer by your bare thighs to plant a kiss on your lips. He’s making you feel things you’ve never experienced before, you can’t wipe the smile off your face for the first time in a while, and he's making you food in the middle of the night after cuddling you.

Dreamboat.

After watching him cook for a while, you slip out of his kitchen and take a seat at his piano. You run your fingers over the smooth wood, it’s well loved but well kept. Then you take a seat on the stool. You can feel where Timothée sits to play, your smile turning a little sad. There’s so much to him that people won’t see because he’s getting famous, but he’s still a person and that’s something that you’re able to experience first-hand.

Eyes closed, you feel for F and Ab with both of your hands. You press the keys down gently, creating the soft blend of notes that is Clair De Lune. You fall lost in the music in a new way, a new feeling washing you with all of tonight's new sensations and sitting at a piano that is neither your own nor at school, it feels somewhat ethereal.

Your fingers glide all across the keys, black to white, flats to sharps, switching between octaves like its second nature. Your mind dances along with the rhythm, your whole mind, soul and being becoming lost in the symphony that you’re creating, one that you haven’t been able to create for a while, and it’s only thanks to Timothée.

You become so absorbed in playing that you don’t notice him leaving the kitchen to listen. He just stands in the doorway, leaning against it with his head lolled a little to the side, completely mesmerised by your movements, your music, and just everything you are. Only when you play the final notes are you alerted of his presence from the creaking of the floorboards beneath his feet. He walks over to you with purpose, a slight grimace on his perfect lips, but he just hugs you. Timothée just holds you close to his chest, allowing you to entwine your arms around his neck and nuzzle your face in his bare chest.

“Stay the night?” He asks, such a simple request but he truly does seem anxious. You want to be genuine, kind, but it’ll be best to relieve the tension.

“You’re making me a late night post-sex feast and giving me your shirt, of course I’m staying the night.” After a moment of silence, he exhales a laugh and node, brushing a curl or two into his face. “Anyway, your cat likes me too, so it’d be a shame to disappoint the little cutie.”

After only a few minutes, you find yourself back in bed with Timothée. He’s carrying a tray full of food that looks and smells gorgeous, followed by his cat who decides to dance between his legs. He serves you a strangely shaped piece of an odd looking pizza, though it still looks excellent, and it has some perfectly cooked and seasoned vegetables next to it on a white plate.

“What is this?” You ask him as kindly as possible.

“Flammekueche with some vegetables. It’s a French pizza with crème fraiche and bacon. My dad makes it all the time and always gives me some that I just freeze and reheat. I can only make microwave meals and vegetables, so this isn’t bad for me.” The way he explains it makes him so endearing, and even makes the food seem more than enticing. “You’re not allergic to anything are you? Or vegetarian?” You shake your head with a smile, kissing him and thanking him for the meal even though he won’t let you touch it before you sanitise your hands.

You talk the whole while that you eat, learning little things about his favourite books and his family. His favourite book just happens to be Tender is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald, a book you both know and love, and Timothee has a Jewish mother, a French father, an older sister, and he grew up in the city. You however are from out of the city with an exceptionally normal family, and your favourite book is Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte. He seems to be growing fond of you, wiping the pizza sauce from your lip, followed by a kiss each time.

He places your plates on the floor as soon as you finish, snatching at the speed of light for some hand sanitiser, lube and another condom. You more than happily oblige with all of his steps and strip off his shirt, kissing the living daylights out of him before he’s even slotted the condom on. He kisses you back with equal fervour nonetheless, exploring your whole mouth with the tip of his tongue. He cautiously adds some lube to the sides of the condom and slips into you while you’re still atop him. You moan at the penetration, arching your body forwards and hereby giving Timothée a full view of your breasts and the way they bounce with his every thrust inside you.

You moan pornographically at his slow and passionate movements upwards and deep inside you, finding your special spot within moments. He settles his hands upon your hips, squeezing them and guiding your every movement. You ride him just the way he wants you to, you can see it in his eyes. He looks at you like a teenage boy would at a naked supermodel, of which you are only naked and most definitely not a supermodel, despite him treating you like one, and Timothée is thankfully older than a teenage boy yearning for sex.

“You look so fucking brilliant.” He tells you, admiring the way that your face contorts with pleasure while taking every inch of him.

You rhythmically grind your hips against him, swirling them occasionally just to hear him cry out. Nothing is a hinderance from you going faster, but this sex isn’t needing to be urgent to be satisfying. He squeezes your hips harder and you decides to move up a little further, bouncing back down on him as he becomes buried to the hilt in your desperate core. You do it again, engulfing him anew and moaning his name continually from the mix of friction and pleasure that’s sending you into another euphoria, but not enough to release again just yet.

Timothée still hasn’t taken his eyes off you, namely your breasts where he’s currently focussed, eyes trained on your hardened nipples - partly from not wearing a shirt and partly from Timothée’s ministrations. He leans up and captures your left nipple in his mouth, sucking and kissing and swirling his tongue around you in the most divine way possible. He moves his hands away from your hips too, allowing you to grind your hips on his in any way that you like. His one hand moves to your other breast, tweaking and pulling at your right peak and sending sensations through your body that you’d never realised could be real before; while his other slips to the rounds of your ass, squeezing delectably.

“Mr Chalamet, p-please,” you find yourself begging, leaning down while still riding him, his torture on your breasts never ceasing, not even when he thrusts his hips up one final time, allowing your core to devour him whole and sending you into your third otherworldly climax of the night.

“Timothée!” You scream, your climax pouring out of you. You feel him come too, and you hear him cry out your name like a blessing.

He doesn’t pressure you, he just waits until you’re able to clamber off him with as minimal pain and exhaustion as possible, though you do whine at the loss of contact as you lie beside him, his arms securely around you and holding you as close to him as possible. It doesn’t matter that you’re both sweaty or spent, it just feels special.

“Look at that, done before 1am.” He chides, cuddling into you. You laugh a little at him, especially his humour, but it is rather remarkable.

“Two rounds, a meal, and a concert. Can’t speak for you, but I’m knackered.” He smiles at you sleepily, passing you the shirt that you wore earlier. You shrug it on and do it up while Timothée puts his joggers back on and draws the curtains, leaving the two of you in dark for the most part. You lie further down, still close to his thin chest, you hear his breathing rattle a little, but it's soothing.

“Night beautiful.” Is the last thing you hear before falling asleep in his arms.

⊱ ────── {⋅. ♪ .⋅} ────── ⊰

The only issue about sleeping with Timothée is that you forget it's a Saturday morning, and on Saturdays, you have to work. Your phone alarm starts to go off at 7.15 precisely, which when you’re home, gives you enough chance to get ready for teaching in a calm manner so that you aren’t already angry before teaching little children how to play Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. Today however, that is not the case.

Timothée sleeps through it somehow, but your eyes are shocked wide awake, causing you to leap from the comfort and warmth of his bed and cuddles just to crawl on the floor in search of your phone and where it fell last night. You find it next to his door somehow, and switch the alarm off immediately, propping yourself up against the door to release a long held breath and to watch the sun rise through his windows. He looks so beautiful asleep, his lips parted slightly, soft snores escaping every so often, dark eyebrows furrowed and his mop of curls haphazardly lying around him like a halo. The morning glow makes his cheekbones appear even more defined.

You want to gather your belongings without waking him, get dressed and catch a cab back to your flat, but just as you go to open his door, he stirs.

“Where do you think you’re going beautiful? Come back to bed, I’m keeping you here with me forever.” You know he’s joking, and his words melt your heart and inhibitions a little, but you can’t justify staying

“I have to work, my first student is at 9.30.” You say, walking across to stand beside his bed and brush some hair off his forehead, kissing him and your lips lingering on his sweaty skin a little longer than they probably should have.

“And? I’ll drive you home in time, if you live near Juilliard then I know a shortcut. Just come back.” He's virtually pleading, puppy eyes and quivering lip just to add to the effect, and you simply can’t say no when he looks so perfect. You place your things on the floor by the bed and slip beside him, allowing your eyes to flutter shut just a moment longer.

His finger traces your naked body beneath the shirt, focussing on the bruises he left on your hips and the marks on your neck. Just his touch is enough to take control of your body, to give you goosebumps, to electrify every feeling of love and lust held within.

“Can I use your shower please?” You ask him, and he nods, placing his chin atop your head.

“I’ll take you to my bathroom and then I’ll make you breakfast. Grab whatever clothing you want from my room, but you can’t leave this bed until you agree to dinner with me tonight.”

Your heart rate increases tenfold at his gesture, and you want to take a leap of faith and say yes straight away, but that would be playing your cards too quickly. “We’ll see.” You respond sultrily, making your way to leave, but his strong grip pulls you flush against him with no space to move. You can hear him laughing in your ear.

“Say yes to dinner and then you can leave.” He slips his hands further down your front without losing his grip and decides to toy with your clit as though it’ll get you to talk.

“Y-yes! God, Timothée, of course I’ll go to dinner with you, just don’t stop!” You find it impossible to understand the shockwaves of pleasure pulsating and electrifying your every sense from an action as simple as the pads of his fore and middle fingers twisting and pressing your sensitive clit. It’s so incredible that after the previous night, it feels like overstimulation, and you can’t get enough.

“I’ll never stop.” He murmurs gruffly into your ear, you can hear the hoarseness that smoking causes but god it sounds and tastes so good.

He pulls your body closer and rolls you over. “Hey baby.” You say as calmly as you can, but within seconds you find yourself sitting on his face, half of his stunning bone structure lost beneath you. He delves his tongue into your already dripping heat, licking as far as he can get and only pulling away to kiss and suckle at your clit.

“Let me come Mr Chalamet!” You cry out, and with one final swipe of his tongue around your core and a squeeze of your ass, you let go. Timothée licks you clean while you still chant his name, and he proceeds to pick you up in order to carry you to the bathroom. You settle your heels at the base of his spine, digging in a little, and his arms tense beneath your ass from the manner he carries you. You like being above him, able to trace every line and bit of stubble on his face with your focussed eyes that he stares so deeply into at any given chance.

“Don’t be too long or I’ll be tempted to join you.”

You slowly cross the threshold of the bathroom, winking at him as you close the door. He inaudibly groans, but you can tell from his facial expression and the tension in his joggers that make him look utterly sexy. You slowly unbutton his shirt, reluctant to take it off, but when you step under the warm jet of his shower, that reluctance washes away along with any inhibitions you may have had about Timothée. He’s an angel: clean, respectful, enjoys classical music, has a cat, isn’t a cocky dickhead, and he’s literally the most gorgeous human being that you’ve ever laid eyes on.

You run your fingers through your hair, standing directly beneath his showerhead. The steam clouds your vision, but you can hear Timothée singing while he cooks, Mystery of Love. What a dork, you think, chuckling to yourself while you rinse Tim’s shower gel from your body, and you just know that after this you’ll smell like him, but he smells delectable. As the water hits the most sensitive parts of your body, you remember the previous night. Just the thought of what he did to you makes you crave his touch again.

Through the bathroom window, you can make out the New York traffic that builds every morning, accompanied by the screeching of tires and sirens and car horns. Despite it being a ruckus, it's soothing as you step out the shower and wrap yourself in one of Timothée’s fluffy towels.

“How do you look so sexy when you’re getting out of the shower? God, I can't stress it enough, you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve seen in my life, even without any makeup and with your hair un-styled, just wrapped in my Goddamn towel. You’re gonna be mine, mark my words.” You feel tears come to your eyes at his kind words, watching him purposefully walk from the kitchen and all the way across his apartment just to place his hands on your waist and tell you how beautiful you are. Those words are better than a concerto to you.

Once you’ve finished getting dry in his bedroom, you ferret through his drawers until you pull out a white top with various tie dye patterns across it. It’s cute, very Timothée. You pull it on and it reaches your mid thighs, making it clock in your head just how much of a lanky lad he is. You bundle together your stuff and head out of his room, closing the door behind you and greeting him with a kiss. He sits you at the breakfast bar and serves you a proper cooked breakfast: bacon, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

“There's ketchup and syrup in the cupboard if you’d like.” He offers, sidling up on the seat beside you, nudging the tip of your nose with his thumb. The smile hasn’t left your face since you met him.

“This is good, you’re an excellent cook.” You tell him, resting your hand on his. His cheeks glow an even brighter red in the cascading morning sunlight, dappled by his blinds, but he looks magnificent despite his embarrassment.

You take out your phone, just to take a picture of the breakfast while it’s still untouched, and of your hand held by Timothée’s, already wearing rings. You notice that he’s already wearing a silver chain too, and a couple of bracelets on the wrist away from your own, which you find unusually attractive.

“I wish you could stay all day.” he whispers, placing his forehead on yours.

“Me too.” you say softly, smiling sadly and caressing his cheek.

You finish your breakfast and make your way to the living room in a strange kind of waltz orchestrated by Timothée. He insists on holding your waist and turning around a little, moving your feet in sync until you yank him down onto the sofa, catching his lips mid sigh which leads to a much more passionate make out session than you anticipated. Once that’s over, he plaits your hair beautifully, explaining how it used to calm his sister down before an audition. By the time he’s finished a very good pair of plaits, you check the time and it’s already 9, time for you to leave with NYC traffic, but Tim won’t let you go.

“Not without a photo.” He insists, but you question his reasons. Who would want a photo of you with wet hair in plaits, an oversized tee-shirt and a bare face? But his answer is too sweet to refuse. “I like taking pictures of beautiful things, and of which, you are the most beautiful.” Your cheeks flush a raging scarlet, and Timothée takes your few moments of silence as the perfect opportunity to take a picture of you, sunlight hitting your face in all the right places, and he takes another for good measure, his hand on your cheek and his lips on yours, a kiss that shuts you up for good.

He takes you down the stairs right to the garage where he keeps his car, and surprisingly, it’s an understated car, not crazily extortionate nor flashy, something which you respect highly. He sits you in the passenger side, making sure to kiss you before closing the door, and he gets in the driver's side. After starting the engine and leaving the parking lot, he lays his palm flat against your thigh and keeps it there the whole drive while you change gears for him. You tell him all about your childhood, your high school, your time in uni while he tells you his life at a performing arts high school and then his life as an actor, he truly fascinates you.

Once he pulls up outside your building, he tries to convince you to let him come in, or at least walk you to your door, but on the grounds of not scaring the life out of your neighbours and students, you say no with a promise to see him later.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard tonight that you won’t be able to walk.” He says, pulling you in for a final passionate kiss before you step out of the car. He made you wet just before you have to work, you’ll get him back later, but the revenge melts as soon as he leans out the window to blow you a kiss and tell you how stunning you are.

You’re so lost in your trance of Timothée that you don’t notice your first student tapping you on the shoulder and excitedly saying “Was that the Timothée Chalamet?”

You chuckle to yourself, watching him drive off into traffic, all for you. “Yes it was love, yes it was.”

#timothee chalamet #concerto #timmy t #chalamet #tim chalamet #timothee chalamet smut #timothee chalamet imagine #timothee chalamet fluff #timothee chalamet x reader #timothee smut #timothee fluff #timothee imagine

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whatdoesshedotothem · 2 years ago

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Monday 26 November 1832

7 40

fine morning F51° at 8 - looking over coal memoranda till after 9 - Mr Jeremiah Rawson came at 9 ½ for about ½ hour - he asked if I would take £200 per acre said I had had £230 bid and had promised not to sell at that price but to have more so set £230.10.0 per acre and said I was determined not take less - he said his brother would take him mad to talk of that price - he had only given £100 per acre for the coal he had bought in Southowram - but however he would take down the terms of agreement - which I proposed as follows £230.10.0 per acre one acre to be paid for per annum by 2 half yearly payments the first of which to be made on signing the deed - 10 years to get the coal in, and if not got in that time, a further term not exceeding 5 years to be allowed - surface measure - to have his answer on Friday - went in to my father and Marian for a little while then breakfast with my aunt at 10 ½ having just had a note from Mr. Mitchell saying that Mr. Carr valued the Godley estate 20D.W. at 1/. per yard £3136. new barn 20x9 yards high 7 yards £200 Building 12x12 two stores £250 = £3586. Mitchells’ valuation is £70 per annum at 30 years purchase ‘and that is small interest and a great rent £2100. Carr proposes selling the land except the croft and the buildings but if he sells the whole the above princes he wishes – you see what he wants for the estimate is £1486 more than it is worth – shall recommend you to let it alone, as it appears he will not sell it at present without he can sell it you too dear – I am of opinion that he has no customer and if he has no one will give more than the sum I have mentioned – N.B. He pressed me to let him know immediately’ – I certainly shall not give Carrs’ price – said not a word of Godley to my father and Marian -

SH:7/ML/E/15/0155

talked it over to my aunt and came to my room at 11 – wrote the above of today and the following to Mr. Mitchell ‘Shibden hall – Monday 26 November 1832. Sir – Mr. Carrs’ price is out of the question, and I shall certainly take your advice – but I shall be obliged to you to let him know that I will give your valuation £2400. and if he agrees to this, and chooses to give me £60 a year for the land, and £5 a year for the buildings, he may take all as it stands, and occupy the whole under the same sort of written agreement as that under which he now occupies the land I have already purchased I am, sir, etc. etc. etc.’ – wrote the above note to ‘Mr. Mitchell Landvaluer Cowmarket H-x’ – and went out at 12 40 having washed etc. very little cousin Saturday and last night and yesterday but more and pretty well today – with Pickles and his son John stubbing the hedge between the 2 brook Ings and planting hazels on the old pit hill at the bottom of my walk – John Booth planted thorns under the great high Godley wall in James Smiths’ far brow – William Green carted hazels and the 2 thorns into Charles H-‘s acrefield – came in at 5 50 – changed my things – dinner at 6 ½ - afterwards read from p. 151. to 228. end of Gilpin of Landscape gardening – then wrote 3 pages to ‘Dr Belcombe, Minster Yard, York’ over which I could not help laughing - hardly to know what to say but in general terms, there was certainly amendment - really think his medicines have done good - are we to go on with the same medicines without interval - or stop a while and then begin again - or can he make any little change - ‘the mind is worse than the body and, in this respect, I confess, I found a nervous young lady much more difficult to manage than I expected - we have relapses which I can neither understand, nor guard against - there is some guiding trouble in the heart - some aching void (if voids can ache) or something or other, that neither medicine, nor I can reach - tell him to direct his next letter to me at Shibden - mention the rumbling in the bowels of Friday and Saturday at the request of the maiden gentle woman staying with Miss W- I feared it arose from something that affected her spirits - was right, and never seemed wiser in my life the more I see of nervous case the more I shall be able to appreciate the excellence of your manner and questions and obs[ervations] and humbug in York my love to your wife and the rest vale valeque [be well and strong] very truly yours AL - mention that her friends and she herself think her lung delicate and that I have said how clever Steph is in using the stethoscope - had written my letter and so far of today at 10 ¼ at which hour my aunt came to me in the drawing room to wish goodnight – came up to my room at 10 20 – fine November day – neither so hazy or so damp ever as yesterday – F50 ½° now at 10 ¾ p.m. – just before getting into bed wrote another sort of note to Mr. Mitchell

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myrwritesfootie · 3 years ago

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Like The Old Days - Chapter Two - Mason Mount

Who: Mason Mount x Original Female Character Words: 1629 Disclaimer: I do not know Mason Mount or anyone else mentioned in these writings. Note: So the first chapter was just mainly an introduction, this chapter is nearly double of the previous chapter and I hope you all like it.

July 31st, 2017. Arnhem, Netherlands

The weather was quite chilly for a day in the middle of the summer. Not that it was a strange occurance in the Netherlands. It was one of the things I disliked the most about living in this country. I am someone who preferred the sun and the warmth. Unfortunately that was not going to happen anytime soon.

Despite the dreary weather, I knew that I would have to enjoy the summer as much as possible before it was over and before I would start on my last year of education. Just one more year and then it was time to find work. Something I just didn’t want to think about just yet. I actually liked my school years until now.

The voice of my friend next to me pulled me out of my thoughts.

“Iris? This is like the third time you blanked on me, what’s going on in that head of yours?” Marie asked and I quickly blinked, a guilty expression on my face. “I’m sorry Mar. What were you saying again?”

The blonde sighed - clearly exaggarating, the smile on her lips giving that away as well as she looked at me over the edge of her sunglasses, bright blue eyes looking into my own hazel ones. “I was asking if you were up for going out for a drink this afternoon, after I finished work. It shouldn’t be a long day and they say that the weather will only get better by the end of the day. Pretty please?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. It was an ever returning question from Marie whenever the weather was nice in the city. “Fine, we are going out for a drink, but we are going to bring our own drinks and we are going to the park,” I encountered. Marie squinted her eyes for a moment, but then nodded. “Deal. I’ll ask Frances, Yvette and Sanne as well to see if they want to come.”

Even now I could already tell that the park was going to be packed. The park in the middle of the city was one of the most beautiful places in Arnhem, at least in my opinion. Whenever the sun was shining, it was busy. The slight slope in the grass made it a perfect place for sunbathing but also to have some barbecues in the summer. It was as if a big part of the city made its way into the park and my friends and I were definitely no exception.

The morning at our secondary school was one that finished pretty quickly. Marie and I were busy with our second year, with two more years to follow after this. After that university would probably follow if we were to choose for that, but so far I have not been interested in that. It meant more years at school while I knew what I wanted the most; I wanted to do something physical. I wanted to mean something for people, I wanted to travel. I did not want to get back in the school benches once more when I was done with this level of education.

So while Marie left to get to her job, I went back home. A home where a young brother had been bouncing around the house for some time now because our local football team Vitesse had been having a good pre-season so far and new names had been signed. With the Johan Cruijff Shield coming up at the start of the season, the football vibe was big in our house, with my brother bouncing off the walls. I liked football too but I had to admit that I didn’t like our own competition much. That’s what you get when you get hooked on the Premier League. The pace and level of that league was so much higher than our Eredivisie so who can really blame me, right? So where Sam - my younger brother - had a yellow and black obsession, I had a red one. A Liverpool shaped one.

The moment I walked into the house, it was clear that my mum was pissed off. “Sam de Jong, how many times do I have to tell you that you don’t get to kick that ball around inside.” The sight of shattered pieces on the floor that had previously been a longdrink glass came into my view as I walked into the living room.

“I’m sorry mum! I was trying to score the winning goal.” I couldn’t help but laugh at the words of my ten year old brother. As soon as I saw the look on my mother’s face, I bit my lower lip to stop myself from laughing.

“I just came by to let you know I’ll be at the park for the afternoon and also probably for dinner,” I quickly said, before leaving the room again so I could get upstairs, not wanting to witness the disaster that Sam was about to face.

It was only a short visit at home. While I freshened up after school - and listened to my mother yell at Sam while making him clean up the mess that he had made, I quickly looked through some messages on my phone where the other girls already showed that they had bought drinks and food already for the park.

Once I got the message from Marie that she was on her way to the park, I left the house as well. The park was only a short walk from my house but because I was known as the lazy one of my friends (and it was probably true as well), I picked the bike as my form of transport to the sunny greenery in the centre of the city. It didn't take long for me to find my friends, who had perched themselves on a large blanket in the grass. Many people had thought the same thing as we did. Other little groups had formed on the grass, some guys were kicking a football around while yelling at each other. In English. Which wasn't that rare here in Arnhem.

As I reached my friends, I just heard the last bit of a sentence Francis had said. "- is pretty cute." I rolled my eyes at the words, Francis was probably one of the biggest guy crazy people I had met but I loved her for it. I followed her gaze and found the footballing guys on the end of it. Oh, and Francis had a preference for athletes.

"Of course you have found the cutest guy in the entire park already," Marie said as she waved at me, holding out a glass with some fizzy drink in it. I looked over my shoulder and had to agree with Francis, however. The brown haired young man standing closest to us was not bad on the eyes. They were probably around the same age as us.

It was always good to spend free afternoons in the sun with my friends. For a moment there was not a worry in the world - although my mother would counter that at my age I did not have any worries. Laughing seemed to be the best remedy against long boring school days. I tried my best to zoom back into the story that Marie was telling. "So my brothers were in the backyard, mum kept yelling at them to grey inside for dinner, that they had to stop fooling around. They didn't listen at all, continued playing rugby and next moment, the ball went through the window. Mum was livid." I shook my head, a laugh escaping me as I thought back at the scene between my own brother and mother.

"Your brothers aren't the only ones good at breaking glass. Sam wanted to score the winning goal for the Johan Cruijff Shield and thought it was a good idea to do that inside. I walked in on -"

Before I could finish my sentence, this time I was interrupted by a sudden football hitting in the middle of our picnic cloth and knocking glasses over, the ball ending in my lap. I was too surprised to jump up like some of the other girls were doing.

"I'm so sorry ladies, my friend over there did a terrible job controlling the ball." A male voice spoke up in a British accent. It had to be one of the guys who had been kicking the ball around just a few meters away from us. A look up confirmed that it was the cute brown haired one who had come over to collect the ball in my lap. From up close he was even closer. Dark eyes matched his hair and a smile was on his lips, a shy one at that. He was our age, maybe just a bit older but when he smiled he had crinkles next to his eyes. It was Marie who found her voice back as the first one, of course she was.

"You can definitely say that. He should learn how to play football." The guy standing with us left out a chuckle, even though I did not understand why it was so funny what Marie had said.

"I'll let my friend Mitchell know." His gaze moved in my direction, since I had the ball. "I really am sorry…" he trailed off, not knowing which name to add to the end of the sentence. A very smooth way to ask for my name although I didn't even realise it. I scrambled onto my feet finally with the ball in my hands. "It's Iris. Here's your ball back." I held out the ball to him, his fingertips brushing mine for just a second as he took it from me.

"Thank you Iris. I'm Mason."

#mason mount fanfic #mason mount fanfiction #mason mount imagine #mason mount blurb #mason mount #like the old days

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pls-let-me-out · 4 years ago

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Pride and Prejudice

PART TWO

Summer came slowly. The days turned longer, the temperature warmer, and one day fruits hang where flowers had been.

Although the family participated to many social events, Piper never seemed to enjoy the dances quite as much as she the ones shared with Mr. Grace. Mr. Grace, the one whose name was never spoken in the house, more for Mrs. Solace’s destroyed nerves than Piper’s wellbeing. And when someone asked Piper how she was coping, Piper would smile, and say, “It’s becomes easier each day that passes.” Will didn’t believe her.

If there had once been a sense of expectation when they adventured to town, as there was a possibility of meeting Mr. Grace, seeing his and Piper’s story unfolding before their eyes, as Summer came they learnt to leave in boredom again.

And how dared Mr. Grace just walk out of Piper’s life without as much as a goodbye? The more the days passed, the more Will seethed, until bitter disappointment replaced the anger.

But Spring came to an end, and everyone knows that the big things in life always happen during the Summer.

In the first days of June, Mrs. Solace’s cousin invited Piper to London, and she didn’t think too long before accepting.

“After all,” she reasoned with Will, “it can’t hurt, can it? Every day I’m here, I am forced to see his ghost. I wander through the fields, and if someone calls my name, even if it isn’t his voice, I expect to see him when I turn.”

Mr. Caesar sent them a letter, and Mrs. Solace loudly announced that he was asking whether Mr. Solace was dead yet, although no one read it until dinner.

In the letter, Mr. Caesar apologized for felling the need to leave so harshly after Will’s outmost rejection. Despite that, he didn’t have any hard feelings for his cousins, and to show it he invited Will to visit him and his newly married wife, Mrs. Leila Caesar, a Beta.

“She must be very beautiful if he wants to rub her in front of Will,” Mitchell said.

“And she will have our house!” Mrs. Solace exclaimed, throwing her napkin on the table, only to ask Jonathan to give it back to her a second later. “She will throw us on the streets, and now none of us will survive. We will die, all of us!”

Will didn’t mention that Drew had been sneaking off to the fields more lately, to return late and with red cheeks, so at least one would survive. He didn’t say it, but he gave her a pointed look. She glared right back.

“I’ll go with Will,” Mitchell said. “I want to see her, too. She is probably really ugly if she has agreed to marry him.”

“You won’t come with me,” Will said. “I’ll go alone.”

Mr. Solace raised both eyebrows. “You are willingly going to Mr. Caesar’s house?”

“I don’t have much better to do,” Will reasoned. “And he can’t have become worse than he was during his visit.”

Mitchell groaned, slumping in his seat. “You are always so little fun.”

“He expects you to bring one of your siblings, though,” Mr. Solace said.

Three days later another letter came. It was from another long-lost cousin of Mrs. Solace, who invited one of her children to visit her, as she was going south with her husband, and since their children were already married, she would have felt alone. For obvious reasons (he was her favorite child, and Drew had reclined the offer, as she didn’t want her studies to suffer, which was an utter lie) she chose Mitchell.

“She is rubbing it in my face,” Mrs. Solace seethed, ripping a hole in the napkin. “She is rubbing it!”

Mr. Solace patted her back, but didn’t hide the amusement from his face. After all, as he often said, he wouldn’t be around to see his children fall in disgrace.

Mr. Caesar’s house was beautiful, immersed in a green scenery. They certainly paid a lot in gardener, as many different kinds of flowers were on either side of the street. Mr. Caesar was at the door, standing straight beside a beautiful woman. Will blinked several time, but despite Mitchell’s prediction, it didn’t change.

Will was given a tour of the house, before Mr. Caesar had to leave, and Will was left alone with Mrs. Caesar. It would have been his life, if he had been any more afraid of saying no to the Alpha. He couldn’t find it in himself to regret his choice, not even as a they drank tea from shining, expensive cups, in Mrs. Caesar’s private parlor.

Left alone, Will and Mrs. Caesar quickly dropped the formalities. It didn’t take long for them to bond, as Will had the ability of putting people at ease.

“It isn’t easy,” she later admitted. “Being married to him. Being married in general, I think.” She leaned closer, a grimace curling her delicate lips. “And his patron is a nightmare at times.”

“Lady Demeter?” Will asked.

She nodded, widening her eyes. “She wants to know everything we do. We have been married for two weeks, and every time I see her, she asks whether I am pregnant already.”

A matching grimace fell on Will’s face. “Lord. I met her grandson, he was a real nightmare, too.”

“Mr. di Angelo? I only met him once, and he was very closed off. Although I have to say, I have heard many good things about him, especially from the servants.”

Will’s nose scrunched up. “I wouldn’t know, the first time we met, he called me not pretty enough to tempt him into dancing.”

Leila’s jaw went slack. “Oh, Goodness! What did you tell him?”

“Oh, I stumbled upon that conversation for a chance.” Will waved his hand in dismissal, as for him it had quickly become a matter to laugh about. “I was at the right place at the right time. I’m ashamed to admit that I later rubbed it in his face.”

Leila laughed, hiding her mouth behind her hand, and Will couldn’t help but join her, despite having a blush on his face.

Luckily, Mr. Caesar wasn’t home the second day of Will’s stay either. Leila brought him to the beautiful fields near the river, and Will enjoyed every second of it. The first day, his hair was slicked back, as Mrs. Solace had forced him in a chair and done it, but after a bath he didn’t bother repeating the process himself.

“Do you come from around here?” Will asked Leila, as they strolled around a path. “I didn’t ask yesterday.”

“Yes, I lived here my whole life,” she said. She looked up at the sky, as though it held the answers to her every question. “I always thought I would travel a bit more before getting married.”

“You can come to Longbourn anytime you want,” Will said. “I must already tell you, my father’s wife will be absolutely insufferable.”

She furrowed her eyebrows. “Your father’s wife?”

“My step-mother,” Will explained. “My mother died when I was thirteen. My father is his current wife’s third husband.”

“She had been married two times and he still married her?”

Will shrugged, turning his eyes up to the sky, too. It was a dark grey, not the best of premonition with which walking, but Leila was sure that it wouldn’t rain. “They had been friends for years, they knew they wouldn’t fall in love. She had four children, my father three, and they had another together. They needed an Alpha – or Beta – heir.”

“It doesn’t sound very romantic.”

“Oh, it isn’t. My father was in love with my mother, and Aphrodite – his wife – was with her previous husbands. Maybe she accepted to marry my father because she was tired of falling in love.”

“It’s terrible to think, isn’t it?”

Will shrugged. A part of him couldn’t help but think whether it wouldn’t be good for her, to find another man to fall in love with for real after having married Mr. Caesar. He couldn’t follow that line of thought for much longer, as a shout of Leila’s name came from afar, and Will’s own decency stopped her.

They both turned – Leila a bit startled – to see a dark-skinned girl walking in a fast pace towards them; long, curly hair bouncing on her back. When she got closer, Will realized that she looked like someone he knew, but he couldn’t get a name. Underneath her sweet scent lingered another, manlier and Alpha-like. It was slight, but it tingled Will’s nose, and even if he didn’t recognize it, it rubbed him the wrong way.

She and Leila greeted one another informally. Hazel, Leila called her.

“This is my husband’s cousin,” Leila said.

Hazel tilted her head to the side, narrowing her eyes as a smile brightened her features even more. “So you are a Solace.”

“I am,” Will said. In front of such a beaming smile, the previous annoyance, caused by the scent, melted as snow under the sun. “It’s very nice to meet you, Miss…?”

“Levesque,” Hazel said, bowing her head. “Miss Hazel Levesque, but just Hazel is fine.”

Will repeated her gesture. “William Solace.”

“Hazel is Lady Demeter’s granddaughter,” Leila said.

Will nodded. It took him a moment to connect the dots, thus recognizing the scent. “I think I know your cousin.”

“Brother, actually,” she said. “We have both taken our mothers’ surnames. And believe me, I already knew.”

But before she could give an explanation, the sky broke above them, with such fury one would have thought they had wronged God themselves. They shared one look, and ran for their lives.

When they finally entered the house, they were all shivering. Will pushed his wet hair, sticking to his forehead, away. They were getting too long, Mrs. Solace had threatened to cut them for weeks.

Soon, they were all sitting in front of the fireplace, steaming cups of water in their hands, and blankets on their back. Will even wished he had brought his furs from home.

“So, you know all of my cousins, William?” Hazel asked him.

Will smiled. “I met them, yes.” Was that enough to say, in regards of the time they had spent together? The balls, the times they had run into each other in town. It surely wasn’t half enough to explain Piper’s heartbreak. “Mr. Grace once told me you were supposed to go with them.”

Hazel giggled. She really was a lovely Omega. “Oh, yes. But my brother plotted against me.”

“Plotted?” Will repeated.

Hazel waved a hand in dismissal. “Sometimes he forgets that I am grown, and I don’t need anyone to take decisions for me. Still, I can’t help but understand him, you know?” She stirred her tea, taking a long sip before continuing. “When our father died, I was only sixteen, and I took a couple of wrong decisions, which I often try to forget about. He took care of me. I don’t think he will ever see me as an adult, even when I mate and have children.”

Will nodded, sadness bitter on his tongue. “Oldest brothers are annoying like that.”

“Do you have any?” Leila asked.

“I did,” he said softly. “They were both Alphas.”

Little kids always have a special kind of adoration for their oldest siblings, so pure it really must have been sent by God. Will had always thought so. He saw it anytime he locked eyes with Jonathan. Sometimes, Kayla still looked at Will like he had hung the moon in the sky. Austin did so far less. Lacy sometimes let her guard down, and she was the second to younger among them, her happiness was always refreshing. Mitchell had only ever looked at them as though they were ants, but Will was pretty sure they weren’t completely hated. He, Drew and Piper shared a different kind of bond, more mature than the others’. He surely adored Piper, and Drew did, too, even if she forgot it at times.

Hazel left when the rain finally stopped pouring from the sky, saying her grandmother had to be searching for her. Mr. Caesar returned home from the city not long later, and asked whether they had been home all day. Leila giggled, and told him the whole story (or what she could, as Mr. Caesar wasn’t much interested in stories that didn’t involve him or the Lord).

“We will visit Lady Demeter tomorrow,” Mr. Caesar said. His eyes bore holes in Will’s. “She was kind enough to extend her invitation to you as well.”

“I’m not sure I have clothes beautiful enough to meet her,” Will said.

Mr. Caesar visibly shivered. “It isn’t a problem, Mr. Solace. Lady Demeter prefers humble people.”

Will nodded, but he didn’t need to meet her, to know she wouldn’t be humble at all, more similar to her arrogant grandson than her joyous granddaughter.

Once again, Will was right. Lady Demeter was an aging dark-skinned woman, whose hair had turned white, but she kept her back straight. A lily was placed at the start of her braid, it was the same color as her clothes.

She looked at Will, raising an eyebrow, and he couldn’t see anyone but her grandson in him, even if they didn’t share any physical trait.

“William Solace, is it?” She asked, but it sounded more like a statement.

“It is,” Mr. Caesar intervened.

Lady Demeter nodded once, before turning her attention to Leila. As they waited for dinner, they stayed in the parlor, Hazel sitting next to her grandmother, and a woman unknown to Will on the armchair opposite to her. She leaned towards Will when he sat. Her scent was strong, heavy even if feminine. An Alpha.

“Reyna Avila Ramírez-Arellano,” she presented herself, the name falling easily off her tongue. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “From Hazel?”

“Oh, no. I know Mr. di Angelo and Mr. Grace quite personally,” she said, waving her hands. Two rings, one silver and one gold, simple bands on each middle finger, and they caught the light of the candles.

The doors opened, a familiar scent reached Will’s nostrils even before he turned. Even if the previous day Will asked Hazel whether her brother had come with her, and she said he hadn’t. She looked absolutely ecstatic to see him, jumping from her seat to hug him. Mr. di Angelo chuckled in her hair. Will found himself stunned by the sight.

“Please, don’t bother greeting me, Nicolò,” Lady Demeter said, the wrinkles on her forehead deepened.

Mr. di Angelo let go of his sister, and his eyes widened when they landed on Will. Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s gaze never left Mr. di Angelo, and she looked as though she were having lots of fun.

Lady Demeter cleared her throat, and Mr. di Angelo’s attention shifted back to her.

“As you wish, grandmother,” he simply said. He looked back at the door, clasping his hands behind his back, raising an eyebrow. “Is dinner quite ready?”

“Have some manners, boy,” Lady Demeter replied sternly. “Take a seat.”

Mr. di Angelo did as he was told, but not without winking at his sister first. Winking, and she giggled. He told Hazel that he had come to escort her back the next day, so that she wouldn’t be alone during the ride. If possible, her smile widened even more.

“She is always like that,” Miss Ramírez-Arellano told Will quietly, leaning closer to him. “He can do no wrong in her eyes.”

Will turned to her, but he didn’t have time to ask the question on his tongue, as a servant announced that dinner was ready to be served. Lady Demeter demonstrated how much of a humble and kind woman she was, when she threw a fit for the way they were about to sit, asking Mr. Caesar to move in Will’s place so that he would be next to his wife, leaving Will between Mr. di Angelo and Miss Ramírez-Arellano.

“I understand that you have many siblings, Mr. Solace,” Lady Demeter told Will.

“I do,” Will confirmed. “One older than me, and six younger.”

“And they are all in society already?”

“No, the youngest is only seven.”

“So many children in society, yet the first one isn’t even married.” Lady Demeter shook her head. “What a peculiar choice.”

She pronounced the words like they were venom to be spat, and it brought a smile to Will’s lips.

“It would have been cruel to keep the other children home as the oldest went out, wouldn’t it? It wouldn’t have encouraged siblinghood, I think.”

“Your mother must be a very strong woman to have birthed so many children,” Lady Demeter continued.

“My mother was particularly frail of health,” Will said. “She never bore any children. We were all adopted.”

“How peculiar,” Lady Demeter repeated. “All of you?”

Will thought of his oldest siblings, Piper’s older sister. He thanked God for having masked his scent, or it would have turned sour, and it was the last thing he wanted to happen in front of such an arrogant woman.

“I thought Lady Persephone would be here,” Mr. di Angelo said.

His way of cutting the conversation short lacked in smoothness, but for once Will was glad of his presence, even if Mr. di Angelo had to already know much of the Solaces, to be completely disinterested in the answer.

Lady Persephone, as Will understood from the following conversation, was Mr. di Angelo’s late father’s third wife. Miss Ramírez-Arellano was a close friend of both siblings, and she spent most of the dinner talking to them. She also knew Mr. Grace.

“He has been in London for the past few weeks,” she said about him. “His sister as well.”

Will only smiled, hoping Mr. Grace wouldn’t run into his sister, giving her the time she needed to grieve and move on.

After dinner, they moved to the parlor. Lady Demeter sat on a high chair, which resembled a throne engraved with flowers. Will sat between Mr. Caesar and Miss Ramírez-Arellano on the soft sofa.

“Plenty of these paints are made by Hazel,” Lady Demeter said, gesturing to the walls. “Do you paint, William?”

Will, ever so cordial, smiled. “Not really, no. Although I can see that Hazel is very good.”

“Strange.” Her eyebrow rose again, and so did Mr. di Angelo’s, as though it had been called. The idea alone so ridiculously funny that Will bit his lip to avoid giggling. “Did you not have a housekeeper to teach you?”

“We did,” Will said.

“And she didn’t?”

“She tried. Unluckily, I was a terrible child, and preferred painting the walls instead of canvas. Eventually, she surrounded.”

Mr. di Angelo coughed, his face as red as Hazel’s. He tried hiding his blossoming grin behind his hand, as Hazel raised her fan.

“Do you have anything to add, Nicolò?” Lady Demeter questioned, her voice stern.

Mr. di Angelo shook his head, without uttering a single word, nor raising his eyes from the floor, as his shoulders trembled.

Lady Demeter’s lips curled. “Can you show some contain, boy?”

However, Mr. di Angelo could not. He almost fell forward, and Hazel grabbed the back of his shirt to keep him up. He turned to red he would have passed for a tomato.

“They are always like this when they are together, Mr. Solace,” Miss Ramírez-Arellano told him quietly. Fondness sparked in her eyes, becoming a fire when Mr. di Angelo loudly guffawed.

Miss Ramírez-Arellano seemed to be a decent Alpha, and once more, Will couldn’t muster how a good person could be friends with Mr. di Angelo. He hadn’t forgotten Mr. Lawrence’s story, yet.

“Do you play the piano, William?” Lady Demeter continued.

“Only a little,” Will replied.

“Play it for us,” she ordered.

From her demanding tone alone, Will knew he wouldn’t. He opened his mouth to protest, sweet smile already in place, but Mr. Caesar accepted for him. Once more, locking eyes with Leila, who seemed unperturbed, he knew he could have never lived that type of life.

So Will sat at the piano, stretching his fingers. When he was only a child trying to keep up with his older Alpha brothers, he had broken the index of his left hand. It had never completely healed, but it felt like a lifetime ago. If it weren’t for the crook in his index, Will would have been sure, it was only a dream.

Concentrating as best as he could on playing, even if he missed a few notes here and there, he tuned out the conversation. At some point, Mr. di Angelo stopped next to him, calix in hand, eyebrow raised.

“Are you trying to intimidate me, Mr. di Angelo?” Will asked, looking up.

Mr. di Angelo swallowed, and Will’s had no choice but to follow the movement of his throat. “I know by now that you are not so easily intimidated, Mr. Solace.”

Will smiled down at his hands. He wanted to find a sense to what Mr. di Angelo had said, but there was a part of him that couldn’t help but be already satisfied. He didn’t understand why.

“Tell us, Mr. Solace,” Miss Ramírez-Arellano said loudly, without standing from her position, but claiming everyone’s attention. “How was our di Angelo in Meryton?”

“I’m afraid I don’t have many niceties to say, Miss Ramírez-Arellano.” Will locked eyes with Mr. di Angelo, who was as stiff as a statue. “The first time we met was at a ball, and he refused to dance, although many people were only waiting for an invite.”

Mr. di Angelo’s eyes remained on Will as he defended himself. “I didn’t know anyone.”

“And as everyone knows, one absolutely can’t introduce himself at balls,” Will said. He raised an eyebrow, a ghost of a smile on his lips. If he had been any pettier, he would have reminded Mr. di Angelo how he’d heard him calling the company ‘not pretty enough’.

“I danced at the next ball,” Mr. di Angelo said. He raised the calix to his lips. There was a ring on his middle finger, a simple black band.

“After telling me that balls and dancing made you miserable,” Will replied.

“Lord, Nico, you are a disaster,” Hazel said, and she sounded absolutely delighted.

Miss Ramírez-Arellano sighed, nodding tiredly. Lady Demeter rubbed her temples, calling a servant to pour her more wine, and Mr. di Angelo grimaced, as though he were swallowing a whole lemon.

Leila and Mr. Caesar had some urgent matter in the village, and Will preferred staying alone in the house.

His thoughts circled around the previous night, how Mr. di Angelo had somehow charmed Miss Ramírez-Arellano, enough for her to even define him a younger brother. He could easily explain Hazel’s adoration for him, as he was her brother. Mr. Grace had demonstrated himself to not be as much of an Alpha as he had seemed, so there was no reason to take him into consideration again. Maybe, if Will waited enough, Miss Ramírez-Arellano would show herself as another Mr. Grace.

He sat by the window in Leila’s private parlor, the only place in the house which wasn’t infested with Mr. Caesar’s scent. He wrote a letter to his sister, which he would send before going back home. However, it wasn’t long before a servant came, announcing Mr. di Angelo’s presence.

Mr. di Angelo, who only bowed his head to Will, let him do the same, and sat in front of him, on the other side of the table.

“Are you here for Mr. and Mrs. Caesar, Mr. di Angelo?” Will asked, when the silence became unbearable. “I’m afraid I’m here alone.”

Mr. di Angelo’s scent spiked, if only for a moment, and Will shivered. “I’m not.”

“Are you here for me, then?” Will’s voice was filled with confusion, but also a hint of surprise.

Mr. di Angelo’s eyebrow arched. He sat stiffly, and once again Will wondered whether he was a statue. “Hazel will stay for one more day. She would like to invite you for dinner again.”

“It would be a pleasure,” Will lied.

Mr. di Angelo seemed to catch onto that lie. “My grandmother won’t be there.”

“Oh,” Will said. A smile slowly spread on his lips. “Accepting your sister’s invitation would be a pleasure, then. I was under the impression that you would have left today.”

Mr. di Angelo cleared his throat. “We should have. Hazel has asked me to stay one more day, although she came to visit our grandmother, and she has already left. We will leave the morning of the day after tomorrow.” There was a moment of silence, then he looked down at the table, his eyes barely grazing over Will’s letter. “Are you writing to your family, Mr. Solace?”

“I am.”

“Are they well?”

Last time they had seen, Piper wasn’t. “They are. I understand that you come from London, maybe you have seen my sister. She is there with a maternal cousin of hers.”

Mr. di Angelo raised the other eyebrow as well. “I haven’t.”

He cleared his throat again, and Will wanted to tell him to have some honey, as it seemed quite sore. But Mr. di Angelo stood, and Will didn’t have time to say it, as Mr. di Angelo bowed his head, and left as though he were running from a fire.

Mr. di Angelo wasn’t there during dinner. Miss Ramírez-Arellano excused him, saying he had had some problems in his father’s proprieties, that needed to be resolved quickly.

“He has asked me to escort his sister back to Pemberley House,” she told Will. “She really doesn’t like traveling alone.”

On the last day of his stay, Will attended the Mass. Mr. di Angelo was in the front row, already there when Will arrived. Miss Ramírez-Arellano took the seat beside Will, tipping her head in greeting. He smiled back, scooting over to let her sit.

“How come you are already back?” Will asked her quietly.

“Hazel has forgotten an unfinished painting, and Nico came back to get it, although she has said many times that it wasn’t an urgency.” She shook her head, a fond look back on her face. “At times, I only follow him to make sure his tongue doesn’t get him into a fight in inns.”

Will didn’t say anything, his doubts about Miss Ramírez-Arellano resurfacing in his mind. He would have fallen asleep during Mr. Caesar’s salmon, if it weren’t for the rain shaking the windows.

“Is it your first time listening to his salmons?” Miss Ramírez-Arellano whispered to him.

“It is. I can’t say I wasn’t given signs. He spent a week or so at my house last Spring.”

“During the time of Nico’s visit to Meryton?”

Will nodded. “They also met. Mr. di Angelo might have erased the memory, he didn’t seem very fond of the place nor the people.”

“He always does, but that is rarely the truth. He doesn’t let many emotions slip on his face, has been thought since he was a child that Alphas shouldn’t let them through.” As she talked, Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s eyes were as hard as steel. She talked of him as one would have of their youngest sibling. “Although you don’t like him much, he is very loyal to his friends, protective of them. I learnt that just last Spring, he saved a friend of ours from a loveless engagement. Apparently, he was completely in love with a girl, and not only was she indifferent to him, she showed particular interest in his money.”

Will’s heart completely stopped. His eyes fell on Mr. di Angelo’s straight back. He didn’t have many expectations on the man, but as his palms turned clammy, he realized he had also been nursing the feeling that, just maybe, he was a terrible man, but not the most terrible of all. How could he have been, when his sister was so lovely?

Somewhere, Will found the strength the continue the conversation, even if his cheeks burnt as though he had been slapped. “He saved his friend?”

“I don’t know the details, none of them talks much about it. Our friends, he is utterly heartbroken. He was really taken with that girl. I can’t help but think that Nico has done taken the right decision. Also, the girl’s family, they were of an inferior social standing, and it appears that the mother was very ambitious.”

“Who says that the girl wasn’t in love as well?” Will asked, his eyes snapping from Mr. di Angelo’s head to Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s eyes. Now that his heart was beating again, the sadness had been replaced by anger.

Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s eyes widened. “Do you know the girl?”

Will was about the say that he knew, and also explain why, but the old woman in front of them turned to shush them. So Will bit his lip, raising his chin. For the rest of the function, Miss Ramírez-Arellano’s gaze was a sunflower, and Will’s face the sun.

Will almost ran out of the Church. He passed through the people, in need of a single breath of fresh air, until he got one, and it wasn’t nearly enough. He ran, and when his legs cried in despair, not able to carry him anymore, he took a moment of rest under the roof of the old town-hall. Drops were running down his face, and he didn’t know whether they were tears or rain.

A thunder shook the sky, covering the sound of steps, but the scent that he hadn’t been able to name filled Will’s nostrils, even over that of the rain.

“Are you completely insane?” Mr. di Angelo asked. “You will catch something, running under the rain like that.”

Will turned to him, biting his lip so hard it should have broken. “I don’t see you arriving with a carriage, Mr. di Angelo.”

Will had spat his name like it was a curse, as if it could be used to slap Mr. di Angelo’s stoic face, and color some emotion that wasn’t disdain, if only for once.

“I have something to confess to,” Mr. di Angelo suddenly said, his face turning into a new type of void boredom. “In vain I have struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed. You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. In declaring myself thus I am fully aware that I will be going expressly against the wishes of my family, my friends, and, I hardly need to add, my own better judgment.”

If the ground had opened and swallowed him whole, Will would have been less surprised. There was disgust on Mr. di Angelo’s face, towards himself or maybe even Will. He shook his head. “It makes no sense.”

“What makes no sense?”

“Everything you have just said.”

“I love you, does that make enough sense to you now?” Mr. di Angelo shook his head, pushing the hair from his forehead. The clothes he wore were completely wet, and Will didn’t have to look down at himself to know his weren’t doing much better. “With the inferiority of your family, your rank, it will never make sense.”

“It never will because this isn’t a confession, it is an accusation!” Will exclaimed. “If my standing gives you so much pain, then my rejection should bring you joy alone! After everything you have done to my friend, my family, me, you come and claim yourself a man in love? You must be joking.”

Mr. di Angelo scoffed, crossing his arms on the chest. “Your friend? Would you be so disgusted, had I not been honest in saying I take no joy in your social standing?”

Will’s skin burned, his heart running wildly in his chest. “Mr. Lawrence. Does the name ring any bell?”

Mr. di Angelo closed his jaw so tightly a muscle jumped. He didn’t say a thing, but for less than a second, his eyes flashed red. His scent spiked, and still he didn’t say a word. Will had no doubt that, if he had opened his mouth, he would have growled.

“He told me of what you did to him,” Will continued, venom slipping through the cracks of his voice. “How you ignored your father’s testament for pettiness and jealousy over a dead man’s love. With time, I could have even forgiven you for that if you had made amends to him, but what you did to my sister and Mr. Grace was somehow even worse.”

Mr. di Angelo let his arms fall. He moved closer, leaving wet trails in his wake. “Saving my friend from a loveless marriage?”

“My sister was in love, and still is, with Mr. Grace.” Will snarled the name of the traitorous Alpha who had gone and followed his friend’s advice instead of the seeing the truth. “When your party left, and I now know it was because of you and your ill-advice, she was left completely heartbroken, feeling a derision everywhere she went, as everyone had known she was hoping that Mr. Grace would ask her to marry him.”

“I watched them closely, and thought her indifferent.”

“She is shy!” Will said, and only realized he was yelling when his throat hurt. “She barely shows her affection to me, and I’m her brother!”

Mr. di Angelo took a step back, as if those very words had slapped him, more than anything else Will had said. Another thunder flashed in the sky, followed by a loud echo.

“And talking of others not showing their feelings when you have never shown anything but disgust to me, makes you both a liar and a hypocrite,” Will finished, heavily panting. With every breath, he caught more of Mr. di Angelo’s scent. There was a chant in his blood, asking for more.

“If this is all,” Mr. di Angelo said, his lips curled downwards, not in a show of disgust, but something Will hadn’t seen on him before. “Then I won’t steal any more of your precious time.”

He turned, and disappeared so quickly Will could have convinced himself to having dreamed every word and every anger, if it weren’t for the scent lingering in the air, and the buzzing underneath his skin.

It was late mid-summer, the day Will arrived home, and Piper’s scent of lavender hung in every corner, and her luggage still near the front-door. Jonathan’s laughter came from the parlor, and Will followed it, as if enchanted.

Will added himself to cuddling pair on the sofa, causing Jonathan to giggle and say that he wasn’t breathing. As quickly as they let him go, Jonathan ran out of the door, probably to chase the ducks in the courtyard.

Will told her of his time at Mr. Caesar’s house, although he had been home for some weeks, leaving out every bit concerning Mr. di Angelo. He didn’t want to rip any old wound open, both his and Piper’s. She later told him of her time in the city, how life was so different there, and made her miss every one of them. They moved to the stairs in front of the door, watching Jonathan run around.

“Did it work?” Will asked, afraid of the answer. When he closed his eyes, he still saw Mr. di Angelo, the water sticking his clothes to his body, the disgust in his eyes when he confessed those feelings that so deeply hunted him.

“I think so,” Piper said. “If I saw him on the streets, I might even not recognize him. Maybe in a couple of years I will laugh about it, and the way I fell so quickly, despite my best intentions.”

It constricted Will’s heart. He smiled, a tight one that he knew didn’t look natural.

“I almost forgot,” Piper said, clapping her hands, waiting for Will to look at her. “I met the postman as I was coming here, and he had a letter for you. I took it, but I was confused, as it is from Mr. di Angelo.”

Will’s heart stopped again. He turned to his sister, feeling stiff and awkward in his own skin. “Have you read it?”

“No, of course not.”

Piper took an envelope from the pocket of her long dress. Will’s fingers shook as she passed it to him, and he cradled it close to his chest.

“Do you have any idea what he wants?” She asked, her voice almost fragile, and Will wondered whether she had really forgotten about Mr. Grace, if only the ghost of his presence did this to her. “I didn’t think you two exchanged letters.”

“We don’t,” Will said. He cleared his throat, standing, but the pavement swayed under his feet. “I’ll go read it somewhere.”

Piper nodded, her eyes boring holes his back as he walked away.

Will sat by the river, the wind caressing the grass and making it dance behind him, as he looked up, wordlessly asking for the strength of opening that letter. Eventually, it came to him. Mr. di Angelo had written it by hand, in an elegant but rushed handwriting. The envelope, which had in fact seemed quite full, contained two sheets of paper. Will shook himself out of getting lost in the details, to finally read that letter. He wasn’t surprised by how Mr. di Angelo had avoided any term of greeting.

Be not alarmed by receiving this letter, as I intend not to bother you with those feelings which have disgusted so much you in June, but only to explain myself. With that, I do not wish to persuade you into agreeing to feelings you firmly refused, nor to humble my character in any way. The only thing I wish for, is the possibility of telling you my motivations, as I can never talk properly, especially when I find myself around you. You revolted two accusations against me: the first, separating Mr. Grace and your sister; the second, which I regret far less, is throwing Mr. Lawrence’s life away. I would like to start with the first.

I will not hide behind lies. It is true, I have separated Mr. Grace and your sister, and at the time I believed my reasons to be right. I looked at them closely, as my friend is sometimes too generous and is taken advance of, and I didn’t want to witness anything of the kind in Meryton, which for him was a fresh breath. I watched closely, saw my friend falling more and more in love, for someone that shied away from his offers. For a time, I believed that she was playing a game of sorts, trying to get him to want her more. I apologize for being such an Alpha.

Jason couldn’t talk of anything if it didn’t concern her, and your step-mother never said that your sister was in love, but only that she hoped to finally marry her off, as I caught her saying numerous times. Other times again, and you were there, too, so you should remember, she talked of how Jason should have hurried in proposing, as Piper could have had any other Alpha she wanted.

After the ball at Netherfield, I asked Miss Grace whether she had noticed it. We don’t often see things eye-to-eye, but we both care about Jason. So I invented having some urgent business in London, to which Miss Grace added herself as company. Jason added himself to the party, as we knew he would, and, although we hadn’t even thought of inviting Mr. and Mrs. Jackson, they came, too. We left during the night, and I only talked to Mr. Grace when we reached London, told him about my doubts, and he said he had shared them for some time, but thought he was only imagining her coldness towards him, as he misses the sun when it is covered by a cloud, with the faith that he will see it again.

I was sure I had only protected him, and his heart broke, so we never came back to Netherfield. I recognize my fault, and I will never apologize enough to either Jason nor your sister for the heartbreak I have caused them both.

As for the other matter, that of Mr. Lawrence, I am sure he told you a story. If you are willing to read more, I would like to tell you the real story, as long as it is.

I was my parents’ second born child. My sister Bianca died before she could present, but she had a frail scent. Even as a Beta, my parents had chosen her as an heir, and my being born an Alpha wouldn’t have changed that. I wanted to be a merchant, as my maternal grandfather was, and travel Europe and the rest of the world. I was young when my mother died, and my father married Hazel’s mother. However, she died, too.

For all that time, Bryce’s father worked for mine. He died when his son was eight, and I was seven. My father raised Bryce like a son, and I saw him so much as a brother, that I thought he would have been my father’s heir, when Bianca died. She was thirteen, and I was ten. Her death was a terrible accident, that involved my cousin Percy. I blamed him, under the influence of Bryce, but we were both children, and I can’t find it in myself to hold a grudge anymore.

Bryce was afraid of many things. He didn’t want to lose his family, and neither did I. With the years, we grew closer and closer, to the point that I thought he would never leave my life, I didn’t wish for it.

My father died when I was nineteen. It was a terrible time, I won’t lie. I tried to take care of all of his possessions, affirming myself so that I would be respected enough to not be challenged, before risking battles I couldn’t have won. I managed to affirm myself in that way, but I had left my family for too long, and when I returned, things had irreparably changed. I didn’t even realize.

Not long after my father’s death, Bryce told me that he didn’t wish to be a clergyman, thus taking the living my father had prepared for him, and asked for money instead. I accepted, and the next morning he was gone. Hazel was heartbroken, as she always cares too deeply.

Not a week had passed, when Bryce returned, saying he had made the greatest of mistakes, spending to the last penny in gambling and drinking. He asked for forgiveness, and I told him he didn’t need any, as he was a brother to me. I was a fool to think it would be all he would have done.

The following morning, Lady Persephone, my father’s third wife, left for her mother’s house. She had helped me, but she needed peace and time to grieve. How one could find peace with Lady Demeter still goes beyond me. The day she left, is the day I would have needed the most guidance, to see what was happening behind me.

Bryce left to study, and eventually taking his living. Not two months later, he asked me to give him more money, and I refused, knowing he would have spent it before night came. I had grown prideful in those days, and I appear to still be. If in his story he said that I have laughed in his face, I can make no deny. He also said that he couldn’t find any happiness in his studies, and I told him that there would always be a place for him with me.

So he abandoned his studies, and returned to live with me and Hazel. Even when he returned, I didn’t feel any less alone, but still kept everyone away. I didn’t acknowledge my pain, nor did I notice Hazel’s.

She was young, only sixteen, and Bryce has always been charming. I loved him so much, I couldn’t even be jealous of that. He charmed my sister, while I was too blinded with the pain caused by my new responsibilities, the ones I had never wished for. To this day, I don’t know exactly what lies he told her, but she believed that he loved her, and she mistook the brotherly love she held for him for something else. Understand that she was in a fragile state, and he took advance of that.

They ran away. I tracked them not too far, as Bryce may be charming, but he surely isn’t the brightest. He didn’t think that I would be able to find my sister through scent alone, even when it was only barely lingering in the air. For the first time, I thanked God for being born with the nose of an Alpha. I paid Bryce, and he promised to disappear from our lives.

When I saw him from the tea-shop last Spring, I thought it was a nightmare. I didn’t know he had become a soldier. I went to talk to him the morning of the ball in Netherfield. I have to admit, I didn’t like how he was always around you and your siblings. However, I didn’t get to speak to him, as when I arrived he was drunk, and I have too much dignity to try to speak to someone who wouldn’t even recall the conversation the following day.

I believe that this is all I have to say. I wish I had been able to tell you earlier, Mr. Solace, but as I have already said, there is something about you that makes my tongue tie. If you do not believe my words, I would ask you not to ask Hazel, who still finds shame in the naivety of her young age, but to Reyna, whom I always confessed my crimes to. I realize that there is nothing more I could ever ask you for, but as you said I am an arrogant man, so, if you will, consider my sister your friend, despite the brother she has found herself with. As you once told me, one does chose their family.

I hope this letter finds you and your family in good health and well,

my best wishes,

Nicolò di Angelo.

Drew found Will with tears running down his face, and an expression so devastated that his sadness couldn’t be mistaken. She sat by him, nosing along his scent gland, covering his sour scent with her own.

“What is it?” She asked.

But Will only shook his head. “It’s nothing.” She didn’t bulge, and it wasn’t long before Will spilled the truth. “As you know, Mr. Caesar works for Lady Demeter, Mr. di Angelo’s grandmother. I met both him and his sister there.”

“Your luck is incredible at times,” Drew said.

“I know. I learnt some things about him, and his past, but also about Mr. Grace.” Will sighed, and found Drew looking up at him. “Should I tell Piper? She says she is finally doing better, and I don’t want to rip an old wound open.”

“I don’t think you should tell her. Mr. Grace is not our problem anymore, and he broke her heart. He can stay wherever he is.” Her nose scrunched up. “The only thing she can do now, is moving forward, and leave him in the past.”

Up until the end of the Summer, they were in peace. Piper settled back to life in the countryside, the younger siblings – besides Mitchell, who would return when August ended – went back to their lessons, and Aphrodite’s nerves gave up every other hour.

Will tried his best not to think of Mr. di Angelo, busying himself every time the thought resurfaced. However, when he closed his eyes at night, he couldn’t help but get through their every interaction, and everything he had ever been told about the man.

He thought of their only dance together. Mr. di Angelo’s heart had beaten wildly, and even then, Will had wondered whether it was for the attention. After Mr. di Angelo’s confession, he wondered whether it was for his particular attention.

In August, their aunt Artemis wrote a letter to her brother, asking whether Will was willing to visit Derbyshire with her and another friend. Not a week later, Will was leaving again.

Artemis didn’t like traveling alone. Will wasn’t sure what her business in London was, he knew that she fought social battles, and had some contacts inside the Parliament, especially in the House of Commons. For that particular travel, Will was with her and Hippolytus, a Beta working for her. He wasn’t fond of marriage, mating and romance, as he told Will himself.

“Derbyshire is beautiful this season,” Artemis said, the third night of their tour.

They were sleeping in inns, and they had been lucky enough not to meet any Alpha nor Beta who gave them a hard time, despite some people’s stares staying uncomfortably long on Will, at times.

Hippolytus nodded. “Are we visiting the di Angelo estate tomorrow? I heard it’s stunning.”

Will almost dropped his glass. “Pemberley, you mean?”

Hippolytus nodded again, tilting his head to the side. “You look like you have seen a ghost. Are you quite alright?”

“Just a bit tired,” Will said, and it wasn’t a lie. “What were you saying about tomorrow?”

Artemis chuckled. “We are visiting the di Angelo estate tomorrow, or Pemberley. I wrote to the housekeeper, and she is willing to have us. Although Mr. di Angelo won’t be there.”

“Are you sure?” Will insisted, leaning forward on the table. “That he won’t be home.”

Artemis furrowed her eyebrows. “Did you want to meet him? I hear he’s grown to be quite gorgeous.”

Heat rose to Will’s face. He blurted a negative answer out, the words tumbled down his tongue, but he didn’t wish to know whether his aunt and Hippolytus had heard him. He gave them both a tight smile, bid them goodnight, and escaped before they could understand what had happened.

Pemberley House wasn’t far from the town of Lambton. They walked there, as Artemis was as fond of walking as Will.

Pemberley House was on the opposite side of the valley, and it caught the eye, despite being in perfect harmony with the natural beauty of the place.

The housekeeper was an old woman called Beatrice, whose words were stained by an Italian accent. In fact, as she led them inside, she revealed that late Mr. di Angelo had employed her shortly before his first marriage, so that his wife would have someone to talk to in her native language.

“He loved her so much,” she said. “That although she was an Omega and he an Alpha, he took her name. Come, I’ll show you the gallery with the family portraits.”

“I met him once,” Artemis said later on, as they stopped in front of a paint of late Mr. di Angelo. “He always looked so stoic.”

Will thought the same of his son. They looked like one another, and even in the portrait, Mr. di Angelo wore dark clothes.

“He did, didn’t he?” Beatrice said, tilting her head to the side. Melancholic joy shone between the tears in her eyes. “I remember when Bianca was born, and how happy they were.”

Next was a family portrait, in which Mr. di Angelo was only a baby, laying in his crib with the rest of the family around it. Will remained in front of it for a longer time, even when the others had moved on. His aunt called him out.

“Are you having baby fever, dear?” She asked teasingly, poking him in the belly. “Should we expect any surprise?”

Will only blushed.

Bianca di Angelo and her brother shared many qualities, such as their eyes. Beatrice confirmed as much.

“It’s strange sometimes, to walk here and see all their faces, when only one is left,” she said. “I look at him, and I can see Bianca, Maria and Hades, too. It’s a heavy luggage to carry, for only one person.”

A knot tightened Will’s throat. Even if he wanted, he couldn’t find it in himself to talk.

They passed by another section, that had portraits of Mr. di Angelo’s second wife, Miss Levesque. She looked much like her daughter, which Beatrice said wasn’t as good a thing, as she had gone through a bad time after her pregnancy.

“She was happy when she was expecting,” she told them. “But afterwards, she couldn’t find such joy in anything else. She wanted other children, but her health was too frail, and Mr. di Angelo had to refuse her. It broke her heart.”

Late Mr. di Angelo’s wife was called Persephone. She was still alive, as Will knew, and spent most of her time with her mother, although she sometime came back, to make sure that the children were doing well.

In the last section were portraits of only the children.

“Bianca was beautiful,” Artemis said. “But what I liked the most about her, was her cleverness.”

“You knew her, madam?” Beatrice asked, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

Although he didn’t see himself, Will knew he wore the same expression.

“She visited London with her father, not long before she passed,” Artemis replied. “She wanted to work with the Hunters of Diana, when she was older.”

Beatrice shook her head. “Such a tragedy.”

Will stopped in front of a painting of Mr. di Angelo, made not too long ago, he could tell. He recognized the style, as he had seen it already.

“Is this Hazel’s painting?” He asked.

Beatrice nodded. “Do you know her, sir?”

“I met her in Rosings in June,” Will said. “But I already knew her brother, from when he visited Meryton.”

“Tell me, is he as handsome as he is in these paintings?” Artemis asked.

Beatrice chuckled, stating that he was. Artemis’ eyes stayed on Will, and if her smile was anything to go by, his blush was answer enough for her.

Lastly, Beatrice brought them to the library, but Will was lost in the way. A slow melody played on the violin reached his ears, and as a fool he followed it. Since he was always behind them, his companions didn’t even notice.

The door was left ajar. In the air lingered a familiar scent, sweet. Only when he noticed, did Will know that he was hoping for another. He stumbled back, but Hazel’s melody didn’t even falter.

Will turned, and before he knew it, he was on the balcony, and then down to the connected stairs. He passed through the gardens, breathing in the scent of fresh flowers. He closed his eyes, turning his face to the sun, and leaning back against a column.

The distinct sound of a carriage trained by horses shook Will from his peace. Was it Artemis’? No, they had left it at the inn, and come by foot. So he walked again, and reached the front of the house, to see the carriage being taken away, and Artemis, Hippolytus and Beatrice talking to a man.

The doors opened to reveal Hazel, her gown in her hand, the brightest of smiles on her face, as she called her brother’s name. Not that Will was surprised in the least to see that it was Mr. di Angelo.

Artemis gestured for Will to come closer, and he did, although the ground was spinning under his feet, and there was nothing anchoring him to reality.

Mr. di Angelo let his sister down, as Artemis presented Will as her brother’s son. Mr. di Angelo’s eyebrows shot up, as Hazel greeted Will, squeezing his hands. Mr. di Angelo was wearing a loose-fitting white shirt, that left most of his shoulders and collarbones exposed. Will looked away with a blush.

“It’s been so long,” Hazel told him, as they went back inside, hooking an arm in his and one in her brother’s. “How is your family doing?”

Will nodded, completely transfixed on the patterns on the floor.

“William?” She called him. When he startled, she looked over at her brother.

Mr. di Angelo had an eyebrow raised, as he always had, and seemed very stoic. Will wanted to shake him, and see the man behind the statue, the one that had written him the letter that had kept him awake for several nights.

“I’m sorry, I was distracted,” he said. “Could you repeat, please?”

Hazel chuckled. “I was asking about your family.”

“They are doing fine,” Will said. “My sister Piper has returned to London, and in the next few days Mitchell will return from Brighton. In three days I will return home, too.”

“I’m afraid I may have changed your plans,” Mr. di Angelo said. “I have invited Miss Solace to fish in our lake. You are welcome to join us, of course.”

“Fishing is boring,” Hazel cut in. “I will show William the gardens.”

They stopped in the parlor, where Mr. di Angelo called a servant to bring tea.

“My older sister spoke highly of the Hunters,” Mr. di Angelo told Artemis. “You may know my cousin, Thalia Grace. She works with you, now.”

Artemis nodded. “Of course. She is brilliant. And she left for Meryton, too, didn’t she?”

“She did,” Mr. di Angelo told her. His eyes flickered to Will. “She and Mrs. Jackson are thinking of returning during the Autumn, but I don’t think they will want Mr. Jackson, Mr. Grace nor me, too.”

“You should,” Will said.

Mr. di Angelo blushed, or something close to it.

Will didn’t see Mr. di Angelo the following day, as he had already left the estate to prepare the boat. A butler walked Artemis and Hippolytus to the docks, so that they could reach him.

“When dad was still alive, they used to go fishing together,” Hazel told him. “I never joined them, but sometimes Percy and his father did.”

“Your brother wanted to be a merchant, didn’t he?” Will said, recalling the letter.

Hazel giggled. “He did. How did you know?”

Will blushed, but lied easily. “He told me.”

They laid a blanket to sit on in the grass, opening the basket Hazel had stuffed with food.

“He was a sweetheart when he was little. Your youngest brother is only seven, am I right?”

Will nodded. “He hasn’t presented, but we know he’ll be an Omega. His scent is so sweet. Mr. Caesar knows it, too.”

“He is your father’s heir, isn’t he?”

“Oh, yes. My step-mother is already lost in desperation over it.”

“It must be so hard, knowing your house won’t be yours forever,” she said. “Especially if you still have children as young as your brother Jonathan.”

Will hadn’t thought about it that way. But as he did, for the first time, he wished to never have to feel what Aphrodite had, when she had married his father, only to then realize how frail their stability was.

Being tired, Will had chosen to leave for the inn early. He and Hazel separated at the door, with the newly made promise of writing.

“William.”

Will startled, looking behind himself, where Artemis, Hippolytus and Mr. di Angelo were coming from. Mr. di Angelo didn’t smile, but his shoulders relaxed, and so did his face.

“May I see you to the village?” Mr. di Angelo asked him.

Will’s heart skipped a beat, or maybe more. “No, no! I’m very fond of walking.”

“Yes, I know.” He hesitated for a moment, and opened his mouth as if he were about to say more, but changed his mind the last second. “I know.”

Will nodded, and took a step back. “Goodbye, then.”

Mr. di Angelo nodded without a word, his jaw closed so tightly a muscle jumped. Will’s eyes stayed on him longer than they should have, as his words echoed in his mind, with nothing to stop them.

You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you. Will couldn’t find it in himself to forgive Mr. di Angelo for the pain he had admitted loving him caused, as though Will were some unlovable creature.

When Will reached the inn, he was surprised to find a letter for himself from his sister Piper. He opened it when he was already in bed. He read it once, then three other times, but it still wasn’t enough to make sense of the words written. Before he knew it, he was crying.

Will’s thoughts went to his family, and when he cried about them enough, his mind went to Mr. di Angelo, and how he would never see him again, as a man of his standing would never mix with one whose Omega brother had run away from home. After all, it seemed that Mitchell had really managed to throw away the good name of the family.

When Will heard the sound of a carriage outside, he quickly moved downstairs, crumbled letter in his hands. Artemis was talking to Hippolytus, and of course Mr. di Angelo was with them, because somehow he had acquired extremely good-manners in the time Will hadn’t seen him.

Artemis talked to him, but Will didn’t hear a word, only trusted the letter in her hands. Hippolytus asked what was happening, and so did Mr. di Angelo’s confused brow, but Will couldn’t bring himself to talk, he wasn’t even sure he still had a voice.

“Oh, dear goodness,” she said, her arm going around Will’s waist. She bared her neck, and Will didn’t have to think twice before letting the scent envelope him. “There’s been a problem with one of his siblings.”

Will turned to Mr. di Angelo. He would have felt like a liar and a hypocrite to keep it, when he had been told so much about the other’s life. “Mitchell ran away with Lawrence.”

Mr. di Angelo paled, taking a step closer and raising his hands, dropping them again when he realized he didn’t know where to put them. He looked so utterly lost in that conflict, Will would have laughed.

Shame curled in Will’s chest. He wished Mr. di Angelo hadn’t come, so Will’s last memory of him would have been that of him in the gardens in front of Pemberley, with the sun shining on him, when, with only one step, Will would have reached him. Now he felt far, far away.

“Tomorrow you will bring Will home,” Artemis told Hippolytus. “I’ll reach my brother in London, see what we can do.”

Sometime later, when he was in bed about to fall asleep, Will realized that he didn’t remember going upstairs, nor bidding Mr. di Angelo goodbye. He almost wished he did.

As expected of her, Mrs. Solace was utterly heartbroken. She cried and cried. Her son was lost forever, and her late-husband would never forgive her. Jonathan didn’t understand what was happening, and Piper and Will tried to keep him and the others out of the house as much as they could. However, they could only find a resemblance of peace when they were together under the furs, a pile of limbs and familiar scents.

Some days later, Apollo returned. Jonathan jumped in his arms as soon as he got out of the carriage, and their father scented him thoroughly. He took Piper in his arms, too. Will watched from the door, too afraid to walk out.

“You didn’t find them,” Will stated.

Apollo let go of Piper, but he kept Jonathan close. As he opened the mouth to reply, the door opened behind Will, revealing Austin.

“So?” He asked. “Where is Mitchell?”

“Let’s go inside,” Apollo said, rubbing his eyes, under which dark circles aged his face.

Will exchanged a look with Piper. Apollo would have already talked if there had been good news. They went upstairs, and Mrs. Solace wailed again when she saw her husband, only stopping when he sat beside her on the bed, caressing her neck.

“We almost found them,” he said. Will’s heart stopped. “They rented an apartment in the outskirts of London, but when we arrived they had already left.”

“What did he want from Mitchell?” Lacy asked. “Why couldn’t he wait to marry him properly?”

Will sighed, moving closer to his sister and putting his arms around her from behind. Truth be told, he didn’t know either. Mr. Lawrence had known that they weren’t rich, Mitchell didn’t have Hazel’s dowry. With them, he wouldn’t find much. If he married Mitchell at all, that would be the real surprise.

“He’s lost,” Mrs. Solace said. She hid under the furs, wailing loudly. “My boy, my poor boy.”

For almost another week, the house mourned Mitchell (and also their good name).

“I can’t believe he escaped,” muttered Lacy several times, leaning with her shoulder against the corridor as Will was passing.

Will, knowing well that she didn’t even know she was talking out loud, walked past her. Drew caught his forearm, dragging him in the parlor with her, where she was just waiting for another victim.

“If we say that he died–” she started in a low tone.

“No,” Will said firmly.

“–as if you haven’t thought about that, too.”

Will sighed. “I really haven’t, and you should stop.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“As you didn’t the first thirty times I told you.”

Drew rolled her eyes, hissing something under her breath, probably a plot against Will’s life. Calling every last bit of patience he still had, Will maintained his calm, and quietly walked away, only to be too quiet, and cause Austin to not hear him, and run into him.

“Are you a ghost or something?” Austin asked, rubbing his head. “I didn’t even hear you.”

Just a day or two prior, Piper had asked Will why he had been so silent lately, also stating he didn’t look much like himself. Not to give her any more heartbreak, Will used Mitchell’s situation as an excuse for his perturbation. And he was thinking of a man, it just wasn’t Mitchell, nor Mr. Lawrence. He thought that he wanted to know more about Mr. di Angelo, and dance with him again, in a situation that he could enjoy, unlike the first time. He also thought about Hazel, and how their friendship had already come to an end.

“What were you even running for?” Will asked, helping Austin up.

Austin lightened, clapping his hands. “Post!” He exclaimed, grabbing Will’s hand. “From aunt Artemis.” Austin didn’t let go of him, running to the garden, where Mr. Solace was, standing alone under the sun.

A window opened from above as he read, for Mrs. Solace stuck her head out.

“What were you two running for?” She shouted. “No running in the house!”

“We are in the garden!” Austin responded.

Will scuffed his brother in the head. “There’s a letter from aunt Artemis!”

Mrs. Solace shrieked, calling the other children to the garden. As she disappeared from the window, Austin turned to remember her not to run in the house with a loud shout.

The door opened, Kayla and Piper falling to the ground, Lacy stopping just before she walked on them, as Drew snickered out loud, nudging Piper’s foot with her own. Mrs. Solace didn’t notice them, and stumbled on Kayla’s legs.

“Dear,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. “What are you doing on the ground when we may finally know of your brother’s future?”

“And ours!” Drew said. “We are one step from falling into utter disgrace, remember?”

Mr. Solace laughed, loud and clear. “Oh, dear.” Attention shifted back to him, as he shook his head. The shadows that had been on his face for days finally left, leaving him in a state of utter delight. “They will marry, if I pay him £132 every year.”

“That’s so little,” Piper said, smoothing her gowns, as Mrs. Solace clapped in absolute delight.

“Your aunt must have paid him something already,” Mr. Solace said. “I doubt he would have married your brother, had it been otherwise.”

Mrs. Solace gasped. “Why would you say something so unromantic? If they ran away together, they must love each other! Mitchell is beautiful and charming, who wouldn’t want to marry him?”

“Does she know the same Mitchell as I do?” Drew asked Will.

“Drew,” Piper hissed.

“There’s no need to say the things we are already thinking out loud, dear,” Mr. Solace reprimanded her. “If you’ll excuse me, I must write back immediately. Unless my dearest wife thinks there’s no need to reassure him with our money, and that I should just let them be. After all, they love each other.”

The carriage stopped in front of Longbourn House. Mitchell acted as the star of a parade, waving at them delightfully. Jonathan was the only one who waved back.

“I can’t believe he did this to us,” Austin whispered, his lips tugged downwards. “He would have thrown us all in the dirt to have – have fun with that man.”

Lacy’s hand reached for his, her hold so tight his knuckles turned white. He didn’t seem to mind, only dropping his head on her shoulder, as uncomfortable as it was, since he was much taller than her.

“We only need to get through today,” Will said. “Then we can forget all about this.”

“Mitchell is married,” Kayla said. “We can’t forget. He’s – he’s lost, mother was right.”

“He was lost long before this,” Piper cut in. “He was lost when all he did was flirting with officers and spend his time idly lazing around.”

The matter was dropped, as their parents were done talking to the spouses, and it was their turn to greet them.

Mitchell showed them his ring several times, and uncovered his neck for them to see Mr. Lawrence’s bites. Each time, Will nodded, smiling tightly, acting like his heart wasn’t breaking, and shivers weren’t running down his spine, despite the temperature. If his siblings’ expressions were anything to go by, he wasn’t alone in the act.

The one who felt more at fault was Piper. She wasn’t only the oldest of the family, but also Mitchell’s oldest by blood. Whereas Kayla and Austin still tended to turn to Will first for counsel, the McLeans went to Piper first.

Mr. Lawrence remained inside with their parents, while Mitchell joined the siblings in the garden. Even in his mind, Will had already started referring to him as Mitchell instead of brother, his instincts recognizing the change in his scent. He was Mitchell, but he wasn’t Will’s Mitchell. Separation hit wolves hard, even if packs weren’t formally stated, hadn’t been since before medieval times.

Lacy sat on the swing, Kayla cuddling beside her.

“You will want to avoid doing that, if you want to look adult enough for a husband,” Mitchell said.

Piper opened his mouth to reply, and so did Will, ready to cut Mitchell off before the youngers stared believing him, but Austin did it first.

“I don’t even want to know the things you did to get that husband,” he said.

Something like hurt flashed in Mitchell’s eyes, but it was quickly replaced with anger. “I won’t tell you anything, as you are, and will always be, my younger and jealous brother.”

Austin slumped against the tree, shaking his head, and looking utterly defeated.

“You should have come up for my wedding,” Mitchell said. “It would have been even funnier with all of you there. I’m the third oldest, and the first to marry.”

Drew outright scoffed, and Will pinched her side. Whatever had happened, they couldn’t change it, even if they cursed Mitchell out. Drew was being courted by Lou Ellen, Lacy was ‘secretly’ talking to Artemis about joining the Hunters, Austin had dreams of touring with his music, and Kayla sometimes was keen on joining him. Who knew when they would all be together again!

“Mr. di Angelo said we didn’t have time to bring you all up there,” Mitchell continued, and then covered his mouth, as though it could put the words back in.

Will startled. “Mr. di Angelo?” He asked.

His siblings probably did the same, but the world around him was spinning, and he was numb to everything, except for Mitchell’s next words.

“He was there. He is friends with Bryce, he told me. He’s the last person before Bryce talked to before proposing to me. I swore to secrecy, though. For some reason, he didn’t want anyone to know he was there.”

#solangelo #solangelo fic #solangelo au #pride and prejudice au #omegaverse #slow burn #slow build #will solace #nico di angelo

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foreverlostinliterature · 4 years ago

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8/27 Book Deals

Good morning, everyone! It’s been a little while since I’ve managed to get a deals post up, so I apologize for that, but I’m back to share some awesome books on sale (finally)! I would personally recommend Down Among the Sticks and Bones, The Hazel Wood, and The Dragon Reborn (although that’s #3 in the Wheel of Time series, so you’d definitely need to check out the first two, first :) ).

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ahtohallan-calling · 5 years ago

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love is all around // kristanna modern au one shot // t for innuendo, fluffy af, 3.8k

Anna is not looking forward to being stuck on a plane for four hours.

And then her seat neighbor turns out to be a giant Scandinavian man with gorgeous eyes who lets her hold onto him when she gets nervous about the plane taking off.

Maybe this flight won't be so bad after all.

{shoutout to @reindeersweaters for the prompt!}

Why, Anna thought irritably, do I always get stuck in a middle seat?

At least she was the first one there in her row, so she had a chance to get settled before she said goodbye to elbow room for the next four hours. She was in the middle middle seat, too, right in the center of the plane so she couldn’t even get a peek out the window. As she pulled out her phone, flicking through her Netflix downloads, she felt someone sit next to her and inwardly groaned; she could tell just from the glimpse she got out of the corner of her eye that it was someone huge.

She dared a more blatant glance and, to her surprise, saw that her new neighbor was looking back.

“Hello,” he said, his voice surprisingly soft, with a slight accent she couldn’t quite place. “Sorry if I bumped into you just then.”

“No trouble,” she breathed, when what she wanted to say was bump into me any time.

He offered her a small, lopsided smile, and she felt her heart skip a beat; when he turned his attention back to the massive book in his hands, she kept her gaze on him for just a moment, trying to figure out what it was exactly that made him so damn attractive. His hair was definitely part of it, all blond and shaggy, and so was the stubble that darkened his jaw. His nose, too, was the sort of nose you wanted to kiss all over, but that still wasn’t quite it, and if she kept staring he was going to notice, and so instead she returned her focus to her phone screen.

Her sister had just texted her, and she opened the message quickly, hoping to fire off a response before she had to turn on airplane mode.

Hope you don’t get caught in the storms. Can’t wait to see you! Lots of love.

And, right on cue, because nothing in Anna’s life could go right today, the PA system crackled on, and the pilot announced the plane would be grounded for at least an hour to avoid the lightning.

She couldn’t hold back her groan as she flopped back in her seat, and the man next to her shot her an amused glance. It was his eyes, she realized, that made him so handsome; they were the most lovely shade between hazel and chestnut brown, and soft somehow, full of warmth even as he looked at the stranger next to him throwing a temper tantrum.

“Sorry,” she mumbled sheepishly, feeling her cheeks grow warm.

He grinned at her, slow and crooked again. “No trouble. I’m sure we’re all feeling the same way.”

He returned to his book, and she to her phone, finally deciding to watch Love, Actually for the twenty zillionth time. She knew every line by heart and still never got tired of it; it was her comfort movie, and she sure as hell needed some comfort right now. Just as Hugh Grant came on screen, a flight attendant passed down the aisle, and Anna’s gaze instinctively flickered up at the movement— and her neighbor’s flickered away from her screen.

She dared to peek at him as he stared resolutely ahead as if he were deep in thought, but when she turned her gaze back to her phone she kept tabs on him out of the corner of her eye. He was definitely watching her screen instead of reading whatever that massive book was. She couldn’t blame him; that thing looked terrible.

And then a wicked, wicked idea came to her: she went to the menu and turned the subtitles on.

This time the peek she dared was bolder, and to her delight, the man’s cheeks were bright red. “I always think movies are so much better when you know what they’re saying, don’t you?” she asked nonchalantly, and his blush deepened.

“Sorry,” he stammered, “I just— god, this book is dull, and I saw Liam Neesom so I thought maybe it was an action movie, but there’s a whole lot of hugging going on for that, so I—“

She held up one of her earbuds. “You could have just asked to watch with me.”

That smile was tugging at the corner of his lips again. “May I?”

“You may.”

He was an excellent fellow audience member, chuckling under his breath at all the right parts. Just as it was starting to get really good, the PA crackled back to life, and Anna hit pause.

“Ladies and gentlemen, get ready for takeoff!”

Everyone around her either cheered or let out a sigh of relief, but Anna couldn’t help but wince. This was always her least favorite part, even worse than landing. The man, somehow, seemed to notice. “Not to be too forward or anything,” he said as the plane began to move forward and pick up speed, “but if you get nervous during this part, you can grab my hand. I always did that to my mom when I was a kid.”

“No, no, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Anna reassured him, and then the wheels left the ground with an awfully loud noise that sounded to her like the wings were falling right off, and she let out a little squeak and found herself clinging to his forearm so tightly even he let out a huff of surprise. But he didn’t pull away; instead, he met her nervous gaze and said softly, “It’s gonna be okay. Trust me.”

And somehow, she did. She kept her eyes on him as the plane continued to ascend, already rocking with turbulence. “I’m Anna.”

“Kristoff.”

“I’d shake your hand, but I think we’re a bit past that point by now,” she said, squeezing his arm for emphasis and trying not to blush again when he realized how muscley he was. Another jolt shuddered through the plane, and her other hand went instinctively to clamp onto his arm as well, the only solid thing she could find. “Sorry,” she muttered, but he just shook his head.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not fragile,” he said with a wink.

At last, the plane’s trajectory started to smooth once more, and she tilted her phone up. “Ready to keep watching?”

He nodded, looking genuinely excited. She couldn’t help but smile. “Have you really never seen this before? It’s a classic.”

Kristoff shrugged. “Guess it’s not in Norway.”

“Oh-- is that where you’re from?”

“Yes, from Stavanger. I’ve lived there my whole life. And you?”

“I’m just from here. Well-- there. Colorado, I mean. Where we’re going.”

“Anna from Colorado,” he said, and the way he said it so carefully made her smile. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Even though I nearly tore your arm off?”

He grinned. “I’ve had worse happen on a flight.”

They watched the movie in companionable silence again, only breaking it when the flight attendant came around with the drink cart. They both got ginger ale-- “not copying you,” Anna had insisted, and he’d said, “no worries, everyone knows it tastes better on a plane”, and then they both turned back to the movie with faint smiles.

She kept sneaking little glances at Kristoff, grateful that he really did seem focused on the movie. His eyes-- the color of perfectly brewed tea, she’d decided-- were intent on the tiny screen, and a little thrill went down her spine when she wondered what it might feel like if he turned that focus on her. Next, she let her gaze trail down his profile, feeling a funny little twinge in her chest as she noticed the freckles peppered over his nose, and wondering again what it would be like to kiss that nose, internally chastising herself for thinking about making out with a stranger just because he was watching her favorite movie with her and had let her hold onto him and had the sweetest eyes she’d ever seen.

(Who was she kidding? She’d kissed guys for worse reasons.)

He shifted a little, and for a moment she was worried he’d noticed her looking, but then she realized he was trying his utmost to angle himself away from her, staying as small as he could in the tiny seat so he wouldn’t bump into her-- a nearly impossible feat considering how broad his shoulders were. How had she not noticed that yet? And he had to be tall, too, judging by how his knees were crammed up against the seat in front of him.

“Kristoff?”

He tore his eyes away from Keira Knightley doing something Keira Knightley-esque. “Hmm?”

“It’s okay if you bump into me some. I’m, um…” She trailed off, feeling herself blush as he did, in fact, meet her gaze with that intense look in his eyes. “I’m littler than you. So I’m not taking up all the space. Already sharing my phone, right? Might as well share my seat. But no getting mad if I fall asleep on you.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said, a relieved look on his face when he shifted slightly so he wasn’t so crammed into the tiny space. His knees bumped his tray table, nearly spilling the remnants of his ginger ale, and he flushed slightly. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I don’t want to make you feel squished.”

“Again, I already squished the life out of your arm. I owe you one.”

There was almost an awkward moment as they decided who would retain control of the armrest between them, but then Anna huffed in frustration and pressed the button, lifting it. Kristoff raised an eyebrow.

“Rather have you pressing into me than that, anyway,” she said, immediately turning the same shade of red as her hair when she realized what she’d just said.

He blushed, too, and they both looked back at the phone screen. Hesitantly, he scooted a little closer towards her, his arm pressing against hers, and she angled herself carefully against him, hoping it seemed like she only did it to make them both more comfortable and not so she could nestle herself against his shoulder (which, as it turned out, felt just as solid and wonderful as his arm.)

She dared another little peek and realized he was smiling-- and that she was, too.

As it got to the bit where Emma Thompson found out her husband (the absolute bastard!) had cheated on her to the strains of Joni Mitchell, Anna felt Kristoff stiffen slightly next to her. Anna looked up at him, more than a bit misty-eyed herself, and saw a sudden sadness in his eyes. He glanced down at her and wordlessly offered her a tissue.

“Thanks. This part just kind of...hits home,” she admitted.

He nodded. “Me, too.”

She glanced down, feeling bare somehow when he looked at her like that, and realized his knees still looked awfully cramped. “You can, um, stretch out a little over here if you want. I don’t mind.”

“I’m okay, really. Wouldn’t want you to end up sitting in my lap-- I mean, not that I’d mind,” he added hastily, “but you might.”

It was his turn to blush scarlet. Neither of them looked up again until the credits rolled. Anna peeked at Kristoff and saw he was already looking at her with a small smile.

“So...did you like it?” she asked shyly.

“Yeah. Glad you let me watch with you instead of telling me to stop being a creep.”

She laughed, and his smile broadened. “Don’t worry, I could tell you weren’t one.”

He leaned closer, just a fraction. “How could you tell?”

She needed to look away, or else she was going to do something a hell of a lot riskier than letting a stranger hold her phone. “Just could. Here-- mind letting me out to go pee?”

It was the least sexy thing she could think of to say, and it broke the spell. He moved quickly out of her way and stood in the aisle, which immediately put her right back to thinking oh my god how is he so hot?

“Jesus-- no wonder you looked so uncomfortable,” she said, the words spilling out before she could stop herself. “How tall are you?”

He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, seeming suddenly acutely aware of the fact that she had to tilt her head back to meet his gaze now. “Um. Six four on a good day.”

“Guess today’s a very good day, then,” Anna said, turning and quickly going down the aisle before she regretted saying something so bold.

But it was too late; by the time she was washing her hands, she had convinced herself she’d go back out and find that he had requested to move to another seat. “Pull yourself together,” she muttered under her breath, splashing some cold water on her reddened cheeks. “He’s just some guy on a plane you’ll never see again.”

Still, before she left the tiny restroom, she’d done her best to smooth her hair and curl her eyelashes using her fingers. She nearly stumbled coming back down the aisle as the plane rocked and the “fasten seatbelt” sign pinged on. And then she did fall as she reached her row, just in time for Kristoff to catch her against his chest as he stood up to let her in.

“Sorry,” she stammered, just as he asked, “All good?”

They both nodded, but neither of them pulled away until the plane jolted again. He let go quickly, but she could still feel the phantom warmth of his hands against her shoulders as she settled back into her seat.

“Grab onto me again if you need to,” he said, fastening his seatbelt.

She almost told him she’d be fine, that this part didn’t bother her, but then she noticed that his face had gone a little pale, and so she held out her hand for him, fingers spread. “That’d be nice,” she said, a little shy even though there was no point to that anymore, really; there was no more pretending that they were still strangers. He laced his fingers through hers, and she couldn’t help but notice his hand was almost twice the size of hers. She squeezed it slightly, and Kristoff squeezed back.

“So, um,” she asked, hoping to distract him from the turbulence and herself from the way her heart had just sped up, “what do you do? Like for a job?”

“I’m an adjunct professor. Scandinavian studies, mostly folklore.”

She hadn’t expected him to be an academic, but she found she liked the thought of him sitting behind a desk in a cozy office, asking her to close the door behind her as she came in for a private meeting--

Focus, Anna.

“Oh, that’s cool. Is that what the book you were reading was about?”

“Yes, it’s an overview of the roles animals play in some of the old fairy tales. Fascinating subject, really, but the author managed to make it boring anyway. Tends to happen with a lot of the research I read. What about you, what do you do for a living?”

“I, um, I write fairy tales. Well, sometimes, kind of. I write children’s books. And do the art, sometimes, but I’m still not very good at that part.”

“Any chance I’ve read anything you’ve written?”

“Very funny.”

“No, I’m serious. I’ve been focusing on children’s stories recently and done quite a lot of field research.”

“Um...now that you mention it, I did do one recently about the polar bear king, but I seriously doubt you would have gotten it over in Norway…”

His eyes lit up. “Anna Agnardottir?”

She blinked. “Oh my god, you really read it?”

“Of course! Anna, it’s won half a dozen awards. It’s my favorite version of the story I’ve read, and trust me, that’s saying something. And your paintings--”

She was even redder than she had been before when she’d made that awkward comment about pressing. “It-- well-- I just-- um. I’m glad you liked it.”

“I was thinking about making it required reading for one of the classes I’m teaching next semester, actually.”

“Now you’re just saying things to be nice.”

“No, I mean it. What a coincidence, huh? That I ended up getting to sit next to you? Remind me to get your autograph before we go.”

She was saved from coming up with a response by the plane dropping suddenly. A little involuntary gasp escaped her, and she felt Kristoff’s hand tighten around hers. She looked up and saw his jaw was clenched.

“It’s gonna be okay,” she said softly, echoing his earlier words. “Trust me.”

His gaze slid to hers, softening slightly when their eyes met. Neither of them looked away, even when the plane steadied once more, even when his hand loosened around hers and he started running his thumb against hers in a gentle caress.

The pilot’s voice came over the PA system again. “Looks like another couple hours to go, folks, we’ll have to circle the city for a while and wait for our turn to land. Sorry for the delay.”

Anna wrinkled her nose. “Seems like the powers that be really don’t want this plane to land anytime soon, huh?”

“Guess not,” Kristoff said, but he sounded distracted somehow as he tore his gaze away from her.

“We can, um, we can watch another movie if you want. Except my phone’s about to die soon, so--”

“That’s okay. I, um. I’m kind of tired.”

She let go of his hand at last, and he looked almost disappointed. “Don’t let me bother you, then. It’s been a long day for us all, huh?”

He leaned back in his seat. “You haven’t been bothering me at all.”

Anna bit her lip. “I’m, um. I’m kind of tired too. But I forgot my pillow, and since your shoulder’s already kind of here in my space, and we’ve really kind of crossed all the normal plane etiquette boundaries, so, um, is it okay if maybe I could--”

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “You don’t even have to ask. I’m more than happy to be your personal pillow.”

This time both of them blushed, but she still looped her arm around his, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder as she settled in. She hadn’t realized how tired she was until now, when, with her face pressed against the comforting warmth of his shoulder and sweater, she felt just as cozy as she would at home in her own bed.

“Sleep tight, Kristoff,” she mumbled against the knitted fabric, and she felt him shake slightly against her as he let out a rumbly little laugh.

“Sweet dreams, Anna,” he said softly, and even though she’d known him for all of four hours she couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like to hear that every night for the rest of her life.

She didn’t wake up again until the wheels of the plane hit the ground; she jolted upright, nearly slamming her face into Kristoff’s chin. She would have if he hadn’t jumped suddenly, too; their eyes met, and they both flushed slightly as they realized that somehow his arm had migrated around her shoulders and that her head had been nestled against his chest.

“Sorry--” they both started at the same time, and then both of them grinned as they realized neither of them felt particularly sorry at all.

They both lingered as the aisles filled with people who, unlike them, were eager to get off the plane. A four-hour flight turning into a seven-hour one suddenly felt a lot less like a huge misfortune, and Anna found herself wishing that one last storm might just hit and hold them up a little longer. Then Kristoff was standing, pulling away from her so he could grab a suitcase from the overhead bin and hand it carefully to the little old lady across the aisle.

“Thank you so much, young man,” she said with a twinkling smile. “I hope you and your wife there have a pleasant rest of your day. You two remind me of my husband and I, you know, God rest his soul.”

“I…” Kristoff said, glancing back at Anna. A little smile tugged at his lips. “Thank you, ma’am, we appreciate that.”

He helped her with her bag, too, before getting his own, and for a moment they just stood in the aisle looking at each other.

“Well,” he said softly. “It was certainly nice meeting you today, Anna.”

“You, too,” she said, shy again. “I, um. I hope you enjoy your time in Colorado. When are you flying back to Stavanger?”

“Oh, not for a while, I’d imagine,” he said, that lopsided smile growing on his face. “I’ve just taken a job with the University of Colorado.”

“That-- that wouldn’t happen to be the one in Boulder, would it?”

Somehow his smile grew even more. “It would.”

Someone cleared their throat, and they both looked up to see that the flight attendants were trying to clean the cabin. They shuffled quickly through the aisle and to the jet bridge; Anna nearly tripped over the wheels of her suitcase when she looked up at him again. “So-- um-- if you still want my autograph…”

“Definitely. For research purposes, of course.”

“Well, I might be persuaded to give you my number along with it.”

They reached the baggage claim area, and he immediately fumbled through his pockets for a pen. Neither of them had any paper, so he pulled the massive book from his backpack and held it out to her. She signed her name with a flourish, dotting the “i” with a heart, and wrote her number carefully beneath it.

Kristoff grinned at it and slid the book into his bag so he could hold out his hand to her. She took it gladly. “So,” he began, those beautiful brown eyes sparkling as he looked down at her, “if you’re not too busy, I think maybe I might put that number to use tomorrow night.”

“I guess I could make time in my schedule.”

“Movie date?”

She squeezed his hand. “Perfect.”

He helped her wheel her bag out to the front and set off in search of a taxi for himself. Elsa came running over, arms already held out for a hug. Anna caught her with a laugh. “Missed you, too.”

Elsa held onto her tightly, letting out a relieved sigh. “What bad luck hitting all that shitty weather, huh?” she said with a sympathetic grimace.

Anna looked across the arrivals hall, sighting a pair of honey-brown eyes that were already watching as their owner made his way back over to her. She grinned, and so did he.

“Nah, not so bad after all.”

----

thank you @gabiwnomagic @faerytold @somecallmejohn @kristoffbjorg and @romanticsanders for your help getting this done!

#kristoff is a professor #anna is a childrens book author/illustrator #snuggling is involved #kristanna #my fics #liaa

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lenniharrisonsims · 2 years ago

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Three Year Anniversary Portraits!

Del Sol Valley

Name: Harrison James Mitchell, Mr. President

Nickname: Harry

Title: President of Del Sol Valley

Previous Names/ Titles: Mr. Harrison Mitchell

Residence(s): Soleil House, Del Sol Valley

Parents: Mr. Ezra & Mrs. Audrey Mitchell

Spouse: Hazel Mitchell, Madame First Lady

Children: Jay & Eva Mitchell

Name: Hazel Marion Mitchell, Madame First Lady

Nickname: N/A

Title: First Lady of Del Sol Valley

Previous Names/ Titles: Mrs. Hazel Mitchell, Miss Hazel Thomas

Residence(s): Soleil House, Del Sol Valley

Parents: Mr. Raymond (Passed) & Mrs. Lavender Thomas

Spouse: Harrison Mitchel, Mr. President

Children: Jay & Eva Mitchell

Name: Jay Harrison Mitchell

Nickname: N/A

Title: N/A

Previous Names/ Titles: N/A

Residence(s): Soleil House, Del Sol Valley

Parents: President Harrison & First Lady Hazel Mitchell

Spouse: N/A

Children: N/A

Name: Eva Marie Mitchell

Nickname: N/A

Title: N/A

Previous Names/ Titles: N/A

Residence(s): Soleil House, Del Sol Valley

Parents: President Harrison & First Lady Hazel Mitchell

Spouse: N/A

Children: N/A

#ivanov legacy #ts4 #ts4 simblr #ts4 legacy #three year anniversary #president harrison mitchell #first lady hazel mitchell #jay mitchell #eva mitchell

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aion-rsa · 4 years ago

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30 Rock’s Best Running Jokes

https://ift.tt/eA8V8J

When 30 Rock drew its final breath in 2013, yards of column inches were devoted – deservedly so – to praising the work of creator Tina Fey. Article upon article applauded the characters, cast, performances and seven seasons of energetic, inventive, satirical comedy.

More than anything else though, 30 Rock was always about the gags. It was fruitcake-dense with jokes, regularly fitting in more quotable laughs before its opening credits than many shows manage in a full half-hour. As it returns for a one-off reunion special, join us in celebrating the many, many running gags of its seven-season history, from the fake movies, to the terrible yet incredibly catchy songs, Frank’s hats, and those godawful TGS sketches…

The fake movies

The presence of Tracy Jordan (a bonafide Martin Lawrence meets the Wayans Brothers-style movie star) in the TGS cast opened up the world of film parody to 30 Rock.

Admittedly Jenna Maloney also enjoyed a movie career of sorts, but while she was being offered the part of “any blonde actress” in torture porn flicks by the producers who watched and rented Saw, Tracy was turning down the lead in Garfield 3: Feline Groovy to pursue his serious acting career. The latter climaxed with the release of spot-on Precious parody Hard To Watch (Based on the novel Stone Cold Bummer by Manipulate), for which Tracy received the O in his EGOT plan. Sheer class.

Over the years though, who couldn’t not smile at Tracy’s blaxpoitation-filled back catalogue, from the timeless romance of A Blaffair to Rememblack, to Sherlock Homie, Who Dat Ninja?, The Chunks 2: A Very Chunky Christmas, and last but by no means least, Honky Grandma Be Trippin’. The man is a chameleon (in that he’s always a lizard).

Two of Jenna’s TGS projects however, bring back the fondest memories of 30 Rock’s stinging movie satire: small-town legal drama The Rural Juror (based on a Kevin Grisham novel), and her GE-produced life rights-avoiding Janis Joplin biopic, Sing Them Blues White Girl: The Jackie Jormp Jomp Story.

The TGS sketches

The quality of TGS’ output was never under question in 30 Rock; the sketch show was unremittingly bad (when the absence of their star meant a ‘Best of TGS’ series had to be run in lieu of live shows, Legal objected to their use of the word ‘Best’, and when a review dubbed it the worst comedy ever made, Liz was thrilled they’d defined it as a comedy). Liz Lemon’s opus was a fluorescent collection of fart gags, dodgy caricatures, Jenna’s songs, and misjudged celebrity impressions.

Beginning life as, in Kenneth’s words, “a real fun ladies comedy show for ladies”, TGS was Saturday Night Live’s idiot brother, the unsophisticated thorn in NBC’s side, under constant threat of controversy and cancellation. Forced to synergise backward overflow, advertise parent company products and promote GE interests, 30 Rock’s show-within-a-show satirised both the TV industry and tired trends in comedy (the always hilarious combination of a fat woman who’s sexually confident! Old ladies are crazy! Farts!).

Lemon may have seduced pilot Carol (Matt Damon) with her Fart Doctor skits, but TGS failed to win many hearts. With sketches like Pam the Overly Confident Morbidly Obese Woman, Ching-Chong Man Who Loves to Play Ping-Pong, Fat Hillary Clinton, Bear vs. Killer Robots, Me Want Food, and Gaybraham Lincoln, why it wasn’t more successful is a mystery.

Astronaut Mike Dexter

Lemon may have ended up with James Marsden’s Criss Chros, but fictional boyfriend Astronaut Mike Dexter will always hold a special place in her heart. Handsomer than Dr Drew, less British than Wesley Snipes, less living-in-Cleveland than Floyd, and a million times better than Dennis Duffy, Astronaut Mike Dexter had it all… except of course, a corporeal self.

The fake songs

Over the years, Jenna Maroney’s singing career has vomited up some truly dreadful creations, and topping the list has to be Muffin Top (a big hit in the king-making music markets of Israel and Belgium). Seguing from its pop insanity chorus “My muffin top is all that, wholegrain, low-fat” into a Madonna-style spoken-word rap “I’m an independent lady, so please don’t try to play me. I run a tidy bakery. The boys all want my cake for free”, the song is a battery assault on the senses.

But is it worse than Jenna’s summer dance jam, Balls, which earned her the princely sum of $50 in royalties? Or her computer generated, generic benefit song in aid of an unspecific natural disaster, which urged viewers to donate to “help the people the thing that happened, happened to”? How about the Jackie Jormp Jomp performance she gave of Chunk Of My Lung, written by Jack five minutes before the show, containing the classic line “You know you’ve bought it if life makes you sweet food”? Or Fart So Loud, the un-Weird Al-able song she and Tracy wrote after he parodied the theme to Avery Jessup TV movie Kidnapped? Such riches…

It’s not only Jenna who’s provided 30 Rock’s musical intervals of course. Season three finale Kidney Now! welcomed an eclectic collection of stars including Sheryl Crow, Mary J Blige, Elvis Costello, Moby, two of the Beastie Boys, Wyclef Jean, and Cyndi Lauper to perform a We Are The World-style anthem at the Milton Green benefit gig. Angie Jordan famously released a fifteen-second single My Single Is Dropping, to ride on the wave of her reality-show fame, Frank and Pete’s Sound Mound came up with unforgettable rock anthem Weekend Woman, and in the very same episode, even Tina Fey got in on the action by providing excellent Joni Mitchell parody, Paints and Brushes.

The legacy award though, as in the 30 Rock fake song that will continue to bring joy to the hearts of fans decades from now, has to go to one song, and one song only: Tracy Jordan’s Werewolf Bar Mitzvah.

Frank’s hat slogans

Off-set, stand-up Judah Friedlander favours his ‘World Champion’ trucker hat, the one he claims to have been awarded as the winner of the World Championships of pretty much all sports, martial arts, and that time he karate kicked Chuck Norris’ beard off his face and forced him to legally change his name to Charles.

On-set as Frank Rossitano though, Friedlander wears a series of self-designed trucker hats, each bearing a different gnomic slogan. Often incongruous, sometimes suggestive, and always odd, Frank’s hat slogans are part of the bricks and mortar of 30 Rock. In terms of favourites, we’re quite fond of ‘Alabama Legsweep’, or the laconic enigma of ‘And’, though ‘Shark Cop’, ‘Half Centaur’ and ‘Space Gravy’ also caught our eye over the seasons.

Jenna’s Mickey Rourke sex stories

Like Dot Com’s intellectualism, this running gag may have been introduced late into proceedings, but Jenna’s torrid sexual history with putty-faced beefcake Mickey Rourke gave J-Mo some of her best lines. Jenna’s allusions to Rourke’s sexually deviant and murderous attempts on her life paint a fascinating picture for 30 Rock fans. Here are some of the finest:

“Your new vibe is a double-edged sword, much like the kind Mickey Rourke tried to kill me with”, “Nice try Hazel, but you made the same mistake Mickey Rourke made on that catamaran. You didn’t kill me when you had the chance.”, “I’m going to have to reinvent you. Break you down completely and build you up from scratch. Just like Mickey Rourke did to me sexually.” “Next time you’ll tell me Mickey Rourke catapulted you into the Hollywood sign.” “You know what they say, if you can’t stand the heat, get off Mickey Rourke’s sex grill.” Wise words.

Kenneth the immortal page

To this day Kenneth Ellen Parcell remains something of an enigma to 30 Rock viewers. In later seasons, Jack McBrayer’s character went from being a simple country rube from Stone Mountain, Georgia to the flesh vessel for a mysterious immortal with no reflection, no age, and links to a world beyond our own.

Plenty of reference has been made to Kenneth’s ageless and supernatural state over the years, including the suggestion that not only is he unable to die, but he’s also an angel, sent to oversee the transition of souls from one world to the next.

The fake TV shows

It’s either a credit to the 30 Rock team or a condemnation of our times that Jack Donaghy’s hit reality viewer vote show, MILF Island, no longer feels like a parody. In generations to come, time will no doubt erode the boundaries between fact and fiction, and we 30 Rock fans will be telling our kids about the time we watched Deborah beat her competitors and claim MILF victory in the same breath as educating them about those people who ate kangaroo anuses for public approval.

MILF Island stands head and shoulders above the rest of 30 Rock’s fake TV shows (including TGS itself, lest we not forget), but that doesn’t mean that Gold Case, Los Amantes Clandestinos, Black Frasier, Homonym, or the inimitable Bitch Hunter deserve any less respect. Our fallen brothers, we salute you.

We could go on indefinitely listing the recurring jokes that made 30 Rock great, from Liz’s sandwich lust and desire to go to there, to Jack’s gloriously thatched head of hair and Republican conspiracies. As the show prepares to return, which of the above will live again?

30 Rock: A One-Time Special lands on NBC on Thursday July 16th at 8pm in the US.

The post 30 Rock’s Best Running Jokes appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/2WjIevB

#aion-rsa #Den of Geek

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solange-lol · 5 years ago

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not so typical love song - ch. 1/13

Chapter Title: Rollarcoaster

Words: 3,050

Note: my piece for the @pjo-hoo-bigbang !!! special thanks to @shelbychild and @wisdom-walks-alone for editing and helping me develop this story! it wouldnt exist w/o y’all!

Art by @lizzybizzyo! <3

read on ao3

—

Nico is staring at his computer, wordless. This isn't writer's block or surprise; it’s just the unknown reality of what this situation could lead to.

Another gay kid in his school. Another gay kid that isn’t Mitchell—who’s been out since 8th grade, and the only one to be out since then. Another kid at their school who’s hiding a secret.

Nico doesn’t even know if this kid is a boy or a girl or what, and frankly, he doesn’t care. There’s another kid like him. And he has no idea how to respond to the post.

The post is a submission from their school’s gossip blog on Tumblr, the notorious ‘hb-secrets.’ Piper had called him an hour ago, asking if he’d seen it yet.

“Seen what?” he had responded.

“The post on hb-secrets? About the closeted gay kid?” It hit Nico like a wall of bricks as he quickly went to pull up the website. Did somebody know? It was a relief when he saw the clipart Ferris wheel and a few short lines submitted by a blog called blue0919.

“I bet it’s that Brazilian sophomore. Paolo or whatever? Or maybe it’s Connor Stoll! I swear he’s been flirting with Mitchell, but Annabeth keeps telling me that he’s into Lacy or someone,” Piper continued as he read, but it was going in one ear and out the other as he processed the words on the screen

Sometimes I feel like I’m stuck on a Ferris wheel. One minute I’m on top of the world, and the next minute I’m at rock bottom. Over and over all day long, because a lot of my life is great. But nobody knows I’m gay.

“Gotta go. I’ll talk later,” Nico said quickly, switching off his phone. He knew it would raise suspicion, but it felt like time was turning in on itself. Nobody knew about Nico. In fact, nobody ever even suspected. He’s never been called names besides “Death Boy.” And yet, there were the exact words that described his life, written out in front of him like they were a second thought.

And now, he was staring at his computer with an empty Gmail draft open. The original poster had left their email at the end of the post, so Nico after glancing quickly at his Panic! at the Disco poster still proudly hanging on his wall, typed out a new address. He was stuck, though, unsure of what to say from here.

So, he started from the beginning.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 6:48 PM

Subject: Hey

Somehow you’ve managed to type exactly what I feel. Sorta scary, as if you’re inside my head or something. Maybe it’s just a gay thing to be speaking in metaphors about the pressure of everyday society.

That’s what I am. Gay. I don’t know if I’ve ever really said it out loud to myself.

It’s weird because I never really had a perfectly normal life. My mom died when I was young, so I never really got to meet her. My sister and I have always been super close until she went away to college. Now, not as much. I guess that’s just what happens when you live a million miles away.

And I’ve known my stepmom longer than I knew my real mom, but it was only a few years ago when I met my half-sister when she came to live with us because her mom died as well. Meaning, she isn’t the daughter of my stepmom. It’s a long story, and not really one I want to get into.

She’s super nice though. It’s funny, but despite being polar opposites with my older sister, they’re both mushy inside. Same with my stepmom. And my dad… he tries his best. We’re like exactly what you expect from a slightly broken family. Plus my dog who my cousin gave to me during a rough time. Honestly, she’s probably my favorite sibling out of them all. (Both my sisters would kill me if they knew I wrote that.)

And then there are my friends. I have some that are closer than others; Two of them I’ve known for a while now, and one who I only met recently but treats me better than some of the people I’ve known my whole life. While I admit, I’m not the most social person in the world, they’re pretty amazing as far as friends go.

So there it is. My perfectly normal life. Except for that huge ass secret.

He typed and retyped each line what felt like a thousand times, deleting word after word. He didn't know what was too much. It all felt like too much, really. He didn’t even know if he could trust this person.

Signing it was the worst part; he didn’t have any good pseudonyms. Eventually, he decided to leave it blank.

Without a second thought, Nico hit ‘send’ before leaning back in his chair and putting his hands over his head. Only a second later, a light knock came from the door, causing him to quickly sit up as Hazel popped her head in.

“Dinner’s ready if you wanna eat,” she smiled. She left just as quickly as she came, curls bouncing as she walked away. They had gotten over the awkwardness of having a new sibling only months after Hazel moved in, but there was still some strangeness. To this day, Nico was still a lot closer to her than Bianca was. Either way, Nico knew he would do anything for her. (Not that he would admit that. He didn't even need to, Hazel already knew.)

Nico glanced back at his computer, but there was nothing in his inbox besides the Gmail “Welcome” email. It was stupid to think this person would respond that quickly, seeing as Nico didn't even know if they would respond at all. Heaving a sigh, he got up to join his family for dinner. Maybe he could even convince them to watch Steven Universe instead of The Bachelor.

---

Dinner went as expected. It’d been a while, actually, since they were all together for a meal. Hazel talked about her psycho geometry teacher and a boy she talked in the class named Frank, who seemed sweet but apparently had a shared hatred for math just like her. Nico didn’t say much, although chimed in at the latter, saying he better be the flower boy at their wedding. That even got a short scoff out of his father, which tended to be the closest Nico ever got him laughing. So, that was a win.

However, he was a little more distant than usual. The pending email response was in the back of his mind during the entire meal.

Even afterward, as they watched reruns of Glee (a compromise made between Hazel and Nico, much to their father’s dismay), Nico couldn’t focus. It felt like a weight was burning through his back pocket. After the second episode (and laughing his ass off at his father’s reaction to Kurt’s ‘Single Ladies’ dance) he finally excused himself.

He tapped the Gmail app on his phone as soon as he had reached his room. It felt like his heart skipped a beat when he noticed the new notification, a response from the original poster. With slightly shaky hands, he tapped the response, and a message opened up.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 8:12 PM

Subject: I’ve never done this before

Dear anonymous person on the internet,

I really don’t know where to begin. I’m also not sure if you're a real person. For all I know you could be some random pedophile like one of those cases they warned us about in health class for the past 5 years, even though it’s never happened within the last decade.

But in case you are real, hello! I’m the original poster from that hb-secrets thread about life being a Ferris wheel. I’m rereading what I wrote there and I can’t stop cringing, so I’ll start by apologizing for that. I’m not usually one for metaphors, even the bad ones.

Anyway, it sounds like you identify with what I wrote. I’m glad you emailed me; I didn’t think anyone would actually do anything with the email that I left. Except maybe be extremely homophobic. But it made me feel less like I was shouting into the void, so thanks for that. And I assume you’re okay with me writing back since you sent me the first email. Though, I can’t believe I’m actually writing to you. I really didn’t think I would.

I guess I’m thinking it could be nice to talk with someone who can relate to how I’m feeling. No pressure, of course, but feel free to write back if you want to. I don’t want to use my real name, but you can call me Blue.

It was surreal. Someone who was like Nico. Someone who wanted to talk to Nico because they were like him.

He started to type again, with more excitement than he’s ever felt. He’s never been able to express this part of him before. It was almost like first date jitters-type feeling.

(Not that he really knew what that was like.)

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 8:23 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

Hi, Blue

Wow, I’m actually kind of flipping out right now, because I seriously didn’t think I’d hear from you, especially so quickly. Wow. Okay. First of all, thanks for your email and also for your Tumblr post. I really liked it, Blue, and it wasn’t cringy at all, I promise.

So do you go here (here meaning HBHS)? I do, I’m a junior. And I’m a guy (are you a guy?) Anyway, I could relate a lot to your post, Like, pretty much all of it, but especially the part about being gay. You probably figured that out already though. And I’m not out yet either, which you probably figured that part out too.

I guess a part of me wants to be out, but a part of me’s like… no. It’s hard to explain. I don’t know. Maybe you get it.

So yeah, it’s really nice to meet you! This is kind of cool, right? Even writing this email makes me feel eleven times less alone.

-Angel (not my real name either, two can play at this game. It’s not like a pet-name type thing. If you ever find out who I am, you’ll understand why.)

He was worried about the whole name-signing thing. ‘Angel’ was just the easiest thing; it was a direct translation of his last name. He was really hoping Blue still didn’t take it in a weird way, even with that last note.

Relief flooded through him when he read the first sentence of Blue’s next email.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 8:41 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

Angel, huh? Maybe like guardian angel perhaps.

Also, eleven times less alone? That’s oddly specific. :) But I know exactly what you mean.

Anyway, wow. Hi. You wrote back, and quickly too. I’m really glad you liked my post. Now I’m actually happy I put it out there. I have to admit, it’s strange to be writing a somewhat personal email to you when we don’t know each other’s identities. Though, in a way, I guess that makes it easier. Sorta like a therapist, except we’re both blindfolded and have the same problem. So not really a therapist, I guess.

Do you think therapists have therapists? Like, if the problems get to be too much for them? Is there an Almighty Therapist who just absorbs everyone's issues and feels nothing?

Anyway, I am a guy, and I’m also a junior at HB. I think you’re actually the first other gay guy I’ve met here. It’s pretty surreal to be talking to you. (In a good way though.) I wonder if we know each other in real life.

And I think I understand what you mean. I feel like I’m constantly going back and forth about wanting to come out. I have these moments where I’m almost bursting to tell people. Of course, that’s where I was when I posted the thing on Tumblr. But I always feel so weird about it a few hours later, and sometimes I’m intensely relieved no one knows yet. What about you?

-Blue

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 9:12 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

I mean, let’s be real, eleven is the best number, which is perfect because we’re both in eleventh grade. And I can't believe we’re both juniors. The class is pretty small compared to the others, so I bet we do know each other, which is weird to think about. What if we’re actually enemies in real life? Do you have enemies? I don’t think I do, not really. Various people tend to annoy me a lot. It’s not even their fault; some people just have really punchable faces.

(I’m usually a really nonviolent person. I’m more like a violent person who at the same doesn’t really want to hurt anyone, so I have to resort to fantasizing about punching people, which just ends in eating my feelings in large quantities of McDonald’s.)

It’s funny for me, it’s actually not so much that go back and forth about wanting to come out. It’s like I simultaneously do and don’t want to be out. Which is pretty freaking exhausting, honestly. Like I’m in this constant state of JUST SAY IT and NO NEVER. Do you think that ever ends? I don’t know, maybe I’m just a really indecisive person. I think part of me is also just holding out until college when I’m away from anyone I know and can just reinvent myself.

So what kind of stuff do you like to do after school and everything?

-Angel

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 9:34 PM

Subject: Re: I’ve never done this before

I don’t think I have any enemies, but now I’m definitely wondering if I’m the guy with the punchable face. How do you know if you have a punchable face? I’ve never been punched, so hopefully, that’s a good sign.

I will say, I’m definitely with you on the issue of eating your feelings. I’m the person who has never smoked a cigarette or gotten drunk or anything like that, and I'm usually relatively healthy. However, I once ate five jars of Nutella in one sitting. I do not recommend,

I’m indecisive, too, in some ways. Okay, full disclosure: I was really conflicted when you sent me that email. I kept going back and forth about whether I should email you. I was (and am) definitely intrigued, but I guess I was also a little bit paranoid. It’s just that you could have been anyone, and it’s hard to know sometimes if someone’s being a jerk or if they’re being sincere. Plus my cousin sort of actually outed me. Not to anyone else, he’s the only one who knows, but now I’m super paranoid about coming out. (Exactly what you said about holding out until college. I’m thinking I can move to LA or somewhere where nobody really cares. Although I wouldn’t want to reinvent myself. And I don’t want you to reinvent yourself either, you’re pretty cool as you are I think.) Anyway, I’m really glad I decided to email you, though.

So, you’re probably going to think I’m ridiculous, but I’d rather not answer your last question. It’s just… I think I like being anonymous for now. Is that okay?

-Blue

Okay, that last part was fair. Nico understood the wanting-to-be-anonymous thing. Sure, they go to the same school. But Blue had no reason to entirely trust him; Nico didn’t really trust Blue at all. This could entirely be some random asshole anywhere in the world trying to find him and beat him up, or worse. It sucked that homophobia was still a thing in their day and age.

But Blue said he liked talking to Nico, and it was thrilling to talk to him. It was another secret of his, but not one he entirely minded keeping. So, he chose to believe that Blue was actually who he said he was.

From: [email protected]

To: [email protected]

Date: Oct 2 at 9:57 PM

Subject: Punchability

Blue, you have so much to learn about the rules of punchability, starting with the fact that it is completely impossible for you to have a punchable face. Rule number one: guys who make metaphors about Ferris wheels are automatically unpunchable. Rule number two: There isn’t one. Just rule number one, so memorize it. Everyone else can catch these fists. (Catch these fists? These hands? This would probably be more intimidating if I knew the correct phrasing)

Also, five jars of Nutella in one sitting is the worst idea I’ve ever heard in my life. Challenge accepted.

I don’t think you’re ridiculous, Blue. I totally understand why you don't want to tell me about your extracurricular activities (I’m guessing interpretive dance, though, you seem like the type.) But seriously, I get it. It’s this weird contradiction, right? It’s so much easier to be open with someone who doesn't know you at all. We’ll be each other's Ultimate Therapists.

(Except I don’t think I could ever be a therapist.)

Anyway, I’m really glad you decided to email me back, too :)

-Angel

That smiley face was really unlike him.

Nico sent the email, but after nearly an hour, he didn’t get on back, which meant Blue was probably asleep. Which was different from what Nico was used to; he tended to stay awake until the early hours of the morning most nights. But it wasn’t anything he minded. He had a conversation with Blue, and even if that was the last one they would ever have (which, he was hoping it wouldn’t be), it was good to know that there was somewhere out there like him.

#solangelo #heros of olympus #pjo #will solace #nico di angelo #pjo hoo big bang 2019 #im willing to make a tag list for this but i didnt want to use my general solangelo taglist #so if you would like a taglist for this fic lmk!#nstls

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aliveandfullofjoy · 6 years ago

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Tonys 2018: Stats & Trivia

With its astonishing ten wins last night, The Band’s Visit is now the second most winning Best Musical of the 2010s so far, only behind Hamilton’s eleven wins in 2016. It is also only the third Best Musical winner in Tonys history to win ten awards in one year (the others being Billy Elliot (2009) and Hello, Dolly! (1963).

Katrina Lenk successfully broke the streak! Her win in Leading Actress in a Musical for The Band’s Visit marked only the second time since 2010 that the award didn’t go to an actor in a revival. The only other winner this decade from a new musical was Jessie Mueller, who played Carole King in Beautiful (2014).

The Band’s Visit composer David Yazbek, whose father is Lebanese, is the second composer of Asian descent to win Best Score. The only other is Robert Lopez, whose father is Filipino.

Tony Shalhoub won on his fourth nomination last night for The Band’s Visit. It’s his first nomination for a musical. His victory make him the Leading Actor in a Musical winner to do the least amount of singing since Thomas Mitchell in Hazel Flagg in 1953.

Nathan Lane won his third Tony last night for Angels in America. He is the second actor to win a Tony for playing Roy Cohn, the first being Ron Leibman in 1993. Having previously won for A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum (1996) and The Producers (2001), this is Lane’s first win for a play, making him the seventeenth and newest member of the club of actors to win at least one Tony for both a play and a musical.

John Tiffany is the eleventh and newest member of the club of directors to win Tonys for both plays and musicals. He previously won for Once (2012).

Tony Shalhoub also became the fifth person named Tony to win a Tony. The other four are: Tony Duquette (won for Costume Design in 1961 for Camelot), Tony Straiges (won for Scenic Design in 1984 for Sunday in the Park with George), Tony Walton (won Scenic Design three times: Pippin in 1973, The House of Blue Leaves in 1986, and Guys and Dolls in 1992), and Tony Kushner (won Best Play back to back for Angels in America: Millennium Approaches and Angels in America: Perestroika in 1993 and 1994).

EGOT watch: Glenda Jackson now only needs a Grammy, and Bruce Springsteen now only needs an Emmy. Jackson is also the 24th person to win the Triple Crown of Acting.

In a fun, useless stat, this is the first time both David Yazbek and Norbert Leo Butz were nominated in the same year that Butz didn’t win and Yazbek did. Yazbek lost Best Score for Dirty Rotten Scoundrels in 2005 and Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown in 2011, the same years that Butz won Leading Actor in a Musical for Dirty Rotten Scoundrels and Catch Me If You Can.

Once on This Island’s win for Best Revival last night marks its first ever Tony win in any category. Between its original production in 1991 and this revival, it failed to win any other award in 16 nominations.

Mean Girls is now tied with The Scottsboro Boys (2011) for losingest show in Tonys history. Both were nominated for twelve awards and won none of them.

Carousel is now the third show to win Best Choreography twice. The only others are Anything Goes (1988, 2011) and The Pajama Game (1955, 2006).

Many people celebrated their first Tony win last night, but among the artists to add another Tony to their mantle: costume designer Catherine Zuber (who won her seventh Tony last night for My Fair Lady), scenic designer David Zinn (who won his second for SpongeBob SquarePants), actor Nathan Lane (who won his third for Angels in America). The team behind Harry Potter and the Cursed Child did very well in this regard, with all of the following winning their second Tonys: lighting designer Neil Austin, sound designer Gareth Fry (who who his first competitive award after his Special Award last year for The Encounter), scenic designer Christine Jones, costume designer Katrina Lindsay, and director John Tiffany.

Some updates on directors who directed actors to Tony wins: Lindsay Mendez is the eleventh actor to win under Jack O’Brien’s direction; Glenda Jackson and Laurie Metcalf are the ninth and tenth actors to win under Joe Mantello’s direction.

Depending on whether or not you count Rent with its vague “the late 1980s” setting, The Band’s Visit is the first Best Musical winner to be set in the 1990s.

While there were only two different plays to win acting prizes this year (Angels in America and Three Tall Women), both plays won the Pulitzer Prize.

#tony awards #trivia #tonys 2018

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eastoaksdalestreet · 7 years ago

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Chapter 5

WARNING CONTAINS SEXUAL SCENES AND BAD LANGUAGE PLEASE ONLY READ IF YOUR 18+ ALSO CONTAINS SIMS3/SIMS2

Glenda Mitchell had recently moved to Albert Square upon hearing the news that her ex husband Archie had been murdered, the murderer, unbeknown to everyone, was Stacey Branning whom he raped the year before. Glenda believed that she was his wife but Peggy and her girls had thought otherwise. She had missed her girls and wanted a relationship with them but they didn't want to know, believing that she had deliberately abandoned them.

She hadn't got herself acquainted with anyone yet but she had liked the look of the male population and she was determined that she would get her hands on one of them.

As she continued cooking, she glanced at her phone and saw a text of “Danny” and sighed heavily. She did think about getting back to him but decided not too at the moment. She wanted to settle down first. She thought about Ronnie and Roxy and decided to have a word with them, she knew there was a possibility they would reject her but she was willing to take that risk.

Jackson Walsh had recently moved to Emmerdale with his mother Hazel, he had instantly made friends with both Adam Barton and Aaron Livesy, the latter whom he was secretly attracted too. Aaron had been on his mind constantly since he arrived and he wanted the opportunity to get to know him. That night while Hazel had gone to the woolpack, he dialled Aarons number.

“Hey Aaron, I was wondering if you was free this weekend.” He said, Aaron paused for a moment but then he said,

“Sure what time?” He asked and Jackson smiled to himself,

“8:00 at the cinema.”

“Ok, Ill tell Paddy to feed Clyde.”

Jackson was delighted with the result, he couldn't wait for Saturday.

Glenda walked into the Vic, sure enough Roxy and Ronnie were not happy to see her.

“What do you want?” Roxy snapped, clutching a glass of vodka, Glenda sighed heavily,

“Ive come to talk.” Glenda said and Roxy scoffed,

“Talk? Talk? Its far to late for that!” She shouted, coming from behind the bar. Glenda looked at her younger daughter,

“You walked out on us when we needed you the most! When you left our lives, you left us for good! I might not be mother of the year myself but I've been there for Amy since day one!” Roxy shouted, while Ronnie, who had returned from a workout looked on. Amy was sitting on the floor playing with her teddy while Glenda felt her temper rise,

“Do you have any idea how hurt I was when I left you, watching your dad manipulate Ronnie, take her baby away and I couldn't do anything about it! Your dad was a monster and I couldn't bare it seeing what he was doing to you both. I missed you every single day and I wanted to come back and take you both away but I couldn't!” She shouted and she walked out, bursting into tears.

Glenda continued walking up the street till she reached Emmerdale, her feet hurt her and she knew she had walked a long time but she needed to clear her head.

“You alright love?” John called out and Glenda looked up,

“Yeah Ive just been walking.” She said with a sniff and John, taking pity on her, allowed her inside. Hannah and Adam watched as Glenda walked in, wondering who she was.

Moira watched as Glenda sat beside her,

“Hello, you ok?” She asked as she saw Glenda’s tear stained face. Glenda nodded,

“Just a family argument. It will blow over soon.” Glenda said sadly as Adam gave her a cup of tea. She found that she was revelling in the sympathy that the Bartons were giving her, particularly John and Adam. When she left later that day, she decided that either man she wanted to see again.

The next day, John, who was still concerned about Glenda and her state of mind, got her address from her neighbour and decided to see if she was ok. He waited for her to come to the door and she came downstairs, she smiled when she saw him,

“Hello John.” She said and He nodded,

“Just come to see if your alright.” He said and she smiled,

“Thank you. I do feel better. Its nice to know that people care.” She said and John nodded.

“Anytime you need someone to talk too, were always here for you.” And he left and Glenda watched, grinning to herself.

Abi Branning was doing her homework on her front garden, the weather was warm and there was a festival in the square but she couldn't go because she was too young and she had school the next day. She often complained about her life as she wanted to do well but the fact her parents had split up and her sister was often causing trouble, she found it hard. She loved her family despite their faults and wished that she could make them proud, she looked out at the festival and sighed. She knew that Lauren had snuck out to attend but still hadn't said anything and had told Tanya that she was staying at a friends. As she headed back inside, she vowed to make a good go of her life.

John was attending the festival with Peter and Andy who was having a drink in the background, Moira was working late and the kids had gone to their friends. He was having a good time and felt slightly tipsy while Peter danced with pearl who was in attendance.

It was then Glenda arrived and she saw John and spoke to him,

“Hello Stranger.” She said jovially and He smiled,

“Hey you ok?” He asked and she nodded as she sipped her drink,

“I'm fine and I'm having fun!” She called out, she was already drunk.

Suddenly she pulled him towards her and kissed him and he did nothing to stop her. He was flattered by her attention but he felt bad all the same. Peter, who had watched what happened, said to Glenda,

“Listen Love hes married. Go away.” He said and Glenda walked off with a satisfied smirk on her face.

“What were you thinking?” Peter said to John who looked down. “Your supposed to be solid with Moira.” John didn't say a word and decided to head home.

Steve and Becky McDonald were in charge of the Rovers Return, Liz was away till the afternoon so they had the place to themselves and they revelled in it and there was another reason to celebrate: Amy, Steve’s daughter was going to become a McDonald. They were due to have a visit from the social worker and Becky was nervous.

“Stop fretting will ya? Youll be fine!” Steve said and Becky looked at him with fear in her eyes,

“I sure hope so, I love Amy like shes my own.” She replied and Steve rubbed her shoulder,

“Everything will all work out.” He said softly and they embraced.

The day after the drunken kiss and the realisation that Glenda had played him, John decided to pay her a visit, he was hungover and angry by her games and he stood waiting for her, she said smugly,

“Knew you couldn't stay away.”

“Listen Lady you may have other people fooled but last night you played me like a fool!” He shouted and Glenda scoffed,

“Didn't stop you putting your tongue down my throat did it!” Glenda yelled back,

“So unless you want me to tell your darling wife what happened I suggest you come clean first or I will!” She shouted and she saw the fear in Johns eyes.

“You keep away from me and my family!” John shouted and he walked away, the guilt hanging over him more than ever.

Ronnie was in the kitchen looking after Amy for Roxy who had been helping in the bookies, she was expecting to see Jack later that day, he had a surprise for her.

“You spoken to Mum?” Ronnie asked and Roxy shook her head,

“No way.” She said and Ronnie knew not to ask anymore.

Roxy picked up Amy and took her to her bedroom, jack was Amys father and Ronnie often thought why she had forgiven him for cheating on her with own sister but she loved him so much and would forgive him anything.

John was milking the cows as his mind was all over the place, he feared that Glenda would twist things and Moira would believe it was an affair. He felt sick and wished the ground would swallow him whole. The kids had gone out and he had time to think about confessing, it didn't help that Cain had threatened to tell Moira himself as he had also been at the festival that night and saw the whole thing. Just as John finished, Moira called him in,

“John can I have a word please?” She called and John stood up and headed into the house.

Moira was sitting on the sofa her arms were folded and her face was unhappy, John feared the worst,

“Glenda spoke to me today.” She said in a low voice and John nodded,

“She tells me you and her had a moment at the festival in Albert Square, did it happen John? Did you kiss her?” She asked, her voice was breaking and John slowly nodded. Moira didn't say anything for a moment then she leapt up in anger.

“How could you do this to me?! I didn't come to the festival because I was ill!! It wasn't out of spite! You and that old slapper behind my back?!” She shouted as she took deep breaths. John sighed,

“I was drunk Moira, I didn't know what I was doing, there is no one Id rather be with other than you!” John shouted back and Moira sat at the kitchen table.

“I cant believe you went behind my back and kissed another woman and I bet you would've slept with her if you had the chance.” Moira said and she felt the tears start forming in her eyes as she blinked them away, John felt ever so guilty as he went to cuddle her but she pushed him away and stood up.

“I'm going to work.” She snapped and headed out the door while John watched her go.

Billie and Whitney were in the playground near the flats, it was their special place and Whitney cherished every moment she spent with him. Billie was a nice person who although rebelled from time to time, had his heart in the right place.

“You fancy going out this weekend?” she asked as they walked in front of the block of flats and Billie sighed,

“I cant babe. I'm already out with mates, maybe another time eh?” he said as he pulled her for a kiss, Whitney kissed him back and they headed home hand in hand.

Moira was working her shift at the woolpack, there was hardly any customers and the fact that Glenda was in with Carol, whom she had recently made friends with, didn't help the situation. It was then she realised the full extent of what John and Glenda had done. She made an excuse to Diane that she wasn't well and walked out but she didn't go home.

Michelle was watching television with Ryan when the front door went, sighing heavily she paused the program and opened the door to find an upset Moira,

“Moira, whats happened? Are you ok? Moira?” Michelle asked and slowly Moira broke down and Michelle put her arm round her, Ryan headed upstairs while Kirk, who had popped in to retrieve the mobile he left behind, headed quickly out.

“John kissed another woman and nearly slept with her.” Moira sobbed and Michelle sighed heavily.

“What a bloody idiot, what did he do that for?” She asked and Moira wiped her eyes,

“He says he was drunk and that Glenda threw herself at him.”

“Oh Moira. Look you can stay here tonight and tomorrow go home and talk to him.” She said softly as Moira cried silently.

Jack Branning called the Mitchells into the living room and Ronnie was intrigued by what he was about to do. Peggy couldn't contain her excitement nor could Roxy, Phil sat with no expression,

“Ive called you all here because I have a question for a certain beautiful lady whom I want to spend the rest of my life with.” Jack announced before getting down on his knees and producing a small box from his coat pocket,

“Ronnie Mitchell will you marry me?” He asked and Ronnie and the mitchells gasped.

“Yes I will.” She said softly as Jack put the ring on her finger while the mitchells congratulated the happy couple, feeling that they were finally back on track.

Adam watched as John cleaned out the cows and felt an urge to strangle him for the upset he had caused Moira. The fact that he was avoiding her rather than talk to her was annoying and the fact that Moira was now distressed the past few days was hard for Adam to watch. “Dad why don’t you talk to Mum? She’s upset.” He said as he came over to help, John sighed heavily, the guilt was unbearable, he had made a mistake, a meaningless mistake and Moira wasn’t hearing him out. “I will talk to her when she calms down, I tried speaking to her yesterday but she pushed me away.” John said sadly, Adam rolled his eyes. When the work was done, John stood up. “I’m going for a bath, watch the barn for me.” He said and he headed to the farm, “Well that’s one way to sort your problems out. When in doubt go for a bath.” Adam mumbled sarcastically before finishing his fathers work.

Moira was milking one of the cows, the hurt that she had been feeling the past to days was still in her mind and though she wanted to move on, she kept getting unpleasant visions that she found impossible to shift. After she finished milking the cows, she decided to head up for a bath, unaware that it was already occupied.

When Moira headed up she realised that the bathroom was occupied and sighed angrily then she saw that the door was slightly open and she saw that John was in there and decided to have a sneak peak of him washing himself, she used to do it when they were younger and knew that John used to do the same to her. She watched as he ran the hot water over his chest, stomach and back and knew he washing down below and bit her lip as she watched him. He started relaxing and resting his head on edge of the bath, feeling his eyes close.

Moira slowly walked in and caressed Johns wet chest and stomach causing John to wake up and look at Moira who was smiling at him. John smiled back and realised he had been forgiven, he passionately kissed Moira and got out of the bath and began undressing her, getting her wet, he then picked her up and took her to the bedroom, he had entered her already and the pleasure that was rising between them caused them to get on the floor. John moved inside her and her moans of pleasure echoed and they felt relived that the kids were outside and couldn't hear them. Their moans of pleasure got louder as John got harder and faster before finally ejaculating and collapsing beside her, he picked her up and lay her in bed.

“I love you babe.” He whispered, “Ill never hurt you again I promise.” Moira smiled at him as she fell asleep, while John cuddled up to her and nibbled her earlobe, their love enveloping them.

Deidre Barlow was organising the return of her mother Blanche from Portugal and was enlisting the help of Liz, her best friend.

“Bet your excited to see Blanche aren't you?” Liz said with a smile and Deidre said,

“Yeah it will have done her some good, she said that she had so much to tell us, she stayed on longer because of her friend breaking her leg so hopefully things are ok now.”

Deidre watched Ken cook the hot dogs and smiled at him, pleased that he had made a huge effort for Blanche’s homecoming, Amy and Simon were playing upstairs excited to see their Nanny Blanche and hoping for presents.

However When peter went to go and collect her, she wasn't there.

“She better have a flipping good excuse!” Deidre said furiously as Ken went to call the hotel where Blanche was.

Ken was on the phone for half an hour and his face fell as he was talking to the son of Blanche’s friend and after he ended the call, he went to Deidre.

*Deidre, there is no easy way to tell you” Ken said softly, holding her hands, “Blanche is dead.”

Deidre looked dumbfounded and then the tears started running,

“What happened?” She asked

“She was found this morning having died in her sleep, shes gonna be flown home tomorrow, it appears that her friend left Portugal months ago.” Ken explained and Deidre was inconsolable as she told Peter and Leanne and Liz.

Later that afternoon after telling John and Andy about Blanche’s death, Peter came home with Leanne, Leanne was in her second trimester and couldn't wait to meet the baby, who was gonna be a girl. Leanne loved the idea she was gonna have a daughter and in light of Blanche’s death, decided to give her the middle name of Blanche.

“I cant believe shes gone, she had so much fighting spirit.” Peter said sadly while a devastated Simon went to his room. Leanne rubbed his arm,

“I know babe. She will have the best send off money can buy.” She said and she kissed him as they headed into the flat.

The funeral took place on Sunday and everyone was saddened by the loss of a woman who never had any fear and told it like it was. After the funeral, Moira and John went upstairs, Holly had gone to the cinema while Hannah and Adam were in their beds asleep.

“Poor Blanche and I feel so awful for Deidre bless her.” Moira said sadly and John rubbed her arm,

“I had to stay with Peter, particularly after the drama with Tracy. She's a nightmare.” John exclaimed as he began undressing, Moira nodded sadly as she did the same.

Peggy was upstairs in the Vic, feeling happy with the turn of events that had happened with Ronnie and Jack and was pleased that Ronnie was having some happiness after everything she had been through with Danielle's death and Archie and the misery he caused her. Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, it was well past closing time and she headed downstairs, hoping not to encounter a burglar. She didn't.

It was Sam, her only daughter.

Peggy was lost for words as she believed that Sam was still in prison and she was further shocked to see that Sam was heavily pregnant.

Aaron and Jackson had finished their date at the cinema and they had a good time, they enjoyed each others company and they liked each other a lot.

“I enjoyed tonight.” Aaron admitted and Jackson smiled,

“So did I.” Jackson said,

“You can come round soon and meet Paddy, My mum and Clyde the dog.” Aaron suggested and Jackson smiled,

“Great and you can meet my mum. Youll love her.” Jackson said with a laugh and Aaron nodded. They looked at each other for a few moments and they slowly leaned in on each other before locking lips tenderly, wrapping their arms around each other.

When they broke apart Jackson said goodbye and Aaron waited for Paddy to arrive, then he saw two people outside the cinema and looked at them more closely as he recognised them.

It was Holly and Billie and they were kissing each other, Aaron was shocked as he knew that Billie was seeing Whitney. Billie headed home while Holly watched him leave before she headed back into the cinema, Aaron secretly followed her and saw her head into the toilets, he looked through a gap in the door.

He was shocked when he saw her take out a small bag containing what looked like white powder, she lay some on the counter and snorted, pinching her nose while Aaron looked in Shock.

The question was...

What was he going to do???

End of Chapter.

Next time- Hollys addiction escalates causing friction for the Bartons, Leanne goes into labour and Carol makes a friend while the Mcqueens start a feud with the Mitchells.

#Eastenders #sims2 #sims 3 #fanfic #emmerdale #Coronation Street #Hollyoaks

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janeykath318 · 7 years ago

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The Trials Of Being A Bodyguard 2

#my fics #mckirk #genderswap #royalty au

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glknight · 8 years ago

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Axiom: Star Mullaney’s Team Composition Reports

I’m still working on Axiom (finalizing notes here, adding world building details there, trying to find the funds to hire an artist so that I can make sure they’re taken care of before work even begins ANYWHERE), but I think I’ve FINALLY got the details for the initial cast of characters down. I guess, without further ado, I present to you OUR HEROES, Ladies and Gentlemen (and all other points between, I guess, it’s getting more and more confusing by the hour if you ask me but I’ll try my best)!

But FIRST! Here’s the actual location setting! “WELCOME TO NEXUS! A dazzling city with many enterprising opportunities! Founded in 1923 by Marshall “Nexus” Tristiani, one of the Great Heroes of the pre-Powers age, Nexus serves as the “Great Way Point” between commerce, science and social values. From Thought University, founded by the greatest Mentalist of his Age, the Thought, and home to many great collegiate achievements (GO FIGHTING THINKERS!) to Theros’ Industries MANY branches of production and commerce (found on Millionaire Mile lining Millionaire Avenue), our City is RIFE with potential! Whether looking for your big break or just looking for your own slice of Heaven, Nexus is where you must go to go where you want or need to go!

Nexus: The World Goes Through Here, First!”

That sounds like a huge, spiraling place, huh? One part Astro City. One part fraction of the city scale of the one city world of One Punch Man (jeez, if I wrote “one” one more time, it’d be one too many for one lonely writer). Well, it’s definitely meant to be. The city’s home to many, MANY different types of people, after all. Heroes, criminals, ordinary people, weirdos. All races and creeds of all stripes and types. Some are able to take care of themselves. Others... are not so lucky.

For those heroes that need help, they are in luck. Because the city has an incredibly unique social service at their disposal: the SOCIAL HEROES SERVICES. The SHS is a system put into place by iconic 60′s hero the Revolutionary after being elected to office in 1972 a year after winning a landmark Civil case guaranteeing the security of all heroes in terms of protection from discrimination from all facets of daily life corresponding to their Personae, meaning they could be classified by either their public Persona or their private identity. Using that momentum, the Revolutionary used that protection to run for Mayor under his Persona, and introduce sweeping favorable changes just a scant 3 years before being assassinated at a Founder’s Day dedicated to Tristani’s wife, Maria, by the Triggerman. And the Social Heroes Services is arguably one of his legacies.

In many regards, it’s very similar to the Social Services program we have now. But with the added detail of involving superheroes, there’s another side that it provides: providing heroic work opportunities in tiers and groupings. In most instances, heroes are usually lumped into two headings: Solo and Team. It’s common for heroes to be registered for either Solo work or Team work. But with enough time and exemplary effort, it’s possible for an individual to be registered for both. Solo work is simple: your name is called for specialized cases where your talents can be applied, and every effort earns recompense. Team work, however, is slightly different: you earn recompense, like with Solo work, but there are two differing details.

The first difference is that you have the option of either being grouped with members of your collective choosing, granting the members the opportunity to appoint an affiliation name, or letting the SHS group you together at their discretion, which removes the group naming option, but places you higher on the recommendation list for future cases.

The second difference is that if you choose the group option, there are far more stringent evaluations and examinations to properly calculate your team’s efficiency and power levels, as well as a greater emphasis on overall mental well-being and health evaluations. Essentially, anyone on a team is kept under close monitoring for both their benefit and better management. This means psychological evaluations, doctor visits and physicals, and rather strict categorization in the SHS Database.

With enough time and effort to gain enough recognition, it is possible for an individual or team to be successful enough to no longer NEED registration. But then again, those are SUCCESS cases. Many heroes have decent records, but not enough to classify them as fully “Independent”. Of course, there are those lucky few that get their big break without needing to be in the system for very long, if at all...

Into this system are our three Registered heroes, their support, and their Handler. In the SHS Registry, you can be labeled under three specific types of hero work: Physique class, which are those heroes whose powers or abilities fall in line with their bodies or biological manipulations; Scholar class, which are those heroes whose skills are more focused on psychological manipulation or mental powers, such as telepaths and some vigilantes; And Source class, which are those whose skills involve manipulating the fundamental elements of the universe in some way, such as energy wielders and magic users. For those non-powered individuals who wish to ASSIST, they can be categorized under the SUPPORT class, with skills and knowledge that are available to ALL heroes and organizations that wish to use their abilities. In fact, it’s not at all uncommon for known non-powered heroes to offer their services to heroes in the SHS registry.

And it’s in this registry we have our three (well, four if you count Support, and five if you count their social worker) heroes.

______________________________________________________________

TEAM STRUCTURE REPORTS:

CODE NAME: STALKER REAL NAME: ZHOU, LIAN HERO CLASS: PHYSIQUE, MUTATE (SCIENTIFIC)

PERSONA DETAILS: PUBLIC

PERSONA UNIFORM: MILITARY STYLED BLACK TACTICAL GEAR, COMPRESSION AND FILTRATION MASK

HAIR: BLACK EYES: BROWN WEIGHT: 7′3 WEIGHT: 523 ETHNICITY: ASIAN BLOOD TYPE: O- BIRTH DATE: MARCH 23rd

SHS WORKER: Star Mullaney

EMERGENCY CONTACT: William Campbell

FILE DATE: January 26th

KNOWN POWERS: Enhanced strength (CURRENT LIMIT: 12 TONS), enhanced agility, enhanced endurance [NOTE: LOW TO MODERATE LEVELS OF REGENERATION ABILITIES TO COMPENSATE FOR DAMAGE RECEIVED], enhanced senses (COMPLETE SENSORY ENHANCEMENT, CURRENT RANGE: 1.3 Mi. MAXIMUM)

HISTORY: Ms. Zhou is an oddity in the Registry. The unfortunate victim of an egregious criminal strike, she was introduced to an experimental solution created by her currently missing sister, Dr. Deeana Zhou, to treat severe muscular dystrophy, incorporating an unknown mineral found in a meteorite harvested for the experiment. The formula transformed Ms. Zhou from a slight, short woman to a gigantic, hulking figure, with the unknown side effect of blurring the lines of gender appearance to the point of almost complete masculinization.

Despite the appearances of gender transition, she recognizes her gender identity as female, and all medical testing has shown that all her reproductive faculties remain unchanged. Attempts to help correct her gender through scientific techniques have been proven to be ineffective, as her genetic structure rapidly negates any form of hormonal or advanced scientific manipulation. Extraterrestrial means has been proven to have little to no effect, with any positive effects rapidly returning to current appearances. Magical means, sadly, are currently beyond availability, as there are so few magical support systems in place, as well as available magic Source heroes that are Active in our system. Despite having a strong will, conflict of identity over her visage has caused mental issues, including gender dysphoria and depression. Currently prescribed a variation of an 5-HT1A receptor antagonist, which is the closest her system can handle without cycling out with little to no effect, as well as having bi-monthly therapy sessions with a councilor.

NOTE: Has confirmed sexual problems due to medication. But in an interesting development, Ms. Zhou has admitted that her sexual activity has actively INCREASED since being put on current antidepressant. She has stated that though there may be days where congress with her current significant other can tire him out or distract her slightly, it’s manageable with practically no effect on her efforts while registered in the Social Heroes Services.

In spite of all that she has endured, Stalker has a fantastic record of 238 successes and only one failure in 4 months time as an Independent Hero. Usually minor collateral damage on a more personal level, with an increased propensity for vehicular damage in particular. Her style of heroics, as she calls it, is “planned recklessness”, with a somewhat calculated cavalier attitude focused on doing “as much good as possible before I can’t do more”. Is one of the fewer known heroes who actively tries to pull any villainous action away from any sort of crowds, actively throwing herself between bystanders should the need arise.

It is my opinion that Ms. Zhou aka STALKER be allowed to operate as both an INDEPENDENT Hero, as well as have access to her own TEAM. She’s been proven to be resourceful, focused, and most of all reliable in almost every singe task she has been presented. I just wish the matters with the Weeping Willow incident hadn’t happen as to give her a perfect record.

______________________________________________________________

CODE NAME: DESPAIR

REAL NAME: POE, MITCHELL ALLAN

HERO CLASS: SCHOLAR, BASELINE

PERSONA DETAILS: PRIVATE

PERSONA UNIFORM: TECHNOLOGICALLY ADVANCED AND MODERNIZED PLAGUE DOCTOR

HAIR: BROWN EYES: HAZEL HEIGHT: 5′11 WEIGHT: 166 LBS. ETHNICITY: CAUCASIAN BLOOD TYPE: B+ BIRTH DATE: FEBRUARY 12th

SHS WORKER: Star Mullaney

EMERGENCY CONTACT: Mitchell Allan Poe

FILE DATE: April 18

KNOWN SKILLS: 146 I.Q., highly proficient in many different forms of combat, incredibly analytical mind, speaks 13 different languages, Graduate School level knowledge in Computer Science, Criminology, Sociology and several other categories of academia, self-described “tinkerer”, has been noted by Psychic Support staff as having an “unknowingly strong mental shield which can cause psychic rebuff/static as an automatic defense mechanism” (NOTE: Schedule testing on potential psychic abilities, possible recategorization from Baseline), Olympic caliber physique with peak human reaction time, licensing to handle many different forms of vehicular craft, including Extraterrestrial modular craft. HISTORY: Where do I even BEGIN with Despair...

Well, the best place to start would probably be with Mr. Poe’s current record under the SHS. In the year and a half he has been registered, our resident Plague Doctor garbed Scholar class Persona has become the most prolific Hero we have on call, BY FAR. 743 attributed arrests and crimes stopped the 5 months before he registered, and a mind boggling 2562 since. He has solved decades old mysteries, found missing people in the most perplexing cases, discovered patterns no other Hero has found, and many more to show. His effort and output is STAGGERING, to say the least. Common comments from reports say that other Heroes find him charming, but also a bit of a “try hard“, “overachiever”, or in some cases a “cheat, liar or charlatan” (as evidenced by the well known and at-length loquaciousness of Mr. Foolproof). It also needs to be stated that he is the most versatile Hero on registry, able to functionally conceive scientific concepts with some of our greatest scientific minds, yet also able to rationalize and believe in precepts of magical thought and practice. In all consideration, he is probably our closest asset in comparison to either the Smithee, the current #1 rated tech-based Hero in Nexus, or Cerberus, the #1 non-enhancement Vigilante.

Despite his record and somewhat conflicting effect on fellow heroes, his bird like appearance is rather appropriate given his problematic neuroses. First and foremost is Mr. Poe’s rather persistent Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, making him obsessed with order and cleanliness in the highest order. Although finding great success in utilizing his disorder towards case studies and investigations, it has led to some rather straining situations involving his ability to interact with others, as his obsession has led him to wearing his costume almost all of the time. Another issue with Mr. Poe is a rather strong case of Illeism, which means he consistently refers to himself as his Persona in the third person rather than any personage or even his real name. Many have gone on record as saying it’s “annoying or weird”, but in all honesty, I believe that he’s isolated himself so thoroughly into his Persona as some form of protective wall. Said protection might also be a corollary to his OCD, as it’s somewhat common for people with traumatic pasts to become obsessive as a coping mechanism.

Given Mr. Poe’s track record, it must firmly be stated that he would be a critical asset on any team he is placed in. He has worked with many other heroes in the past, but in the 15 cases he has colluded with Stalker, their public favorability rating is an impressive 97% (even rating higher than the current power couple of Paragon and Goddess’ rating of 94%). These two cut an impressive image, and with the addition of Stalker’s Support class member, Camp, they meet most of the criteria for full team recognition status.

If meeting qualifications, I must ask that Stalker and Despair officially be listed as pending for team approval until I can find a suitable hero to fill in the final missing detail. They are critical assets that have been shown to work well together and are recognized publicly for their efforts. In all, a great boon for both the individuals, as well as the SHS.

______________________________________________________________

CODE NAME: BARBIE

REAL NAME: BARBARA JONES

HERO CLASS: SOURCE, AVATAR

PERSONA DETAILS: PRIVATE

PERSONA UNIFORM: ...BARELY WITHIN LEGAL LIMITS

HAIR: AUBURN/GOLDEN WITH ELEMENTS OF RED EYES: GREEN HEIGHT: 5′4/6′4 WEIGHT: 114 lbs./uncategorizable ETHNICITY: CAUCASIAN BLOOD TYPE: AB- BIRTH DATE: NOVEMBER 9th

SHS WORKER: Star Mullaney

EMERGENCY CONTACT: Mrs. Lorraine Macintosh, Thinker University

FILE DATE: August 23rd KNOWN POWERS: [See, HISTORY]

HISTORY: I believe it’s best I introduce you to Barbara Jones, first.

Barbara Jones is an Australian student currently enrolled at Thinker University with the explicit purpose of a major in Library Sciences, with a specific focus on Digital Archiving. She is a smart lady, reserved, dedicated, whose friends and associates have stated that if she “put a little effort in, she could definitely get whichever partner catches her fancy”.

Barbie, on the other hand, is practically a walking wet dream. The magnification of desire, she has features most would be willing to kill themselves over, and the rest would say are impossible to get or maintain. Tall, beautiful, flirtatious, with nary a concern except her own interests and actions. She’s unafraid of her body, and likes to see people responding to her brazen appearance. Thank Heaven she’s a Hero.

And if you haven’t guessed it already, they’re one in the same being...

In connected reports by multiple Source class heroes both within the SHS and without, Barbara’s level of power is on a frightening scale. In all the gathered data on her, she has a connection to no less than THIRTY GODDESSES, a specific majority of them connected to Light and Fire in some purview. As Destiny Darque put it in her summary, “It’s not the number of goddesses we know of that is most frightening, but in the fact that SO MANY are willing to work together to empower an individual to such a degree. The addition that there’s only one vessel that’s capable of successfully controlling all that power is the true cause of my concern to the point of asking: WHY BARBARA JONES?” And in my own personal opinion, I’m right there with Ms. Darque.

Ms. Jones is an IMMENSELY POWERFUL asset, with such a vast array of abilities at her disposal that it’s kind of maddening. For the most part, she keeps it to some basics (Flight, strength, invulnerability, energy manipulation), but from every report we’ve seen, Barbie is a somewhat ditzy Persona, consistently revealing previously unknown powers and abilities whenever she feels like it (as evidenced in the Rigor Morty case, when she HEALED 15 FRESH ZOMBIES BACK TO LIFE, with the reasoning of “fresh healthy skin looking SO much better”). In conjunction, every case report has cited conflicting incidents of Persona temperament, with some having her doing random actions that some would find foolhardy at best, and others being as focused and considerate as any veteran would take. And the reason for such a dichotomy is listed in the Psychic evaluations as two completely separate identities. As one report put it, “It’s not really a sense of a psychological schism like you would find in Dissociative Identity Disorder, but more of a Secondary Soul that grew from the Host’s. In as short a way to put it as possible, it’s like her soul gave birth to its own twin when she received her gifts, and they randomly switch whoever is in the driver’s seat at that moment .”

Thankfully, we have two other heroes on registry that have issues with dichotomy on record. I’m sure if they were put on the same team and given regular counseling, all three would find improvements in their daily lives and create a cohesive team. And most importantly, give our resources more time to collect further data on what Barbie is TRULY capable of.

#Axiom #webcomic notes #webcomic #heroes #social welfare for superheroes #backstory #character details

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