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justforbooks · 1 month ago

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Dame Maggie Smith

A distinguished, double Oscar-winning actor whose roles ranged from Shakespeare to Harry Potter

Not many actors have made their names in revue, given definitive performances in Shakespeare and Ibsen, won two Oscars and countless theatre awards, and remained a certified box-office star for more than 60 years. But then few have been as exceptionally talented as Maggie Smith, who has died aged 89.

She was a performer whose range encompassed the high style of Restoration comedy and the sadder, suburban creations of Alan Bennett. Whatever she played, she did so with an amusing, often corrosive, edge of humour. Her comedy was fuelled by anxiety, and her instinct for the correct gesture was infallible.

The first of her Oscars came for an iconic performance in The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie (1969). Miss Brodie’s pupils are the “crème de la crème”, and her dictatorial aphorisms – “Give me a girl at an impressionable age, and she is mine for life” – disguise her intent of inculcating enthusiasm in her charges for the men she most admires, Mussolini and Franco.

But Smith’s pre-eminence became truly global with two projects towards the end of her career. She was Professor Minerva McGonagall in the eight films of the Harry Potter franchise (she referred to the role as Miss Brodie in a wizard’s hat) between 2001 and 2011. Between 2010 and 2015, in the six series of Downton Abbey on ITV television (sold to 250 territories around the world), she played the formidable and acid-tongued Dowager Countess of Grantham, Lady Violet, a woman whose heart of seeming stone was mitigated by a moral humanity and an old-fashioned, if sometimes overzealous, sense of social propriety.

Early on, one critic described Smith as having witty elbows. Another, the US director and writer Harold Clurman, said that she “thinks funny”. When Robin Phillips directed her as Rosalind in As You Like It in 1977 in Stratford, Ontario, he said that “she can respond to something that perhaps only squirrels would sense in the air. And I think that comedy, travelling around in the atmosphere, finds her.” Like Edith Evans, her great predecessor as a stylist, Smith came late to Rosalind. Bernard Levin was convinced that it was a definitive performance, and was deeply affected by the last speech: “She spoke the epilogue like a chime of golden bells. But what she looked like as she did so, I cannot tell you; for I saw it through eyes curtained with tears of joy.”

She was more taut and tuned than any other actor of her day, and this reliance on her instinct to create a performance made her reluctant to talk about acting, although she had a forensic attitude to preparation. With no time for the celebrity game, she rarely went on television chat shows – her appearance on Graham Norton’s BBC TV show in 2015 was her first such in 42 years – or gave newspaper interviews.

Her life she summed up thus: “One went to school, one wanted to act, one started to act and one’s still acting.” That was it. She first went “public”, according to her father, when, attired in pumps and tutu after a ballet lesson, she regaled a small crowd on an Oxford pavement with one of Arthur Askey’s ditties: “I’m a little fairy flower, growing wilder by the hour.”

Unlike her great friend and contemporary Judi Dench, Smith was a transatlantic star early in her career, making her Broadway debut in 1956 and joining Laurence Olivier’s National Theatre as one of the 12 original contract artists in 1963.

In 1969, after repeatedly stealing other people’s movies, with Miss Brodie she became a star in her own right. She was claiming her just place in the elite, for she had already worked with Olivier, Orson Welles and Noël Coward in the theatre, not to mention her great friend and fellow miserabilist Kenneth Williams, in West End revue. She had also created an international stir in two movies, Anthony Asquith’s The VIPs (1963) – she didn’t just steal her big scene with him, Richard Burton complained, “she committed grand larceny” – and Jack Clayton’s The Pumpkin Eater (1964), scripted by Harold Pinter from the novel by Penelope Mortimer.

Before Harry Potter, audiences associated Smith most readily with her lovelorn, heartbreaking parishioner Susan in Bed Among the Lentils, one of six television monologues in Bennett’s Talking Heads (1988). Susan was a character seething with sexual anger; the first line nearly said it all – “Geoffrey’s bad enough, but I’m glad I wasn’t married to Jesus.”

And the funniest moment in Robert Altman’s upstairs/downstairs movie Gosford Park (2001) – in some ways a template for Downton Abbey, and also written by Julian Fellowes — was a mere aside from a doleful Smith as Constance Trentham turning to a neighbour on the sofa, as Jeremy Northam as Ivor Novello took a bow for the song he had just sung. “Don’t encourage him,” she warned, archly, “he’s got a very large repertoire.” Such a moment took us right back to the National in 1964 when, as the vamp Myra Arundel in Coward’s Hay Fever, she created an unprecedented (and un-equalled) gale of laughter on the single ejaculation at the breakfast table: “This haddock is disgusting.”

Born in Ilford, Essex, she was the daughter of Margaret (nee Hutton) and Nathaniel Smith, and educated at Oxford high school for girls (the family moved to Oxford at the start of the second world war because of her father’s work as a laboratory technician). Maggie decided to be an actor, joined the Oxford Playhouse school under the tutelage of Frank Shelley in 1951 and took roles in professional and student productions.

She acted as Margaret Smith until 1956, when Equity, the actors’ union, informed her that the name was double-booked. She played Viola with the Oxford University dramatic society in 1952 – John Wood was her undergraduate Malvolio – and appeared in revues directed by Ned Sherrin. “At that time in Oxford,” said Sherrin, “if you wanted a show to be a success, you had to try and get Margaret Smith in it.”

The Sunday Times critic of the day, Harold Hobson, spotted her in a play by Michael Meyer and she was soon working with the directors Peter Hall and Peter Wood. “I didn’t think she would develop the range that she subsequently has,” said Hall, “but I did think she had star quality.”

One of her many admirers at Oxford, the writer Beverley Cross, initiated a long-term campaign to marry Smith that was only fulfilled after the end of her tempestuous 10-year relationship with the actor Robert Stephens, with whom she fell in love at the National and whom she married in 1967. This was a golden decade, as Smith played a beautiful Desdemona to Olivier’s Othello; a clever and impetuous Hilde Wangel to first Michael Redgrave, then Olivier, in Ibsen’s The Master Builder; and an irrepressibly witty and playful Beatrice opposite Stephens as Benedick in Franco Zeffirelli’s Sicilian Much Ado About Nothing, spangled in coloured lights.

Her National “service” was book-ended by two particularly wonderful performances in Restoration comedies by George Farquhar, The Recruiting Officer (1963) and The Beaux’ Stratagem (1970), both directed by William Gaskill, whom she called “simply the best teacher”. In the first, in the travesty role of Sylvia, her bubbling, playful sexuality shone through a disguise of black cork moustache and thigh-high boots on a clear stage that acquired, said Bamber Gascoigne, an air of sharpened reality, “like life on a winter’s day with frost and sun”.

In the second, her Mrs Sullen, driven frantic by boredom and shrewish by a sodden, elderly husband, was a tight-laced beanpole, graceful, swaying and tender, drawing from Ronald Bryden a splendidly phrased comparison with some Henri Rousseau-style giraffe, peering nervously down her nose with huge, liquid eyes at the smaller creatures around, nibbling off her lines fastidiously in a surprisingly tiny nasal drawl.

With Stephens, she had two sons, Chris and Toby, who both became actors. When the marriage hit the rocks in 1975, after the couple had torn strips off each other to mixed reviews in John Gielgud’s 1973 revival of Coward’s Private Lives, Smith absconded to Canada with Cross – whom she quickly married – and relaunched her career there, far from the London hurly-burly, but with access to Hollywood.

She played not just Rosalind in Stratford, Ontario, but also Lady Macbeth and Cleopatra to critical acclaim, as well as Judith Bliss in Coward’s Hay Fever and Millamant in William Congreve’s The Way of the World (this latter role she repeated triumphantly in Chichester and London in 1984, again directed by Gaskill). But her films at this time especially reinforced her status as a comedian of flair and authority, none more than Neil Simon’s California Suite (1978), in which Smith was happily partnered by Michael Caine, and won her second Oscar in the role of Diana Barrie, an actor on her way to the Oscars (where she loses).

Smith’s comic genius was increasingly refracted through tales of sadness, retreat and isolation, notably in what is very possibly her greatest screen performance, in Clayton’s The Lonely Passion of Judith Hearne (1987), based on Brian Moore’s first novel, which charts the disintegration of an alcoholic Catholic spinster at guilty odds with her own sensuality.

This tragic dimension to her comedy, was seen on stage, too, in Edna O’Brien’s Virginia (1980), a haunting portrait of Virginia Woolf; and in Bennett’s The Lady in the Van (1999), in which she was the eccentric tramp Miss Shepherd. Miss Shepherd was a former nun who had driven ambulances during blackouts in the second world war and ended up as a tolerated squatter in the playwright’s front garden. Smith brought something both demonic and celestial to this critical, ungrateful, dun-caked crone and it was impossible to imagine any other actor in the role, which she reprised, developed and explored further in Nicholas Hytner’s delightful 2015 movie based on the play.

She scored two big successes in Edward Albee’s work on the London stage in the 1990s, first in Three Tall Women (1994, the playwright’s return to form), and then in one of his best plays, A Delicate Balance (1997), in which she played alongside Eileen Atkins who, like Dench, could give Smith as good as she got.

The Dench partnership lay fallow after their early years at the Old Vic together, but these two great stars made up for lost time. They appeared together not only on stage, in David Hare’s The Breath of Life (2002), playing the wife and mistress of the same dead man, but also on film, in the Merchant-Ivory A Room With a View (1985), Zeffirelli’s Tea With Mussolini (1999) and as a pair of grey-haired sisters in Charles Dance’s debut film as a director, Ladies in Lavender (2004). Smith referred to this latter film as “The Lavender Bags”. She had a name for everyone. Vanessa Redgrave she dubbed “the Red Snapper”, while Michael Palin, with whom she made two films, was simply “the Saint”.

With Palin, she appeared in Bennett’s A Private Function (1984), directed by Malcolm Mowbray – “Moaner Mowbray” he became – in which an unlicensed pig is slaughtered in a Yorkshire village for the royal wedding celebrations of 1947. Smith was Joyce Chilvers, married to Palin, who carries on snobbishly like a Lady Macbeth of Ilkley, deciding to throw caution to the winds and have a sweet sherry, or informing her husband matter-of-factly that sexual intercourse is in order.

She had also acted with Palin in The Missionary (1982), directed by Richard Loncraine, who was responsible for the film of Ian McKellen’s Richard III (1995, in which she played a memorably rebarbative Duchess of York) and My House in Umbria (2003), a much-underrated film, adapted by Hugh Whitemore from a William Trevor novella. This last brought out the very best in her special line in glamorous whimsy and iron-clad star status under pressure. She played Emily Delahunty, a romantic novelist opening her glorious house in Umbria to her three fellow survivors in a bomb blast on a train to Milan. One of these was played by Ronnie Barker, who had been at architectural college with Smith’s two brothers and had left them to join her at the Oxford Playhouse. Delahunty finds her new metier as an adoptive parent to a little orphaned American girl.

She was Mother Superior in the very popular Sister Act (1992) and its sequel, and her recent films included a “funny turn” as a disruptive housekeeper in Keeping Mum (2005), a vintage portrait of old age revisited by the past in Stephen Poliakoff’s Capturing Mary (on television in 2007) and as a solicitous grandmother of a boy uncovering a ghost story in Fellowes’s From Time to Time (2009).

As this latter film was released she confirmed that she had been diagnosed with breast cancer and had undergone an intensive course of chemotherapy, but had been given the all-clear – only to be struck down by a painful attack of shingles, a typical Maggie Smith example of good news never coming unadulterated with a bit of bad.

Her stage appearance as the title character in Albee’s The Lady from Dubuque at the Theatre Royal, Haymarket, in 2007 was, ironically, about death from cancer. She returned to the stage for the last time in 2019, as Brunhilde Pomsel in Christopher Hampton’s one-woman play A German Life, at the Bridge theatre, London.

Cross, who was a real rock, and helped protect her from the outside world, died in 1998. But Smith picked herself up, and went on to perform as sensationally and beguilingly as she had done all her life, including memorable appearances in the Best Exotic Marigold Hotel films (2011 and 2015) and two Downton Abbey movie spin-offs (2019 and 2022). Her final film role was in The Miracle Club (2023), co-starring Kathy Bates and Laura Linney.

She had been made CBE in 1970 and a dame in 1990, and in 2014 she was made a Companion of Honour. Her pleasure would have been laced with mild incredulity. A world without Smith recoiling from it in mock horror, and real distaste, will never seem the same again.

She is survived by Chris and Toby, and by five grandchildren.

🔔 Maggie Smith (Margaret Natalie Smith), actor, born 28 December 1934; died 27 September 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

#just for books #Maggie Smith #in memoriam

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ofstoriesandstardust · 2 years ago

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what they’ll say about us (j.h.s.)

a/n: this is my new hockey AU! i danced and ice skated as a kid but was only ever able to do it recreationally and i know nothing about hockey so this has taken some research but there is still going to be inaccuracies. please bear with me! a lot of this will be explained as the story progresses but in order to understand this story, you need to know that the reader is Bradley Bradshaw’s little sister. Goose lives but Carole dies of cancer when Bradley was 8. Goose left the Navy to care for his kids, but Maverick and Ice stayed & are still in the Navy at the time of this story (me writing Icemav in again lol). also, Charlie had a promising ice skating career that she gave up for her contract work - she ends up re-locating in San Diego to work as a coach. Cyclone is ex-Navy and coaches a hockey team (because I said so). that should be everything; please enjoy!!

summary: (Re-)Meeting Jake Seresin and every moment after.

touch | main masterlist | top gun: maverick masterlist | house of gold masterlist

warnings: food mentions, mentions of depression,��parent death, cheating, i did research but i still made shit up anyways

word count: 2,354

The cool bite of the air around the ice nips at your skin as you push away from the edge of the rink, calling out for your duo partner. He turns, offering you a grin. “Well, if it isn’t my favorite Bradshaw.”

You smirk, accepting his hug as you glide over to him.

Just three months younger than you, you and Tyler had skated in the rink together forever, it seems like. There wasn’t a day since you had started skating in the first place where the two of you hadn’t skated together, whether it was competitive or performative or just for fun.

Off the rink, the two of you had known each other since you were in diapers practically. Bradley befriending Natasha Trace on the first day of kindergarten had meant the Trace and Bradshaw families were fast friends.

Tyler had been an ever-present constant. His family had been there since your Mom’s cancer diagnosis, even though you were far too young to remember those years, and everything that came after. It was his family who had suggested you take your ballet training and put it towards something useful when you got diagnosed with depression at just 11. It had been you Tyler had come out to when you were 16.

As you had gotten older though, as your skills progressed, your coach, Charlotte Blackwood, had pulled you for more solo performances every year. She talked a big game, planting ideas of the Olympics and national titles into your head, much to your father’s dismay. She knew you had the most potential when you stepped out on the ice alone, commanding everyone’s attention to you and you alone.

Meaning that this year would be the first time in a few years that the two of you would skate a competitive piece together, along with a solo piece. When Charlie had told you the news, calling to schedule the practices, you had been thrilled.

You hadn’t seen Tyler as much as you would’ve liked over the last year, focusing more on your routine that would end up making you one of the highest-ranked skaters in the state of California than you did anything else, including your graduation from high school.

Charlie always told you to have your eye on the prize, to think long-term, and you knew exactly what long-term she was thinking of.

Charlie didn’t need to know just yet that somewhere eulogy the way your long-term had diverged from hers, a whole new goal on the horizon.

“How was New York?” You ask, pulling away from him.

He shrugs. “You know how it is.”

You laugh, reaching out to nudge his shoulder. “Actually, I don’t know how it is. Never been to New York, remember?”

He gives a half-shrug as he grins. “Well, maybe you will someday soon. You still thinking about Juilliard?”

You nod. “Yes, but shush about that in front of my brother. And Charlie. No one knows I’ve been talking to one of their scouts. It’s a surprise.”

He tilts his head. “Surprise or secret?”

“Secret.” You say, giving him a look. “And we aren’t discussing Juilliard anymore, so quit asking me about it.”

He sighs, nodding as he accepts your statement. “Speaking of your brother, I heard from Nat that the team’s getting a new co-captain.”

You raise an eyebrow.

The accomplishment your brother treasured most in this world was leading his team as their Captain for what would be the third year in a row. The team had done well under him, looking up to him and following his lead, even beating out the rival team for a spot at the regional tournament last year.

Having to give up that sole responsibility to share with someone else was not something he would take lightly.

“Brad’s not gonna be thrilled.” You pause, biting your lip as you think through his words again. “Wait, how does Nat even know about that?”

“Coach Simpson texted their group chat to warn them of their new arrival today. Bradley got the text while he was at my house.”

You furrow your eyebrows, a pit settling in your stomach at the look in his eyes. “Why do I get the feeling there’s more to this that I’m not gonna like?”

Tyler offers you a knowing grin, crossing his arms. “Word on the street is that it’s Jake Seresin.”

The sound of lockers opening and closing echoing through the locker room greets his ears. He takes a deep breath for the storm he’s about to walk into, shouldering the locker room doors open. Simpson’s already waiting for him, glancing up from his watch.

“Ah, Seresin, you’re right on time.”

“Hey Coach.” He says, taking a step forward into the locker room as the team takes notice of his presence. “Thanks for having me and letting me join.”

“Well, I’d be a fool not to take someone of your caliber, kid.” Simpson clears his throat, cutting off the muttered whispers echoing through the row of players. “As you all saw in my text to you earlier today, we are joined by a new co-captain this season. I expect you all to treat him as you would any other player. Bradshaw-” Simpson calls out, waiting for the brunette to meet his eye. “I expect you to behave in the way I demand from my captains. That means no fights on and off the ice. Do we understand?”

Bradley nods, even as the way his eyes narrow at Jake says otherwise. “Yes Coach.”

“Good. Any rivalry that the two of you might have had between one another is behind you, do you understand?”

“Yes Coach.” Both he and Bradley say, pulling themselves up to their full heights.

Simpson sighs, in a way that signals he probably knows trying to get Jake and Bradley to put their differences behind them is futile.

“Welcome to the team Jake.”

Your face dropped.

“No.”

Tyler smirks, nodding his head. “Yes. your favorite-” You make a noise of disgust in the back of your throat. “-rival captain has come to join the team this year.”

You groan, reaching up to rub your temple. “I don’t even know what to say to that.”

“I’m just not sure what’s going to be worse. The fact that he knew you personally and still kept Robinson’s cheating a secret or the absolute beating your brother is going to give him.”

“I never should’ve dated Brett.” You mumble.

He snorts. “Dating someone on the rival team was not one of your smartest decisions, I’ll give you that.”

“I’m not ever going to live it down, am I?”

He sighs, shaking his head. “’M afraid not.”

“Okay, you two.” Charlie voice echoes form across the ice. “Sorry I’m running behind, there was a bit of confusion as to who had the ice and for how long today.”

“’S okay.” Tyler calls out. “Baby Bradshaw and I were just getting caught up on the drama of the new hockey captain.”

You toss him a withering look while Charlie sighs. “Don’t even mention their new Captain, Trace. You know how I feel about the two of you hanging around Cyclone’s team.”

“I’m never dating another hockey player ever again, cross my heart hope to die.” You saw, raising a hand.

“Why would you, after the hell Robinson put you through?”

“That’s enough Ty. Have you guys warmed up yet? I want to start in on our choreography for the routine as soon as possible.”

“I warmed up before I got on the ice.”

“Same here.”

“Great. Take a couple laps you two, and then we’ll be getting into the skills.”

The two of you push off, skating away from her.

“Well, you excited to be back? Even with Juillard on the mind?”

“I said we weren’t talking about that anymore. As of this moment, forget I ever even told you about it. But yes, I’m excited to be back on the ice. Never stops feeling like home.”

He claps Javy on the shoulder as he walks past. “Good to see you Machado.”

The man squints at him as he walks past. “Saw you last night, Jake.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as he steps over the bench in between Javy and another player known by the nickname Fritz. “That you did Machado.”

Javy shrugs, standing up as he pulls his locker open. “That happens when you live together. You know, you see one another.”

He pushes the man’s shoulder as Javy laughs. He pulls the locker next to Javy open after Javy gives him an affirming nod from the questioning look Jake shoots him.

“Don’t worry, we’ll get you a plaque with your name on it soon enough. Then everyone will know exactly which locker belongs to the esteemed Jake ‘Hangman’-”

“Seresin.”

Both he and Javy turn, facing Bradshaw. Bradley’s drawn up to his full height, eyes dark, voice firm. Fritz mumbles something under his breath, earning him a nasty look from the brunette.

“Yes Bradshaw?” He says, forcing a sickly sweet smile. It’s polite, but it’s fake, and everyone in the locker room knows it. “How may I help you?”

“Don’t get too comfortable here, Seresin. You’ll be out of here before you can say boo.”

He cocks his head. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a promise.”

“Ay, Charlie! You were supposed to be off the ice fifteen minutes ago!” Cyclone shouts as you skate past. You pause, slowing down as you turn to see the approaching hockey team.

She narrows her eyes, skating over to the edge of the rink. “We have it for another fifteen minutes. I checked.”

“That’s not possible.”

She tilts her head. “Can’t help it if you got your ice times mixed up Coach.”

“Bradley.” You hiss. Your brother turns his head away from the normal occurrence of the two coaches bickering to where you’re standing on the ice. “Are you still driving me home after practice?”

He nods. “Yes, because Dad’s having dinner with Ice and Slider tonight, remember?”

You nod. “Yeah, I vaguely remember him telling me that.”

He shakes his head. “Jesus, I think you need to pay attention more when Dad talks to you.”

“I don’t think it’s a matter of paying attention. Dad really only communicates with me via group chat.”

“You’re so dramatic, you know that right?”

“Baby Bradshaw.” A voice calls from behind your brothers shoulder, the boys moving to reveal Jake Seresin. Bradley half-turns, giving Jake a look that would put him six feet under. Jake doesn’t seem to care too much, his gaze burning you as he holds eye contact. “Good to see you again.” He says, offering you the charming smile he offers any girl he’s trying to woo.

You would recognize the mega-watt smile from anywhere, memories of him flashing it to girls who was trying to bed at after-game celebrations you shouldn’t have been at in the first place flashing through your mind.

“Funny Seresin, can’t say the same about you.”

His hand flies up to his heart. “Ooo, you wound me baby. Dost thou really hate me so much?”

“Hey!” Charlie calls, catching your attention. She snaps towards the ice where Tyler is practicing his triple quad jump. “Go.”

You sigh, skating away from the ice. Distantly, you hear Reuben chuckle.

“Man Seresin, if you’re gonna survive on this team, the first and foremost thing you need to know is to stay away from Bradley Bradshaw’s baby sister.”

You yawn, tucking your knees up to your chest as you realize your phone is about to die. A quick glance up to the rink tells you that they are deep into a play, and even if they got off the ice at that exact second, it’ll be at least another half hour before Bradley’s ready to leave.

You click the device off, slipping it into the side pocket of your bag as you curl further up into yourself. A dying phone was a problem that could not be solved without a phone charger and you were straight out of luck there, having left yours on the floor of your bedroom this morning.

You could probably sleep, the practice running into the late hours as you waited for your brother to finish up. You close your eyes, the sound soft of the whistles and hockey sticks a comforting noise, a familiar one you welcome as you begin to doze off.

“Hey.” A voice calls, and you yawn again as you blink, clearing the sleep from your eyes. You look up to see your coach pulling her car keys from her bag. “You’re not home yet?”

You shake your head, stretching out your legs. “No, not yet. Simpson kept them late. Again.”

“And your Dad?”

“He went to dinner with Uncle Ice and Sli. You know how it is.” She nods, frowning slightly as she glanced at the time on her watch.

“They’re still out at- 11:33?”

You shrug. “I didn’t think to ask. I’ve waited later for Brad.”

You would’ve asked had you not already known he wouldn’t have responded.

She sighs. “Well, I’ll drive you home, okay? It’s late and I know you have ballet early in the morning.”

You nod, grabbing the bag of gear from the bench it was resting on as you waved a hand to your brother. He caught the movement, raising a hand back, before he focused in on practice, zeroing in on the play.

“You haven’t had dinner yet, have you?”

You shake your head as Charlie holds the door of the rink open for you. “No. I think Brad and I were just gonna eat leftovers or something when we got back to the house.”

“Well, how about we stop at McDonald’s on the way to the house?”

You raise an eyebrow at your coach. “Oh, it’s a McDonald’s night, now is it?”

She offers you a soft smile. “Why not? It is the first practice of the season. Might as well reward yourself before the hard work begins.”

You don’t miss the fact that Jake’s eyes are on you the whole time.

#jake hangman seresin #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin fic #jake seresin fic #top gun: maverick #top gun: maverick fic #house of gold

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afairytalestray · 2 years ago

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@storyweaverofgondor‘s Cats-pril day 14: rock ‘n’ roll. This was actually one of the first things I wrote for this event, so I’m very happy to finally get to share it! Also on Ao3 here.

Mungojerrie greeted the day by whacking his head off the top of his bunk yet again. He let out an angry grumble. Bunk beds sucked. Buses sucked. Bunk beds on buses double sucked squared. Being on the road was not all it was cracked up to be at all. But it was “all part of the rock ’n’ roll lifestyle”, apparently. He loved playing music, and being in a band with his best friends. He loved performing, and concerts, and the roar of the crowds… just not being on tour.

He gave his phone a quick glance. He had a whole bunch of notifications, but none of them were the messages he really wanted. Unsurprising, but still disappointing. He flomped back onto his pillow. When he, Tugger, Teazer, and Bomba had started playing together, they had never expected to actually get big. Now it seemed like everyone knew who they were! It was mad that when he turned on the radio, there was a very real chance he’d hear himself! That was awesome, and when the label had suggested a tour, Jerrie had thought it’d be great. It was, mostly, he just hadn’t thought he’d get so homesick.

Well, kind of homesick. The only family he really had was Teazer, and she was here with him. That was awesome, but damn did he miss Coricopat. Jerrie loved Cori with every fibre of his being, but Everlasting, he was so awful at checking his phone. His wonderful boyfriend was forever getting his head stuck in the astral plane or whatever, and forgetting that the thing needed to charge. This was normally not a problem. He was used to it. They lived together, so he got to see and speak to Cori all the time, to plonk his head in his lap while he was meditating, and feel the glorious scratch of his claws on his scalp. The fact that Cori was a trained masseuse was an added bonus, Jerrie just loved feeling close to him.

Teazer and Bomba didn’t get it at all. Teazer was living her best single life, and Bomba’s girlfriend Demeter was their travelling makeup artist, so was always nearby. Tugger got it, kind of. His boyfriend Misto was a principal dancer at the National Ballet, so their schedules often clashed, but Misto was half decent at checking his phone. Jerrie couldn’t help but feel a bit jealous when he saw Tugger glued to his screen.

But there was no point in getting moody about it. Cori loved him, this he knew, and that meant everything. Jerrie hopped down from his bunk, and padded to the front of the bus. They had been driving through the night to get to their next tour stop; where that was, Jerrie had long since lost track. He had no doubt it would be nice enough. Peering through the windscreen, he saw they were approaching a city he didn’t recognise.

“Be there in 20,” the driver told him. Jerrie plastered a grin over his face and went to get dressed.

He was slightly happier by the time their bus rolled to a stop. Bomba had informed him that they were stopping for a week here - a few nights of work and then a few days break - so they got to stay in a hotel that didn’t have wheels and had proper beds! Jerrie couldn’t wait. He hopped off the bus with a new spring in his step, and took a deep breath of fresh, not-bus air.

“Mungojerrie.”

Eh? Jerrie heard his name, and spun round. He knew that voice! Only one Cat ever full-named him. He gave a bellow of delight and charged forwards, launching himself onto Coricopat, who was walking up the street towards him. Cori let out that soft little laugh Jerrie adored so much, and Jerrie kissed him all over his beautiful face for several minutes.

“Corks! What are you doing here? I missed you! How’d you know we were here?” Jerrie gasped.

“Is it so astonishing that I know your tour schedule, Jerrie?” Cori hummed, leaning into the very tight hug Jerrie was now trapping him in.

“I don’t know my tour schedule!”

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Cori laughed quietly.

“But like, what are you doing here? Did the physic powers tell you that I missed you, or was it the gazillion messages on your phone?”

“I missed you and I wanted to see you,” Cori said simply. “I knew you had a few days off here, and I thought you might want to spend them together. Did I not tell you this?”

“No!” Jerrie squawked.

“Oh, I must have forgotten to respond to your messages. I thought I had. I’m here now, does this suit you?”

“OF COURSE IT DOES!” Jerrie picked him up and twirled him around, before kissing him again. Everlasting, he loved this Cat so much. How did he always know exactly what Jerrie needed? Sure, he could be better at answering his phone, but Jerrie wouldn’t trade him for the world.

#coricojerrie #cats-pril2023 #cats-prilday14 #Mungojerrie #tuggoffelees #demelurina #Coricopat #the rum tum tugger #Bombalurina #rumpleteazer #cats the musical

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tutuandscoot · 2 years ago

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I’m fascinated about Tessa’s dancing past 💕Did she take dance classes when she was very little and before meet Scott?

Is it true that she was invited to participate in a Nutcracker ballet at Canada's national ballet? 😍

Yes she was put in dance classes and gymnastics at about 3 (following after her sister) I’m guessing she did most styles but took a liking to ballet. When she was 9 she attended the CNBS summer school in Toronto which was a month long program. At the end she was offered a permanent place there but at this point she and Scott had been together about 2 years and she chose their partnership over the school. She says in her 9 year old little brain she figured choosing skating allowed her to ‘have it all’ because she could still dance and ballet would really help her skating but going to the school she wouldn’t be able to keep skating- ballet in a very narrow focus and career path and there are very few other activities you can participate in that won’t jeopardise your training. Let alone moving to Toronto and dancing 5 days a week after school there would be no time to skate let alone with Scott 2+ hours away. But a big part of that decision even unconsciously was she really felt a strong connection with him and what they were creating together. She went to the summer school again the following year and they again offered her a place but she said no again (I’m pretty sure when she went this time she didn’t stay for the full month long program because of skating commitments).

So she continued to dance at her studio in London (her teacher was Jennifer Swann who choreographed Carmen as well as some of their exhibitions) I’m assuming until they moved to Kitchener/Waterloo because she said she went on pointe which is usually at around 10/11 yrs. After that they both would’ve been doing ballet classes several times a week as part of their training schedule in K/W and Canton.

Yes she was it was a walk on role in 2014 or 2015, so she wasn’t “dancing” like on pointe with the company dancers or anything but she still got to be onstage with them which is really cool that company remained part of her life.

To bring it full circle their last program Wish You Were Here was choreographed by Guillaume Cote, a principal dancer with CNB and they learned it in the company studios which is just so beautiful to me.. she gave up this place for Scott 20 years ago and now they would learn their last dance together in this place she could’ve had but is probably so glad she didn’t because she had had this incredible journey with Scott instead ❤️

#the company is actually called ‘national ballet of Canada’ but I don’t want to confuse peeps with the acronym ‘NBC’

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ariparri · 2 years ago

Text

Biographical Information

Full Name: Veruca Carlyn McQuaid

Born: August 23, 1973

Blood Status: Pureblood

Ethnicity/Nationality: Irish

Also Known As:

Vera

Vee

Ruca (by Diego)

Signature:

Relations:

Wilhelmina McQuaid (mother)

Elroy McQuaid (father)

Coby McQuaid (brother)

Magical Characteristics

Boggart: Kelpie

Wand: 12” Redwood, Dragon Heartstring core and supple flexibility

Patronus:

Arctic Wolf (formerly)

Leopard

Amortentia:

Berry Tarts

Carnations

Autumn Leaves

Lemon Tea

Affiliation:

Auror (formerly)

Ballet Instructor

House: Slytherin

Loyalty:

Mac Uáid Family

Ivey Family

Khanna Family

Caplan Family

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕About〔

Veruca Carlyn McQuaid is an Irish witch born into a pureblood family, and is the second child to Elroy and Wilhelmina McQuaid. She attended Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry from 1984-1991 and was sorted into the Slytherin House. She excelled in Defence Against the Dark Arts and Flying classes at school. After graduation, she becomes an Auror. Veruca later marries Diego Caplan. They have two daughters, Marisol and Carina, and a younger son, Ruairí. She continued to work as an Auror some time after the war before resigning and later became a ballet instructor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Background〔

Veruca was born late August in 1973 to Elroy and Wilhelmina McQuaid. She is a pure-blood witch and a member of the noble House of Mac Uáid. Veruca and her older brother Coby grew up in the Mac Uáid Manor in Kinsale, Ireland.

As a child, Veruca was a shy girl who always hid behind her parents or brother. Coby had taken Veruca to the nearby park where they met some of the neighborhood kids. Two of the kids that she spent time with were Carson Ivey and Merula Snyde. Veruca and Carson were quick to become close friends, while Merula took some time due to her attitude.

Since Veruca was an emotional child, she's had sudden outburst with accidental magic and was taught at home by family members such as Obsidian, Miksa, and Selma to prevent any mishaps within a muggle school. She eventually learned how to control her magic, and some basic level of reading and writing that she no longer needed private tutoring. Though her mother wanted to keep homeschooling her, Elroy's insistence that it will be good for Veruca to be around other kids especially since Carson would be with her, Wilhelmina eventually gave in and Veruca later went to public school.

Veruca showed a keen interest in quidditch from a young age. During one of the family reunions, her father Elroy took part in the quidditch competition. Veruca was on the sidelines watching her father play and nearly fell over the railing because she wanted to be with her dad. Elroy eventually taught Veruca how to fly a broom and play quidditch. Veruca enjoyed playing as a beater and learning how to do a bunch of tricks on the broom, most of which nearly gave her parents a heart attack.

During a camping trip, Veruca found a baby bat out of its nest with a broken wing. Wanting to help the small animal, Veruca brought the bat to her father and they both took care of it. At the time, since she was very young herself, Veruca had been calling the bat "Gambyt." The name eventually became "Gambat" with Elroy helping his daughter with her pronounciation. When Gambat was finally healed, Veruca tried to get him to go back to his nest but every time Veruca put him down Gambat would fly back into her hands and cling onto her. Seeing how Veruca and Gambat have formed a bond, Wilhelmina and Elroy let their daughter keep the bat.

When Coby went missing, Elroy and Wilhelmina tried not to let Veruca outside of the manor to avoid any publicity. Veruca was never really left alone, always accompanied by either her parents or one of the manor staff. Since she was still a kid, Elroy let her continue playing just in the yard. He even allowed Carson and Merula to come over so Veruca wouldn't be lonely. Carson was a good distraction for Veruca, both were making the best of the situation as best as kids can. However, with Merula, and how her parents were sent to Azkaban, had been very antagonistic towards the two. The two were confused that Merula would treat them horribly, insulting their families and even go as far to say Coby was dead.

Angered by Merula, Veruca pushed her to the ground and they started fighting. Wilhelmina and one of the maids came out to stop the girls from fighting, scolding them while checking them for any bruises. Merula ignored the maid tending to her, calling everyone there crazy before storming off, thus ending their friendship. Wilhelmina questioned the other two on what happened, Carson didn't know what to say. Veruca on the other hand was upset, and asked her mother if Coby really was dead before breaking down. Wilhelmina did her best to console her daughter.

After the fall out with Merula, Veruca had become more closed off and cautious towards people outside of her family. She's now more protective of the people she cares about and more observant towards those who try to get close to her. Carson continues to be by her side, being her closest friend and confidant. Veruca isn't too eager to make new friends, letting Carson be the more sociable one of the duo.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Appearance〔

Veruca has fair skin tone, green eyes, dark brown hair and stands at an average height of 5 feet and 3 inches or 160 centimeters.

Years 1 - 3

Years 4 - first half of Year 6

The first attire is her casual outfit. Second is her Valentine's Ball, and the third is her outfit for Festival Fun. She replaces the vest for the school sweater in her uniform.

Year 6 - Year 7

Veruca’s attire now consists of a black loose sweater over a black corset styled top and pants. In Year 7, she switches the top and sweater for a long sleeved top with a netted and meshed collar. Her hair is now cut asymmetrically short.

Post Hogwarts

Veruca has grown her hair out and tied in a loose and messy bun. She wore a purple top and a black and purple floral dress.

After her marriage with Diego, Veruca wears an off the shoulder maroon top with a light grey skirt. Her hair is swept over to the side and she wears a necklace with the letter D for Diego. On dates, Veruca wears a light blue strapless dress with a matching button up blouse over it.

When working as an Auror, Veruca puts on a black attire. She wears something reminiscent of her Year 7 attire, a long coat and gloves. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Personality〔

Veruca exhibits a cool and relaxed personality, usually sporting a neutral expression on her face. Her demeanor compliments this, being informal towards professors, prefects and fellow classmates. She occasionally can be quite irritable, moaning in annoyance or sighing in displeasure when it comes to anyone, or anything she dislikes. Her Irish accent comes out sometimes whenever she's irritated, it also comes out whenever she gets embarrassed.

Veruca can be mischievous and playful at times. When Rowan came up with the idea of having a pillow fight using the Depulso spell they learned in Charms, Veruca claimed it to be a stupid idea but later engaged in the activity the same night with her friend.

She apparently also loves cute things, as when she first saw the swarm of Puffskeins during Care of Magical Creatures and she was enamored by them, hugging a handful of them. She gets easily embarrassed if someone were to catch her in this state.

In spite of her outward calm, she is prone to react rather passionately about threats to those she deeply cares about. Veruca describes herself as someone who was always blaming herself, for all the harm that she's caused to those dear to her. Several examples are when Rowan was struck with ice from the Ice Vault, and when Ben casted Langlock on Charlie. She even places her friends over her own pride, going as far as to shed tears openly in the Great Hall for Rowan's memorial after witnessing her death at the hands of Rakepick.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Magic Skills〔

Dueling

★★★★★

Flying

★★★★★

Charms

★★★★✰

Potions

★★★✰✰

DADA

★★★★★

Herbology

★★✰✰✰

Transfiguration

★★★✰✰

Divination

★★✰✰✰

History of Magic

★★✰✰✰

Care of Magical Creatures

★★★✰✰

Muggle Studies

★★★★✰

Astronomy

★★★★✰

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Possessions〔

Broom

Comet One Eighty

Pet

Gambat

Wand

12” Redwood, Dragon Heartstring core and supple flexibility (formerly)

Enchanted Carnation

A carnation that was charmed to never wilt. Gift given by Diego after their first date.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Relations〔

Coby McQuaid Veruca and Coby have sort of a “complicated” relationship. The two clearly care for each other, but with how both were raised differently due to Coby's disappearance, they have a bit of a competitive relationship that also caused them to engage in childish disputes that continued on into adulthood. Coby may be the oldest, but he can definitely be the most immature between the two, something Veruca often points out, causing Coby to whine about it. They can never play any game together as their competitiveness gets out of hand and someone ends up tackling the other to the ground.

Carson Ivey Veruca's most trusted companion, and childhood friend. The two have known each other since they were 5.They both know almost everything about each other, including their deepest secrets. They have done everything together since childhood. The two also have their own special handshake they made up when they were kids, they still do it even into their adulthood. With Carson's intellect and Veruca's cunning the two make a formidable duo and can cause chaos if they so please. They both know when the other is feeling down about something and are quick to bring it up before the other tries to play it off as something else.

Rowan Khanna Veruca’s closest friend, whom she confides in when she cannot tell Carson something. Veruca trusts Rowan so much, she was the only one who knew about Veruca’s crush on Diego. During the period that they attended Hogwarts, Rowan is revealed to be an exceptionally good roommate. Veruca mentions that Rowan has sweet little quirks, such as folding back the pages in text books of subjects she thinks Veruca would struggle on. She also leaves messages on the mirror when Veruca takes a shower and lets Veruca climb into her bed when she’s had a bad dream. Veruca grows very concerned when Rowan gets hurt during their ventures to the Vaults after she was struck with ice, and cries at her memorial in the Great Hall.

Chiara Lobosca Chiara is another of Veruca’s closest friends. Veruca turns to Chiara when she needs more of a compassionate mindset over logical ones. Veruca cares about Chiara’s wellbeing and always makes sure to ask if she’s doing okay, she even takes the liberty to drag Chiara along with her, not wanting her to be alone. Veruca's fiercely protective over her, and wouldn't hesitate to get into a fight if someone tried to mess with Chiara. After the events that happened in Sixth Year, Chiara was the only one Veruca was able to go to for comfort when she was in such a vulnerable state, and in turn, Veruca would get enraged whenever something or someone tries to hurt Chiara.

Diego Caplan Despite having classes together, Veruca and Diego only started hanging out after the former went to seek Diego out for extra dueling tips. Diego hits on Veruca, but much to the surprise of Rowan, knowing Veruca has always scared these kinds of people away, Diego receives positive results. Veruca even admits to liking when Diego calls her “Ruca.” After Diego helps her with her dueling skills, Veruca hints a liking or attraction to Diego to the point of admitting to Rowan that she had a crush on the Hufflepuff. Veruca’s attraction towards Diego is further evidenced when he starts hanging out with Carson and Jae. Elroy even notices how Veruca interacts with Diego during the summer and teased the two for how much they reminded him of his and Wilhelmina's relationship when they were young. Few years after Hogwarts, the two get married and have three children, and Veruca appears to be even more open about her feelings with Diego.

Jae Kim Jae is Veruca’s detention buddy and fellow troublemaker. Both he and Veruca tend to roast each other in greeting. When Veruca is in a tight pinch with certain items and objects, Jae’s always there with the right stuff, usually offering them to her at a ‘small,’ discount. Jae is also the only one Veruca can act all smug and casual around as they both have a handful of similarities.

Skye Parkin Veruca and Skye have a sort of competitive friendship. Having a brother herself, Veruca knows what it’s like being pressured by family to be the best they can be. They often get into minor disagreements when it comes to the way they study. Veruca even claims that Skye ripping out pages from a book is ‘a crime.’ When it comes to quidditch, the two work extra hard to win for their house, sometimes using that as a means to show off their skills. Despite playing different positions, Skye being a chaser and Veruca being a beater, they make a good team.

Tulip Karasu Like with Jae, Veruca and Tulip roast each other in greeting. Veruca likes Tulip’s style of pranking, as it reminds her of Carson’s. Although they don’t hang out as much as Carson does with Tulip, the two can be good friends and work well together. Veruca can relate to Tulip in regards to “rules are made to be broken” as Veruca always often gets herself into trouble whether it’s intentional or not.

Merula Snyde Once upon a time, the two were close childhood friends alongside Carson. However, after Merula’s parents were sent to Azkaban and Coby went missing, Merula went back against Veruca and severed ties with her. Veruca was heartbroken at the betrayal and eventually grew resentful of Merula. In Hogwarts, the two are always at odds against each other with Merula trying to ruin Veruca’s reputation even more. Near the end of their years at Hogwarts, Merula attempts at getting Veruca’s help yet the latter always sends her off on a goose chase.

Gambat Like his owner, Gambat likes to coax mischief making. He’s been with Veruca since she was a child and the two can talk to each other as if they understand what the other is saying. He’s a very cheeky and smug bat, he also likes to insult or roast Veruca, especially when it comes to her questioning her feelings or actions towards something.

Elroy & Wilhelmina McQuaid Veruca cares greatly for her parents. And while her mother was more on the strict side, Veruca knew her mother cared just as much for her. The fear of something happening to their daughter after Coby went missing was enough to cause Wil overbearing, Elroy was the one who usually had to calm and reassure her. On the other hand, Elroy adored Veruca. He always babied her when she was little, given in to her demands and wants. Elroy was the one who taught her how to fly a broom and introduced her to Quidditch. He was ecstatic when Veruca came home with her own Quidditch plaque.

Donagh & Nevaeh McQuaid Veruca adores her grandparents, Nevaeh always spoiled her with so much affection. Donagh, despite his stoic mannerism, has shown such gentle care whenever it came to Veruca. He treated her the same way he treated his daughter. When Donagh passed, Veruca held herself in her room until Nevaeh came in to comfort her. Nevaeh always insisted that her grandchildren go out and do things without needing her approval. Her reason is "because she's old, what would an old woman's approval matter anyway!" Nevaeh also would sneak some candy to Veruca whenever her mother wasn't looking.

Naoise McQuaid Grand Uncle Naoise was always a quiet and kind man. Like his brother Donagh, Naoise took gentle care over Veruca. Likewise with Veruca treating her uncle with care. The two have their own little tradition the same way Veruca has with every other family member. And that is storytelling. Whether it's Naoise recounting his past for Veruca, or Veruca telling her adventures with the vaults. Usually, Naoise is the one telling stories of his childhood since Veruca always wanted to know what her grandparents were like when they were young.

Áine Lavery Aunt Áine and Veruca's relationship can best be described as awkward niece and rich wine aunt. Since Áine has no children, she has taken to spoil her brother's children. When Áine found Veruca's little collection of brooches and pins, Áine would always buy one from whatever country she's visiting and give it to her niece. Áine usually ignores the articles in the Daily Prophet, until she finds a few articles with her niece being shown in a horrible light. Outraged, she took a chimera drawn carriage to Hogwarts, demanding her niece to clean up her act as she is a lady and not a ruffian. Veruca spent the entire time her aunt was at Hogwarts trying to be a perfect lady while also stopping her aunt from fighting Skeeter.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Etymology〔

The name Veruca is derived from the Slavic name veruscha/verushka (meaning true, honest, faith) and means vivacious and strong willed.

The original Gaelic form of McQuaid was Mac Uaid, which means son of Wat. The surname McQuaid was first found in County Monaghan (Irish: Muineachán) located in the Northern part of the Republic of Ireland in the province of Ulster.

The Irish name Carlyn claims descent from the O’Connors in Donegal where “Carlan” (from the Irish “carla” meaning a “wool-comb” and “an” meaning “one who” which roughly translates as “one who combs wool”) was in Irish O’Carlain or O’Caireallain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

〕Quotes〔

"I used to do ballet when I was younger… but I gave it all up. Wasn't planning on pursuing it as a career."

"My dad taught me how to fly a broom and play quidditch. The family has an entire room filled with all the quidditch plaques and trophies!"

"Coby and I could never play together. Someone always ends up cheating and getting tackled to the ground... we were both bad sports at the time."

"Felix is graduating! Who is gonna look after us now, Rowan?!"

"There's a lot about me that even Carson doesn't know. I like to keep it as a little mystery."

”Can you believe it? My own pet, my one pride and joy, calling me a coward! Liking someone is hard, okay, Gambat!!”

"I don't care what happens to you, Merula. You didn't care about the people you've hurt over and over again! And even now, you refuse to take responsibility for any of it. So why should I care about how you feel?!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Character Quizzes

Friendship Quizzes

Friendship Reward

Bat Plushie

Club Quizzes

Dragon Club - TBA

Sphinx Club - TBA

Date Quizzes

Garden Date - TBA

Courtyard Date - TBA

Date Reward

TBA

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Trivia & Fun Facts

• When Veruca casts Ridikkulus on her Boggart, it turns into Coby dressed in their mother's clothes and makeup.

• After her wand was destroyed by Rakepick, Veruca stuck with wandless magic.

• She used to dance ballet when she was younger but later quit after failing to get a part in the Sleeping Beauty ballet. She eventually went back to practicing the art when Diego helped regain her courage to dance again. She now practices contemporary ballet then went back to classical ballet after some time.

• She owns a whole bunch of bat themed accessories.

• Veruca has a box filled with antique brooches and pins.

• Veruca and Carson’s birthday tradition involves smashing cake into the celebrant’s face. Friends are also encouraged to take part as they each take a turn smashing or smearing cake onto the birthday star.

• Carnations weren’t always a favorite of Veruca’s until she received a bouquet of one by a certain Hufflepuff.

#veruca mcquaid #hphm profile #hogwarts mystery #hphm #harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm mc #hogwarts mystery mc

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milady-pink · 1 year ago

Text

Bride of the Living Corpse

Summary: Christine reflects and finally admits to herself the feelings she has been harboring for her teacher, but is it too late to tell him? As they say, true love never dies.

Word Count: 4482 | Graphics: @firefly-graphics

Warnings: Graphic depictions of death/ corpse, another character death, post-mortem, necrophelia if you squint

Part 1 Part 3

Nothing could compare to the agony that Christine currently felt.

For the past two and a half hours she has been sitting on an elegant chaise lounge in the DeChagny’s parlor room. As much as she wanted to listen to whatever Raoul was droning on about, she found the swirls of the floral pattern on the chaise far more interesting. Unfortunately Christine has wanted to leave the decadent manor the second she left the comfort of her carriage and stepped foot into the grand foyer.

When she first got up in the morning all she could think of was getting to reconnect with her dear childhood friend. Christine couldn’t stop talking her dresser’s ear off about how much fun the two of them used to have on the beaches of Perros-Guirec, about the joy they had during his violin lessons with her late father, hearing tales of the dark north, Little Lottie, and the goblins that lived in the grassy hills. The poor carriage driver could barely hear her joyous ranting about how she thought reuniting with her old friend seemed like a sign that their souls were meant to cross from the whistling of the chilling October wind.

All of the happiness left Christine when the dashing young Viscount started to talk. Slowly, like a dying oil lamp losing its light, Christine started to grow increasingly bored with the topic of conversation. It wouldn’t be fair to say she wanted to leave immediately he parted his mustache from his bottom lip, but it certainly struck Christine within the first hour that the carriage was most likely no longer waiting for her to make an escape. After the formalities of greetings and friendly, yet chaste, hugs, the river of conversation seemed to have suffered a drought. They sat awkwardly by, Christine on her chaise lounge and Raoul on a loveseat opposite her, staring anywhere but at the other person and trying to find something to talk about.

They had tried the weather, how the night was so cold and if sleep was able to come for easily; which fizzled out quickly when both parties stated the cold was indeed frightful, but a warm bed is the best remedy. Christine asked about his sisters, leading to Raoul stating that they were married and living their lives happily with their families. Raoul tried asking about Christine’s father, which ended quickly when she revealed he had passed away. By that point there was little to no hope in saving the afternoon, at least until a servant brought out a tray of tea and finger foods for the pair. Somehow, invigorated by the cucumber sandwiches and sugary black tea, Raoul started on about the Games of the VI Olympiad that had started in April and its 22 nations, 2,008 participants, 110 events, and countless other numbers and facts that Christine tried desperately to block out.

If she was to be honest should he ask, which he never did, Christine would have to say she didn’t even know there was an international sports competition happening as they spoke in England. Although she loved ballet and getting her heart rate up, Christinefound no interest in talking about other people participating in a sport you don’t even know how to play.

So here they sat, Raoul going on about France’s two gold medals in fencing and how Eugène Grisot is to be one of the best archers in history, all while Christine picked dead skin from her fingers in desperate search for something entertaining. While her partner kept yapping on about technique and sports drama, it gave Christine the proper amount of time to regard the two men in her life.

First there was Raoul, sweet, dependable, boring Raoul. When they were young all time spent together was fun and glee; even on the gloomiest of days, Raoul’s head of blonde hair acted as a halo of what the day was to bring. He had always been her sunshine, even when they moved apart, Christine would think back on those days spent on the beach playing with the boy who had rescued her red scarf from the frozen ocean. Now, however, Christine thought she was going to go insane from boredom if she had to listen to his ramblings about France winning a gold medal in “water motorsports” despite only being added to the games since 1900. It seems like that adventurous young boy from childhood has grown up into the sport enthusiast sitting before her.

This made Christine think even more, about her future to be specific; if she could barely stand thirty minutes without losing her mind with Raoul, how was she supposed to spend the rest of her life with him? Although a young woman, Christine knows the position she was given in today’s society having grown up struggling for money with her father. It was a common wish for many of the ballet rats and chorus girls, including herself, to dream of a rich sweetheart to take them away from the city and marry into a life of luxury, regardless if they loved their partner or not. At least for Christine, the idea of marrying a man whom she did not love was a terribly hard thing to wrap her head around; lucky for her she was awarded a visit from two opposing suitors. One was the blonde headed boy previously mentioned, someone Christine certainly saw herself happy to marry even if it meant marrying a friend rather than the love of her life. Now, she didn’t even think she could enjoy a life of luxury with her dear friend Raoul given how little they enjoy the same things.

Which brings us to suitor number two: Erik.

Oh sweet, tempered, and beautifully talented Erik. Their first meeting and subsequent deception was less than admirable, but once Christine was given a chance to think about his actions and his apology for lying to the heartbroken girl, she found herself drawn even more to him. No longer the mysterious angel heaven sent to her by a deceased father, rather a disturbingly thin man in a dark suit who wore half a mask to hide his facial deformity. She wanted to know more about him, how he came to be living underneath the opera house, and especially how he learned to write and play such beautiful music. It felt like he truly was an angel despite not having the facial features of one. Ah, yes, his face. Now that Christine has seen it numerous times, even suggesting during lessons that he remove it for comfort's sake, Erik is still ashamed of his biggest sin and insecurity but at the time she ripped his mask from his face, she saw the real monster encompassed within him. A red hot anger, one so terrible she feared for her very life that night, arose through his tall frame and sprung from his mouth spewing insults and threats at her all the while stomping around his home like a child.

Looking back, knowing what she knows about his life, Christine would have reacted the same way. She really was lucky that the Persian, Nadir, had stopped by to surprise his friend and stumbled upon the scene; without him she wouldn’t have been able to escape from the house and row herself across the underground lake. It took weeks before Christine was able to look Erik in the eye again, after what he had called her. Even after that their lessons never were the same, not until she asked him to take off the mask, assuring him she was not frightened of his face; that it was his anger she feared. To this day she remembers the way his amber eyes, bright and shining from the candle light, softened when he realized the true reason for her distance. He apologized profusely, but Christine maintained she would only accept his apology if he took his mask off; which he did, with great trepidation. To his great surprise, however, Christine merely smiled at him and dared to bring a hand up to his ruing cheek, gently stroking her thumb across. So overcome with emotion was he that the poor suffering man dropped to his knees in front of her and grabbed at her skirts, bringing them to his deformed face and crying, wailing about how perfect she was and that he didn’t deserve her.

She thought she had killed him when she kissed his forehead.

Their lessons were never the same after that, having grown so much closer than ever thought possible. These thoughts of her maestro and how special he made her feel, his music that he wrote and played just for her, the feelings he evoked in her, made her grow sad knowing their last words had been those of anger and quite, possibly jealousy.

After spending great time lost in thought about the men in her life, Christine knew; she could never spend the rest of her life with Raoul, they had grown too far apart. He would always have a special place in her heart, but as of right now, she couldn’t envision a very happy future together if they couldn’t enjoy ten minutes alone together. Yet with Erik, she could spend everyday for the rest of her life with that curious man, not a word exchanged, their home only filled with music and the sounds of the crackling fire. They talked of everything from music to architecture, philosophy and different cultures and religions. Christine truly has been enlightened that the feelings he made her feel were those of love and longing.

And that is exactly what she told Raoul.

Running from the carriage to the Rue Scribe entrance, Christine had to pick up her skirts so as not to trip over them. She was a woman on a mission; to express all of the love she has found within herself for Erik to the man himself. For not another moment could she bear to think of him wallowing away down in the depths thinking she did not return the affections he showered her in every day.

Poor Erik, who never felt such a basic human kindness as a kiss to the forehead, the mere thought of his beloved student rejecting his love would surely kill him.

Making her way across the underground lake, Christine was so caught up in her thoughts and feelings for her true heart's desire, it didn’t come to her attention that she wasn’t breaking out in her usual sweat around her collar from the musty air that usually permeated under the earth. So caught up for fear that her favored maestro would be so distraught he wouldn’t even spare a glance towards her direction, Christine also failed to notice the chill that greeted her, or the bits of frost that decorated the crust of the lake.

Finally having reached the shoreline, Christine didn’t even take the time to ensure the boat would stay put, carding little is the two of them were stuck together in the little house, forced to spend every day in each others company and every night cuddled up beside the fire in the Louis-Phillippe sitting room. Upon entering the house however, Christine had the sinking feeling that those nights spent beside a fire would be a distant memory.

For starters, the door had been left wide open, very bizarre since Christine’s dearest maestro hates any and all possibilities for the outside world to make contact with his own. The next thing Christine noticed was the complete and utter disarray of his most beloved possessions; staff paper ripped to shreds and thrown about haphazard, ink spilled and soaked into the authentic Persian rug, having watched the woman who’d woven it for the Shah, or the broken plaster and canvas paintings that he himself had made in all of his artistic talent. Ruined. Everything was ruined, rendered completely useless.

But that wasn’t the worst of it.

Sitting in the center of the mess, in all of its disfigured glory, was his most cherished possession; the organ. Wood, splintered and rubbed raw of its lacquer, lay all over the mess of papers and broken plaster. The plush velvet bench that Christine dreamed countless times of sitting next to her teacher, resting her head against his bony shoulder, ripped down the middle with its feathered guts strewn across the sitting room; so much so that a few feathers had stuck and dried to the once wet ink splattered on the floral wallpaper. Stepping over the larger pieces of wreckage, Christine looked around at what destruction her seemingly gentle and soft-spoken love was capable of. Under her boot, a piece of paper caught her eye, having found the needle in the haystack considering the surrounding area. Reaching down to pick up the paper, Christine realized what it was the second it came into view. Written in spindly and intricate red lettering were the words;

Don Juan Triumphant

All of those sleepless nights, hours spent writing blindlessly by candlelight, years of working on the one thing he hoped to be remembered by, destroyed. Carrying the page close to her chest, Christine made her way once more through the destruction, stopping just before the ripped bench and shattered organ. Staring down at the gash, feathers peering out in a great contrast of white against blood red, Christine’s eyes started to well up. For reasons she cannot name, looking at this scene of complete chaos from hours passed, she felt an immense sadness towards her teacher. No matter how hard he tried to make himself, and Christine, believe that he was more than mortal, claiming he needed less sleep and food than the average man, that was all he really was. A man. A man who craved nothing more from life and God than to be welcomed into a space where others could appreciate his talent and personality for what it was, not asking to change anything. To love a woman and take her out for walks in public without anyone batting an eye. But because he was denied and denounced so much from so many people for so many years, an anger took solace within him, planting itself when he was a child, growing as he did into the fury that lives there now, feeding off of his deep fear of resentment and loneliness that encompassed his frail body.

Christine, far wiser beyond her years than anyone would give her credit for, knew that he was but a scared, scarred man who wanted nothing but to feel secure in knowing not everyone was out to harm him, physically or emotionally. Overcome with the sadness she felt for the man who so desperately wanted to be an angel, she wept softly into the destruction a broken whisper.

“Oh, Erik”

Uncomfortable and unnerved by the silence, Christine reached a shaking hand, the chill of the room finally setting in, and pressed her delicate index finger on a key, yearning to hear the music that happily haunts her on the surface and in her dreams. The note, remarkably still working but sadly far from in tune, rang out loudly into the house’s cold void.

Just as she was ready to leave the poor man to his peace, not wanting to hurt him more than she has, a low noise could be heard. Recalling the sound, Christine had good reason to think it came from the hallway that led to the two bedrooms and grande bathroom. Deciding to investigate, she followed the sounds to the dark hall, wrapping her arms around her torso to find some sort of warmth in this frozen land. The darkness made Christine fear she might have simply imagined the sound, so she decided to call out, hoping for a reply.

“Erik?”

Nothing.

But then.

“Mmmm…”

Surprise swept across Christine’s face, knowing for certain that her mind did not lie to her about the first noise. It was muffled and mumbled, but it was a sign and she had no idea for what. Again not wanting to over step her welcome in such a private man’s home, she called out yet again, seeking something more to urge her into the depths of his domain.

“Erik…are you alright?”

Again the muffled voice subtly hummed, but for Christine it was as loud as sirens. She urgently feared that he had gotten sick or caught a cold from the chill that drifted through, and his lack of response was his way of asking, begging her to nurse him back to health. With hurried steps she made her way down the lightless hall, ghosting her hand against the wall to ensure she was going in the right direction, making her way to his private bedroom. Christine’s hand hesitated to grasp the door handle, fearful thoughts handicapping her movements.

What if he believes her to be Monsieur Khan and demands she leave his home the second his eyes land on her? What if he is sick and would rather suffer than face her again? What if he never wants to see her again? With all of these thoughts, and many more, swimming around her head Christine had to find the strength within her to alleviate these worries. If she entered his most private domain and told her to leave, she would harden her nerves and help the man regardless if he wanted it or not. She would nurse and warm him up, all the while saying that he can refuse her company for the rest of his life after he was better; no matter how much that would pain her. So, with nerves steeled and shoulders squared, Christine grasped the handle tightly, turned, and pushed open the door.

The room was darker than the hallway, darker than the back of Christine’s eyelids, what little light seeped into the room illuminated a small path that stopped at the box in the center of the room. The coffin. That dreaded wooden contraption that her dear unfortunate maestro insisted he sleep in instead of a warm, soft bed so he could live the life appropriate for a living corpse. As she searched for a candle to light, Christine promised herself that she would make him change his ways and live a life for a proper man with all of the indulgences that he deserves.

After a few moments of searching, Christine found a single candle that was melted to an old end table, one of the few items of furniture in the makeshift catacomb. Finding a match beside the candle, she grasped it with nimble fingers and struck it against the table, evidently giving the room the much needed light it longed for to scare away the monsters from the dark corners. With some illumination, Christine made her way over to the coffin and began the arduous task of lifting the lid. The heavy wood made the job hard, but not impossible, for a young woman of Christine’s size and strength. Why her masked love chose to encapsulate himself entirely from the outside world, she would have to ask later.

Finally shoving the wooden lid off of the box, a loud thud rang out as it slammed onto the floor. Before getting to reunite with her beloved teacher, the most rancid smell, like that of rotted meat, hit her harshly and caused her to stumble backwards with her hands covering her nose. Taking a minute to clear her lungs and coffin of the dreadful air, she was left wondering for the umpteenth time why such an intelligent man would disparage himself and force his body to sleep in a wooden box made for the dead. The sounds of pained groans caught her attention, looking back at the box itself. Unfortunately for Christine, so caught up in her pitying thought for Erik she failed to notice the scratch marks left on the inside of the coffin’s lid.

Turning her attention to her maestro, Christine knew she had guessed correctly after seeing him for the first time since the bone chilling night. The poor man had indeed caught an illness, and a terrible one at that. His usually thin and grayish skin had become a ghoulish blue-green colour, spreading from his forehead to his collarbone before being covered up by his suit. The skin on his hands, the same sickening colour as his face, had developed sores of dark purple, almost black. And his face, though hard to see through the tears the offensive smell caused, was worse than what the stagehands described to scared chorus girls. His usual sunken eyes and thin lips had exaggerated through the night, the gaping hole that served as a nose had dark red substance around the nostrils, presumably to be dried blood. His lack of hydration has caused prominent lines and wrinkles to form all over his now leathery skin; Christine could almost count every muscle and ligament.

“Oh, Erik! You poor thing, we must get you some food and drink. Maybe a fire to warm you too.”

The sweet young thing told all of this to the being that used to be Erik, now nothing more than what most people feared he was; a living corpse.

Too disillusioned was she to believe that the dead could rise again, Christine reached her hand towards his forehead to try and determine if he had a fever and if so how far along it was. As she searched for any warmth, made harder with Erik’s persistence of his hands trying to push her away, all she could feel was the same icy chill that reminded Christine of cold marble.

“Erik please, we must get you to a fire.” She tried to explain, but was soon dismayed when his skeletal hands came to her shoulders, grasping at her, trying to bring her closer. The only thought Christine could make out was that he was no longer mad at her; indeed, he must have come to the same conclusion she had and wishes to make up for lost time. Flustered, with her cheeks burning and heart racing, Christine wanted nothing more than to close the gap between their lips and seal their love for good, to ease the hunger she saw growing in her dearest’s eyes. The only problem was the nagging feeling that she should wait, get him healthy again, or at least out of the blasted coffin first. But emotions ruled the kingdom of both male and female bodies, especially when it came to matters of the heart. Christine braced herself, gasping from arousal, before ending the distance and melding her lips to his. For months she had imagined what they would feel like against her own; thin yet soft and palatable for her own. The reality was a bit different, but not unwanted to her daydreams; although it was in haste, he certainly had a life inside of him that surfaced, moving his lips every which way across her own, seemingly wanting to taste every inch of her he could reach.

Too enthralled by the soaring kiss that she was receiving from her uniquely gifted maestro, Christine chose to ignore some of the more disturbing aspects of the kiss. For example, the unearthly taste that came when he opened his mouth poking out his gummy tongue in search of her own. The metallic taste and muddy texture would be enough for any young woman to start running the other way; but the lack of experience for the soprano caused her to believe this was the normal reaction. What she could not ignore, however, was the sharp sting that came from her lover, tugging and pulling on her bottom lip in a determined effort of making her his.

Christine was starting to get startlingly excited over the idea that her teacher might continue things further, with his hands grasping her shoulders and waist with such intensity that she feared he might rip the dress right off of her. The only sound she could hear, and was positive he did too, was the rushing of blood in her ears and the constant pounding of her heart, not to mention the thumping pulse between her legs. Not the various groans of pleasure coming from the ruined mouth of the thing holding her. So caught up in the rush of the moment, Christine pulled her head back so as to gasp in a breath of fresh air that was lacking from their kiss. As she gasped in breast after breath, her inamorato continued his path of love bites and careless kisses across her neck, décolletage, and stopped to affectionately nibble on her shoulder; which his greedy hands exposed. Stirring within Christine was a hunger she knew only his expertise could extinguish, having been the one to ignite the rivinous flame, she could still taste his dribble that had made its way into her mouth; mixed with the bits of blood that seeped out from his bite. All of his ministrations, combined with the emotions running rampant through Christine’s virginal veins, caused tears to well up in her eyes; the sheer amount of love she felt for this man and his desires for her was too much to handle.

All too suddenly however, the seemingly loving bites he was leaving on her shoulder soon started to hurt more than she thought they should have. Whenever she would converse with the older girls, more experienced than the young chorus girls like herself, they told stories of lovers soothing bites with laps of their tongue on the offended skin. Erik, it seems, is a rather aggressive lover leaving no room for Christine to escape his onslaught of nibbles. Which soon changed as, having found himself in need of the supple flesh under him, the blunt force of his teeth broke through the unblemished skin and tore away a piece to chew on as if it was merely a piece of undercooked mutton. The scream that emitted from her lips sounded and echoed into the air, so loud and so pained, it was to be the last note the soprano ever made. Blood immediately started to run down Christine’s shoulder and onto her dress, staining it a deep crimson almost reaching her knees with the steady flow.

The pain was so great that she started to sway on her feet, having lost an entire crater of skin that only left exposed arteries, muscle, and some tendons free for viewing. As Christine started to realize her mistake her pupils dilated, her vision overcome with a warm light and the most beautiful music she had ever heard reached her ears, reminding her of her father’s violin, music that she only ever heard when she was in the company of the living corpse. Her last thoughts were how she would finally be with her love, her dear maestro and true angel, Erik.

Eternally.

#phantom of the opera #christine daae #raoul de chagny #erik destler #musical fanfic #erik x christine #andrew lloyd webber #halloween #fictober23 #fanfic #zombies

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fantimati · 1 year ago

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No forgiveness in waters of Fontaine- preview

Lyney and Lynette have trouble with a trick the need for a mission.

Warnings: Fontaine spoilers. Completely self indulgent

"Lyney, this trick isn't going to work." Lynette spoke matter of factly. Sweat glistened from her face from hours of doing the same trick over and over again. Lyney sighed out of frustration.

They had been working on this trick for months now. But the mechanism behind it was just too loud.

"You're right Lynette. The audience would be able to hear everything." He dramatically plopped on his back. "But we worked so hard on it! It'd be a shame to have all that work go to waste..."

"I know what you're trying to do and it's not going to work." She sat down next to him. "It's not like we can make gears silent." Lynette conjured a tea cup.

"Dearest sister, you of all people should know that anything is possible on stage." He winked. She sighed.

"True. But like I said, the way it is now, won't work unless we find a way to mask the noise."

"Masking the noise..." She could physically see the cogs turning in head. "Oh! Lynette would you mind us inviting Florian-"

"Say something that's possible." Lyney watched her tail puffed up.

"Come on! Florian is a musician! He can play music over the noise."

"It's not about that. You know he won't come to Fontaine, even if we gave him a million mora." To Lynette, "impossible" was the only word to describe him. Impossible to convince and impossible to stand.

"I know we've butted heads with him a few times,but he's still Fontainian." Her tail puffed up more. 'butted heads' and 'few times' was an understatement.

"Florian? I don't think I've met him before..." Freminet, who had been silently watching thus far, spoke.

"That's because he doesn't hang around the other Fontainian orphans much." As a child, Lynette always saw him either alone playing his saxophone, or with those ballet dancers. She could understand wanting to be alone.

"What is he like?"

"Erm... He's unique-"

"Uniquely Annoying." Lyney looked at her with a face that said 'Please I'm trying to be nice.' but she didn't care.

"Oh! Um... Was he mean to Lynette."

"Nothing like that! We just had a difference in opinion that's all." Freminet tilted his head in confusion. But he did not ask more, to the twins' relief.

"We do need to at least invite him over. Or else our *private performance* can't go through." The performance that was a cover for a mission. That currently hinged in this mechanism to work.

"Does it have to be him? There has to be another way." At Lyney's pleading face she relented. "Fine. I'll go pack. I think he's in Mondstadt right now."

------

"You came all the way here to ask me that? What are you? Stupid?" Florian didn't even bother to look at them as he cleaned the inside of his saxophone. "You know I wouldn't go to Fontaine, even if you gave me 20 million mora." Lynette glanced at Lyney with as much disrespect as she could muster.

Florian's shiny black shook with his head. His umber skin was dyed black at the finger tips. Most likely from cleaning his too old saxophone.

Florian was a popular traveling musician. At least on the surface. He was a amazing spy and theif as well. Able enchant with his instruments and beauty while wringing you for all your worth.

"Please Florian. Just this once! You can't tell me you don't miss the sights-"

"The only sights I remember are the sewers." He held up the mouth peaice to the light.

"Uh- well. You could prove your music is superior to Fontainian music-"

"I can do that anywhere else."

Lyney rarely got so flustered. Always being in control of a conversation like a slight of hand trick, that was his specialty. But with this guy, it was impossible.

"Please Florian- we need you. Just this once, as a fellow member of the hearth." He pleaded.

Florian slammed the mouth piece down."This isn't about being a member of the hearth. This is about that rotten nation." He looked directly at Lynette. "You of all people should know that."

That night. That man. That basement.

Lynette would describe Florian as 'impossibe' to understand. He acted like he was from Fontaine. He greeted people in the traditional Fontaine way. He spoke like he was from Fontaine.

But the way he spoke of Fontaine was...not favorable. One thing not impossible to to understand was that he did not join Fontaine missions. Ever.

"Brother. This is a lost cause." She put her hand on his shoulder.

"Fine. But at least read the mission report." He pulled out the report from his hat and handed it to Florian. He relented and began to read it.

Lynette didn't expect anything to come of it. The same thing happens every time. They beg, he refuses, Lyney asks him to read the report, he humors them and refuses. But she watch as his faced changed from a bored expression to an intense one.

"...Émile Martel!" He whispered. The twins looked at each other in surprise.

"Do you know him?" Lyney asked.

"More than know him unfortunately." He forwned. They waited for him to elaborate but he didn't."... having a chance to get back at him is worth more than 20 million mora."

"So you'll do it?" Lyney asked cautiously.

"Count me in." Lyney cheered and Lynette stood in shock.

#Florian #lyney #Lynette #genshin impact #lynette Snezhevna #lyney Snezhevich #digging deep into house of hearth lore for this one #Lynette is fun to write

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foreveralwaysanauthor · 2 years ago

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Juliet's Basic Info

Name: Juliet Anna Grace Harmon

Juliet’s faceclaims were so much fun to find, but I feel like they all work out pretty well. In the same, left-to-right order, we have Sharon Tate for the 60s (Valley of the Dolls), Michelle Pfeiffer for the 80s (The Hollywood Knights), Heather Graham for the 90s (Twin Peaks and I swear her hair is blonde in the picture, it's just the lighting), and Kathryn Newton for the present (Lisa Frankenstein).

Nicknames: Jules, Julie, Smiley (one of the various nicknames her dad gave her over the years, but it seemed to be the only one to stick through everything), and Duckling (a nickname from her grandmother who helped raise her)

Age: 20

Date of Birth: July 17

Zodiac: Cancer

Birthstone: Ruby

Nationality: American and Welsh

Sexuality: Bisexual, but she doesn't realize it yet. Juliet always claims that she’s straight when asked, but she makes it perfectly clear that she would 100% drop a man for her best friends, so do with that information as you will

Birthplace: Wadley Regional Medical Center, Texarkana, Texas

Current Residence: Diamond Isle, Clearwater, Florida

Occupation: She doesn’t need a job because of her dad’s money, but works at Big Momma’s to watch the everyday chaos and be the first to overhear all the gossip between patrons. Deep down, however, she is an aspiring singer

Talents/Skills: She’s played the piano for years, she can figure out any math problem in her head, and she knows how to tell what needs to be fixed in cars and motorcycles because she spent a lot of time in her dad’s shops growing up and learned very quickly

Birth order: Only child

Parents: Mark Harmon and Eloise Chapman

Signature:

Height: 5’6” or 171cm

Eye Color: Hazel

Hair Color: Almost white blonde

Glasses or contact lenses: She needs glasses for reading, but refuses to wear them unless absolutely necessary

Distinguishing features: Two freckles on her face (one on each cheek), a flower tattoo on her right hip, and a flaming heart tattoo near the inside of her left elbow

Mannerisms: Humming constantly, will improvise a quick excuse just to leave a conversation/party, and chews gum like that girl from Charlie and the Chocolate Factory when she’s anxious

Health: Dyslexic and has blood pressure issues

Hobbies: Spending her dad’s money, ballet, horseback riding, violin, and crocheting

Greatest flaw (in their opinion): Her looks and how dependant she is on her dad. When it comes to her looks, Juliet knows she looks like a stereotypical Barbie doll and she feels like her appearance makes it hard to tell whether people like her for who she is or not. She makes sure to let others know about it being an issue for her. Juliet’s dependency on her dad, on the other hand, is a sore subject for her. Since her mom left, she clings to her dad like he’s the only thing in her life that matters. She almost hates how dependant she is on him even though she’s an adult and is more than capable of taking care of herself.

Best quality (in their opinion): Her creativity. She knows how to play whatever role is thrown her way. When she was with Xander’s group, she was used as “The Distraction” more than once and it was fun for her to come up with entire plotlines surrounding a false version of herself.

Biggest fear: While she would probably say snakes and confined spaces, her true fear is imperfection. Juliet’s mom drilled it into her head from a young age that she needed to look, act, and be perfect in order to get her love and attention. When her mom eventually left, Juliet did everything in her power to be as perfect as she could possibly be - perfect grades, perfect appearance, everything needed to be perfect or it wasn’t good enough. Her dad tries to break her from that every chance he gets, but sometimes it isn’t enough. She still gets panic attacks when something doesn’t go right or if she doesn’t succeed at something on the first try.

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

Favorite ice cream: Black cherry

Favorite color: Crimson red

Favorite number: 9 (her competition number for horseback riding)

Favorite songs: BITCH by Dani Taylor, Bills, Bills, Bills by Destiny’s Child, Breakfast by Dove Cameron

Favorite movies: Fireball 500, Heathers, Hello Dolly, The Devil Wears Prada, and Mean Girls

Favorite shows: Gilmore Girls, The Crown, Dickinson, Baywatch, and Charlie’s Angels

Favorite books: The Reappearance of Rachel Price by Holly Jackson, The Benevolent Society of Ill-Mannered Ladies by Alison Goodman, The Seven Husbands of Evelyn Hugo by Taylor Jenkins Reid, and Turtles All the Way Down by John Green

Favorite video games: Animal Crossing, Stardew Valley, and Virginia

A musical they like: My Fair Lady

A place they want to visit: Italy and Greece

#Juliet Harmon #character info #Juliet

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frankterranella · 2 years ago

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A Letter to my Grandchildren: Don’t Be Afraid to Dream Big Dreams

Recently, my daughter and son-in-law gave me the happy news that later this year I am going to be a grandfather to a new baby girl. I already have three wonderful grandchildren—Bryce (9), Caroline (7) and Giovanni (3) and I can’t wait to add a new female to even out the group. How Giovanni will feel about having a little sister I cannot say. But I think eventually he will love her as we all will.

Last month I turned 70, and looking back at those seven decades of living, I think it’s useful to try to distill what wisdom I have picked up, so that my grandchildren can have the benefit of my experience. As I prepare to welcome a new member of my family, I think the most important advice I can give them is to dream big. Dream far beyond what you might consider the bounds of reality, because your dreams are likely to be the ceiling of your reality. Few of us achieve beyond our dreams, but many of us dream well below what we can achieve. I urge my grandchildren to have outrageous dreams of achievement. The sky’s the limit. Dreams make life better, even if they never come true.

Dreams have always loomed large in our culture. Martin Luther King said “I have a dream” and inspired a nation to embrace civil rights. John Lennon imagined a world with “all the people living life in peace” and sang “You may say I’m a dreamer, but I’m not the only one.” Dreams help us to imagine a better world for ourselves and others. And it is the personal dreams that I want to focus on today.

Several years ago, I saw a Broadway musical production of Pretty Woman that began with a character on Hollywood Boulevard walking up to people on the street and asking each of them “What’s your dream?” The people on this boulevard of broken dreams all seem to have dreams of better lives, but little hope that their dreams will come true. It’s a common state for many of us. Yet our fiction is full of stories about outrageous dreams that do come true.

Shoeless Joe by W.P. Kinsella is all about dreams coming true. In fact, the movie that was made from the book was called Field of Dreams. You probably know the story. A farmer in Iowa turns his cornfield into a baseball field for old-time players who were banned from playing, or who just never got the chance to play. Among those is Shoeless Joe Jackson, a member of the Black Sox team that took money to throw the 1919 World Series. Jackson was banned from baseball in his prime.

Also playing on the “Field of Dreams” is Moonlight Graham, a small-town doctor who got to play just one inning with the Giants before life took him into the medical profession. But the dream that the farmer most wants to make come true is that of his own father, who banged around minor league ball as a catcher for several years, but never got to realize his major league dreams. Getting a chance at last to play with major leaguers, the young catcher asks the farmer, who he does not know is his son, “Is this heaven?” The farmer responds, “No. It’s Iowa.” But for many people, heaven is defined in those terms. It’s the place where dreams come true.

Another film about the power of dreams is Flashdance. It’s the story of a woman who works as a welder but dreams of being a dancer. The movie contains a song that was a hit for Irene Cara. It’s called “What A Feeling.” The song begins with the lines:

First when there’s nothing But a slow glowing dream That your fear seems to hide Deep inside your mind

And of course that is where most dreams reside. Most of us (in the words of a song from Gypsy) “got the dream, yeah, but not the guts.” But the woman welder in Flashdance finally has the guts. The song we hear there says, “Take your passion and make it happen.” And she does. But she spends most of the film getting up the courage to apply to a ballet academy. It’s not until after she is told, “You give up your dream, you die” that she finally takes the plunge. Dreams often require a leap of faith.

How does passion fit into all this? Passion is the fuel that makes dreams come true. Once you’ve found your dream, it is passion that propels you to take the often-hard steps toward fulfillment. And if you have enough passion, the sky’s the limit. You can make your dream come true.

There’s an old song by Oscar Hammerstein and Sigmund Romberg called “When I Grow Too Old to Dream.” That’s actually a very sad thought – that one could be too old to dream. But you’ve probably met people like this – people who have given up on life. You give up your dreams, you die inside. Dreams are always in the future tense and so if you feel you have no future, you can have no dreams. But for those of us who have dreams, it’s a reason to get out of bed in the morning.

To my grandchildren I say in the words of the famous disk jockey and philosopher Casey Kasem: “Keep your feet on the ground and keep reaching for the stars.” Whatever your dream is, I hope you never grow too old to take your passion and make it happen.

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tutuandscoot · 3 years ago

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LOOK HOW PROUD HE IS OF HER

LOOK HOW MUCH HE ADMIRES HER

LOOK HOW GRATEFUL HE IS FOR HER

LOOK HOW MUCH HE LOVES HER!!!

To Tess: I don’t know what to say, I mean… We did it, kiddo! I don’t know that I deserve to be on the Walk of Fame, but I’m damn sure that YOU should be on the Walk of Fame. I’m so proud of you.

#coz pennielane decided to punch me in the feels at 1pm on a Friday #be still my fucking heart #BE STILL I SAID!#yeh the all caps what’s necessary #he knows more than anyone what she went through to achieve what they did #she gave her legs for him #she gave up the national ballet for him #she skated in pain for years FOR HIM #she would not be where she is without him #but he would also not be where he is with out her #they wouldn’t what they are without each other #he spent 22 years being in awe of her #I can’t even get through this moment without essentially bowing down to her #NEVER TELL ME AGIN HE DOENST LOVE HER OR DIDNT WANT TO BE WITH HER #HE WAS BY HER SIDE FOR 22 + YEARS AND THEY CREATED MAGIC TOGETHER #AND HE WILL always ALWAYS LOVE HER #he’s emotional not for the award but for his kiddo being recognised for all and more that she is #she hugs him like ‘I love my precious goofy boy he such a sap’#virtuemoir #tessa and scott #and their endless love for eachother #they are my dancing bbys don’t you dare touch them #the greatest ice dance team the world has ever seen #cwof #also that dress haunts me in my dreams #where was Tessa virtue at the Met gala???

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writertitan · 2 years ago

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Pas de Deux

pairing: dancer!levi x dancer!reader

word count: 7.5k

themes: dancing (mostly ballet terms used), reader is in a very popular performing arts school, dance partner trope, newbie!reader and established!levi, classic trope of levi hating and doubting reader until he eventually catches feelings

a/n: hello!! excited to be bringing your requests to life again! here’s a new one-shot, based on this request.

A sweet piano melody blasted through your headphones as you did your morning stretches, your mind only filled with thoughts of your early practice that would be starting in about ten minutes. To you, this was nothing but pure bliss. Getting accepted into the most revered dance school in the nation was your biggest dream and now you were living it, thriving off the early mornings and rigorous practices and bustling energy of your fellow peers. You’d only been here about eight weeks, but they’d been the best weeks of your life. Here, you could dance, and dance, and dance. You moved to your heart’s content, exactly as you should be.

Though you’d practically been dancing since you could walk, you were still a rookie here. You were the best in your region and had gotten accepted based on your exceptional skill, of course, but now you needed to be the best of the best. It was your favorite type of challenge. The winter recital auditions were coming up next week for your peer group, and you were choreographing an audition in your head, the music from your headphones carving out a few new potential routines…

As you stretched out your hamstrings, the door to the studio flew open, making you jolt and snap up to attention, body straight as a rod when you saw your instructor saunter into the studio with a very familiar boy following her hot on her tail. Instantly, your cheeks flushed with heat.

Levi Ackerman was among those “best of the best” that you were striving to compete with. He was basically untouchable, just a mirage you’d occasionally get a miraculous glimpse of in between classes.

And he was beautiful.

You loved his glossy black hair, always meticulously styled, and you loved his grey eyes that pierced through you above sharp cheekbones.

But more than that, he danced beautifully. Now that you’d achieved your dream of getting into this school, your new dream was to dance alongside him.

You subtly paused your music, unsure if class was starting early, but mostly because you were nosy and curious.

“Miss Q, just hear me out,” he was saying, albeit as quietly as possible so as to not attract unwanted attention. He shot a look around the room and you quickly looked away, embarrassed at having been caught staring at him. There were only a couple of other girls in the room with you and they also averted their eyes. Even so, your ears perked up now that your view was gone.

“My decision is final, Levi,” Miss Q, your instructor for this morning’s practice, said. It was with such an air of finality that not even Levi could argue with her. She was the only one that intimidated you more than Levi did. She was maybe in her mid-40s, but she was a powerhouse of a woman who could dance a 20-year-old into the ground. Everything about her was sharp. Her voice, her gaze, her face, and her movements.

You were about to unpause your music and keep going, since it looked like Levi was about to leave, but Miss Q signaled for your attention specifically. Your eyes got wide and you yanked your headphones off, as if they’d still been playing anything, and she gave you a curt nod when she called your name.

“Please see me after class,” she ordered. It had you nodding very quickly, eyes still wide and innocent. They briefly flashed to Levi, who looked almost…offended? It made you feel queasy.

She began to stretch and Levi was left to stand there awkwardly, his gaze turning hard and eyebrows furrowing. He looked between you and Miss Q, the most he’d ever acknowledged you, until he forcefully got in Miss Q’s line of sight again.

“You can’t be serious,” you heard him say, not as quiet as he probably would have hoped. You had a sinking feeling he was talking about you.

Miss Q, however, ignored him and kept stretching, but did manage to give him an exasperated look.

“Honestly, Levi, you always think you run the place,” she quipped, then sharply jerked her head to the door, a silent order for him to get out.

He did, but not before shooting you a glare that had you trembling.

— — — — — — — — — — — — —

Miss Q had started class once everyone had finally joined, but the rest of practice your mind kept wandering no matter how hard you tried to concentrate on Miss Q’s instructions. She’d barked out your name several times during class, demanding that you get out of your head and concentrate, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling that something was about to happen.

When class was over, you shyly stood off to the side as everyone else filed out. The couple of girls who had been there during Levi’s little visit gave curious glances but said nothing, and once it was just you two and you felt as though your heartbeat could be heard, echoing in the nearly empty room, Miss Q turned to you with a resolved look in her eye.

“Petra was in an accident and injured her leg and back. She is now unable to dance in the final performance of our fall recital. She needs to be replaced and you will be her replacement.”

All of it was said as if it were set in stone. With Miss Q, there was never any room for error or argument, and you knew that very well by now. Still, as much as the idea of filling in for Petra thrilled you, it also filled you with the most obscene amount of nervousness you’d ever felt in your life. On top of that, you felt so bad for Petra.

“Is she okay?” you asked, first and foremost.

“She’ll make a full recovery, everyone in the accident will,” Miss Q said, eyes softening just a bit; a rare sight.

The nerves came full force then.

“W-what about her understudy?” you stammered out, wringing your hands.

Petra, like Levi, was part of the “best of the best” and was an upperclassman in your dance school. You were a first year, and she and Levi were in their final year. For each recital, each class of students from first years to final years auditioned within their own groups, in order to properly assign roles to appropriate peers. It was rare and damn near unheard of for first years to get prominent roles, as those were typically given to upperclassmen, and for good reason. They were the most disciplined and skilled, and novices were new to the game and needed to prove their skill.

This opportunity was truly once-in-a-lifetime.

“Nanaba was in the same accident and I fear she suffered injuries that will also keep her from performing to her best ability,” Miss Q said matter-of-factly. “It’s my decision to replace Petra and I’ve decided to replace her with you. Is there a problem?”

Miss Q knew, like you knew, that this was a golden opportunity. It would be foolish to turn this down. The fact that the most prominent instructor at your school had picked you really said something. A new student – a first year, no less.

But it wasn’t even all of that that made you so nervous.

Petra’s dance partner in this recital was Levi.

No wonder he was so harsh. Clearly, he was going to be against this new dynamic. From what you understood, Petra and Levi were always partnered up. They knew each other’s bodies well and could respond to each other seemingly without even thinking. Your bodies didn’t know each other at all, and you were so new. Despite all your previous experience, this was a whole new world, and you were just trying to get used to your new life. This was going to be a huge change in your day-to-day.

But you’d already hesitated long enough. You braced yourself and gave Miss Q your best assertive nod, looking her right in the eye as you willed away your nerves.

“When do I start practicing?” you asked.

“Today,” she said. “Levi will be in the B wing, studio 4. I’ve already relayed my decision to your other instructors and they know of your new schedule.”

When you hesitated again, wondering if she meant you needed to go to Levi right then and there, she sighed loudly and waved you off.

“Now, sweet pea!”

You took off running, frazzled and excited and almost sick with nerves. You would miss your other classes but this was going to be a huge thing for you and your resume. The types of people that came to these recitals…it’s why roles were so coveted. You had to be perfect and you had to impress.

That was all you focused on as you sprinted through the B wing, skidding to a stop in front of studio 4. Then, your nerves bubbled up inside you again, knowing that Levi was on the other side of the door.

You took a deep breath and then entered the room a little more enthusiastically than you’d hoped and then, embarrassingly enough, almost tripping over your own feet in the process. That had never really happened to you before.

Levi saw you come in from across the studio and he frowned when you stumbled. He was knelt over the stereo, clearly trying to get it to work, but he abandoned it when you arrived.

“So you’re the replacement,” he greeted you, his eyes unreadable. His words made your heart drop. You’d never thought of Levi to be a mean person, but he was slowly showing you just how uninviting he could be. You wouldn’t have pegged him as the type to be rigid with social expectations – upperclassmen separating from the lowerclassmen – but he was proving you wrong. Your little crush was starting to feel silly. Why would you have a crush on someone so mean?

“I have a name, you know,” you muttered, eyes flitting away from his face and to the side instead.

“Don’t have time for names,” Levi said, standing upright and making his way over to you. Though you were currently trying to convince yourself that your crush was soured, his closeness made your breathing speed up.

You still didn’t look at him. He cleared his throat, waiting for you to look at him again.

“We only have two and a half weeks until the final performance. The second to last performance next weekend was canceled and that already makes us look bad, so we have to be nothing short of impeccable when the final recital happens,” he said.

At that, your eyes turned to him again, widening at the realization. The timeline hadn’t quite hit you yet. At the mention of it being so soon, you were suddenly starting to wonder if this was the right choice. Were you really good enough for this part? Could you be a proper replacement for Petra and Nanaba? Would you make everyone proud, or disappoint them?

Levi seemed to read your expression perfectly. Though his face remained rather neutral, there was a little glint in his eyes and a twitch in his lips.

“Not cut out for the deadline? Feeling nervous?” he taunted. “You can bow out, no hard feelings. Might be for the best.”

Your chin lifted a little higher and you met his eyes, hoping you looked as determined as you were beginning to feel. Because, despite all the nerves and hesitation, you were determined above all else.

“I can do it,” you told him. “Let’s get started.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The first couple of days of practice with Levi were…traumatizing. Your brain was already in the process of blocking them out, except for what you’d learned in practice. Levi was stricter than all your instructors combined and he was harsh with you, telling you exactly what you were doing badly and what was wrong with your poses and movements. You were well used to criticism and correction, but Levi was not being professional about it. He was being mean, not even attempting to show you how he wanted it done most of the time. By the end of each day, you’d been at the verge of tears out of sheer exhaustion and frustration.

Today was a Saturday. You’d already committed to practicing every day except for Sundays, as rest days. What you hadn’t realized was that Levi was going to put you on a scary tight practice schedule starting at…

4:30AM.

You groaned as you checked your phone to check the time and to see who was blowing up your phone, already having an inkling of who you’d see. Someone had already called you five times in the last five minutes and after checking and confirming it was exactly who you thought it was, you were absolutely livid to see Levi’s name flash across your screen yet again. Well, not his exact name, but rather, Dictator. It was more fitting than his real name.

“What?” you snapped when you finally answered the sixth time he called.

“Where are you?” Levi’s voice came from the other end of the line, sounding just as angry. “Why aren’t you here yet?”

“Excuse me? It’s fucking 4:30 in the morning,” you hissed, careful to not wake up your roommate. You weren’t one to neglect any sort of practices or classes, but this was beyond crossing the line. The sun wasn’t even out yet, not even close, and you’d finished with Levi very late last night. You felt as though you’d barely gotten a minute of sleep.

“You want to be in this recital and have at least a slim chance of not fucking up and being an embarrassment? Get your ass to the studio. Now.”

The line went dead before you could come up with a decent comeback.

Muffling a groan into your pillow, you lay there for another moment before eventually sighing and getting up, still conscious to be as quiet as possible out of respect for your sleeping roommate. Someone deserved to rest, after all.

You felt sluggish on your trek to studio 4, which felt like hours instead of minutes. You’d dressed quickly and your hair was still messy, but there was hardly a single thing you cared about at 4:30 in the morning, and your appearance was definitely not something that made the list. Levi would just have to deal with your haphazard appearance and be grateful you’d made it at all.

When you trudged into the studio, eyes drooping and body sagging, Levi grimaced. It did not go unnoticed by you, despite your sleepiness.

“Jesus,” he muttered. He thrust his arm towards you and at first you thought he was going to punch you, so you flinched. It wasn’t until you saw that he was actually extending a cup of coffee to you that you relaxed.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, a little perkier already. You grabbed it from him and took a big gulp, making a face when you realized too late that it was just a black coffee, bitter and scalding on your tongue.

Levi rolled his eyes at that.

“Let me guess, you like your coffee to be more milk and sugar than actual coffee?” he scoffed, his question more rhetorical than anything. But you answered anyway, not in the mood for his taunting.

“Two sugars and a pump of half and half, for your information,” you shot back. Maybe it was sweeter than what a lot of people liked, but you didn’t care. Black coffee was for chronic busybodies, like Levi.

He didn’t appear to have listened to your remark, already crouched over the stereo in the corner of the studio. He was fast-forwarding the CD to a certain point in the orchestral performance that was pre-recorded for practice. You had a feeling which part he was skipping to and you felt a knot form in your throat.

“We’re focusing on the end of Act Three this morning,” Levi announced, confirming your fears. You took a longer sip of coffee, hoping that the bitterness of it would dissolve the pit of dread in your stomach.

The end of Act Three was…a struggle so far. It was a very complex routine and it focused on you and Levi specifically – it was your final pas de deux. You were struggling to seamlessly blend your final grand jeté into the next step, which was a full pirouette before Levi lifted you onto his shoulder for your final pose. It was all supposed to be seamless and look effortless, but of course the reality of it was that you could barely step into your pirouette in one fluid motion immediately after such a large leap and then still yourself right as Levi lifted you. It was affecting your rhythm and you weren’t keeping in beat to the music. People would notice how disjointed you looked moving from one motion to the next.

To say that you were learning about yourself and your limits as a dancer was an understatement.

As the music started playing throughout the studio, you sighed and set down your coffee on the floor in the corner next to Levi’s, moving to the middle of the studio to get started. The beginning of the pas de deux wasn’t too bad, you were getting the hang of it already, but you always overthought the last bit.

As you got to your grand finale, you made it through the leap and the pirouette, but for some reason, as soon as Levi’s hands gripped your hips and began to lift you, you tensed up in a bad way and the action made you jolt a little, which made Levi slip up. He was supposed to chasse as he lifted you onto his shoulder and you would elongate yourself into your final pose, perched on his shoulder, but the jerk of your body had Levi tripping over himself, with you still in his grasp.

The two of you fell heavily to the floor and you were still so tired and so surprised that Levi had messed up, that you didn’t have time to catch yourself.

Levi, however, had a quicker reaction. The fall would have originally made it so that Levi would have crushed you and fallen directly on top of you. However, he had managed to swivel your bodies so that he was the one getting the brunt of the fall.

As you hit the ground, you had actually fallen on top of Levi, which softened the impact for you.

Again, your reaction was a little delayed.

Levi was wincing in slight pain and you were still on top of him, getting your bearings. When it finally clicked that you were directly on top of him, nearly face to face, you could feel your cheeks burning with an instant flush of blood. Your eyes widened but your brain was still frazzled and wasn’t cooperating with your body. You knew you had to get up or at least get off of him, but your body wasn’t listening.

“Are you okay?” you asked him instead, a light edge of panic in your voice.

Miss Q would absolutely murder you if you had managed to injure Levi.

Levi’s gaze focused on you finally and he seemed to freeze up, much like you. It was then that you realized the most peculiar thing.

There was some sort of surge of electricity zapping at the spots your bodies were touching. It was absolutely thrilling and kept you frozen in place. You knew the electricity was why you always tensed up a little when Levi touched you during your practice and, for some reason, today it was just so strong.

Maybe your crush on him hadn’t gone away after all.

Instead of saying anything, even something harsh to make you get off, Levi avoided your gaze and quietly slid you off of him, hands lingering on your sides just a beat too long.

“Let’s just start from Act One,” he mumbled, still not meeting your eyes.

Was he just embarrassed he’d also messed up? Usually he had a snarky comment at the ready and some sort of criticism of your form or your movement; this was unlike him.

Your face was still hot as you waited for him to rewind the CD to the very beginning.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Levi had promised you that Sunday was a rest day, which you fully took advantage of at first. You slept in, did some self-care, had lunch, and caught up on the academic portion of your studies. By the time dinner rolled around, however, you were itching to keep practicing for the recital. Despite practicing for three days straight and being sore and exhausted and a little frustrated, you were anxious to keep going. Excited, even.

Maybe it had something to do with spending so much time with Levi, but you chose to ignore that part.

You tried to convince yourself to give yourself the rest of the day off to relax, which is what you were currently trying to do. You were in your room, your roommate out with friends, and you were on your bed reading a book. However, your mind kept drifting off to the parts in the pas de deux in Act Three that you were still struggling with, and then some other moves in Act Two…

“Maybe I could just practice the routine for Act Two alone for a little bit,” you pondered to yourself aloud. You were certain you could do it without Levi. In the second act, he didn’t really guide you around the stage. You danced together but he didn’t need to lift you or physically help you move around the stage. You would just need to envision him dancing around you and working off of that.

You marked your page in your book and got dressed for a quick practice, eager to get to studio four.

Just a few minutes of practice, you thought to yourself. That was all you wanted.

What you didn’t see as you slipped into the studio was a very confused looking Levi. It was pretty late, nearing eleven o’clock, and he thought you’d gone out with the group of freshmen earlier.

You had finished your warmup stretches and were almost done fast-forwarding the CD to the correct part when the door to the studio opened, which made you nearly jump out of your skin. You whipped your head around to see who it was, shocked to see none other than Levi himself standing there holding two cups of coffee.

“It’s late,” was his greeting to you. He wasted no time in crossing the studio to get to where you were, sitting down and offering one of the coffees. You took it hesitantly, but he just rolled his eyes.

“It’s decaf. Just something to keep us warm,” he explained. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that you just didn’t want to be drinking bitter black coffee, so you switched the subject.

“How’d you know I was in here?” you asked him.

“I didn’t. I saw you while I was locking up for Miss Q,” he said, fiddling with the lid of his coffee. He wasn’t meeting your gaze, which was becoming more of the norm. “I thought you’d be soaking up the last of your free day and that you’d gone out with your friends earlier.”

The last part had made him frown. You noticed the sour look on his face and smiled a little.

“What? You don’t agree with hard-working dancers blowing off some steam?” you teased.

Levi glared at you, finally.

“I know what the freshmen get up to,” he chided. Then, in a tone that was a little too casual to be real, he added, “I just didn’t like the idea of you in those places and having to fight off some creep.”

You knew what he was referring to, of course. There was a certain bar a few blocks away that let in just about anyone, ID or no ID, and that was a popular favorite among the lowerclassmen of your school, since some of them weren’t old enough to pass an ID check at a bar just yet. That bar happened to attract some questionable men because of that.

The idea of Levi being bothered by you potentially exposing yourself to that was…endearing. And made your crush burn a little more in your heart.

You hid your smile behind your coffee cup and then took a sip, fully prepared to be met with bitterness, but you blinked in surprise when you were met with a much more familiar, sweeter taste.

Two sugars and a pump of half and half. Levi had paid attention.

The butterflies soared in your stomach then, such a small gesture meaning so much to you, and that’s when you knew that maybe your crush was more than just a crush.

“Do you want to practice Act Two with me?” you asked, hopeful. “Just for a little bit! I know it’s late.”

“We need all the practice we can get,” Levi sighed, but the expression on his face turned into a more determined one than a sour one. Behind the determination, you could have even dared to say you saw a hint of content.

Even so, you didn’t immediately move to the middle of the floor. You stayed seated, back against the mirrored wall, with Levi copying you.

You looked down at your coffee, as if it held all the answers.

“Do you think I was the wrong choice for this?” you asked him suddenly. This fear had been nagging at you for the past several days. You still remembered Levi’s disdain for you that first day and you hadn’t quite shaken the feeling of inadequacy yet, especially knowing that you were still getting some parts wrong.

You fully expected to hear a snarky comment from Levi. Instead, you were surprised by his answer.

“I’ll admit I wasn’t sure about you in the beginning. This is a difficult role even for someone as advanced as Petra and I was positive that Miss Q had lost her marbles. But I can see why you were accepted into this program and you haven’t had a mental breakdown because of me yet, so I have hope that this final performance won’t be a complete disaster.”

It was the closest thing to a compliment Levi had ever given you.

“I know it must be hard working with a first year. Thanks for not biting my head off…yet,” you whispered.

Levi actually chuckled at that, a short and quick laugh that you basked in. You’d made him laugh. You’d made him laugh.

He took a sip of his coffee and you did the same, falling into a comfortable silence.

“How come you didn’t go out with your friends?” he asked you after a minute.

The question was unexpected. You weren’t even sure how to answer but you thought about what to say and why you had decided to stay back.

“It’s not really my scene, first of all,” you began, “and I knew they’d be out late. I’d been trying to convince myself to just relax today and really rest up, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the recital. I guess I knew I’d end up here at some point.”

Levi, for whatever reason, didn’t seem too satisfied with your answer.

The conversation didn’t go further than that, however. He stood up after finishing his coffee, holding out his hand for you to take. You set your nearly empty cup down as well and took his hand so he could help you stand, relishing in the thrilling buzz of electricity that happened when you touched, and let him lead you to the middle of the studio to begin practicing.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — —

It felt like the day of the final performance came in the blink of an eye.

You’d rehearsed just about every day with Levi and then eventually with the rest of the dancers, only stopping when he demanded rest days so you wouldn’t burn out, and the day had arrived like any other day. Except on this day, you’d been scrambling basically since you’d opened your eyes.

There was a lot of work to be done. A final fitting of costumes, hair and makeup, mini rehearsals here and there when you could get them in.

With only a couple of hours until showtime, you were starting to feel the stage jitters coming on.

You knew there would be very important people coming to watch you perform, along with your family and some close friends. Everyone would be watching you, the first year student, put on a last minute performance in lieu of a respected and talented upperclassman.

You had to be perfect.

Thankfully, thanks to Levi’s rigorous training, you felt a little more confident than you had been at the beginning.

You weren’t quite ready to get into your first costume of the night yet and had just a little bit of time to kill. Levi also had some time, now that he was done with his own hair and makeup, and you went to find him to ask one last favor.

When you finally caught up to him, speaking with a small group of his friends, you shyly tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.

You ignored the other eyes that snapped to you, focusing only on the lovely grey ones.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” you asked.

Levi nodded and stepped away from his group without so much as a goodbye, letting you lead him to a quiet corner.

He looked unreal. His hair was styled as usual, though obviously gelled into place so it would hold a little more during his performance. He wasn’t wearing as much makeup as you were, just some stage makeup to make sure his complexion didn’t wash out with the bright lights, but the makeup artists had done a phenomenal job in accentuating his sharp features.

It took you a second to realize you were gawking. You cleared your throat a little, face hot, and then remembered what you wanted to ask him.

“Can we rehearse the last part of Act Three one more time?” you pleaded. “That’s the only part I’m really nervous about. It would really help me out.”

Though you’d improved on this part quite a bit, you were still nervous about it. You’d only recently begun to make all the transitions look fluid and graceful, with Levi’s instruction, but there were times when you still stiffened up when Levi grabbed hold of you.

You didn’t even need the music anymore and Levi knew exactly where in the pas de deux you wanted to start. You two danced together easily now. You would have even said it rivaled his chemistry with Petra.

However, it seemed your final impromptu rehearsal was not meant to be. Before Levi could even agree to it, Miss Q was grabbing the two of you and yanking you off for some type of photo op despite not even being in costume yet. Apparently it was more for an internal archive thing than for promotional purposes.

Before Levi was whisked away from you, though, he grabbed hold of you by the elbow, pulling you closer to him so he could whisper in your ear.

“Remember that our characters are finally confessing their feelings for each other in Act Three’s pas de deux,” he said. “We’re going to have to give off a lot of chemistry. We have to melt into each other. Just remember that it helps to get into character and to go off of real life experience.”

Then he was yanked away from you and you were yanked in the other direction, finally being made to be put into costume. His words rang in your ears, though it was similar to advice he’d given you before. You’d listened to this piece of advice from Levi before, but you realized why it wasn’t helping as much as you thought it would. He’d changed up his advice today about getting into character; he’d never really touched on trying to go off of real life experience. And yet it made total sense to do that, you just didn’t know why you hadn’t thought to do it before.

You hadn’t given much thought to the similarities between your real self and the character you were portraying. You were in the head of your character whenever you danced, without much regard for how your own feelings could possibly help you out.

Had you been too obvious about your crush? Was this Levi’s way of telling you that he knew?

At that, you panicked. The nerves that fluttered in you from just the thought of him knowing about your feelings for him were worse than the nerves of having to perform in front of hundreds of people tonight.

You trembled as you put on your first costume, about ready to throw up at this point. You tried to push thoughts of Levi out of your head, preferring the anxiety of performing over the anxiety of your crush, but it was still no use.

You felt you were about to be sick for real, until there was a knock on your dressing room door. You opened it, half expecting Miss Q or even Levi, but you were surprised to see none other than Petra standing in front of you with a bright smile on her face and a bouquet of roses in one hand.

“Hi,” she greeted you, inviting herself into the dressing room with you. “These are for you.”

She held out the bouquet and you took them, touched at her thoughtfulness.

“Wow, they’re so pretty. Thank you,” you said earnestly, inviting her to sit down. You took a whiff of the roses and their scent surprisingly helped you calm down somewhat.

“Are you nervous?” Petra teased, but when she saw that you truly were, an air of gentleness swept over her and she gave you a smile warmer than the one before.

She sat down on one of the chairs in the room, stretching out the leg with the walking cast in front of her. After a moment of silence, she looked at herself in the mirror with all the lights bordering it, laughing to herself a little.

“I remember my first big recital here,” she recalled. “I threw up so much I almost fainted. I don’t think I’ve ever been so nervous in my whole life. But the recital was perfect and I haven’t been that nervous since. I promise this is the most nervous you’ll ever be. Let yourself feel it but then throw it away before you get out there. I know you can do this. On top of that, Levi’s been praising you to high heaven.”

You perked up at her mention of Levi. He’d never really complimented you directly to your face, though his yelling and critiques had definitely dwindled in the course of your weeks together.

“He has?” you asked, face lighting up at the thought of him praising you. Your earlier panic about what he could potentially know about your feelings was temporarily gone.

“Yeah!” Petra laughed, crossing her good leg over her casted leg. “I think he prefers dancing with you over me now! I’ve never seen him so trusting in a dance partner before. You’ll have to tell me your secret.”

It was strange how quickly those nerves calmed themselves within you just at the revelation of Levi trusting in you. It made you feel powerful and confident, and it assured you that you could absolutely do this. He was going to help you out there, just as he’d been helping you for weeks now. Levi wouldn’t let you fail. All this time, he’d been lifting you up, physically and apparently verbally as well, without your knowledge.

“I can do this,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, but Petra heard and gave you another big smile.

“You can,” she affirmed.

You took another whiff of roses to calm you down even more.

“Will you stay here with me until it’s time for me to go on?” you asked, a little timid again. This was your first time really meeting Petra and you were very much aware of how much of an honor it was. Then, quickly, you added, “You don’t have to, of course. It’s just such an honor to have you here at all and I think you’d be like a good luck charm.”

Petra was more than happy to stay with you, though, and you spent the rest of your time getting to know one another, becoming fast friends in the process while she helped prepare you for the performance.

As you were being ushered out, you were finally back in Levi’s presence, standing next to him at the edge of the stage and ready to make your debut. As the orchestra began to play, Levi looked to you with the gentlest gaze he’d ever given you.

“Break a leg,” he whispered, his hand giving the back of yours a fleeting caress before the two of you took your cues and sauntered out together.

It was a funny thing. You were so caught up in Levi that you could barely remember that you had an audience watching you. It was as if the whole world disappeared, mostly because you had taken his advice. Instead of getting entirely in your character’s head, you melded her heart with yours, thinking more of Levi than his character.

It worked wonders in your performance.

The first two acts were simple and you put your own yearning into each movement, your eyes always finding Levi’s. If you’d made any mistakes, you hadn’t noticed at all. The music the orchestra played really was the perfect soundtrack to this all-consuming love story and you found yourself getting lost in the notes.

It was hard between acts, when you’d be backstage and changing costumes and getting back to reality. It was a busy, harsh, rushed reality where you could barely even see Levi, let alone talk to him. It only made you yearn for him even more. The lines were getting blurred between what your character felt and what you felt.

Then, it was time for your final dance. Levi moved into position and you did the same, heart beating fast from both exertion and what was to come.

As you danced with him in your final pas de deux heading straight to the grand finale, you thought of how it might feel to have this be your love story with Levi.

Your crush had only grown the more time you’d spent together and you thought about him all the time. The yearning to just tell him, to confess, to pour your heart out, was unbearable. The longing to be close to him, to discover what it would be like to kiss him, to be held by him, was so strong that it was almost painful. These feelings seemed to be so visible on you: in your expressions, in the way you moved, your eyes always meeting his eyes.

And then you jumped, gracefully landing en pointe and pirouetting straight into Levi’s embrace, as if your body naturally gravitated toward him. No longer did the electricity between you make you tense up. This time, you melted into his touch, as if you’d finally gotten what you’d been wanting for so long.

When he lifted you onto his shoulder and you struck your final pose, a deafening roar of applause sounded throughout the theatre, and the curtains fell in front of you to give everyone time to come out and take a bow.

Levi carefully set you down, pupils blown and cheeks flushed and hair damp with sweat, and you were certain you looked much the same. Adrenaline was suddenly coursing through your veins, electrifying you along with Levi’s touch – his hand was still holding your waist, keeping you close to his side.

When the curtains came back up, everyone bowed and the applause got even louder somehow, cheers and praises singing in your ears. Funnily enough, flowers were thrown onto the stage, like in the movies.

You gave a bright smile and you and Levi stepped out in front of everyone else to bow together, feeling as though your eardrums would burst from how loud the crowd cheered for you.

The curtain eventually fell again and you rushed backstage, greeted with even more praises and congratulations from your fellow cast members and the crew.

Miss Q stayed behind for the moment, but you caught her eye and saw a rare approving smile from her.

You’d gotten separated from Levi again, even though all you wanted to do was celebrate with him. You didn’t have time to look for him, though, because your family had made their way backstage, armed with bouquets and celebratory champagne. You went to greet them, still on a high, but your eyes were still on the lookout from Levi.

As soon as the crowds dispersed a little and your family decided to wait outside so you could all go to dinner together, you saw him again. He was talking with what you assumed was his own family and you waited for a moment, until he met your gaze.

As soon as he spotted you, a smile graced his lips and his eyes twinkled with euphoria, something you never thought you’d see; it was rarer still than Miss Q’s smile.

You shouted his name and then let out a celebratory shout as you pushed through people to jump into his arms without really thinking. He caught you easily and even spun you around, the two of you back in your own little world. Everyone, once again, faded to the background.

“You were perfect,” he whispered in your ear. The compliment made your face heat up and your heart beat even faster.

“I couldn’t have done it without your help,” you told him. He set you down on your feet and your faces were inches apart, where you could fully appreciate him for all he was. His pink cheeks and hair matted to his sweaty forehead was a new side you’d never seen before. Levi always looked so put together and impeccable. It was as though with dancing, he could let loose despite moving perfectly.

He introduced you to his mother and uncle, making you turn a little shy at the prospect of meeting his family, but they were kind and praised your performance.

“My family wants to go out for a celebratory dinner. You should all come, too,” you suggested, looking at Levi with hopeful eyes.

Though you didn’t see, his mother got a knowing look on her face, a sly smile gracing her features as she showed a look with Levi’s uncle.

“Actually, we were going to head home. We were planning a brunch with Levi tomorrow. You should come,” his mother said. “And tonight, Levi can go with you and your family to dinner.”

Levi looked a little flustered but you jumped at the opportunity to agree to those plans.

It was only after saying your goodbyes that you turned to Levi, seeing his expression for the first time. You bit your lip nervously, unsure of how he felt. Again, that anxiety of him knowing how you felt, especially after how you performed tonight, was brought to the forefront of your mind.

“We don’t have to do any of that, you know,” you whispered, wringing your hands. “But your mom and uncle were really nice. I’m glad I met them.”

Levi looked into your eyes, as if searching for something, then asked, “What are you doing after dinner with your family?”

The question caught you off guard.

“Um…nothing?”

“You’re not going out with the cast? They’re going out to the bar to go dancing, if you can believe it,” he said, though he looked a little reserved.

“Are you going to go?” you asked him.

Levi’s expression softened.

“Only if you go,” he said.

“Are you asking to go as my date?” you teased, but your heart fluttered with hope.

Levi rolled his eyes but you didn’t miss the way his face got a little pinker.

“You really can’t take a hint, can you?” he grumbled, looking off to the side, but that was confirmation enough. You felt as though you were on cloud nine, up with the stars at the revelation that maybe, just maybe, Levi was returning your feelings.

“I’ll only go if you promise it’s a date,” you said quietly, heart hammering in your chest.

Levi’s shoulders, tensed up before, loosened up then. When he finally met your gaze again, you were mesmerized by how affectionately he was looking at you.

“I promise,” he said.

“And you’ll only dance with me?”

“And I’ll only dance with you.”

#levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman x you #levi x y/n #Levi fanfiction #levi ackerman oneshot #levi ackerman fic #levi ackerman fanfiction #aot fanfiction #attack on titan fanfiction #snk fanfiction

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tikitsune · 2 years ago

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Okie hear me out Il Dottore with SO!reader who thinks of hunting/playing around/torturing people as playing around with toys.

They bring their dolls to their lovely husband/boyfriend/partner/thing so that he can also share the fun of playing with toys.

Kneeling before the throne of the Tsaritsa, a group of traitors, one who almost leaked their plans to bring down Celestia.

The 1st, 5th, 6th, 8th, 9th and 11th Fatui Harbingers present in the room. Of course, there was also the 11th harbinger's partner as well as the 6th harbinger's boyfriends, who helped uncover the traitorous group.

Out of an open window on the roof of the throne room came a figure, landing and a plie, arms spread like an air plane.

The figure straightened up and looked at the Tsaritsa with a childish expectance look. "Toys?"

A cold, chilling laugh rang throughout the room as the ruler looked at the hopeful expression of her adopted child.

"I'm afraid not, my little snowfall." She said, with a kind smile that not many people were used to.

"Awe!" The figure, now identifiable as the heir to the Cryo Nation, pulled their face in a pout. "Why else besides toys would you call me during your work hours?"

It was then that the Cryo heir realized that they were not the only ones in the room. "Hello!"

The 6th harbinger's boyfriend with ivory hair gave them a smile and a small wave with his bandaged hand. His other boyfriend gave them a sly smirk, to which they returned back.

The 11th harbinger's partner gave a small nod of his head, to which they gave a ballet third prep bow before gracefully opening to second then rest.

A movement caught their eye as one of the traitors tried to undo their restraints while all eyes were on the Sneznhayan successor.

They turned around and pointed at the person like a scolding mother, "Toy, stay. You don't get to move."

A challenged look appeared in their eyes as the dipped their head lower, peering at them through their eyelids.

"Little snowfall, they are not toys."

Once again their face contorted onto a pout. "But you haven't given me toys in six years."

Their face turned serious and their eyes sharpened. "Speaking of which," their voice also dropped an octive or two. "The mission you gave me is complete."

A giggle sounded as their voice and features went back to what it was before. "The screams of the toys were quite pleasant. You didn't say it couldn't make them my toys so I played with them for a little while. There was one guy who was pleading me not make him infertile before he could have a kid. Should have thought of that before messing with my family."

A pleased smile graced the normally stoic face of the ruler of the cold. "Good job, my dear. As a prize for doing well, I will indeed be giving you toys. In fact, how about you take them?"

Eyes sparkled as the Sneznhayan child looked at her new toys. "Ooh. Maybe I can bring them to Zandik. He can do his experiments and I can play with them."

They jumped up and down repeatedly, clapping their hands. "Thank you, mother. I'll make good use of them."

A wave of their hand and ice soldiers appeared forcing the traitors to their feet and to follow along with the joyous child.

The doors to the 2nd Harbinger's lab were shut. No one brave enough to go in without permission except for the Tsaritsa (albeit very, very rare), the 8th Harbinger and , of course, the heir to the throne of Sneznhaya and his lover.

It slammed open, surprising the 2nd Harbinger out of his fanatical pleasure of his experiment. His own dolls ran amunk the equipment, the youngest patiently waiting, staring at the door.

"Mama!" The youngest let out as he ran to the figure who just entered. They picked her up resting him on their hips.

"Hi, little one."

Hearing the announciation that his lover was back stopped the 2nd Harbinger, mid-injection. "My cure, your back."

A kiss was planted on his cheek as her circles his arms around them and his clone. The other clones, varying in age, began to poke at the amass of toys that their creator's partner had brought along with them.

"Oh yeah. Mother gave me a bunch of new toys. I was thinking maybe we could play with them."

"Of course, my cure."

His face broke out in a scary grin. As if a trigger, his lover followed and then the clones behind them broke out into scary grins of their own. To finish it off, the little one in their arms broke out in a mix between a cute and scary grin which scared the group of traitors more.

Well this would sure be fun.

So I originally thought of this for the Monster Duchess and the Contracted Princess, but I thought with the way the character I made was being played, I thought it would fit something like this.

#Sneznhaya #genshin #genshin fluff #fatui harbingers #il dottore x reader #kazuscarahei #ChiLi #the tsaritsa #pierro #pulcinella #scaramouche #la signora #pantalone #tartaglia

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yeo-rims · 3 years ago

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on 2521 and forgiving yourself

I just finished the last episode so this could be either very confusing or very bad or both, but the thing that stayed with me after hearing heedo’s monologue is about forgiving ourselves. past heedo was young and bright and reckless and also immature, but she laughed, cried, got hurt, and hurt people. she forgot for so long about that breakup, but seeing her diary again, reading what yijin said to her... it finally brought closure to her, not the type of closure time brings (because time does heal a lot of wounds) but a different one. she let that yijin, the yijin from 20 years ago rest. that one regret she had, saying all those awful things to each other, she now knows that yijin knew about her true feelings, that they didn’t part away thinking the worst of each other. it may have taken her longer than him to know that (because he did read the journal in 2002) but still, it isn’t so much about him as it is about her own sorrows. present heedo is a great mom, has a good relationship with her mother (something she always wanted to), and has done everything she could possibly do in regards to fencing. she now works repairing things, creating new things, she doesn’t remember all of her past because that’s normal, but when she thinks about it she is happy to have gone through all that. because that’s living, she is proud of min chae for wanting to write her own story, to go back to ballet and not just quit. because, in a way, it’s not only about quitting a passion but quitting life. heedo never quit life, even when it got hard, she learned new ways of getting back up. she fought for her place on the national team, she fought for her golden medal even if it was against her best friend. she fought for her love and she fought for her happiness once she understood that love was hurting them both. but she never regretted loving yijin or being yurim’s rival. the thing she regretted was saying those harsh words, things that weren’t what she actually felt. and that moment at the tunnel, when she reads what yijin said and what she said and when she lets him go...! it’s her getting closure, forgiving her past self, and realizing that yes it is an illusion to want it all, but it isn’t foolish, it is just part of life and being young. she can’t have it all, and she knows that. but the thing i see people not realizing is that not having it all, or having and then losing it it’s not bad. it’s part of life. it’s part of being alive, that’s what she wanted to teach min chae. if heedo, even for a moment, regretted the life she had, she would never let min chae read her diary. she would want to shield her daughter from any hardships, but that’s no way of living. i vividly remember yurim and heedo talking about yijin, and yurim says something about having for a moment and losing it is not bad, because the moment they had together is what matters. the happiness they shared... that’s what the story is about. there is no happiness without risks, there’s no life if we just quit before starting. the times crush everyone’s dreams all the time, but still, we try and love and laugh and cry and give up when we have to and we lose, because we’re humans and that’s what we must do to survive. that’s what makes life worth living. heedo was never one to give up, to be afraid of anything new. and she isn’t in the future. yeah, we don’t get to see min chae’s dad and heedo doesn’t even have a wedding ring and we don’t see the gang in the future. but the story is about heedo and her love for life, which includes (but is not only about) yijin. it’s about her rivalry with yurim, her difficult relationship with her mom, it’s about her passion for fencing and her constant grief for her father. it’s about turning her tragedy into a comedy. looking back at her youth not with regrets or the feeling of wanting to go back in time, but accepting for what it was, being happy for what she had then and the people she had, and the love she felt and gave. it’s about finding happiness in these moments, albeit temporarily.

#twenty five twenty one #my two brain cells are talking #this was not a sad ending at all but it was sad that it ended #and it was sad to feel how much baekdo loved each other but couldnt be together #and a real breakup is fcking sad and we felt that bc the show made us care #but the show also gave us hope_if only you know where to look

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tutuandscoot · 3 years ago

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I literally say every VM moment is beautiful and makes me emotional but this one is WAY up there.

This confirms everything you need to know about what they mean to each other, how much they love each other, and that they essentially value skating together in the same vein as an intimate, romantic, exclusive relationship.

Not that they have said these exact words, but they have said enough that confirms it: had Tessa’s injuries forced her to retire, Scott would’ve retired with her.

EVIDENCE:

“Would I have ice danced without Tess? Absolutely not”. “I wouldn’t be a figure skater if it weren’t for Tessa”. There’s no ‘next partner’ for me, it would just feel weird and wrong”. “It wasn’t finding skating it was finding Tessa”. “I like only connecting with Scott, like he is the only person who exists”. “There’s no other person I want to be going through all those emotions with other than Tess”. “I would say to myself ‘ok Tessa, come back’. I hated skating with anyone but Tessa”. “I don’t always like skating by myself but as soon as I hold T’s hand I immediately enjoy it”. There’s no other person I care what they think about me more than Tess”. I don’t think she realises that she keeps me alive”.

(I COULD KEEP GOING)

And then this look he gives her. That adamant shake of the head ‘NO’. As if the thought of it is sickening and upsetting. As if he’s responding to her saying that in the form of a question and he’s responding in the most compassionate way of saying ‘no don’t be ridiculous’. That one look encapsulates their nearly 21 years together at that point, and not one moment in that time would skating with someone else even be considered. In that look, their entire lives together flashes before his eyes and his is picturing any of those moments with out T and it immediately upsets him. The thought of skating with anyone else is painful for them. There’s that time T said (on the stupid show) that she felt lost and didn’t know what to do without him on the ice with her. He was away for like a day and she said she missed him, she missed having her partner by her side. It would have been like missing a limb. 🥺

I don’t doubt for a second Scott would have retired with Tessa. He just would not have done it without her. When she was out injured the first time and they tried to get him to skate with other girls-for training but with what figure skating is, who knows if there was other stuff going on. He said fuck this and trained by himself with sand bags. Post Vancouver they gave an interview where he said he knew how strong she was and would do everything to get back and coz there’s ‘no other girl in the world you can just throw out there’ (throw with Scott because it’s Scott and Tessa, no one else). Tessa was the one who made him believe he was a good dancer- their bodies move together without even thinking. Scott wanted to be an ice dancer because of Tessa. I don’t think it’s lost him what giving up the National Ballet School ment. Later on I’m sure he would’ve gone to see ballets with her. He would have watched a tonne of ballets for program research- all their classical ones, Carmen, MR- since the ending was based on Manon. He knows how ballerinas and the best female dancers move because he sees that superior quality in Tessa. He sings praise of how stunning her upper body movement is and for him, TESSA, what she does with her upper body along with their ability to play out their relationship and magical connection through any storyline is what ice dance is all about. AND HE’S RIGHT. Ice dance should be DANCING with all the quality of a ballerina and her partner, (*not all programs should be balletic, I mean the body awareness, strength and quality that allows her to perform any style to perfection) it is exclusively dancing between and man and a woman- there’s no same-sex dance couples in Olympic level ice dance (not yet anyway). It is a dance between a man and woman. He knows she would’ve been a star ballerina of the National Ballet or any company for that matter had she not chosen him. Not skating. HIM. And as they grew up and he became more invested in dance and understanding of what Tessa could’ve had, I doubt a day goes by in his life, even now, that he is not eternally grateful that Tessa chose him: “I thank my lucky stars everyday I get to go out there with Tess”. “At first I didn’t want to get shown up by her, but I was and continued to be for another 20 years”.

That’s what he thinks of her and her talent, and the fact that, in terms of skating, she is HIS. I often feel in their hugs, for example, especially a certain few in the comeback, as they melt into each other and become one breathing organism, through the way he stokes her and cradles her, he is saying: “My Tessa, my beautiful Tessa”. As I just said, in terms of skating and dancing, she is his. And he is hers. That’s what the point of this post is. That no one else exists when it comes to their partnership. In this respect, they belong to each other. They found a home in each other. He loves her with all his heart and is so incredibly protective of her. I often think back to that interview at SCI 2011 where Tessa is saying after she came back from her second surgery, he was so protective and so gentle with her, afraid she would break. He was always loving and caring of her, but after that, physiologically, in his mind he had very nearly lost her twice. Even after the 2nd surgery things didn’t really get better. They figured things out and when they were finally healthy again, is when I think his demeanour to her became this incredibly beautiful SOFT ™️, gentle quality, and during the comeback that only intensified to a level our poor hearts nearly couldn’t take. That gentle, protective quality truely set in after the experience of nearly losing her twice. It’s why at the end of MR you see him cradle her head like one would a delicate little infant. Why he is always giving her the kindest looks and gently guiding her around the ice on warm ups. Helping her all the way out of an ending pose and not letting go until he is sure she’s balanced on her feet again. So adamant about helping her off podiums and even off-ice, guiding her by having his hand just there behind her back in case. The way he treats her physically says absolutely nothing that he ever once diminishes her worth as the strong, inspiring, independent woman she is. But on the ice, he was taught from the youngest age you protect your woman above all else. It is his job to protect her and I feel to him that doesn’t just mean stopping her from falling or getting injured. It means protecting her soul. Her heart. It means when the whole world is watching them, being the safest place in the world for her. Being her home. Their love seems so real because it is so much more than just any friendship or romantic relationship. It’s so deep it’s indescribable. And everything I just said about the way he protects her because it is is job, she is the same with him.

They would not be able to do what they do without each other. They could not and would not. They are soulmates. And this is what they decided to do with their intrinsically connected souls. They chose to create art and share it with the world. Be a gift to humanity. They never really even decided that they were going to be figure skaters. It just sort of happened. Because deep within their souls they were becoming artists who would paint together. With each other, with each others bodies they would tell stories that resonate- that would move us and challenge us. Make us cry and smile. Make us fall so deeply in love with them that until we first laid eyes on them, we didn’t think love this pure could really exist.

Tessa brought out Scott’s love of dance and acting and performing. The incredible performances he gives are all for her- to make her smile or laugh or cry. To go on this journey together. To take her to another world. To make her feel like she’s flying. That’s what makes their performances superior, because they are so honest, and what they do for each other within their performances. Because they aren’t showing off or doing it for anyone but each other. They don’t perform for anyone. They live a story together. They live an experience. No matter how trained they are, they allow a part of themselves to be taken on a journey they haven’t experienced before. Every performance they do is imbued with so much of their own story and relationship. This again is why they are so beyond superior in their field. People think art (in the realm of FS especially) is all about the images and the pretty lines and the moody, minor key instrumental music. Not to get too far into it but It is so dangerous to limit what art is in a certain field-to say two things being judged against at each other in a dance competition (in this case) that one is and one is not art. That forces the sport to become constricted and not allow for new ideas to be explored. And because winning and results are so important, people are willing to do that. TS never limited themselves artistically. They may have felt at times they were guided in the wrong direction thematically and choreographically, but they found the human beings within themselves in every one of those programs each time. The stuff I have said so far probs seems a bit eclectic and ethereal, but I can say from experience, where Tessa and Scott allow themselves to go in their stories, while still maintaining all the technical perfection and composure on the biggest stages in the world, is what every dancer strives for, and if they say they don’t, then they didn’t understand the brief.

Imagine Tessa thinking when she was injured, because, she loves Scott so much and wasn’t going to be the one to get in the way of his dream of going to the Olympics, imaging her thinking of saying to him, “If you have to, go on without me”. But he wouldn’t. Because deep down they knew, even if it took a while for them to realise, their dream wasn’t the Olympics alone- it was the Olympics together. And once she got back on the ice, even though they were struggling personally, all they thought about and all they felt was they were just so grateful to have each other and be skating together and how much they loved dancing together. That first surgery lit a spark under them that they COULD NOT loose each other. And they WOULD NOT do this without each other.

Of course they have all the skating skills in the world and could skate amazingly by themselves. But they COUND NOT skate with anyone else. They are the one team, maybe ever, that could not skate with other partners. You could not put them with anyone else and they would skate as well or create anywhere near the same magic. Really almost any other team, the top teams included, you could jumble up and they would manage to skate with someone else. Obviously there would be adjusting. But they could mix everyone up and it wouldn’t matter, because the the connection on the ice between any pair wouldn’t change or create anything near as special to what Tessa and Scott do together. That why it bothers me when people joke about ‘If Scott wanted to come back for a season I would skate with him’ and I’m sure guys have said the same thing about Tessa. I know they don’t mean anything bad by it. But Tessa and Scott are sacred. You can not deny the magic they have. I’m sure other skaters mean it from the POV of what great partners the are technically. But that’s not what made them special. And the idea of wanting to partner them just for their partnering skills, thinking some of that magic might exist with anyone but the two of them is ignorant and idiotic thinking. In that respect- their aura and their magic, that needs to be respected and left alone. And neither of them would ever do it. They refuse to do Dancing with the Stars or Battle of the Blades because they refuse to dance or skate with anyone else. Watch them in any group number and you are bound to find multiple times, Scott is eyeing her making sure she’s ok. He’s always the one, if not just doing the lift with her, but the lifts with more than one guy, instructing and guiding the lift up, not because he doesn’t trust the other guys, but because she is his partner. And that’s his job to keep her safe, and if something went wrong and he wasn’t there to save her, I can’t imagine the guilt and pain and anger he would have felt- probably just as much if he dropped her himself, but still different and consequential in a different way.

When they retired, it was “when are WE going to stop skating”. Not one of us and the other does another tour, or does something with another partner. It was always them = One.

All these things. This is why I equate what they have and what they do with an intimate, romantic, exclusive relationship. And I really really feel like they do as well. The frequency with which the use the term ‘we love skating together’ and how much they credit the other with how enjoyable a performance was or helping the other through a tough skate. They have never denied they don’t love portraying romantic themes in their programs. They’ve said every program they do is infused with some sort of love. But they don’t have to. They are the most talent artists and skaters their sport has ever seen and are capable of portraying anything, but they chose to portray love because it’s real for them. And because they are so versatile the amount/level/quality/context of the love they portray always varies and is relative to the program. Literally every single free dance they did portrays a different kind of love. Even the programs most would say are similar, ie Valse Trieste, Mahler, Seasons. Partly due to just where they were at both personally and as skaters, as they matured it changed, but as similar “styles” as those programs are, they are not simply a repeat of the same program and the same emotions. Latch is a program I absolutely adore because there is not one moment in that program that portrays romantic love. In that program they are, simply put, baring their souls to the world in the most naked, vulnerable way. They aren’t playing characters in that dance, it’s just them, exhibiting their undying love for each other for what it is. Supporting and lifting each other up, nothing to do with a desire to fuck. They love to portray love in all their programs because that’s what they feel about skating with each other. Love is the emotion they most often use to describe what they get to do together athletically and artistically. Their love for each other can exist without skating, but their love for skating does not exist without each other. And while basically all of their programs have some element of ‘love’ infused in the story and in the movement, and while not every one of them is romantic love, I suspect they enjoy and connect to portraying romantic love because that’s where they feel they can express that kind of love for each other. For what ever reason, by choice or by laws of the universe, that’s where they can be romantically in love with each other. On the ice, that’s where it exists, off ice, that element is missing. Their whole career can be seen as a metaphor for love and a thriving commitment to that love for eternity.. it could be seen as a metaphor if that’s wasn’t exactly what it was in reality. Substitute skating for anything else, but keep their relationship and bond the same. Yet I struggle to believe a bond and love like their’s could ever really exist in the real world because who is willing to equally put the commitment and dedication to improving it, every waking hour, every day if their lives? There is too much going on in the real world to compromise and sabotage it, no matter how badly two people want that kind of unbreakable love and kindness to each other. Everyday of their career they woke up and either consciously or subconsciously thought ‘How can I be the best person/friend/partner for S/T today’. “We are still learning how to be our best selves, and there’s really no one else I’d rather do that with”.

Everyday they chose each other, and you know what. They continue to chose each other every day. It’s just in a different capacity now. Everyday they continue to support and care for and love each other. Tessa was asked once, if Scott told her he wanted another Olympics, he needed Beijing, would she do it for him, and she said she would. But she also said that him knowing she was doing it for him is the very reason he wouldn’t do it. And she confirmed the opposite to be true also. Each other’s happiness is more important to them than anything else in their partnership. He won’t force her to coach with him as a career if she doesn’t want it. Her living her dreams and forging her own path brings more comfort and love to his heart than being the reason she’s not happy. To be an Olympian is often seemed to be incredibly selfish. It’s not just the toll it takes on you but your family and everyone in your life, to see the hard work, fails and triumphs has an effect on everyone close to you. Of course their own families had to deal with that, but I can’t help but believe that Tessa and Scott are some of the least selfish people on the planet. And it’s because they had the courage to set each other free when their time came. That’s a true partnership.

*gifs by @virtche

#virtuemoir #tessa and scott #and their endless love for eachother #true partners #essays

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