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aquagirl1978 · 2 years ago

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Ahoy Aqua! I'm still thinking about that Gilbert and Son fic you wrote the other day and I was wondering if I could request wholesome family headcanons about having a water gun fight with Gilbert and your child as well as Chevalier and your child?

Oh, you mean the fic I posted like over a month ago - oh wait, you mean like a year ago? Sorry I'm so slow with requests 😂 You'll have to forgive me for tweeking your prompt. When I saw those cute lil cyberpunk chibis, and saw Gil with his giant bazooka I was reminded of this request that remained unanswered. A/N: You, as the reader, are alive and well but not present in this paint gun battle. It will become obvious why you are not there as you read along - think of this as a "choose your suitor" story. Disclaimer: I took some liberties in writing this - most notably with their choice of clothing and gameplay. Please do not play paintball without the proper gear and always follow the rules.

IKEMEN PRINCE HEADCANONS - WHOLESOME FAMILY PAINT GUN BATTLES (GILBERT, CHEVALIER)

Arrival at the Arena

The members of the von Obsidian family were frequent visitors at the paintball arena.

Today's outing was led by Gilbert, the proud papa, who was joined by his four children.

They arrived dressed for the occasion - head-to-toe black and red. The two eldest children dragged in what appeared to be a small armory - enough guns for each of them to have at least three and enough ammo to last all afternoon.

Gilbert was busy checking each gun before handing it off to a child as another family entered the space.

Chevalier Michel had never stepped foot into such a place before in his life. It was dark and dingy, and had his teenage son not begged him to come to this place, Chevalier would have been home, reading in his library.

He scowled as his son led him to the long counter - apparently this was where one obtained the equipment necessary to participate.

"Do you want to rent or purchase?" the clerk asked.

"Rent," Chevalier grumbled. There was no need to purchase something he would have no use for after today.

"Hey, Dad, do you know that man over there? He's waving at you."

His ice blue eyes glanced up, a loud sigh escaping his lips before closing his eyes momentarily.

Gilbert wasted no time approaching Chevalier when he ignored his wave. "Fancy seeing you here," Gilbert said with a smile. "Didn't anyone tell you not to wear white here?" he asked, poking Chevalier in the chest with his long finger.

Chevalier roughly brushed Gilbert's hand away. "Didn't anyone tell you to fix your jacket?" he asked, his eyes flickering to the jacket falling from Gilbert's frame, exposing his pale shoulders.

"My wife likes it this way," Gilbert replied, still smiling. "Since you're here, we should play against each other."

Let the Games Begin!

"You're a bit short there..." Gilbert apprised as his single eye flicked between Chevalier and son and his army of four.

"Oh, I know...you can borrow a few of mine." He tapped two of his sons and motioned for them to join Chevalier.

"That wasn't necessary," Chevalier said, frowning at the two mini-Gilberts now standing by his side. "And I out-number you now," he added with a raised brow.

"I know," Gilbert replied with a smile as sharp as a knife.

What did I get myself into? Chevalier felt a sharp sting in his stomach, reminiscent of the pains one might experience when Clavis was nearby. This will not end well.

Chevalier led his team to their designated hideout. He watched in awe as Gilbert's two sons unpacked enough paintball guns to equip a small army.

"Here, take this. It's better than any of the stuff they rent here."

Chevalier tossed his rental gun to the side; the one the mini-Gilbert handed him was a far superior model. Large, yet light in his hands, he nodded approvingly as they handed a similar styled gun to his son.

"You've never played before, have you?" one of the mini-Gilberts asked Chevalier, eyeing his white jacket.

"Just show me how to load this thing," Chevalier replied gruffly, grabbing a handful of paintballs.

After a brief rundown of how to operate the equipment and how to play, the team was ready to split up and start the battle.

"Papa likes to hide," one of the mini-Gilberts warned before the team split up.

Chevalier nodded as he directed the others which way to head.

He crept along his path, his gun at the ready, expecting the worst from Gilbert.

But it was quiet. Too quiet. So quiet, Chevalier found himself growing bored with this game.

He was about ready to drop his gun to his side when out of nowhere came a small figure screaming loudly.

"What the -" Chevalier shouted, shooting the child straight in the chest.

"You got me...." Gilbert's daughter clutched her heart as he body crumped to the ground.

"Dramatic. Just like your father," he said as he stood over her prone body.

One down, two to go.

"What happened to you?" Chevalier asked when he ran into one of the mini-Gilberts from his team.

"My brother....he's down that way. You might be able to sneak up on him."

Chevalier nodded silently and followed down the path until he found his target.

He hid behind cover as he watched and waited for the perfect moment.

When the moment was right, in the darkness of shadows, Chevalier stalked his prey, his gun at the ready.

When the mini-Gilbert's back was turned, Chevalier slipped from the shadows and aimed his gun.

Splat! Bright yellow mixed with black and red, a bright sun in the center of darkness.

"Ah, crap," the mini-Gilbert muttered as his hand reached around his back, his dark glove touching the yellow splatters of paint.

Two down, one to go.

It didn't take long for Chevalier to find the Final Boss; he simply went to where he would have hid.

When he heard Gilbert's familiar laughter, he knew he was in the right spot.

When he turned the final corner, Chevalier couldn't believe his eyes.

"What the bloody hell?!"

Gilbert was perched on a pile of wooden crates, his usual grin plastered on his face.

And a rather large bazooka in his hands.

"What are you doing with that thing?" Chevalier asked, telling himself that he was in no way, shape or form jealous of the weapon in Gilbert's hand.

"No one's ever actually found me during one of these paintball battles, so I've never actually used it. So sad, isn't it?"

Chevalier watched the strange, little man with curiosity as Gilbert stroked the weapon as if it were his pet.

"Do you know what you're doing with that thing?" Chevalier asked.

"Of course I do!" Gilbert exclaimed, offended to be asked such a question. "I built this myself, I -"

BOOM!

All of a sudden, the ground began to shake as the air filled with a giant cloud of acrid smoke. Chevalier covered his mouth with his forearm, his head still ringing, confused as to what exactly happened.

"Oops," Gilbert choked out in between coughs.

The Aftermath

"This was fun, we have to do it again. How's tomorrow?" Gilbert said with a smile as everyone was packing up their gear.

One of the mini-Gilberts pushed his bangs from his forehead as he let out a low sigh. "No, Papa. We have to wait a week. That's how long it will take the place to repair the damage you caused with your bazooka."

"Oh. How's next week then?" Gilbert asked, his smile sad, but not yet quite a frown.

"Yeah, sure," Chevalier mumbled as he and his son left.

"Dad?" Chevalier's son asked once they were outside. "I thought you and mom were going to that book fair next week?"

"Indeed."

"Then why'd you agree to come play then?"

"I won't be coming; your Uncle Clavis will. He and his army of Lelouchians would enjoy this barbaric game immensely."

#forgive me this is so long #ikemen series #ikemen prince #ikepri #chevalier michel #ikepri chevalier #ikemen chevalier #gilbert von obsidian #ikepri gilbert #ikemen gilbert #ikepri headcanons #ikemen headcanons #ikepri fanfic #ikemen fanfic #otome #otome games #otome fanfic #otome headcanons

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hannahssimblr · 1 year ago

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Chapter Twenty (Part 4)

I don’t feel like talking anymore, so when a boy Jen knows comes over to join us on the sofa, I don’t even bother introducing myself, I just get up and go back inside. I spend some time wandering from room to room, going in and out of living rooms, dining rooms, studies, libraries, just looking at the kinds of things these people have in their house. Things that seem extravagant, that seem to have been bought just because they could be, not because they were necessary. There’s no way that anybody could ever read so many books in a lifetime.

I go into the room with the grand piano and sit there plucking out some notes for a while, and then when I give up, having not produced anything that sounded all that great, I look to yet another bookcase and scan its shelves for something interesting enough to absorb myself in for a while.

I spot a copy of Goodnight Mr. Tom tucked away among a row of hardcover classics. It’s a book I haven’t read in years, and I can hardly remember much about the story, only that I enjoyed reading it. I take it and flip open the front cover, and it’s well worn, the pages stained and fingerprinted. There’s writing on the first page, neat, looping, pencilled cursive that forms the words: Jude Turner. 5th Class. I stare at it for a while, and consider whether anybody would notice if this book went missing. How easy would it be for me to take it back into the kitchen and smuggle it into my bag, just so I could hold onto something that’s his?

“Are you going to play a tune or what?”

I spin around with a start to see Jude leaning against the door frame with amusement on his face. I wonder how long he’s been standing there looking at me. I gather myself quickly and hold up the book to show him. “I was looking at this, actually. I read it in school.”

“I did too.” He comes over and sits with me on the piano stool, and I let him take it out of my hands. “I think about this book a lot, actually, and how it was kind of nuts that they made eleven year olds read it.”

“Why? Because of the war stuff?”

He lets out a little laugh. “Wasn’t there a scene with a dead baby?” Then he puts the book right back on the shelf. “No need to be reading a book like that when you’re at a party.” He says to me, “It’s grim enough.”

His whole left side is pressed against me, and I feel nervous and fidgety. “How are you feeling? A bit sad?” I ask him.

“No. I’m doing fantastic.” He says. “Are you sad?”

“No, never better.” I say, and we stare each other down, a pair of rotten liars.

“I’m sorry I haven’t had a lot of time to talk to you, it’s hectic. Everyone wants to relive their fondest memories of me and talk about the good times. It’s weird, it’s kind of like being at my own funeral.”

“They’re just going to miss you.”

“Yes but I’m not dying, I’m going to Germany.”

“It won’t be the same when you’re gone, though.” I begin, but he quickly cuts me off with a sharp: “I don’t want to talk about that.”

I feel stupid, and stare down at my feet, the same old white adidas that saw me through the summer now looking so worn out and scruffy, their condition accentuated by the polished wooden floor beneath them.

“Jude.” Someone says from the doorway, and I look up to see Michelle standing there, her mere presence only making me feel a hundred times worse. “We have a surprise for you. Can you come out to the kitchen?”

“Yeah, just a second.” He tells her, and then she goes away. Nobody bothered introducing us and I’m glad of it, because I don’t think I could handle the discovery that Michelle is not only beautiful, but also a nice person.

“They’ve all signed a card.” He explains. “And they’re going to give it to me now.”

“So much for a surprise.”

“Someone already let it slip. I don’t think I even want it.” He admits.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not goodbye, it’s like a see-you-later. I just hate all the fuss.” A muscle twitches in his jaw.

“Well, then I’m glad nobody asked me to sign it.”

“Me too. I don’t want you to have written some platitude for me, some yearbook style ‘You rock! Never change!’”

“Is that what you think I’d write?” I laugh.

“No, I just… you get the idea.”

“I do.”

“I’ll see you again, Evie. It’s not the end.” He says, looking right at me.

“I know.” I say, and then someone is shouting his name from the kitchen, I watch him anxiously, waiting for him to get up and leave but he just ignores them.

“I know we won’t get much time to talk tonight.” He tells me. “But we can tomorrow if you want to. My flight is at seven.”

“That’s early.”

“Yeah, I know, but if you can manage it, you can see me off. I’m getting up at four, so we can have breakfast together.”

“The last meal?”

“Not the last.”

“Okay. The last for now.”

“Will you get up? We can sit out and watch the sunrise. I’ll make you coffee.”

“Just me?”

“Just you, just us.”

“Yes.” I say immediately. “I’ll set my alarm. I’ll be there.”

“Okay.”

They’re still calling for him, so he wrenches himself from the seat and goes out to the kitchen for his gift, looking back at me one more time to point his finger at me. “Four.” he says again, and then he’s gone.

Jude’s family gets home at midnight, Ivy sleeping in her fathers arms, and after that the party dies down quickly. I start clearing up all of the cups and filling the bins with bottles and cans while Jude sits down at the end of the garden with Jen, talking about something that seems important, so I don’t interrupt them, regardless of how badly I want to sit and talk to him again, completely addicted to the things my body does whenever he’s close to me.

The last few stragglers, those who are staying the night, hunker down on the living room couches and I go upstairs and take one of the guest rooms. I ignore the pile of suitcases that Jen mentioned, unable to think about a whole life packed into bags like that, set for their journey across western europe tomorrow.

As I lay in bed with the lights on I listen for Jude’s footsteps on the stairs. I hear him come up quietly, and then go into the bathroom. I imagine him coming to my door and knocking on it, and that I’ll let him in and he’ll sit with me on the bed and we’ll talk and talk about everything we can think of until our throats are sore, and I’ll run my fingers through his hair and touch his nose, his mouth, his earlobes with their tiny silver hoops and trace every freckle on his face so I can draw him from memory when he’s gone.

But he comes out of the bathroom and goes straight into his bedroom. I grab my phone to set the alarm, then suddenly remember to text my mother. I compose a quick message telling her that I’m safe and well, and going to bed. Then I shove it under the pillow, turn off the light and go to sleep.

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#sims #sims 4 #ts4 #simlit #sims 4 story #sims story #writing #fiction #romance #sims4 storytelling #sims 4 storytelling #sims storytelling #lucky girl part 1

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goldrushzukka · 1 year ago

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10, 17, 21, 29 🤔

hi my love

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

i never ever ever thought aidays would get the attention it did. granted it was originally supposed to be 3 chapters of angst-less romcom hijinks, so of course i didn't expect it to blow up as much as it has bc it also blew up in my own mind to become this huge story. the encouragement when i decided to expand it a bit was amazing, and even better was the theorising and close reading that came when i decided to expand it a Lot. (and this is so cheesy but thank you so much to you specifically michelle for loving aidays enough that i noticed and befriended you bc i would not have finished it without you ily)

17. What’s something you’ve learned about while doing research for a fic?

none of my writing has ever gone into much detail on anything technical so i dont really have a good answer for this except for all the times i learned americans have so many different words for things that really do not need a different word. also some irish-isms are so deeply ingrained in me that it takes saying them out loud in an american accent to hear how wrong it sounds for my narration.

21. Have you ever deleted an entire scene after spending hours laboring over it? If so, why?

29. Share a bit from a fic you’ll never post OR from a scene that was cut from an already posted fic. (If you don’t have either, just share a random fic idea you have that you don’t plan on getting to.)

these two have the same answer so I'll just do them together. in my original draft of aidays11, the scene where sokka goes to get groceries actually had a zukka interaction. i wrote about 1.5k words and then realised i hated all of them and scrapped the scene entirely, and then that supermarket trip became just an excuse to get sokka outside into the rain for the sparks fly/how you get the girl climax moment. i won't post the full scene here bc i truly do actually hate most of it but here's some of it

His shoe squeaks on the linoleum when he stops dead in his tracks. Zuko, examining the skin of a peach three feet away, looks up at the sound. “Oh,” he says, setting the peach down. Several expressions flash across his face, and Sokka can’t get a read on any of them. “Hey.” The first thing out of Sokka’s mouth, before he can stop it, before he can even think, is, “What are you doing here?” Zuko blinks at him. “Sorry, that was – sorry,” Sokka says. He shouldn’t get any closer, but he does, approaching the fruit stand and cutting the distance between them in half. Like that’ll help him think straight. “This is just – I mean, isn’t there a supermarket closer to your place? This is a little out of your way, isn’t it?” Okay, so there are less rude ways to ask that. Ways that don’t make it sound like Sokka’s being territorial about the fucking produce section. But Sokka doesn’t know how to talk about anything normal right now, especially not with Zuko, because all he can think about is last chances and leaps of faith and his own terrible, terrible wanting. Is this what it’s going to be like forever? Unable to have a normal interaction without almost spilling every secret he’s ever had, every desire that holds his heart for ransom? Forever crushed under the foot of the elephant in the room? “Azula needs something specific for a recipe she’s working on,” Zuko says. He holds his hands by his sides in a way that Sokka thinks is very intentional. “Our place doesn’t have it. Well, no, it does, but I brought it home and she threatened me with a knife, so I guess our place doesn’t have the right one.” He smiles a little as he says it, and for a second, Sokka forgets about the last chances and the leaps of faith and the terribleness of his wanting. He forgets about Katara and Jet and Suki and the what-does-it-all-mean headache he’s had since waking. For a second, Sokka is standing in the produce section and the man he loves is smiling at him. Zuko asks, “Do you know where the basil is?”

And Sokka says, “Yeah. Do you need it dried or fresh?” “Fresh, I think.” “Okay. This way.” Sokka leads him to the tiny garden section, right by a big window at the end of the frozen food section. It’s mostly flower bouquets and succulents, but there’s a handful of potted plants under a cheerful sign encouraging customers to start their own herb gardens. Sokka hands a potted basil plant to Zuko. “There’s a little card in there that tells you how to take care of it.” “Oh, cool,” Zuko says. “Thank you.” “We had one for a little while,” Sokka says, astonished at himself for being able to carry this conversation as far as he has. “We kept it in Suki’s room.” “Your room gets better light, though.” Something awful and bright as a star twists inside Sokka’s chest. “Yeah, but Suki was the one who remembered to water it. And then Momo got at it, and we had to throw away two sets of sheets.” Zuko throws his head back laughing, the same way he did last night and a hundred times before then, and that awful star inside him expands, exploding as he thinks, maybe this is it. But Zuko says, “Thanks. I’ll see you.” And it isn’t. Sokka lets him go, because what else is there to do? If Zuko wanted to stay, he would. If Zuko wanted to talk about last night, he would. If Zuko wanted to choose him, he would.

#also the scene in aidays11 with suki was supposed to be with aang #it was sokka & aang walking appa in the park and talking through everything that happened the nihht before #& they were going to bump into zuko out for a woman-in-a-movie-facing-a-dilemma run #except first they see him from behind & sokka is like. god. that guys hot. whats wrong w me how can i think abt hot guys at a time like thi #it was supposed to be a silly little comoc relief moment but it felt wrong to do a gag in the middle of all that #so i gave the scene to suki who is naturally mood-lightening #i have some of it written but i never got very far into it bc i decided p quickly to scrap it #haroldtea #asks #my writing

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austenpoppy · 1 year ago

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Nightfall: at dusk - Prologue: Night monsters

Ao3 link: Nightfall : at dusk - Chapter 1 - Austenpoppy - Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling [Archive of Our Own]

Fanfiction.net link: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/14301937/1/Nightfall-At-Dusk

Summary:

2001. Ron and Harry are working hard at the Auror Academy to become full-fledged Aurors, while Hermione is trying to find her place in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and Ginny is training with the Holyhead Harpies. Everybody is trying to overcome what happened in the war to focus on building a better future, and life seems easier than it has ever been. However, darkness is looming on the horizon as Muggleborn and Half-Blood wizards and witches disappear before being found out weeks later, their dead bodies having been experimented upon. Meanwhile, Ron has more and more trouble dealing with the aftermath of what happened with the locket...

I can't believe I'm actually starting to post this. This is going to be the first fanfiction I publish, but it is a gigantic project that I have started years ago, when I was barely out of high school - and it's very close to my heart. It all began in a rather boring geography class in 2017 (I'm sorry, Mr. D, I can't say I care about mussel culture in Thailand) where I had let my imagination wander, doing one of my favourite hobbies: inventing stories with one of my favourite characters of all time (in case that was not clear, I'm talking about Ron). I was thinking about one scene from one of my favourite childhood movies (the fantastic "Azur and Asmar" by Michel Ocelot) and I was replacing the characters from the animation film with Harry and Ron, imagining how they could have ended up in that situation and what could happen after.

The entire universe of Nightfall was born from this one scene alone.

If you start this journey with me, my fellow Internet friend, this is going to be a long, very long ride. The story is so huge I divided it into three parts, each of which have their own "arcs" so to speak. The good thing is that I know exactly where I'm going, and I can assure you that considering there are already six years of work put into this project I am not likely to ever abandon it. You should rather feel sorry for my dear friend and beta Vivithefolle who not only had to hear me talk about this project for years, but also had to read some chapters in complete disorder, with some notes from me to explain the context or background information. Thank you so much, Vivi, you motivated me to write at a time you were my only reader and I had this crazy idea I would write all the chapters before publishing them (no this did not work out, but no one can accuse me of being impatient... six freaking years of work...).

However I want to be clear and honest to my potential readers: this is not going to be a happy-go-lucky story by any stretch of the imagination. I am going to write about mature and sometimes very dark subjects, even though if you know me, you may have guessed I rather like humour and am not really fond of cynical and hopeless works. I, however, am a sadist, as you will have the displeasure to discover once you see how I treat Ron (I'm joking, I'm joking...or am I ?). I don't want to say too much, but let's just say people who came here for a feel-good story without any angst will be thoroughly disappointed.

As a side note, I consider this work to be canon-compliant, given that I only consider the seven original books as canon and take what J. K. Rowling wrote on Pottermore with a grain of salt; but "Nightfall" is not my headcanon of what happened after the war either. Consider it more like an evil twin of my actual headcanon.

Now let me introduce you to the world of "Nightfall", or the story that has been living rent free in my head nearly everyday for the past few years. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I've enjoyed writing it, and I'm proud and extremely touched to present you with my first published fanfiction (I also feel very self-conscious, but I guess that was to be expected).

Disclaimer: All characters and events depicted in the original book series belong to J.K. Rowling. Most unfortunately.

Trigger warnings for this chapter: graphic depictions of violence, disturbing imagery

(See the end of the work for more notes).

Prologue : Night monsters

Sunday 7th January, 2001 - 2 am.

It was a very cold night. Thaddeus gripped the pants of his cloak tighter against himself, trying to warm himself up as best as he could. As he exhaled loudly, his breath came out in a silvery steam before disappearing. His lips were chapped, and he could feel the cracks on them that would probably end up bleeding.

He found himself thinking wistfully of the warm bed in which his wife was waiting for him at home. Images of himself with his head going deep into his soft pillow, pulling back his fluffy blankets over his body, and kissing Magdalene goodnight before going to sleep with a contented smile on his face flooded his mind. He fidgeted, feeling irritation slowly rising inside him. How long would he have to wait?

Magdalene was certainly trying to fight off sleep until he came back, though she was most likely too groggy to last long – Calder, who had turned three in November, was in his oppositional phase and was exhausting them both. Thaddeus had been in the Auror Task Force for more than twenty years, and Magdalene had been his wife for well over fifteen years now, but she still worried almost as much as she did back when they started dating.

She worried even more those days considering what had been happening lately. Eight wizards and witches had vanished in the last month and a half in mysterious circumstances; two of them had ended up dead, their corpses dropped in random places all over the United Kingdom. And to top it off, all of the missing people had either been Muggleborn or Half-Blood, something that the media had been quick to point out.

Of course, worried whispers had emerged ever since Fidvi Khokhar, the second victim, had disappeared, and those whispers had grown louder and louder every time another person had gone missing. A collective shiver had taken over the wizarding community, that was paralyzed with fear at the idea that somehow, You-Know-Who had managed to come back from the dead yet again.

About two weeks earlier, when Conri Hartnett's body had been found five hundred miles away from the place he had last been seen, stupor had seized Aurors and civils alike. Of course, everyone had felt very sorry for his family, though nobody had ever doubted that the former Unspeakable had been killed - there was even a strange relief that had gone hand in hand with the discovery of the corpse, since victims of Death Eater who had disappeared were very rarely found.

Yet, despite this small relief, horror and fright had quickly made their way into everybody's hearts at the knowledge that Hartnett's body had been experimented upon. Thaddeus had not seen the body himself, and photographs of the corpse had been forbidden despite outcries from scoops-hungry journalists, but he had heard other Aurors shiver while recounting the tale in the common room.

The picture those Aurors had painted was the kind that you only saw in the most terrible nightmares. Hartnett's fingers, hands, arms, legs and foot had apparently disappeared, replaced instead with translucid tentacles reminiscent of a jellyfish. Meanwhile, his head had taken up a more cubic-shaped form, while his hair had completely fallen off. Furthermore, the rest of his body had been covered with a bad rash. The Aurors who were at the crime scene had said you could barely make out the place the human body ended and the jellyfish started, as if the two were one and the same.

Really Thaddeus couldn't imagine much more terrible fate. The Auror department had not even allowed Hartnett's family to see the body, let alone get it back for a proper funeral. As of now the scientific team was still trying to figure out what had happened to Hartnett exactly. So far the only things they were sure about were that the kind of jellyfish Hartnett had been merged with was a species of the family Oceaniidae, and that dark magic had been involved in the twisted process of Transfiguration.

Two days after Hartnett, another body had been found in Cardiff. This one, too, had been awfully disfigured. After a bit of investigation, it had turned out to be Donovan Kovalenko, a British Ukrainian citizen who had worked as a secretary in the Ukrainian embassy until his disappearance, and the last person to have disappeared.

Unlike Bartnett, he had not been blended with a jellyfish, but with a bowhead whale. His face had been completely unrecognizable, and it was only because of a very specific birthmark that the scientific team had been able to identify the body.

Just like with Bartnett, Kovalenko's transfigured corpse had been found very far away from the place he had last been seen, since the Ukrainian embassy was based in London. What was more, he had also been found in a completely different region than Bartnett, whose body had been discovered in a little town in Scotland, Tobermory.

All in all, Thaddeus thought with a shudder, there was something really dark going on, but no one could tell whether this was the work of a serial killer, of Pureblood fanatics, of a human trafficking ring, or something else entirely.

Thaddeus didn't think Magdalene had any reason to fret today, though. If the situation he'd been required to deal with had been dangerous, he wouldn't be hanging around waiting for the Hit wizard on duty to come and let him know what was going on. It was probably some kind of drunk wizard who'd destroyed public property thinking Trolls were attacking him. Two months ago he'd arrested a man who had been bothering a neighbourhood in London, believing himself to be Celestina Warbeck. The fella had sung all night with a croaky falsetto voice that seemed immune to the most powerful Silencios.

Merlin, he hated being the reserve Auror at night, but he needed the extra money.

Just as his mind was going to go down a rather dark route he was nonetheless accustomed to, he noticed a familiar figure coming right toward him, looking grim. He couldn't help but raise his eyebrows in surprise.

"Harvey?" he asked as they showed each other their Auror badges and checked each other's identity. "What're you doing here?"

"Nasty business, Thaddeus", Harvey replied sombrely, shaking his head, while Thaddeus followed him. "A young witch who was on her way home after a party stumbled upon the body of Lucinda Backstreet. Lynn's team is already on the crime scene."

Immediately, Thaddeus felt his shoulders slump, and his heart constricted. It was going to be a long night. Magdalene's eyes would give up the fight against sleep well before he would be able to go home, and the first thing he would do when he did go back to his house wouldn't be to kiss his children or wife but take a huge glass of Firewhisky.

Lucinda Backstreet was one of the eight people who had disappeared in the last weeks. A young girl from Bristol, enthusiastic and passionate about the protection of magical animals. One day she had left her home to go to the weekly meeting of her club dedicated to the defense of the rights of magical creatures, and then nobody had ever seen her again. Her disappearance had really caused a stir nationwide. Not only was she the youngest victim, but her father, Cyneric Backstreet, was a well-known businessman who had made a fortune selling transportable strongboxes that were charmed to repel most common spells.

Walking toward her corpse reminded Thaddeus as to why some days he thought that he should find another job.

Neither Harvey nor he were speaking, and the only sounds that could be heard were that of their boots on gravel. After a few minutes spent in silence, they finally approached the crime scene. Thaddeus noticed that a few members of the scientific team were already there, looking for evidence and preparing the body for transport, including the Team Leader of the scientific team herself, Auror Lynn Oliver. Thaddeus gave a nod in her direction, which she answered grimly.

Thaddeus looked around for familiar faces, and he saw Monica and Griffiths acknowledge his presence with a small wave, though they quickly got back to what they were doing, both of their faces incredibly serious.

When Thaddeus finally laid eyes on Lucinda's body, he felt himself repress a gag and he had to quickly avert his eyes. The young girl was spread out on the pavement, her face turned toward the starry night. Her expression would give Thaddeus nightmares for months. Her mouth was contorted in pain, her cheeks were tear-stained, and her glassy eyes were wide open in terror, telling a story of terrible suffering.

Though her face and chest had remained human, her stretched-out arms had been turned into something else, just like the previous victims. This time, as far as Thaddeus could tell, the monsters responsible for the murders had tried to turn Lucinda into some sort of part-Phoenix creature. While the shape of her arms was visible, they had been saddled with very big wings, covered in those unmistakable red feathers typical of Phoenixes. Some of them had seemingly burnt, as they had turned black and were emitting a dark smoke that Thaddeus instinctively backed away from.

Lucinda's hands were still present, but her fingers had elongated, and were contracted, as if she had had a seizure. Her legs, too, had been partially Transfigured. Thaddeus could see feathers coming out from under her pants, that had clearly been buttoned up hastily, and her feet had been turned into sharp talons, onto which no shoe could be put, though her shoes had still been put beside her body.

"I can't believe I'll have to be the one who'll tell Cyneric Backstreet that his daughter is dead, and that her death was clearly not a quick, painless one", sighed Harvey next to Thaddeus.

"Is that why you arrived at the crime scene before me?" Thaddeus asked, his voice laced with sympathy as he looked up at Harvey. "The emergency code for the missing persons' case?"

"Yeah, I was the one from my squad on duty tonight", Harvey replied, his breath turning into vapor as he exhaled. "The witness fortunately remembered it, and I received the signal thirty minutes ago. Right now Gallaway is taking her deposition."

Harvey jutted his chin toward a young woman, who couldn't be older than twenty-five and was in a clear state of great agitation. She was standing a few feet away from the crime scene, and was talking to a black-haired Auror in uniform that Thaddeus had only met a few times.

Thaddeus crouched down to look at Lucinda. He could not imagine the horrors she must have been through, and he shuddered as he thought of her father, who had openly wept in the Aurors' Office when he had been told there were few chances that Lucinda was alive after the first two bodies had been found.

As a father himself, Thaddeus could barely bear to think about that happening to his own children. Lucinda's face was so youthful that it was just plain wrong to imagine her doing anything other than laughing with her friends, complaining that she had too much homework, or giving animated speeches about endangered species.

Feeling dejected, Thaddeus turned his face toward Harvey and declared quietly: "Poor girl. She wasn't even seventeen."

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He was stuck on a chair in the tent and felt dirty. He looked down at his hands. He had been so sure he had cleaned them several times before, yet they looked filthy, dusty - all those adjectives finishing with a - y that applied to him because he was such a terrible person.

"Nothing will ever wipe your hands off your betrayal. It's too late. But has there been a time when you were at their level? Has there ever been a time when you were worth their brightness? No, and you know it. You're a dark creature, Ron Weasley, with even darker and hideous thoughts. I have seen your heart, and it is black. You have tried to keep your jealousy and your mediocrity hidden, you have tried to ignore the calls of your inner nature, but hear me out - you have failed."

"Do you see them? They are outside, in the sun, in the light. They shine very brightly, don't they, Ron? Their skins glow, their eyes sparkle, their smiles warm up everything around them. Do you see how much happier the world seems to be with them in it? Birds sing again, flowers are blooming, and Harry Potter and Hermione Granger are the stars the sky was waiting for."

“You are in the dark, and you will remain in the dark. You are seated in dust because you are nothing more than dust yourself. Actually, to be perfectly honest, your surroundings were welcoming and comfortable until you showed up and sat down in this chair. Crazy how you spoil everything around you. See, here, the tissue the tent is made of is quickly falling into pieces. Your mere presence is enough to destroy what is around you... Unless the objects you are surrounded by somehow feel how evil you are, and they'd rather turn to dust than stay with you any longer. Choose which hypothesis you prefer."

"Aaaah, they're coming your way. I will never understand why they decided to keep you with them, despite your darkness. But I will never understand real kindness either, so I will drop the subject. It was your redemption, Ronald. They were your redemption. You could have atoned for your sins. You could have let them crush you so they would climb higher and finally reach the sky where they belong. You could have done something useful for a change. Yet you spoiled your only opportunity. You spoiled everything, as usual."

"Now you're not even worthy enough to be a footboard for them to climb. You are just dust on their shoes. Dust, dust, dust. They will be so happy to wipe this dirt off their shoes. Even coming near you dampens their spirits. Their smiles are less warm, their eyes are less bright, their skins a lot paler. So are you going to spoil them, Ronald, like you did with the tent, or will they finally beat you and turn you into dust? Given how furious they look, I bet it's the latter."

He felt cold. Harry and Hermione were looking at him with a freezing glare and a scornful snarl at their lips. He shivered. And swallowed. He knew he had fucked everything up. He knew he deserved their anger and more. He just didn't want them to be upset over this, over him and his stupidity. And if he was honest with himself, it was also terrifying to be on the receiving end of their hatred.

"Listen", he choked, "I-I can't say how sorry I am, because no word will ever be enough. I am also...I am also so happy that you accepted to take me back to help you. I promise I won't be a bother. Don't mind me. I'll just do what you need me to do and disappear from your lives forever after if-if that's what you want. Please don't throw me out !"

But Harry and Hermione were not listening to him. Their freezing glare had turned into a flaming and scalding hot look and they were burning him. He was very hot. He was sweating. He felt drops falling on his face. The locket was weighing on his chest. It was so heavy. It hurt. He felt like he was melting.

He looked down at his hands again. He was actually melting. The skin of his fingers was going brown and was softening; small drops began to fall on the floor of the tent. Ploc, Ploc. They were forming a puddle and it looked like mud. In fact, he was sure it was mud. He wanted to yell, but he couldn't. His face was already melting, joining the puddle on the floor.

Ron woke up with a start and sat up, gasping for air. It had been a nightmare. Just a fucking nightmare. He ran a hand across his face, shivering from head to toe, and felt wetness on his cheeks. Fuck it, he had once again been crying in his sleep. It was the fourth time in seven days. Even as a child Ron hadn't been that much of a wuss, even though George liked to remind him that he'd kept taking refuge into one of his brothers' beds (or Ginny's) whenever he was scared, and that until he was eight.

It wouldn't matter as much if he had been crying for anything else. Not that he preferred the other nightmares, mind you, but he just felt pathetic for turning into a sobbing mess all because he'd been too weak to resist an effing necklace. Harry was particularly affected by Dementors. Nothing less than Bellatrix Lestrange could make Hermione truly terrified. Ginny, who had been possessed by a diary, didn't flinch at the mere presence of a book.

But him ? Ron could already imagine George making grand gestures wherever he went: "Alas, my dear Sirs, gentlemen, thou shall make place for the delicate Ronniekins in his worn-out PJs, for he fainted when the dreaded locket came into his dainty view. Please bring the smelling salts while we're fanning his pasty white and freckled face and he's letting out little whines of distress. He's the king of wimps, thou see, and he can't bear the sight of lockets, less he be crying like a famished baby !"

Yeah. George'd be the kind of asshole who'd offer him a pacifier if he knew what kind of nightmares was making Ron cry in his sleep.

Ron looked down at his hands, the real ones this time. Goddammit, they were still shaking. Bloody frickity freakering fuck, he thought as he closed his eyes in frustration, why did he have no control over his own body? Why did he have to act like he was a ninety-something-old buffer who needed help to take a piss?

Why did he have to ask himself stupid questions that nobody would answer?

Even though the bedroom was completely silent at this hour of the night, Ron could still hear his heart thumping madly in his ears, and despite himself he couldn't help but feel like the locket was still whistling behind him, making his skin crawl. Sweat was running down his back and had already soaked his armpits, and yet for some reason he was cold, goosebumps erupting all over his flesh.

And he still had this impression of someone hissing near him, and the room was closing on him, and his pyjama top was glued to his skin, and he didn't like the way the sheets were trapping his legs, preventing him from moving... Unable to bear the situation any longer and feeling like he was suffocating, Ron yanked the sheets off his part of the bed and got up quickly, before pulling his sticky pyjama top over his head and throwing it on the ground.

He took his wand and started walking toward the door, though he couldn't help himself and stopped to throw a glance at Hermione once he was in the doorframe. She was sleeping peacefully, her wild brown curls framing her head like some kind of fairy tale princess. The moonlight was lighting up her beautiful face, and she had a contented smile that almost made him want to go back to bed to kiss it.

Leaving the bedroom, Ron crossed the corridor and went into the small kitchen of the flat, and immediately put water into the kettle to make himself tea. He cast a heating charm on the kettle, took his favourite mug, and put a teabag in it. Waiting for the water to boil, he put his outstretched arms on the counter and sighed, his head lowered toward the sink.

It was the third time in a week that he'd had a nightmare about the locket. It wasn't surprising per say, because it was January and it was always around this time of the year that Ron had the most vivid nightmares in regard to the locket, but it still sucked. Especially because it'd been three years already, and some part of Ron had - foolishly - hoped that the nightmares and his locket-related terror would have subsided by now.

But nope, he mused as he stared at the happy light brown dog on the mug running around and chasing a butterfly. He still had dreams in which he could feel the heavy weight of the locket on his chest, preventing him from breathing. In which he was trapped in an endless stream of dark thoughts echoed by the locket's whispers, reminding him of all the times he had felt worthless. In which he kept leaving the tent as Harry's scornful stares and Hermione's cries followed him even after he woke up.

At the same time, he knew the nightmares were the last thing he deserved for ever having walked out on Harry and Hermione. He'd never been good enough for them in the first place, but deserting them when they needed him most was irredeemable, something that the locket, whether it be through his nightmares or flashes, kept reminding him of.

At this moment a whistling sound made Ron's heart do a somersault before he realized that it was only the kettle boiling. He poured the hot water into his mug, added two and a half sugar cubes to his drink, steeped the teabags in the water, and as he adopted the same waiting position as before his thoughts went back to the place he had among his two best friends.

He was thankful Harry and Hermione still wanted him in their lives, and somehow he kept waiting for the other shoe to drop, when they'd wake up and realize he'd been nothing but a cock-up all this time. Truth be told, part of Ron had to pinch himself every morning when he was reminded that Hermione wanted to be with him, of all people, and that he got to be an Auror Trainee with Harry, who still thought Ron had his back.

So he'd keep trying to enjoy every moment while it lasted. It was not always easy, because every little thing seemed to remind him of a memory in which he'd fucked up or that showed how insignificant he was. Yet Ron had learned to cast the memories aside in order to focus on more important things, like his family, Harry, Hermione, his other friends, or his studies. The hardest part in all this was to not let his useless feelings get in the way of things.

Ron could say with some pride that he'd grown way better at dismissing his gross feelings of jealousy and insecurity compared to when he was a teenager. Sure, sometimes he slipped up because he was still a moron, he pondered as he turned a spoon inside his mug. But all in all, so far he had managed to keep his selfish desires in check - mostly.

He kept making efforts to show others, and more particularly Harry and Hermione, that he had changed. For that he needed to make sure they didn't notice he still had the same old feelings, or at least he needed to let them know that those feelings would never be a burden to them again. Of course sometimes they couldn't help but notice a few things, like this time Ron had casually let slip that he thought Hermione often favoured Harry over him and it had ended up in a huge row with Hermione as she yelled he was just being a possessive jealous sod trying to stifle her. Or this time he had jokingly told Harry he was Mum's favourite and Harry, disturbed, had replied that however important Mrs. Weasley was in his life, she was not his mother. Harry had been weird for days after that, all because of Ron, his stupid mouth and his stupid brain.

That was the reason why he made sure no one knew the extent of the mess he had in his head. While he had never been a great liar, he tried not to be too specific if someone asked him what was wrong, he tried to take their attention away from whatever face he was making, he tried to dismiss his reactions whenever they were related to this pathetic sticky, stinky magma of insecurity inside him.

And it was somewhat working, but for how long would it last?

Right as his mood was turning as bitter as the tea he had brewed, considering he had let the teabag steep for more than ten minutes, he heard footsteps coming in his direction. He didn't bother to take his wand or even turn around. Ron would recognize Hermione's light but determined steps anywhere.

She entered the kitchen and stopped in the hallway for a few seconds, before walking toward him and enveloping him from behind. Even though she had wrapped a warm nightgown around her, her hands were still cold on his chest. Yet he didn't mind. The contact of her skin on his, the touch of her curls and cheek on his back made everything better, and despite himself he closed his eyes for a brief instant, savouring the moment.

"A nightmare again ?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yeah..." Ron admitted with a sigh. "I didn't want to wake you up, but I needed to get up."

"It's okay", Hermione replied in a reassuring tone. "But I'm starting to get worried. You've had many nightmares in the last three weeks and haven't been able to sleep properly even though you have exams coming up. Perhaps you should see a healer to get a Sleeping potion ?" she added anxiously.

"Not until I really have to", he retorted firmly. "We've already had far too many problems with Sleeping potions, I don't want to risk it. Besides, I'd have to tell the Auror Academy's specialist Healer about it and I'd like to avoid it if I can."

"I know", Hermione sighed. "I'm just worried about you. You always seem to get so stressed out before your exams at the Auror Academy, even worse than I've ever been at Hogwarts. I wished you would stop doubting yourself so much."

Ron did not reply, but he squeezed Hermione's hands that were still clasped on his chest, right next to his heart. It was strange how the people around him seemed to know him so well while at the same time not knowing anything about the exact reasons that were making him upset.

"What can I say ?" He finally acknowledged after a few moments of silence, though he hoped his tone appeared casual. "You can't change old habits with a wave of your wand. I guess it's hard for me to think I won't fuck up somewhere. But you shouldn't worry about me", he added gently. Go back to sleep."

"I woke up because you were not beside me in the bed, I'm not going back in there without you", she retorted assertively.

"I'm gonna lose the debate if I try to argue, won't I ?" Ron snorted.

"Of course you would lose, I'm more stubborn than you", she said confidently, and Ron could feel that she was sporting a small smile.

"Even if that were true, which remains to be seen, that's nothing to boast about, Miss Granger", he tutted in a fake formal voice. "I've been told that I'm more stubborn than a brooding mule having been raised by Harry, so imagine what could be worse than that... Apart from Harry himself, of course."

Ron felt Hermione shake behind him as she laughed heartily. He could not help but feel a surge of pride at having made her laugh after having made her worry for no good reason. Being able to make Hermione laugh as much as possible was one of his goals in life, and the sound of her laughter was one of the things he cherished most.

"I love you", she said fondly, as if it was the only logical answer to his antics.

At that, Ron turned around, and it was his turn to envelop Hermione in his arms, her smaller body fitting perfectly with his own. He kissed the top of her head, her brown curls tickling his face, before putting his chin on top of the mass of her unruly hair.

"I love you too", he whispered, and he hoped she could not detect how emotional he was.

He was glad that she could not see his face in the dark kitchen that was only lit up by the moonbeams that went through the main window. If she had, she would have seen in his eyes, of which Hermione always said they could never lie, the one thing that kept playing on a loop in his head but that was stuck in his throat.

I don't deserve you.

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Notes:

I suppose I should add a bit of information concerning my own vision of the Wizarding World that may seem surprising in future chapters:

1. I rather like to think the wizarding community is not small. I consider that there are hundreds of thousands, or even millions of wizards and witches in the United Kingdom, scattered in many different cities and villages.

2. For the same reason, I do not think Hogwarts is the sole magical school of the entire United Kingdom. It is the most reputed one, but I imagine there are thousands of smaller schools everywhere, allowing for people who do not want their children to go to a boarding school to learn magic and to learn how to control their powers nonetheless.

3. Only old wizards and witches actually dress in robes the way one would picture a typical wizard robe. I have my own ideas of what wizarding fashion is.

#hp #hp fanfiction #ron weasley #hermione granger #angst #mystery #psychological trauma #look this is my first published fanfiction #i feel like a young child showing their bizarre drawing to adults

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seanssimsblog · 1 year ago

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It is now 1841, and within a year of living with the McNeils, Nora has become well acquainted with the family as she finally gains a new sense of self-consciousness, like she's a person instead of property. The family has helped her gain confidence and drive to do more for herself. She especially bonds with Darren McNeil's wife, Michelle; both having a passion for learning. Michelle is a highly educated woman who teaches in secret to newly freed or runaway slaves and poor whites who never obtained an education. Michelle was born a former slave in Charleston, South Carolina, and then was separated from her mother, Millie, when she was 12; the separation was a punishment for her mother because she often had trouble taking care of the 5 white children on the plantation along with Michelle. Michelle was then relocated to a Georgia plantation where she met Darren while he preached to the slaves at her plantation; Darren was only 17 then, and Michelle was 16.

Michelle, who had found comfort in the Christian faith due to being alone and separated from her mother, was captivated by Darren's passionate preaching style and handsome looks. Michelle happened to catch Darren's eye. Darren heard a voice from God saying that Michelle and Darren were ordained for each other. Darren testified that God instructed him to go to a remote area in a field and dig. As Darren dug, he dug up a huge chunk of pure gold. Darren then gave that to Michelle's master in exchange for her to be freed, and the rest was history. Darren traveled with Michelle to South Carolina and founded and built the community of Foundry Cove with her by his side.

Michelle learned how to read and write from Darren, who secretly knew to do so independently with the help of a white traveling teacher from the former northern colonies, now deceased, after Darren was manumitted (freed). As Michelle advanced academically, she discovered her passion for knowledge and education as things came quickly. Michelle began to read extensively and write countless papers. She began learning science, math, and arithmetic, which impressed Darren. Michelle now teaches at an old abandoned 2 story house that she's turned into a school. She goes there every morning, growing countless young and old minds.

Michelle has been instructing Nora and immensely growing her reading and writing abilities, as well as her arithmetic and science. Nora's new skillset has led her to write a lot and value the art of recordkeeping. She would spend countless nights writing about her parents and grandmother, whom she was separated from at an early age, recounting both the good and bad times they shared. Michelle, moved by her life story, suggested that Nora write a book about her experiences as a slave, which she believed could create a gateway for change in the future.

Taking on Michelle's suggestion, Nora thought it was a brilliant idea and decided to work on her book. She also started to write down the milk-bread recipe that her previous master, Parker, stole from her. "So what are you writing about now, Mrs. Nora? Is your book comin' along well?" Michelle asks Nora, "Well, I'm writing my recipe into my book. Which was kind of stolen from me..." Nora says to Michelle. "Stolen? Who stole your recipe, Nora?" Michelle asks, "My master... he tricked me into giving him my recipe one day when he came into the cabin and told me to make it for him. As soon as he pulled out a sheet of paper and a quill, with him being a businessman and all, I knew that what I had was no longer mine... that it was only a matter of business now," Nora says as she breaks down crying into Michelle's arms. "Oh, Nora.. Honey, I'm so sorry," Michelle says as she embraces Nora. "I understand what it feels like... to have something taken away from you... just like I was taken away from my dear mother. I don't even know if she's alive or not. But now, Nora, we have each other. We have freedom!" "Keep writing your recipe down, anything that you can recall, and I'll help if you need any help with words. Maybe someday, you'll be able to open up your own bakery with all types of milk breads and pastry desserts made especially by you!" Michelle says to Nora as they let go of each other. "Oh, Mrs. Michelle, you really think so?" Nora asks, "Nora, I know so, anything is possible! We can achieve all things with self-confidence, determination, and God's help! Don't let that little voice called doubt mess with your head. I know too well about that little fella... listen, anytime he even tries to whisper a single vowel into your ear, you slap the sucker into the next week, you hear me?" Michelle says to Nora, making her laugh. "You can do it, Nora, we can do it," Michele says as she goes in for a second hug. "Nora, trust me, this book will change history for the better. You are going to be a part of something great."

#sims 4 story #sensitive content #ts4 decades challenge #ts4 historical #ts4 legacy #ts4 #sims 4 decades challenge

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notebookmusical · 8 months ago

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Okay sorry about that but this is part 2. So I feel pretty biased toward the Outsiders I guess cuz it's a story I know well and I thought the songs I heard fit. I can't really say much about the acting nominations because I just don't know. I also saw someone say it's the first show in a while to have a big fandom like Newsies lol and I can see some similarities. The music isn't my favorite still though but I'm not sure when I will have time to listen to the cast album. I think it is a better adaptation than the Notebook based on what I've seen from it so far. I think it could be between this and Hells Kitchen based on how many noms it got or Suffs as well. I really like all the revivals too but I still think Merrily will win.

I was also reading a little bit about the other version of Gatsby from some people that went and their reviews. Most of the reviews said it was so good and It seems like we were right..that one would be more glitzy and 1920s and the other would be more about themes in the story. I will say that the other one is generally what most people would think of cuz it seems very much like a fun type of musical. I still think the leads are probably the biggest strength though and I'm saving my opinion until the cast album comes out. I would be curious about how the music sounds in the new one too since I love Isaac Powells voice and Florence but I didn't see much about it. I hope you're happy with it.

I think one of the strengths of the Wicked movie is that at least we know they can all sing decently. I'm still not sure if they have the right voice when I think of the characters. I definitely don't have a dream cast either...I have seen people say Dove Cameron and Jordan Fisher and that doesn't seem right either. I guess Elphaba would make sense as somebody new and unknown that could be as good as Rachel Zegler from West Side. A long time ago, people thought Anna Kendrick or Amanda Seyfried for Glinda and Zac Efron or Darren Criss and Lea Michele as a potential Elphaba. So no one would feel right at all I don't think. I love No one mourns the Wicked, Dancing through Life, Popular, I'm not that Girl, Defying Gravity As Long as You're Mine. and For Good. I'm excited for the whole dancing thru life scene in the movie. It's hard to imagine in the movie. I also wonder how many songs they're going to cut too. I would also be excited to see what Oz looks like on screen and when they would get older. I'm not that familiar with Wicked Witch of the East since it's not on the cast album and I was shocked when I saw it on stage in the musical. I know nothing about who is playing Nessa in the movie either. What about you? Some people who love Broadway really did love the trailer though and said Ariana sounds exactly like Kristin Chenoweth so I'm still hopeful about the movie overall.

Your list is so great and I agree with everything you put especially the debut set and mashup. That would be such a good mashup. I love when she mashed up Should've Said No and Bad Blood on rep tour. I think I would have the song Red performed instead of Holy Ground though. I'm fine with Speak Now as is with Long Live but I would also pick Sparks Fly for another song if I could. She sang it as a surprise song the other day and it seems like she has a lot of fun performing it. I would add Willow to the Evermore set. I agree that I love the rep and Midnights sets. I know most people say she could cut Mastermind for YOYOK but it's one of my favorite performances and I love experiencing it with fans. I don't want to write out a whole setlist but I mostly agree. I haven't been good at guessing surprise songs lately but I had a dream the other night that she mashed up bad blood and Don't You lol so I made that my guess. It seems like she is singing mostly songs from TTPD or the anthology but I still never guess right lol. She also sang Glitch for the first time yesterday and I especially loved the Long Story Short and Prophecy mashup. I don't think I'm going to make any guesses yet though. Anyway I hope you have a nice rest of the week and I might not reply until after the weekend..just letting you know so you don't worry about replying. 🩷

i actually haven't listened to the music for the outsiders yet! i think i'm going to hold off until i read the book (and maybe watch the movie?)! i'm not sure yet! i did see someone say it was like this generation's newsies and i was like. what do you mean THIS generation???? i felt very old seeing that tweet haha. the notebook, i've heard, is more book inspired than movie, but i'm unfamiliar with the book and also do not care enough! i do think that it should've been framed as a story about memory loss, rather than a love story — i think the memory loss part of it is so much stronger than the love story, and i think the score is quite forgettable/one of the weakest parts. i don't really care about suffs and i don't know much about hells kitchen! definitely rooting for merrily <3333

my friend saw ART gatsby and said it was quite lovely and that the score was very florence, which made me even more excited! i've been taking my sweet time with annotating it, which is fine — but i think i'm going to try to do a deep dive into art gatsby when i'm done!

i think dove cameron and jordan fisher would've been great in a legally blonde musical movie a couple years ago! but i don't particularly see them in wicked. i am very picky about casting, especially for wicked. ugh. i feel like most things would be better if they had a proshot vs. a musical movie. maybe i am just bitter! (i definitely am). we have a lot of favorites — i also really love thank goodness! i wasn't charmed by the trailer, but we'll see! maybe the entire movie will take me away! i hope it proves me wrong! i doubt it will! (i hope you got my reference).

ooh red instead of holy ground would be a good one too! i'd be fine with that! willow is such a fun theatrical moment for her, but i think if she had to do one theatrical moment during folkmore i'd keep last great american dynasty, then tolerate it, then willow! i LOVE mastermind, i don't care what other people say! the dominos DID cascade in a line! it's just so good! i love the eras choreography. i don't think she's sang anything from the fearless vault, has she? which is wild haha. i can't believe she sang crazier the other day!!! i love that song! i can't wait for the rerecorded version!

hope you had fun on your trip! love you!

#post: answered #🩷 anon

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wondereads · 10 months ago

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Weekly Reading Update (03/04/24)

Reviews and thoughts under the cut

Stain by A. G. Howard (9/10)

I had a great time rereading this book. This is the only book by A. G. Howard I've read that is high fantasy, not low or contemporary, and I honestly wish she did it more. She really nails the ethereal atmosphere which pairs beautifully with the fairy tale inspiration. This book is a bit on the slow side, and such flowery language isn't for everyone, but I think the mood is immaculate. Lyra and Vesper continue to be one of my favorite romances; their interactions in the last few chapters always have me giggling.

The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin (6/10)

This book is honestly super intriguing and does a great job of building suspense. However, the last half is so oddly rushed with disjointed writing and so many sudden revelations that I felt like I was in a fever dream. Mara, despite being described as "not like other girls" by the love interest himself (a line that almost made me put down the book) is honestly quite likable as a main character. Personally, I would not put a normal high school life above addressing my hallucinations and constant trail of death, but other than that, Mara tends to react pretty reasonably and has a good inner struggle going on. The romance is probably what kept this book at 3 stars for me. Is it healthy? Hell no. But it is fun and they've got great chemistry. As for the negative, like I said, this book sort of goes off the rails. While I don't mind the paranormal elements, the random confession from Noah, deus ex machina potion, and general rushed writing makes it fall apart. There's a bit too much going on and not nearly enough time devoted to each scene. Still, what a great twist at the end.

A Bargain with the Fae King by Megan van Dyke (CR, 63%)

So far, this book is honestly just kind of boring. The whole story revolves around the main character, Lia, trying to get her little sister back, and there's a sort of half-hearted attempt to bring in some fae politics, but so far all it's done is slow things down. Lia herself is a very annoying main character. Half of what she does is berate and feel sorry for herself, only to proceed to make the same mistakes over and over, often by demanding she get to do things the other characters have very good reasons for trying to keep her from doing. It's a fantasy romance, and the chemistry is decent, but most romantic scenes are ruined by Lia harping on about her sister. There's nothing wrong with being worried, but her constant self-pitying is getting repetitive, especially when she's been told she needs to be patient.

Bloodmarked by Tracy Deonn (CR, 35%)

On the other side of the spectrum, so much is happening in this book and I'm eating it up. I really like that it's taking the route of going against the Order because I don't trust those Regents as far as I could throw them. I also like that race continues to be a prominent theme even though Bree should technically be in power at this point, as frustrating as it is. It was so satisfying to see Bree call the Regents out for their prejudice, as much as they try to hide it. I hope Bree, Nick, and Sel are reunited in this book since I love their trio dynamic.

#books #reading update #stain #a g howard #the unbecoming of mara dyer #michelle hodkin #a bargain with the fae king #megan van dyke #bloodmarked #tracy deonn

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ejzah · 10 months ago

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Can you please write a fanfic about Kensi and the Team spotting Deeks supposedly on a date and confront him, only to realize they just screwed up an LAPD undercover op and gets Deeks in big time. Obliviously can it be set back when it was still with the LAPD and before he and Kensi got together.

A/N: Hi anon, I’ve written similar stories to this before, but never with them completely ruining his cover. Sorry for the delay!

***

Critical Error

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have eaten that last chicken wing,” Kensi groaned, rubbing her stomach as she exited a bar with Sam and Callen. It was a new place they decided to try since one of their usuals was closed for repairs and the other had no empty tables.

“Yeah, it was definitely that and not the five fried mozzarella sticks and nachos you had before the wings,” Callen commented wryly. Kensi paused long enough to glare at him.

They walked slowly, casually continuing a conversation from the bar. Sam and Michelle were trying to plan a birthday party for her mom. It was proving difficult since she never wanted presents and disliked most people’s cooking outside her own.

“Maybe you can gift her a mini vacation instead,” Kensi suggested.

“And hear all about how rude the staff was and the quality of food? No thanks.”

“Well, if she doesn’t want anything, maybe just don’t do anything. Like with Hetty,” Callen said, and Sam made an unimpressed sound.

“That’s less helpful than your suggestion that I buy her tickets to an amusement park.”

“Hey, it’s like you don’t want our advice,” Callen told him facetiously.

Kensi grinned, imagining which inventive suggestions Deeks would have if he’d joined them. At least one would probably involve an offer for a deal on a strip club. Courtesy of his many friends in the business.

“Hey, isn’t Deeks supposed to be on some big undercover assignment?” Sam asked, drawing Kensi out of her musings. She stopped alongside him, realizing they’d reached the slightly finer dining section of the street.

“Yeah, it involves a mob-like gang,” she answered. “He said LAPD spent a couple months putting the operation into place. Why?”

“Well, his important undercover work looks a whole lot like a date.” Sam nodded to a small cafe with outdoor seating off the side of the main structure. There were several people around the handful of tables, at the far corner, were Deeks and a blonde haired woman.

“He told me he’d be busy for weeks,” Kensi murmured, almost to herself. Lies aside, she couldn’t quite articulate why it bothered her so much. Maybe it was the fact that Deeks had apparently brushed them—her—off for some unknown woman.

“Well, let’s go say hello,” Callen suggested.

“What? No, let’s just leave,” Kensi protested. She knew Deeks dated, but didn’t need to see direct evidence of that fact.

“Oh, I bet his lady friend would love to hear a few stories about him.” Callen shared a mischievous grin with Sam and she rolled her eyes, following after them.

As they approached, she could see Deeks talking animatedly, his hands gesticulating in relation to whatever he said, body inclined towards his date. His mouth split with the wide grin usually only saw when he found something particularly funny.

Kensi saw the exact moment he noticed them; his posture straightened, and he shook his head ever so slightly. Sam and Callen either didn’t pick up on it, or more likely, didn’t care.

“Hey Deeks, imagine finding you here,” Callen explained loudly, stopping next to Deeks’ table. This close, she could see the dismayed resignation in Deeks’ eyes.

“We thought you were busy with work?” Sam added.

The woman turned in her seat, glancing between each of them and Deeks in curiosity. By the time she drifted back to him, he’d shifted from resignation back to an easygoing smile, though there was still a slight tightened around his eyes.

He really didn’t want them there, Kensi realized.

“Jason, who is this? And why are they calling you Deeks?”

“They’re just some old friends,” Deeks assured her. “Deeks was a nickname in college.”

“Oh, well, I’m Connie,” she said a friendly enough smile. “It’s nice to meet you. Jason’s been pretty reticent about his friends.” She gave him a fondly annoyed look.

“Maybe that’s because he’s afraid of what we’ll share,” Kensi joked, but with enough edge that it made Connie frown just a little. Deeks tilted her head, giving her a pleading look, which she decided to ignore.

“I’m sure it’s all good,” Connie decided, rallying nicely. “She reached across the table to squeeze Deeks’ hand. “He’s such a sweetheart.”

“His stripper friends do love him,” Kensi continued. She flashed Deeks a goading smile.”

“Strippers.” Connie’s smile faltered.

“Oh yes, Onyx, Amber, what were the other names Deeks?”

“Fern, could I speak with you for a moment?” Deeks requested abruptly. He stood up, stopping to take a very uncertain and concerned Connie’s hand. “I’ll be right back. Don’t eat all the breadsticks without me.”

He didn’t give Connie a chance to object. “Do not say anything else,” Deeks muttered to Callen and Sam as he passed. After a moment, Kensi followed, only stopping when he reached the back of the next restaurant’s parking lot.

“What the hell are you doing?” Deeks hissed, a blazing anger in his eyes that Kensi had rarely ever seen. It made her take a step back.

“Well, I—”

“Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?”

“Oh, please do not act like you have the moral high ground here,” Kensi threw back, crossing her arms over her chest. “You blew us off for a date and now you’re embarrassed you got caught.” Even as she said it, it didn’t sound right, but she couldn’t come up with a better explanation.

Closing his eyes, Deeks pinched the bridge of his nose. He groaned quietly. “Kensi. I’m on assignment right now and you pretty much just obliterated my cover. Do you have any idea how long this took to set up. To find an in to the family?”

“She’s part of your undercover operation?”

He nodded once. “Yep.”

“Why didn’t you say anything? Why did you lie?” Kensi asked, trying to reason through her growing guilt and horror.

“Because it’s supposed to be confidential,” he explained softly. He shook his head again, disappointment in his eyes. “And because I thought you’d trust me when I said I had work.”

“Deeks, I am so, so sorry. If there’s anything—”

“No forget it. I’m going to see if I can salvage this night with Connie. Maybe I can convince her you guys were drunk and have a horrible sense of humor.” He waved her off with a heavy sigh.

“And if you can’t?” Kensi asked, already knowing the likely answer.

“Then LAPD will probably scrap the operation,” he answered dully. He started to walk off, but she grabbed her arm.

“Deeks, is there anything I can do?” she finally got out. “I feel horrible.”

He paused, then answered, “Go home.”

She watched him walk back across the lot, resisting the absurd urge to cry.

***

A/N: So there may be some slight OOC going on here. I was trying to make it different enough from my other stories like this. Hopefully it’s alright.

Thanks for the prompt!

#ncis la fanfiction #marty deeks #kensi blye #Sam and Callen #pre densi #light angst #anonymous prompt #ejzah fanfiction

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negasonicimagines · 3 years ago

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Tell Me I'm Not Funny

Request: darkandmysteriousbutheartofgold!ellie and wholesomeanddoesn'tunderstandwhyelliedoesn'tlikeher!reader where they're both part of the friend group but ellie just thinks reader is straight and messing with her pls

Notes: I don’t usually write MCU!Peter, so if he comes up in any future fics (like as the reader’s stepdad 👀 I’ve loved spideypool longer than I’ve loved Negasonic) you can safely assume it’s Andrew Garfield. But, for this time, this is MCU!Peter. Everyone in the friend group is 18-20, just to be clear.

This really isn't my best work, but it's a fun little slice of life piece. A lot of my ideas are pretty cinematic, I can picture them in my head but sometimes those pictures don't really translate into words. I may revisit this one day.

Warnings: D-slur (reclaimed by Ellie in one line), allusions to prior assault (an unwanted kiss that could've been more had another character not stepped in), and that's about it. Oh, and a little swearing, but this is an imagine for a character from Deadpool. If you can't handle swearing, you're on the wrong blog.

Synopsis: You’re into Ellie, but she’s with your good friend Peter. She treats you like you don’t even exist, and in the few instances she does acknowledge you, it’s usually just to make some sarcastic remark. You’re head-over-heels, though, and decide to deal with your unrequited love by writing her a song she’ll never hear.

“Fuck, that movie was terrible,” Michelle groans. “I’m just glad it was a matinee show and we didn’t have to pay as much to see it.”

“The special effects were good, but can’t Disney just leave stuff alone?” Peter agrees.

“Next thing you know they’ll be making a live action Toy Story, as if the original wasn’t traumatizing enough. I don’t want to imagine Watermelon as a sentient being. She’s seen some shit,” you snicker.

“Who’s Watermelon?” Ellie asks with a dark chuckle, and you clam up. How had you forgotten she was here?

“Oh, uh, nobody.”

“Don’t tell me you still sleep with a stuffed animal,” she snarks. “You really do need to grow up.”

“Don’t be mean, Ellie,” Peter protests.

“Watermelon is cute, everybody likes cute things!” Yukio adds.

“I think a live-action Toy Story could be cool,” Ned says. “It’d look really good if they did stop-motion animation.”

“Oh, you’re right!” you chirp. “It’d be quite the undertaking, but it would look badass.”

“I think you’re using that term a little loosely,” Ellie grumbles, and you have to stop yourself from frowning, instead you laugh it off. Why does she always pick on you? Sure, she’s got a witty remark for everybody, but she’s way harder on you. It hurts, she really is so gorgeous and funny and mysterious and everything you want in a woman, but she acts like she can’t stand you.

Ellie and Peter head off together, Peter still hasn’t gotten around to getting his license and Ellie seems happy to give him a ride. You really don’t stand a chance.

You and the others pile up in MJ’s SUV for some late-night band practice.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” you admit to Yukio in the furthest row back.

“You can,” she insists. “You’re a way better singer than Lola, anyways.”

“I’m sorry about that. I didn’t mean to give her the wrong impression, I-”

“For the millionth time, Y/N, you didn’t. If she hadn’t left the band, we would’ve kicked her out. Not just for cheating on me, but for hurting you.”

“I guess,” you sigh. “Why can’t you sing instead?”

“Because I’m flat.”

“Yukio, breast size doesn’t have anything to do with singing ability, you’ve just gotta practice,” you joke.

“Shut up!” she giggles, punching you in the arm. “Plus, when you sing, the songs are being sung as they were written. We’re getting the real feelings.”

“Speaking of… I have something new I’m thinking about sharing tonight. Do you mind if I text you the demo?”

“Ooh, a first look! Hell yes!”

You text her the audio file and she puts in a wireless earbud, nodding along. Her smile gets wider and wider as she listens, and when she’s done, her assessment shocks you.

“Oh my gosh. You’re into Ellie.”

“What?!” you squeak. “No way!”

“You are! But, uh-”

“Don’t even say it. I know I don’t have a chance in hell. She only tolerates me for the sake of you and Peter.” Despite the gloominess of your tone, Yukio gets a mischievous glint in her eye, it confuses you. But, that’s just Yukio. Her thoughts are all over the place; she and Ellie balance each other out that way. They dated a couple of years ago, but it didn’t work out. They decided they were better off as friends.

“Screw that other song, we’re using this as the lead single. Everybody’s gonna love it, do you have the sheet music?”

“Yeah, uh, it’s in my bag.”

“Awesome.” Yukio’s grinning like she’s won something. Is the song that good? “We’ll have to practice this one a lot, we definitely need to have it ready by the concert this Friday.”

Right. Liz’s 19th birthday party. Apparently Peter had convinced her to let the band play, it’d be cheaper than hiring a more established artist.

“Our first paying gig? I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you remind her. She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“We’re mostly gonna be playing covers of Liz’s favorite songs, and she only has so many. We’ve gotta beef up the setlist with originals, and this is perfect! Has that pop-y fun vibe, it’ll fit right in.”

“Yeah, but if it’s that obvious how I feel about her after one listen-”

“Only because I already had a hunch after Daft Pretty Boys,” Yukio clarifies cheerily, and you sigh.

“Fair enough.”

The gang makes it to Michelle’s house, travelling down to the side door and going into the basement from there. MJ’s parents have encouraged her creativity from day one, and were ecstatic when the band was formed. You speculate that they’re mostly happy that she’s made friends. Writing and photography can be lonely hobbies.

“Y/N has something new for us!” Yukio chirps.

“That fast?” Ned’s surprised as you hand him the sheet music. He skims it. “Holy shit, this is a wicked solo! Thanks, Y/N!”

“Well, I’m hoping highlighting everybody else’s talent will disguise my lack thereof,” you chuckle.

“Don’t be stupid, we’ve all heard you sing backup,” MJ says. “You’re Ryan Ross, she’s Brendon Urie. I’m just glad we booted her out before she decided she was gonna be the only pangolin in The Pangolins.”

Everyone laughs at that.

“Let’s try it,” Michelle continues, and everybody agrees. After a sound check and a few runs of the song, it’s still clumsy, especially on your part. You’re not really used to playing and singing at the same time, outside of backup vocals, which require far less focus.

“I suck,” you mumble, but it happens to be into the microphone.

“You don’t!” Ned insists.

“With that attitude, we’re not going anywhere,” Yukio says. You hate it when she gets to the tough love stage of her support. You wish she’d stay in the shallow reassurances stage, it’s easier to brush off. “You wouldn’t be the lead singer if we all thought you sucked. We would’ve just put an ad in the paper. You’re awesome, get over it!”

You sigh.

“Fine. Thank you.”

“Say it,” she insists.

“I’m awesome,” you huff, it’s hard not to smile when Yukio tries to look serious.

“Damn straight,” Yukio says. “Or, I guess not, considering that was about Ellie.”

“Yukio!” you squeal.

“That’s about Ellie?!” Ned exclaims.

“Obviously,” MJ scoffs, fiddling with her tuners.

“Is it that obvious?!” You can’t help but feel embarrassed. Ellie probably knows exactly how you feel, maybe that’s why she dislikes you so much. Her boyfriend’s stupid friend has a crush.

“Wait, but at the beginning…” Ned trails off, before laughing. “Oh my gosh, I get it.”

“Get what? Oh… Y/N, have I ever told you how much I love you?” MJ asks.

“I- I love you, too?” You’re puzzled by their words, but you’ve got enough on your plate.

“Let’s go ahead and practice some of Liz’s favorites while we’re here,” Yukio suggests. “It’s a pretty big set list.”

You practice until dinner, getting a pizza and deciding to make a night of it since it was a little late for Michelle to be dropping you all off at your assorted residences.

You all sleep on a pallet in the basement, and despite your worries, you manage to get some rest.

Over the next few days, The Pangolins practice at every free moment, until it’s finally time for the party.

“So, just pictures of everything?” Oh, shit. She’s not supposed to be here. How are you supposed to sing that song with her here?

“Yeah! I know with how many people are coming, I’m probably not going to get as much time as I want with everyone, so pictures will be a good way to remember the night.”

“Why not just invite less people?” Ellie wonders.

“I want all my friends to be here,” Liz explains. “How’s the sound check going, Y/N?”

“It’s going great,” you say into the microphone, demonstrating the quality and volume with a smile. “Thanks for letting us play here tonight.”

“Well, Peter said you guys are great. Are you really gonna debut your best song so far tonight?”

“Oh, um,” you stutter, stepping away from the microphone. “Maybe not.”

“What? Oh, come on, please, it’ll make the night even more special! You’re playing covers of all my old favorites, sing me my new favorite!” Liz presses, but she’s not being demanding or bratty, she seems genuinely excited.

“If the birthday girl says so, who am I to say no?” you concede. Hopefully Ellie will be too distracted taking pictures. “You have way too much faith in me.”

“If you don’t quit with the self-deprecation, I’m gonna duct tape your mouth shut,” MJ interjects.

“But, Daddy, how will I say my safe word?” you tease, giggling at your own joke with the rest of the group. Yukio’s laugh seems the loudest. Ellie glares.

“We should practice a song!” Ned suggests.

“Ooh, a private show!” Liz seems excited.

“Any requests?” you ask her. Ellie’s resting scowl intensifies. If she’s more pissed off the more you open your mouth, you’re not sure how she’s gonna survive a night of you singing without going nuclear.

“Oh, oh, Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne, please?”

“You’ve got it,” you agree.

The song goes smoothly.

“What happened to the old singer?” Ellie asks, clearly unimpressed.

“You didn’t tell her?” you ask Yukio, grateful for the excuse to turn away from the sharp-tongued girl you adore.

“Didn’t want her to get the wrong impression,” Yukio explains. “She already makes enough rude comments towards you.” Yukio leans over her drum kit to give Ellie a pointed look.

“Oh, wait, shit, I didn’t mean it like that. You, uh, sound good, Y/N.”

You can’t help but whip your head back to look at her with a flabbergasted expression.

“What?! It’s true,” Ellie defends herself.

“Uh, yeah, but you just said something nice. About me. Liz, do you mind checking her for a fever?”

Liz obliges for the sake of going along with the joke before quickly withdrawing her hand.

“Jeez! I know you were kidding, but she’s burning up,” Liz declares.

“My internal temperature is higher due to my mutation,” Ellie quickly explains, looking a bit bashful. “Besides, I say nice shit about Y/N all the time.”

“No, you don’t,” the whole band says in unison, including you.

“Well, clearly I shouldn’t if everyone’s gonna make a big fucking deal about it,” she retorts, rolling her eyes. “I’m gonna go get some pictures of the decorations before there’s a bunch of fucking people here to block them.”

She stomps off in her heavy boots, and The Pangolins get back to work, putting on the final touches and making sure all the blocking looks right.

Soon enough, guests start flooding in, and Liz zips around to greet them, eventually meeting up with Peter and keeping him with her. He and Liz eventually pull Ellie away from her picture-taking, confident she’s done enough and needs to just relax and enjoy the party.

So much for distracting herself with work, she thinks.

They sit on the couch and eat, the dining room was monopolized by The Pangolins due to its elevation and space.

Ellie’s mesmerized by the way your fingers move until she hears Peter talking to Liz. They really are a cute couple.

“You really do need to hang out with us. Yukio told me Y/N thinks Ellie and I are a thing,” he says.

“Gross, you’re like my annoying little brother,” Ellie remarks.

“And you’re like my bitchy older sister,” Peter retorts with a shit-eating grin.

“Both of you, quiet! They’re about to play the new song. You’re in for a real treat, Ellie.”

“What does it have to do with me?”

Liz gives Peter a confused and slightly irritated look.

“I haven’t said anything to her, I didn’t know how,” Peter squeaks, blushing a little at the look in his girlfriend’s eyes.

“Explain, quickly,” Ellie demands.

But, then you start to sing again.

“Y/N-” Peter starts.

“Shut up.”

“But you asked-”

“I said, shut up,” Ellie insists.

“You know me as your boyfriend's goofy friend. I seem to have this effect on women, and your friends aren't as goofy as I am. I try my best to keep you entertained, always laughing at the jokes you are saying. I nod my head when you make a point, oh oh…

“Kiss me, kiss me with your eyes closed! Whisper that your heart shows all I want is you, yeah, you… Hold me, hold me I'm your bunny! Tell me I'm not funny, tell me I’m legit! ‘Cause I feel weak, in your hands and your feet… A precious end, I’ll never feel your touch…”

Ellie continues to listen to the song, all expression drained from her face. All the yearning in the words and your voice, all you want is…

Ellie looks at Peter, who’s looking at her with a triumphant smile.

“I told you.”

Ellie feels like she’s about to faint. She notices you’re talking to Liz— when did she leave? —your hand over your mic. Despite the knowledge that Liz is taken, Ellie gets jealous. You look so happy to be talking to Liz, to just about any girl you talk to.

She wishes you’d smile at her that way.

You nod at whatever Liz said, and the band starts packing away their instruments. Liz sets up her phone on some Bluetooth speakers, and songs that sounded so much better when you were singing them start to play.

No! Ellie internally protests. Sing for me again, please, sing that stupid song about how you think I don’t like you.

Yukio’s dragging you somewhere. Gosh, Ellie wishes it was her holding your hand.

Suddenly, though, you and Yukio are approaching her. She knows what she has to do.

“So, what’d you think of our- Eek! Finally!”

Ellie parts from the kiss to tell her to fuck off and not ruin the moment before kissing you again.

“Holy fucking shit,” you breathe. “Uh, I thought you were-“

“Dating Peter?! Seriously?! Do I need to write ‘dyke’ on my fucking forehead? I practically already have with the way I dress and act and-”

“I, uh, I try not to make assumptions,” you mumble, fingers touching your lips.

“I’m, uh, sorry for not asking.”

“No, it’s- It was good. I’ve wanted you to do that for a while. It’s just that that was the first time somebody’s kissed me, since, uh…” Your eyes dart to Yukio, who’s ruffling Ned’s hair and laughing.

“Yukio?!” Orange flickers in Ellie’s eyes for a moment, but she keeps it under control.

“No, no, of course not, uh… The old singer, Lola. She and Yukio were dating, but apparently I was the one she really had her sights on, and… She was entitled. Thought that because she wanted me, I must want her. That wasn’t really the case, I was already pining over you. Didn’t stop her from forcing a few kisses on me and trying to go further. If Yukio hadn't shown up early with cupcakes, I don’t know what would’ve happened.”

“I am such an asshole,” Ellie says softly. “Can I kiss you again? The right way.”

“I’d say what you did before was pretty right, but sure,” you consent.

Her kiss before had been rough, needy, and impatient. Just the way you like it. This, though, this is gentle, soft, and exploratory. You tangle your hands in her hair and kiss her harder. She moans into the kiss before pulling away, bewildered.

“That was…” Ellie trails off, trying to find a positive adjective that won’t sound to frilly or lovesick.

“A mistake, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, fuck, no. I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time,” she corrects you. “Just- Didn’t really know how. Even when you were kinda flirting with me at first, I just thought you were messing with me, so I- I am so stupid.”

“So am I,” you scoff. “I thought you were dating Peter.”

“I was spending a lot of time with him, but… I was just using him as an excuse to avoid you so I wouldn’t embarrass myself anymore. And I was asking him for advice. I figured if he could land somebody as far out of his league as Liz, maybe I stood the slightest bit of a chance with you. But I kept fucking it up. I’d just get so nervous, all of my compliments would turn into insults, all of my teasing turned into straight-up cruelty. I don’t know how you actually like me.”

“I’m a little bit of a masochist, I’ll admit,” you tell her. “I’m really glad you don’t hate me.”

“I’m really glad you don’t hate me,” Ellie replies, but she can’t help but think that what she‘s really saying is ‘I love you, too.’

She takes your hand, and you two rejoin your friends, swept up in a group hug. They wanted this to happen almost as much as you two did.

#negasonic teenage warhead #ellie phimister #x-men #negasonic teenage warhead imagine #ellie phimister imagine #x-men imagine #negasonic teenage warhead x reader #ellie phimister x reader #x-men x reader #wlw x reader #sapphic x reader #wlw imagine #sapphic imagine #lesbian x reader #lesbian imagine #songfic

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blackspoon99 · 4 years ago

Text

The Empty Hearse Pt. 1

Sherlock x Female! Reader

TW: minor Violence, Mentions of suicide and mental illness, Spoilers if you haven’t seen season 3!

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

A/N: This is a reader insert of season 3 of BBC Sherlock. If you haven’t seen season 3, I would definitely skip this series because it wouldn’t make sense and there are definitely going to be some spoliers!

Saturday - 8:37 pm

“Take it outside! Not in my shop!” The café owner yelled while pulling John off Sherlock and into the street. John walked a few feet away, pacing and trying to control his anger. Mary sympathetically handed Sherlock some napkins. He leaned his head back and tried to get his nosebleed under control.

“I don’t understand. I’ve said I’m sorry, isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”

Mary laughed to herself “Gosh, you don’t know anything about human nature, do you?”

“Hmmm Nature? No. Human? No.” He said with an ironic smile.

John walked back over to talk to Sherlock “I’m going to take Mary home. I’ve had enough of you for the night. Have you seen y/n?”

“Not yet. Do you think the fake mustache was too much? I’d bet y/n would like it.”

John scoffed to himself. “Oh god, Sherlock. What is it going to take for you to realize this isn’t a joke? Don’t you dare do whatever this was to y/n. She hasn’t been the same. You–” He paused and clenched his fists by his sides. Mary put a hand on his shoulder. “You- were not here Sherlock. You didn’t see what it was like. What she was like.” He closed his eyes and turned away. “No, I can’t do this. All I have to say Sherlock is be nice, be kind. For her.” John hailed down a cab while Mary stayed behind.

“I’ll talk him round.”

“You will?”

“Oh yeah,” She said with a smile before following John to the cab.

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Sunday - 10:16 am

The next morning, Sherlock slowly approached the apartment. He was most excited for your reaction. John was still furious with him, but he’d come around. Mary had promised. Sherlock liked her already. You would be over the moon when he came back into your life. Everything would go back to the way it was in time: you, John, and him. Together again in Baker Street.

He walked into the living room. He didn’t see you. Mycroft said you were to come here to pick up a book. He thought it was oddly fitting that your first meeting would be back in Baker Street. It didn’t seem like you were there. Perhaps Mycroft’s surveillance had gone downhill. Sherlock was about to leave when you emerged from John’s old bedroom, holding a book in one hand. You stared down at it, walking over to the bookcases by the fireplace. Sherlock anxiously waited for you to see him standing in the doorway. How happy you would be. He would finally see your face again, hold you in his arms. He’d have you back. You turned to leave and finally, you noticed him.

You let out a startled breath, but you didn’t even look surprised. You just looked sad. Sherlock was silent with anticipation as he waited for you to react. Your face was almost glazed over. Something was wrong. You suddenly dropped the book to the carpet. Sherlock watched as you turned away and with shaky hands, dialed a number on your mobile.

“H-hello? Michelle? I’m sorry to be calling, I know I stopped seeing you a few months ago… it’s just that I-I can see him again. I thought they’d stopped, but he’s back and you said I should call if I…”

His stomach dropped at the realization that you didn’t think he was really there. That’s why you didn’t seem surprised to see him. Sherlock watched as tears formed in your eyes as your voice quivered and stammered on the phone with your ex-therapist. John had said his so-called death had been hard on you, but he hadn’t expected this. You hesitantly looked over your shoulder at him before quickly turning your head back to your phone.

“No, he’s like he was when he was alive this time. It’s not like– you know– when I used to see him there on the pavement.”

Sherlock could feel his heart break a little as you cowered from him near the fireplace. His instincts were screaming at him to say something, to walk towards you, but he was paralyzed. Sherlock stood there for a moment until he realized you were wrapping up your call. He slowly and as quietly as possible backed out of the flat and down the stairs.

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You hung up the phone and slowly turned around. The image of Sherlock was gone from the door. You sighed in relief, leaned against the wall, and slid to the floor. You tried to take a deep breath, but you felt sick to your stomach. You tasted salt and became aware of the tears streaking down your cheeks. You were certain you were over this, that you were strong enough not to feel this way anymore, not to see him everywhere. Maybe it was too soon to come back to Baker Street. Then again, it had been 2 years.

Or maybe this is just the way it had to be from now on. You’d go about your business, feel your wounds begin to close but no matter how close you’d think you were getting to healing, no matter what you do, you’d always be just one moment away from falling apart all over again. You figured you should take your therapist’s advice and call John.

You went to pick up the book when you could have sworn you heard the creak of a floorboard on the stairs followed by the sound of the front door closing. Hallucinations don’t make noise. A hot flash ran through you. Your body moved before you could even think. You clambered over to the window, tripping over a loose pile of books. You flung open the dusty curtains and frantically looked out the window. You immediately scanned the crowd on the street below. Just down the block, you spotted a head of curly black hair and a long wool coat.

You snatched up your coat and ran down the stairs, not even bothering to put it on. You threw open the front door just in time to see him turn the corner. You started running, pushing past tourists and pedestrians. The cold air felt like it was burning through your lungs as you sprinted down the sidewalk. Tears were now steadily pouring from your eyes, blurring your vision. You finally rounded the corner and spotted him again.

“Sherlock Holmes!” You yelled, your voice strained and breaking. Sherlock turned around just as you reached him. Still unsure if it was just your mind tormenting you once again, you hesitantly reached for his hand. The moment your ice-cold hand felt a leather glove, a real hand, beneath its touch, you let out a choked gasp. The realization was quickly replaced with blind rage. Without thinking, you raised your hand and slapped him across the face as hard as you could. He barely flinched from the impact and looked at you with pure pain in his eyes.

“How could you!?” You screamed, tears uncontrollably pouring down your face. You threw half-hearted punches at his chest. He reached out and gently grabbed your forearms, trying to stop you.

“Y/n I’m so sorry”

“How could you?” You repeated over and over, fighting him. “How could you? How could you? How could you?” Eventually, the rage faded, and you leaned into him and just sobbed “I needed you” You said weakly.

“I know, y/n. I know. I’m so sorry” He said, wrapping his arms around your shivering body.

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A/N: Part 1 of god knows how many. This story will take us through season 3 and end with his last vow. Just getting back into writing and I will try my best to upload the parts semi regularly!

#Sherlock Holmes #bbc sherlock #sherlock imagine #Sherlock #sherlockxreader #sherlock x reader #Sherlock Holmes x Reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock x you

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homoose · 4 years ago

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Teach Me Something I Don’t Know: Part I

Summary: When Will asks him to pick Michael up from school, Spencer may or may not develop a schoolboy crush on the kindergarten teacher.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: fluff

Warnings/Includes: none

Word count: 2.5k

a/n: Here she is! I’m not sure exactly what it is about Spencer Reid x teacher!reader, but it is my most requested fic topic, and I am happy to oblige! This is the first in a multi-part series. Weird is Good also takes place in this verse. Any teacher!reader requests will be folded into this verse as well, so feel free to continue sending me those!

Series Masterlist

Click here for the story mentioned, read by everybody’s fave Michelle Obama.

———

“A strong geographical profile is one of the most important pieces of the overall behavioral profile; it significantly narrows the area the team has to cover, allows for law enforcement teams to prioritize and maximize limited resources, and helps focus the investigation in conjunction with the other elements of the profile. And that wraps our section on building geographical profiles!” Spencer smiled at the faces in front of him, gesturing to the board. “The information we covered today will make up a significant portion of your midterm, so make sure to review it before next week. See you all next Thursday!”

As his students began packing up their things, Spencer’s phone rang from inside his bag. When he retrieved the phone and saw Will’s name on the caller ID, his brow furrowed in concern. “Will— everything ok?”

“Hey, yeah, yeah, everything’s fine,” he assured him. “I’m sorry to ask, but JJ’s on a case, and my partner and I just finished our last call clear on the other side of the city. Henry’s got soccer practice, but Michael’s gotta be picked up in about— well, shit, right about now. Would you mind picking him up and bringing him ‘round to the house?”

Spencer looped the strap of his bag over his shoulder and started up the aisle out of the lecture hall. “Yeah, of course! It’s over by the Naval Observatory, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the one. If you pull ‘round the parking lot, they usually come out the side door. His teacher’s real sweet, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ll let her know you’re picking him up.”

“Okay, sounds good.” Spencer pushed open the door and made his way down the hall.

“You’re the best,” Will drawled. “I’ll only be about half an hour.”

…

When Spencer pulled the baby blue Volvo into the parking lot of the school, he saw Michael and Ms. Y/L/N sitting on the steps of school. Their heads were so close they were almost touching, looking down at a book laying across their laps. Her legs were stretched out straight and she pointed down to the page, saying something that made Michael throw his little head back in a laugh that floated in through the open window of the car. Spencer grinned at the familiar sound as he pulled around the carpool loop.

When he recovered from the giggles, Michael caught sight of the car and waved his hand excitedly at Spencer. Ms. Y/L/N looked up and gave a wave as well, albeit a little less vigorous. She closed the book and turned her torso slightly to unzip Michael’s backpack and drop the book into it.

Spencer put the car in park, stepped out, and walked around the car to meet the two of them. Michael was already up and running, throwing himself at Spencer’s legs and hugging them tightly. He leaned down to return the hug. “Hey, buddy! How was school?”

“It was amazing,” Michael gushed, pulling out of the hug to gesture wildly. “We learned how to write the zzz sound, and now we know all the sounds! Oh, and then we used blocks in math, and that was so fun, because Ms. Y/L/N let us build with them when we were done counting. Oh, and then we learned about frogs, and they are so cool. Did you know that frogs have night vision? Oh, and Ms. Y/L/N said I could borrow my favorite book from the classroom library! She read it to me already while we were waiting for you, but maybe you could read it to me, too? I can read some of the words but not all of them yet, so I still need some help.”

Spencer smiled widely at him. “Wow, that does sound like an amazing day. I did know that about frogs, actually! And of course, I’d love to read with you.”

“The book’s called Giraffe Problems, and it’s about this giraffe named Edward who doesn’t like his neck.” Michael looked at Ms. Y/L/N. “What’s the turtle’s name again?”

“Cyrus,” Ms. Y/L/N reminded him.

“Right, Cyrus.” He looked at Spencer. “See, that one is tricky because c’s don’t usually make the sss sound, but sometimes they do. Ms. Y/L/N’s teaching me about it, even though she said it’s kinda hard for kindergarten.”

“Because you’ve got a big, powerful brain, right?” she said, tapping her temple and winking at Michael. “I’m Ms. Y/L/N, by the way. You must be the infamous uncle Spencer. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Then she smiled at him and his big, powerful brain melted inside of his skull.

Michael continued talking, and Spencer briefly wondered if this is how people felt when he rambled. Michael lost his attention immediately, because all he could do was stare at Ms. Y/L/N. Her eyes glinted with humor as he chattered on. She followed his expressive motions with well-timed nods and mhmms, a skill she’d no doubt honed through years of indulging kindergarten babbling. She met Spencer’s eyes every so often, only a slight eyebrow raise indicating her amusement. Her hair had been tied back, but soft pieces had come loose throughout the day, falling into her face and around her shoulders. Up close, he could see that the print of her collared a-line dress was hundreds of green frogs. On her feet were a pair of beat up, low top converse, and Spencer thought he could physically feel the crush branding the chambers of his heart. He was jolted out of his thoughts by Michael’s hand tugging on his pant leg, and he looked down to see him looking up expectantly.

“Sorry, what?” Spencer asked him.

“I said,” Michael repeated with a sigh, “can we look up the author and see if he has any other books?”

“Oh, um, yeah. Of course, buddy.”

“Jory John has lots of amazing books,” Ms. Y/L/N confirmed. “You’ll love the series he wrote with Pete Oswald.” She smiled at the pair of them before checking her watch. “I’ve gotta go pack up, but I’ll see you tomorrow, Michael.” She winked at Spencer, and he almost swallowed his tongue. “It was nice meeting you, uncle Spencer.” She waved again and then turned up the stairs to disappear into the building.

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t even realize he’d been holding, and then turned to Michael. “Well. All right, are you ready to go home?”

…

They were settled into the car and halfway home before Michael finally needed to take a breath. Spencer capitalized on the break in conversation.

“So, Ms. Y/L/N seems pretty cool,” Spencer hedged.

“Yeah, she’s the best,” Michael confirmed with a nod. “On Fridays she lets us put on the smocks and paint. And she has really good story voices. Oh, and she also has these really cool blocks that stick together—magnet blocks. And when I fell off the jungle gym and got a big scrape, she gave me a Paw Patrol bandaid! And she gives great hugs.”

“Good story voices, huh?” Spencer met Michael’s eyes in the rearview mirror. “Better than mine?”

Michael tilted his head in deep thought. “Hmmmm. It’s pretty close. Your wizard voice is good, but she does accents.”

Spencer blew out a dramatic breath. “Guess I’m going to have to up my game.”

“You’re gonna have to practice a lot, because Ms. Y/L/N reads to us every day.” Michael raised his eyebrows in a challenge.

“Hey!” Spencer looked incredulous. “I read every day, too!”

“Yeah, but do you read with story voices every day?” Michael clarified.

Spencer sighed. “Well, I guess not.”

“It’s okay, uncle Spencer,” Michael soothed. “You can’t be the best at everything.”

“So they are better than mine?”

Michael pressed his lips together, and Spencer almost laughed at how much he looked like JJ. “... maybe.”

…

A trail of shoes and school supplies led to the couch, where Spencer and Michael sat shoulder to shoulder. They were on their second read of Giraffe Problems. Spencer took a long, dramatic breath before launching into Cyrus’ banana speech, and Michael burst into a fit of giggles. With his best theatrical voice, Spencer read down the page. “Yet, day after day, I’ve felt like such a fool as I stretched my neck toward those greedy branches, only to be limited by my own physical shortcomings.” He flipped the page and changed his tone. “You… want a banana from a tree?” He looked at Michael and said, quickly and in a low voice, “That’s what I said, yes.” Michael wheezed out another laugh.

Spencer finished the story, Michael mouthing the words along with him. When they reached the last page, Spencer softly closed the book and propped his feet up on the coffee table. “That’s a pretty great story.”

“Yeah,” Michael agreed. “Ms. Y/L/N said she likes it because it reminds us that we gotta love ourselves and our bodies for how they are.”

Spencer nodded. “Absolutely. We’re all different, and that’s what makes us special.”

“Yeah. I just really like when he’s wearing all the scarves.” Michael burst into another fit of laughter, and Spencer couldn’t help but laugh with him.

The front door opened, and Will was smiling as he stepped over the threshold. “I could hear y’all laughing all the way down the sidewalk.”

“Daddy!” Michael jumped up from the couch, and Will bent to scoop him up, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Hey, kiddo. Sorry I couldn’t pick you up. It sure sounds like you and uncle Spencer had fun, though.” He shot Spencer a wide smile.

“We read Giraffe Problems. Can we read it again later?” Michael asked.

“Sure thing. We can read it before bedtime.” Will set him down, furrowing his brow. “Wait, Giraffe Problems? Is that a new one?”

Michael shook his head. “Ms. Y/L/N let me borrow it from the library. I have to give it back in two weeks.”

“Man, Michael, you really lucked out, huh?” Will posited. “Ms. Y/L/N is so good to you.”

“Jeez, everybody’s saying that today,” Michael sighed. “Yes, Ms. Y/L/N is amazing, we all know this.”

“All right, sass monster. I didn’t know uncle Spencer thought she was amazing, too.” Will grinned. “We gotta go pick up Henry in a few minutes. I’ll get you a snack, and you can pick up your things?” He gestured to the mess of shoes and school supplies in the foyer.

Spencer smiled sheepishly. “That’s probably my fault. We were just so excited to read the book.”

“Ah yeah, I know how he gets.” Will crossed to the kitchen. “A one track mind, that one. Thanks again for picking him up today.”

Spencer stood from the couch and followed, hands stuffed in his pockets. “It’s no problem at all! I can do it any time.”

“Well, I don’t want to bother y—”

“It’s not a bother!” Spencer schooled his voice back into a normal register at Will’s raised eyebrow. “It—It’s not a bother at all. I, um— I have a lot of free time when I’m on sabbatical. Especially since I’m only teaching one course this semester. Plus, I love seeing the boys.”

“I’ll remember that.” Will smiled. “So… Ms. Y/L/N’s amazing, huh?”

Spencer just knew that his cheeks were as red as the apple Will was cutting up. He tried to shrug nonchalantly. “Yeah, she was— she was really nice.”

“She’s not bad looking, either,” Will supplied. When Spencer’s mouth fell open, Will continued, “What? JJ thinks so, too. Don’t tell me you didn’t even look, because I know that’s a lie.”

Spencer sputtered, “I— well, I—”

“Daddy, can we get an ice-cream on the way home?” Michael interrupted, completely unfazed.

Will laughed. “Saved by the bell, uncle Spencer. Yeah, buddy, we can get ice-cream.”

…

“It’s not weird to look her up. I just want to know more about the person who’s educating my godson,” Spencer tried to reassure himself as he pulled up the school’s website. He scrolled to find the teacher pages, a little smile crossing his face when he saw Ms. Y/L/N’s picture— white ruffled shirt, red bow, and black hat. A perfect tribute to Mary Poppins.

He dropped his smile. “She barely said five sentences to you, and you didn’t say anything back.” His eyes wandered over the links on the side, landing on the About Me section. “But she did say she’d heard a lot about you, so it’s only fair that you get to know a little about her.” Against his better judgment, he clicked the page link. A photo of Ms. Y/L/N— grinning and holding a very distraught-looking black cat— popped up on the screen, and Spencer laughed aloud.

I grew up on a farm outside of Fayetteville, NC before moving to Boston to complete my undergraduate degree. I moved to DC to earn my Master’s in Early Childhood Education, and I have been teaching here for 8 years! I love working with young learners, because children grow so much in their foundational years. Watching a child have a lightbulb moment is one of my greatest joys. When I'm not in the classroom, I love to read, travel, play scrabble, and spend time with my cat Roald (pronounced Roo-all)!

Spencer scrolled through the pictures of Ms. Y/L/N and her students. There were pictures in their “smocks,” which Spencer discovered were really just old t-shirts. There was one of her in the middle of some very animated story telling, and another of a field trip to the zoo. In each one, the smiles beamed out through the computer screen in a digital portrait of unbridled joy, contagious even over the waves of the internet. Smiling to himself, he clicked on the tab labeled Teaching Philosophy.

I believe that every child is an extraordinary and essential piece of our classroom puzzle. In order to nurture the unique individuality of each of my students, I work hard to make our classroom a safe, positive, and supportive community where students are given the space to express themselves. Our classroom culture is also one of kindness and creativity, where each individual is valued and celebrated for who they are!

Spencer swallowed the unexpected lump in his throat as he thought back on his own school career. While his teachers had always appreciated his intelligence, he honestly couldn’t recall a moment where he had felt valued for just… being himself. The majority of his time in school had been spent unsuccessfully fending off bullies, completing other students’ homework, or being gawked at like some sort of alien. He was grateful that Michael would hopefully never go through anything like what he’d experienced; at least not while Ms. Y/L/N was around.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he leaned back in the desk chair to pull it out. He swiped it open to read the incoming text.

JJ: So......... you like Ms. Y/L/N, huh? 😉😉😉

Spencer: What?! Did Will tell you that? I didn’t say that.

JJ: Some things you don’t have to say out loud, Spence.

———

Tags: @spacedikut

#spencer reid #spencer x reader #spencer x y/n #spencer x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fluff #dr spencer reid #professor!reid #professor!spencer #teacher!reader #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds self insert #homoose writes #TMSIDK

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rere-the-writer · 4 years ago

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Title- 'Centuries of waiting' part 2

Warnings: Fluff, shitty older brother, Jealous!Hayley, some angst

Summary: Klaus has murder on his mind, Y/N tells how she ended up with the Elite, Elijah just wants to spoil and love on his soulmate.

A/N: Dudes I got it a little angsty between Elijah and Hayley. This is what I get for listening to 'Battlefield' by Lea Michele while writing.

Morning sunlight shined though Elijah's bedroom window waking him up and found you asleep on top of him. This made him smile glad you were comfortable with him as if you had been with him forever. Elijah ran his fingers down your back as you nuzzled his neck feeling comfort settled over the bond.

"Elijah." You muttered sleepily as Elijah smiled kissing your head feeling you shift on his chest only to roll off onto the bed making him smile. While Elijah wondered how you ended up with the Elite but he didn't rush to push to tell him as he was focused on your needs at the moment.

"Morning beautiful." Elijah said cupping your cheek smiling when you hid your blushing face in a pillow. Elijah chuckled leaning over pressing kisses on your neck as he tried to not flood the bond with adoration and love as to not to overwhelm you.

"Goodmorning." You muttered as Elijah gently urged you out of bed. You yawned getting up only to be picked up by Elijah and taken to the bathroom. You were surprised with how soft Elijah was with you as he was far from the stories the Elite told.

"Something on your mind, little heart?" Elijah asked softly brushing your hair from your face pulling you from your thoughts.

"It isn't nothing to worry about....you are just really different from the stories the Elite told." You answered Elijah as he frowned and looked at you when you reached up cupping his face.

"You don't scare me, Elijah. Because if you really the monster they say I shouldn't be alive." You tell your soulmate softly as Elijah leaned down to kiss you while you both flooded the bond with 'I love you.'.

"Breakfast is ready, Elijah." Hayley said crossing her arms still not liking how Elijah seemly had completely trusted the fact you were his soulmate.

"Sleep well Elijah?" Caroline asked with a smirk on her face watching Elijah once again pulling you into his lap. Elijah chuckled knowing what the blonde vampire was asking as he rubbed your side.

"I'm giving her a chance to get use to this first Caroline." Elijah said making the blonde giggle as you blinked looking at Elijah who just smiled at you kissing your nose.

"Goodmorning all." Klaus said smirking as he walked into the kitchen stealing a quick kiss from Caroline. Elijah raised an eyebrow noting the smirk and looked at Rebekah who noticed too.

"Have plans for today Niklaus?" Elijah asked stealing a grape off your fork making you pout but an idea popped in your head and began to feed Elijah some of your fruit salad.

"Yes. Murder." Klaus said as his smirk darken as he sat down looking at you getting a low growl from Elijah as his hold on you tighten making you look at Elijah comforting him through the bond.

"Niklaus."

"No need to worry brother. I was thinking your little soulmate goes out spend the day with the girls while we plot the death of the Elite." Klaus says leaning back against the chair as Elijah calmed down opening his mouth as you fed him a piece of melon.

"What about the first Sired?"

"They are no worry as of right now Hayley." Klaus says as he was itching to kill those that harmed you. You were family now so those that hurt you will meet his rage. You smiled feeding Elijah another grape which he happily took eyes twinkling with joy.

"Will you be okay?" You asked toying with the pendant of the Mikaelson Crest Elijah had gifted you. Elijah was making sure you were ready for your outing with the girls.

"Don't worry about me, little heart. Buy whatever you want." Elijah tells you handing you his credit card as he kissed your forehead. You blushed knowing Elijah wanted to spoil you again. You said a goodbye to Elijah then hurried to Rebekah's side.

"So Y/N were did you come from?" Hayley asked watching you as you blinked trying to remember since you had been with the Elite for a long while. It also didn't help the Elite would compel you and others for complete control.

"New York....I was a ballerina." You answered Hayley trying really hard to remember as Caroline stepped next to you smiling softly.

"Hey don't worry about not remembering right now. We have a dress to get you." Caroline says looping her arm with yours with Rebekah on the other side of you smiling also. The four of you had bought some nice dresses and some shoes more so Rebekah and Caroline was going to help you pick out a gorgeous dress for the Strix party Elijah was invited to.

"How did you end up with the Elite?" Hayley asked you watching you stop looking though dresses and put your head down. Rebekah was by your side in a blink of an eye seeing you shake and Caroline rubbed your back seeing tears fall down your face.

".....my older brother......sold me to them." You said as the memories came flooding back and your tears wouldn't stop.

"Once he found out I was a soulmate to an Original....he knew he could pay off his debts." You said shivering remembering how the leader of the Elite looked at you like you were a piece of meat. You also remember how your brother was okay with selling you off.

"How about we get you home." Caroline said softly as she lead you out of the store and Rebekah pays for your dress while Hayley felt a little guilty for bringing it up. Once back at the compound you surprised Elijah by climbing into his lap and buried your face in his neck your tears wetting the collar of his shirt.

"Baby?" Elijah asked softly as he wrapped his arms around you searching the bond for answers but only felt an overwhelming sadness and fear. So Elijah listen to Rebekah and Caroline explain to Klaus on why you were acting like this.

"Elijah?" Hayley said softly a moment later seeing that the Original hadn't moved from his chair as you had fell asleep against him. Elijah looked at her then focused his attention back on you, he had removed your heels and wrapped you in a blanket.

"Why are you pushing her away? Is it because she is my soulmate?" Elijah asked Hayley as the female hybrid crossed her arms.

"I just think you are rushing to fast on wanting it to be true."

"You don't believe that she is. Even though Freya said the bond was real." Elijah said freezing when you shifted then relaxed when you settled against his chest.

"Elijah, don't you find it a little suspicious that she shows up right when the Sired did?"

"No. The Elite had been in New Orleans longer than the Sired had from what Marceltold us." Elijah said as he stood up hold you bridal style. Elijah looked at Hayley.

"I loved you that I cannot deny Hayley but choose to marry Jackson. So if you really did love me you would have fought for us now allow me this happiness." Elijah said walking past her pausing at the door away.

"Maybe in a different life we could have loved one another. But I want to be happy Hayley and not waiting on what ifs." Elijah said softly before walking away not seeing the tear roll down Hayley's cheek.

You woke seeing it was dark out and felt Elijah pulling you back against his chest letting you roll over.

"I am sorry for earlier."

"It is fine little heart. You are still adjusting to this and the bond." Elijah says softly running his fingers through your hair.

"But....."

"No buts. The compulsion you were under us coming undone due to our bond. Hayley should have been more careful when asking about your past."

"Oh....were you two a thing?" You asked as you saw how Hayley would look at Elijah. It made you feel a little insecure but you felt Elijah flood the bond with love.

"We were but she married another. I loved her deeply I had gave up looking for you believing that I didn't have a soulmate."

"But when I felt you reach out that spark love lit with in me so I started searching for you. Hayley thought it was witches messing with me but when the auction came and I saw you....I just knew and all I wanted was you."

You looked at Elijah eyes tearing up leaning in kissing him softly and Elijah responded to the kiss right away. You squeaked as he lifted you placing you on top of him and your hands were on his chest.

"Elijah." You whispered sounding a bit whiny as Elijah pulled you down kissing you again. His hands were on your hips moving under your skirt as you both got more needy with your kisses and clothes went flying.

"I love you Elijah."

"I love you too my little heart." Elijah says softly drowning his self in your touch knowing he wasn't going to let you go.

#rere's stories #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson fluff #elijah mikaelson smut

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pochiperpe90 · 4 years ago

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[L’Officiel Hommes] Luca Marinelli, rising star of Italian cinema

To win his first film role, Luca Marinelli agreed to put on sixteen kilos. For the second, he had to shave his whole body and learn to walk in heels more than eight inches high.

"If I believe in the part, there is nothing I'm not willing to do," says the twenty-six-year-old protagonist of ‘The Solitude of Prime Numbers’, the film by Saverio Costanzo presented at last year's edition of the Venice Film Festival.

To play the role of a boy devoured by guilt due to an accident that happened to his sister, Marinelli did not hesitate to ruin his athletic physique by gorging himself on fats and carbohydrates, and giving up any activity for three months. As soon as he could, he started running again to lose the extra pounds. Between football and swimming he has always been used to playing sports. But the forced immobility had atrophied his muscles, and at the end of the first runs he ended up vomiting his soul from the effort. After a month of intense exercise, however, he had already lost the extra pounds.

"Changing your body makes you feel more vulnerable and you become prey to irrational fears: when I was fat I was afraid of dying every time I took the stairs, when I was hairless I was afraid that my eyebrows would never grow back," says the actor while he eats a salad sitting at the bar of the Palazzo della Triennale in Milan. "But it's always a very interesting experience", he continues, absently stroking the hairs on his forearm, still growing since the end of the shooting of “L’ultimo terrestre”, a film that will be released next year by Gipi, an Italian illustrator making his debut behind the movie camera. It’s a love story set against the backdrop of an invasion of extraterrestrials, in which Marinelli plays the role of a transvestite friend of the protagonist. To prepare for the part, the actor watched dozens of crossdresser and transgender footage and had to practice for hours walking with extravagant stilts instead of shoes.

“I was told that, as a woman, I move well and I'm quite beautiful. In short, the experience gave me a certain satisfaction”, he jokes, winking with gray-blue eyes.

Compared to the film debut of ‘Solitude of Prime Numbers’, this new film offers him a smaller role and visibility. But Marinelli is not concerned about this. He knows he was very lucky to end on the red carpet of one of the most important festivals in the world with the first film. And he would almost feel calmer if his career were to continue more gradually.

"It was so lightning fast that I was not prepared. Venice was a wonderful experience but I was in panic. In the evening I came home with a terrible headache, I felt like I had two tight screws in my skull. I almost felt at fault to start out so great. And now I'm happy to start again slowly”.

Marinelli finished high school in 2006 and three years later graduated from the Silvio D'Amico Academy of Dramatic Art in Rome. Before being chosen by Costanzo for the feature film that gave him notoriety with the public, he had already played several roles in the theater with directors such as Carlo Cecchi and Michele Monetta. His father, actor and film voice actor, tried to introduce him to the world of entertainment as a child, without achieving great results. He had made him voice the voices of Tip and Tap, the grandchildren of Mickey Mouse from the cartoons, and had offered him some amateur roles. Despite being fascinated by the profession, however, the son didn’t feel cut out to be an actor.

“As a child I was shy. I liked being the center of attention, but only with people I had a lot of confidence with. More than being observed, I was interested in observing the lives of others. Not the present ones, but the past ones”.

After high school, Marinelli enrolled in the faculty of archeology in Rome. But after two months in which he attended only lessons that had nothing to do with his course, he realized that the university wasn’t for him and threw himself into acting, overcoming the fears he carried within him since he was a child. Even today, however, it retains some of that shyness. To the point that, whenever he is about to go on stage, he has to resort to small exorcising rites to reduce tension and cancel thoughts. And when we ask him how it feels to tell a complete stranger about himself, he confesses to being a little nervous.

"This is my second interview. From the first, I came out as some kind of psycho. I hope this time it goes better”, he jokes.

He has pain in his neck from a fall that occurred a few days earlier and moves his torso in a slightly stiffly way. He jumped on the ball and crashed to the ground during a game of "calciotto", the eight-a-side football that is popular in Rome, the city where he was born and raised. Every time he turns his head he makes a grimace of pain. Apart from that, Marinelli seems to be quite at ease, and does not resort to clichés. Nor does he try to hide behind sophisticated characters: he wears a blue shirt, military green trousers and brown jacket, in a style that he simply defines "for men", made up of garments unearthed among vintage shops and thrift stalls rather than in the boutiques of the big names. He loves to run around with his bike, although he admits that the longest trip he has done was from Rome to Fregene with a friend. And as soon as he has a free moment he takes his dog Nonò, a foundling dachshund who also follows him on tour, and takes him around the capital for long walks in the company of Sandy, the dog who lives in his parents' house.

Even though he’s aware of the difficulties and uncertainties he risks facing in his profession, he speaks of his dreams with passion and without anguish. He would like to pursue a project as a director and is enthusiastic about the collaboration with Cecchi in “Sogno di una notte di mezza estate”, a piece with which he will tour Italy between November and February.

"I know that being an actor is a job with a very high risk of failure and depression, but for the moment I try to live this lucky moment to the fullest."

Marinelli is not religious, but he’s particularly fascinated by the figure of Christ. He loves reading books and watching films that tell the Nazarene in his human dimension (from the Gospel according to Matthew by Pasolini to Scorsese's Last Temptation of Christ), because when he sees a miracle he feels the "smell of burning" and is immediately distracted.

"The story of Jesus, understood as a simple person, is a proof of the wonderful things that man is capable of. And studying it helps to understand how far we live from the example that has been given to us".

Among the dreams in the drawer, remains to work with Eimuntas Nekrošius, the Lithuanian theater director who recently staged Albert Camus' Caligula in Rome. And with Pedro Almodovar, the master of Spanish cinema whose language he knows well. In fact, Marinelli's father spent his childhood in Argentina and passed on to his son his love for Spanish, which Luca speaks with a slight South American inflection.

Of course, the situation in Italy for novice actors is not reassuring. Most of his fellow academics are still looking for work. The lucky ones earn a few euros by acting in the theater or making fiction which is exhausting for the body and demoralizing for the spirit. The others are making a living with alternative uses waiting to be discovered.

“I'm working, but not because I'm the best of those who came out of my class. Luck matters a lot. In Italy the environment is closed and there is little money. Abroad, however, it seems that this art is much more accessible".

His response is interrupted by a strange sigh that sounds like a whale song. It’s the ringtone of his cell phone, a reconstruction of the original music used in the Greek tragedy. Marinelli doesn’t respond, but begins to show signs of unease. He noted that the Palazzo della Triennale hosts an exhibition of Pasolini's portraits that he would like to see. He has little time left, but he adores the poet and insists on entering.

Inside the exhibition, observe the black and white photos taken by Dino Pedriali in 1975 which show the artist reading in his villa in Chia, writing on an Olivetti 22 and walking on a bridge in Sabaudia with his hair down from the wind. Then he stops in front of a photo of Pasolini naked, portrayed in his bedroom.

"What a fascinating man, in this image he reminds me of the bad lieutenant in Abel Ferrara's film," he says as he heads towards the exit. Then, unexpectedly, he turns to his interviewer and asks him with the relieved tone of someone who knows he has completed a business: "Prof, how did the exam go?".

“I'd give you a nice twenty-eight”, we reply according to the game.

"Okay, I accept it".

L’Officiel Hommes

Just wanted to translate this old interview for the non-italian’s fans ^^ (sorry for my English)

#Luca Marinelli #interview #english translation #english #mine #l'ultimo terrestre #la solitudine dei numeri primi #2011 #magazine #L’Officiel Hommes #Roberta

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