#that was cute!! bonne chance!!
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literally everyone whenever ang and ruby do so much as say “bonne chance” to each other:
#damn yall just let them be cute#that was cute!! bonne chance!!#gabbi’s wrestling liveblog#aew#aew collision#cool hand ang#ruby soho
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💖 Pockets, puffs, pretty prints, bows and so much more!! Everything $29.99 💖
https://bonnechancecollections.com
#cottagecore#bows#bonnechancedress#bonne chance collections#whimsical#dreamy#baby pink#light acadamia aesthetic#light pink#princessaesthetic#cute prints#princesscore#aestethic#vintageinspired#cute dress#dresses#floraldresses#pinkaesthetic
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hiya elle!!!
could i request a first-time dad sirius fic of siri introducing his baby to the other marauders?? 🩷🩷
so. stinkin'. cute.
dad!Sirius Black x mom!reader who are introducing their first child to the Marauders
You felt as though you were experiencing the world through glasses that weren’t your exact prescription, riding out the last of the adrenaline coursing through your veins after the past 24 hours. You were floating in this liminal space between discomfort and euphoria, pain and joy, worry and love.
You thought perhaps though the love was beginning to win out.
You were sitting in your hospital bed as you watched Sirius gently bounce the tiny bundle he was holding up to his face.
“Isn’t her nose just perfect, sweets?” He asked you (for quite possibly the 13th time in the four hours your daughter has been earth side) without moving his gaze from said nose.
“So perfect.” You agreed readily, smiling softly at the picture and hoping that this image in your memory didn’t fade as you became more lucid.
There was a gentle knock before a mop of wild hair and a pair of spectacles shoved its head in through the door to your room.
James gasped quietly yet no less dramatically as he looked between you and Sirius.
“Can we come in?” He whispered, adorning quite possibly one of the biggest smiles you’d even seen on him (which was really saying something, considering he has been notoriously sunny since the day you met him), before Lily shoved her head in just below his.
“I promise we’ll behave.” She added.
Sirius chuckled and nodded his head in invitation. “You were never the one we were worried about, Red.”
In a way that only happened throughout the history of humanity at the precise moment family members or loved ones entered the room of a newborn and their parents; Lily, James, and Peter all tiptoed in, for some reason even hunching low as if their lack of height would somehow make them any quieter.
James gasped again as he and Lily peered over Sirius’ shoulder to get a glimpse of the newborn in his hands; all three friends sharing identical beaming grins. “She’s beautiful, Sirius.” Lily whispered in awe.
“Bloody perfect, is what she is.” James agreed, leaning around Sirius to look at you. “Way to go, mum. Brilliant job you’ve done.”
“Thank you, Jamie.” You replied, turning a little shy as Sirius turned his lovesick gaze to you, which was very embarrassing considering he literally just watched you push his fucking child out of your crotch.
“What’s her name?” Peter asked, standing in front of Sirius like an eager kid waiting for their turn to pick a toy from the treasure box.
“This is Aurora Jubilee.” Sirius said proudly, turning his daughter slightly so that Pete could get a look.
“Bloody perfect.” James reiterated when you heard a quiet commotion outside your hospital room.
“I said I was sorry, Reg. The baby can’t tell time yet, she won’t know you’re late!”
You then heard something that sounded an awful lot like someone being whacked with a bouquet of flowers.
“Idiot.” Regulus hissed. “I’m trying to make a good impression; just because you don’t worry whether or not Harry finds his uncle to be untimely doesn’t mean I want to set the same precedent for my niece. Tu as tellement de chance tu es une bonne baise.”
The door pushed open slightly further as Remus and Regulus quietly stepped in, furious blushes adorning their faces when they realised that you all had paused in order to eavesdrop on their conversation.
“How nice of you to finally join us, little brother. Your niece has been asking for you.” Sirius deadpanned.
Regulus scoffed and Remus grimaced as Regulus came rushing over to your side and pressed a kiss to your hair. “How are you doing, mama?” He asked, pulling back to consider your form as Remus pressed his own kiss to your head.
“I’m good, uncle Reggie, thank you.” You smiled at him.
“Good.” He said with a curt nod. “I worry, leaving you in the care of my brother - you deserve better.”
“Sod off.” Sirius muttered, causing Lily to gently swat at his back.
“Watch your mouth, Sirius. There are little ears now.”
“Yeah, watch your fucking mouth, Sirius.” Remus volleyed.
“Christ, our kids are doomed.” Lily complained as she moved to sit on the end of your bed.
“Okay, I can’t take it anymore; let me hold her.” James demanded, making grabby hands to Sirius.
“Okay but Prongs, I swear to god if you fumble this like you fum-”
“I didn’t fumble that pass! You threw it too hard!” James quickly negated with a petulant whine.
Moving in slow motion, Sirius relinquished his hold on his new favourite person into James’ capable and seasoned dad hands before moving to perch himself beside you on your bed.
“‘Lo, Aurora. I’m uncle Prongs; your favourite. I’m going to buy you so many stuffies, your dad and mum will need to buy a second place just to have somewhere to put them all. And Haz is going to be the best big cousin you could ever ask for; he’s already trying to convince me to buy you a bike so you guys can ride together. And-”
“Okay.” Lily interrupted. “My turn.”
James harrumphed but acquiesced and passed her over to his wife.
“She has her mummy’s nose.” Lily cooed, causing Sirius to gently pull you into his side and pressing his nose into your hair.
“That’s what I’ve been saying.” He said, causing you to snort.
“No. You just kept saying it was perfect.” You argued.
“Exactly.”
“Let’s just hope you have your mummy’s smarts, too.” Lily concluded, passing Aurora to Pete.
“Oi!”
“Hi, ‘Ro.” Peter said, smiling down at the infant as she started to stir slightly. “No, no. Please don’t wake up. Oh god, oh god, James take her - take her! I’m not ready for this!”
“Oh hand her ‘ere.” Remus mumbled, moving to take the tiny bundle from his mate. “Wormy smells, doesn’t he, little love?” He cooed at the baby who, much to Peter’s chagrin, stopped fussing immediately.
“Oh you and I are going to get into so much trouble, darlin’. I’m going to teach you so many swear words, and I’ll help you prank your dad any time you want - you just give me a ring and I’ll be there.”
Any contention between Remus and Regulus from their arrival melted quickly as Regulus leaned into Remus’ side to gaze at the newest Black family member.
“You wanna hold her, love?” Remus asked him quietly, causing Regulus to shake his head quickly.
“I don’t want to hurt her.”
Sirius scoffed. “Please, we let Peter hold her.”
“Sod off!”
“What if I drop her?” Regulus continued.
“Just don’t drop her. God, you’re a weird bloke.” Sirius muttered under his breath, though Regulus seemed to catch it as he levelled his brother with a glare.
His face softened considerably as Remus shifted his hold in order to transfer Aurora into Regulus’ careful arms.
He spent a few moments just looking down at his new niece, a silent conversation seeming to pass between them as Remus reached around him to stroke the downy soft skin on the side of her face.
“Okay, I’ve only known Aurora for three minutes; but if anything ever happened to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself.” He said simply.
Peter let out a nervous laugh before he realised Regulus was quite serious.
“Good.” Sirius said with a nod. “That’s why we picked you to be her godfather.”
Regulus’ head whipped up at that as he seemed to strengthen his hold on the baby in his arms.
“You what?”
“If anything ever happened to us, we know you’d do everything in your power to give her a good life - the best life.” You explained.
“I- but…really?”
“Yeah.” Sirius said emphatically. “Besides, you inherited all of mother and father’s dirty money anyway, might as well use it to spoil our girl.”
Though there were clearly tears forming in Regulus’ eyes, he turned his attention back to his goddaughter with a derisive scoff.
“I was planning on doing that anyway, Sirius. Je suis vraiment désol�� de te dire ça, Aurora, mais ton père est un idiot.”
Remus snorted. “Already teaching her important life lessons.”
“Get bent, Moony.” Sirius sneered.
#ask elle#marauders era#marauders au#marauders fanfiction#reader insert#sirius black#self insert#sirius black x reader#sirius black x you#dad!Sirius#kid fic#mom!reader#Sirius Black as a father#first time dad#ellecdc fics
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POV: Loboier
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Moon!
His body hurts, but He is used to it by now.
He whines his way out of His House, shakes His fur out, stretches, and cries. He cries a lot. (But not loudly, because His Bobby is doing Human Work inside, and He doesn’t want to disturb him.)
Craning His neck back, he says hello to the Moon(!) with a howl.
“Salut, Loboier!” the Moon says back. “Bonne nuit!”
His tail wags. But His body hurts, so He lays down in the grass and closes His eyes. If He pretends hard enough, he can pretend that He is in the Woods with his Pack.
The breeze ruffles His fur. Maybe it’s actually His Spreen saying hi, but without his knife this time.
He growls at the thought. His Spreen… how evil!!
His eyes snap open as the Big House’s door opens.
AAAAAAAHHHHH!!!! YESYESYESYESYESYESYES!!!!!!!!!!!
His Jaiden doesn’t even get a chance to say hello before she has Him on top of her licking her face and saying hello.
“Hey!” she smiles. She pets between His ears, juuuust right.
‘Hi!’ He says, barking loudly so she can hear him. ‘I love you!!’
His Jaiden is his favorite Jaiden. She built His House and she buys His Bones and she plays Ball with Him. She gives the BEST belly rubs!!
He bites her forearm gently. There! Wolf Jaiden!
But his Jaiden just laughs and says, “Nice try, but I’m already taken.”
Pain! Heartbreak!! Agony!!!
(Jaiden is a Jaiden. Not human, but Jaiden. So she can’t be a Wolf, but He still tries every Moon, anyway.)
Dejected, He lets His Jaiden down the stairs and into the yard. She goes to get a Ball, which is fine. It’s whatever. It’s fine.
His body hurts.
With a whine, He settles on His stomach and rests His head on His paws. He closes His eyes. Maybe His Spreen should’ve just finished the job. Letting Him go might have been crueler than letting Him die.
The door to the Big House opens again. He smells who comes out, and His tail wags a little in response- thump-thumping against the grass. But He doesn’t get up. He Hurts.
A cold, calloused hand settles in the fur on His back.
“Is he okay?” His Cellbit asks His Jaiden.
“Yeah, I think so,” she answers. “Sometimes this happens. It’s… complicated.”
His Cellbit hums in response. Grass crinkles as His Cellbit settles into it. He pets Him softly- so, so softly.
He cracks an eye open and looks up at His Cellbit.
Wow, He thinks. He’s beautiful.
The Moon casts His Cellbit’s hair silver. His Cellbit’s eyes almost seem to glow in the dark. Shadows make him look almost like a statue.
He shuffles in the grass until His head is resting on His Cellbit’s lap. His Cellbit’s other hand is also on his lap; He kisses it and wishes he could do that when he’s Human, too.
Quietly, He says, ‘I love you.’
He asks, ‘Do you love me?’
He says, ‘Because I love you. I love you a lot. CellbitCellbitCellboCellbit.’
His Cellbit laughs quietly and says, “I don’t speak wolf, guapito.”
That’s Him! His Cellbit’s Guapito!!
Suddenly much happier, He rolls onto His back and shows His belly to His Cellbit. And His Cellbit is sooooo smart! He starts rubbing His belly, and he’s soooooo cute!!
Smiling, He declares to the world, ‘I love My Cellbit!!’
The world disagrees, because the world doesn’t like His Cellbit, and because His Cellbit doesn’t like the world. But He doesn’t need the world’s approval. So long as He and His Cellbit like each other, that’s all He needs.
And one day when He turns His Cellbit into Wolf Cellbit, He’ll be able to tell His Cellbit EVERYTHING!!
But, for now, He settles for some more kisses and a smile. (He’s sure that His Cellbit understands, anyway.)
#monster au fic#a.d.'s fics i suppose#a.d.'s fics i suppose.#I think we could all just use some Loboier rn
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Is there any chronivac dating app ? I saw this really handsome dude selling pastries in Bordeaux, and another cute guy at the beach in Arcachon ! I really want to have the best chances here !
There is no Chronivac dating app in the strict sense. But I can create one or more profiles for you in the relevant portals using Chronivac, which are combined with a preset in Chronivac. This means that if someone is interested in a profile, and it comes to a date, you can activate the profile for you. The advantage is that with several profiles your chances improve significantly.
For the cute guy in Bordeaux maybe the setting Charles could fit. IT product manager. Super sporty. Eats only super healthy, but has a weakness for sweet pastries and sweet boys.
To have fun at the Bassin d'Arcachon, I think the setting Marc is quite good. Is into kitesurfing and nighttime pool parties for two.
I personally like the Île de Ré very much in August, meeting place of the rich and beautiful. There you could have success as Jean-Luc. Winemaker, connoisseur of fine arts and experienced connoisseur and artist in bed.
I would also have him as his son in a younger version. Nightclub owner from Paris. Friend of hard sex in unusual places.
If you want, I will activate one or more of the profiles on Grindr or other portals of your choice. And then I wish you bonne chance, beaucoup de succès et surtout beaucoup de plaisir!
#male tf#muscle tf#reality change#chronivac#male transformation#age progression#muscle transformation
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hii! for flufftober could you do a florence pugh x reader where they’ve got 3 kids and since readers half spanish half french she speaks to them in both languages and florence gets lost because she doesnt speak either of them, but she loves when reader does that :)
Teach Me
Pairing: Florence Pugh x Reader
Summary: When your child start to pick up some words in Spanish and French, Florence can’t help but beg to be taught
| Fluff | 1.1K |
Translations –
Spanish: Hola (Hi), Asombrosa (amazing), gracias cariño (thank you, darling), sí (yes), adios (goodbye), Te quiero mucho (I love you so much),
French: c'est parfait (sounds perfect), Bonne nuit citrouille (goodnight, pumpkin), je t'aime (I love you), bonjour (hello), il est tard, on devrait se coucher (it’s late, we should get to bed),
AC: I know this was meant for Flufftober & I’m so sorry I didn’t get a chance to write it then but I loved how cute this idea was!! I hope you enjoy! *Please note I used google translate for this*
"Hola mommy!!" Your middle child, 4, ran to your wife who was getting a head start on dinner. "Hello princess! How's my big girl?" Florence smiled widely as she gently placed the knife down on the chopping board and scooped up the toddler into her arms. Ever since you taught your daughter to say the basics in both Spanish and French she has been over the moon excited to show off to anybody. "Good" your daughter giggled as Florence placed a soft kiss on her tiny cheek.
"and how's my little man?" She turned to you with a smile as you held your youngest son, 2, in your arms. The little boy was too tried from a big play at the park to give any type of reaction to his mother. "He's a bit tired, aren't we?" You suggested as he wrapped his tiny arms around you the best he could, Florence couldn't help but smile softly as you hugged the child tightly.
"Mom can I please have a snack?" followed the voice of your eldest son, 7, as he walked into the kitchen and threw his school bag to the side. "Of course darling, but it has to be fruit, I'm making roast chicken tonight" your wife smiled. "Ooo c'est parfait" you inserted yourself while your son helped himself to the fruit bowl. Emma giggled as she looked over to you, "what did you say mama?" She asked, Florence cocked a brow, "Yeah mama, what did you say?"
You couldn't help but chuckle at the interaction, "I said it sounds perfect and that was in French" you replied with a smile, "now how about we go have a bath and get ready for dinner?" You suggested earning a groan from the young girl. "Come on baby, be a good girl for mama" Florence whispered before giving the young girl another kiss on the check and placing her back on her feet.
----
"This looks asombrosa baby!" You smiled as you entered the dining room, the three of your children already sat at the table waiting patiently for you to join them in your usual seat across from your wife. "Gracias cariño" you whispered as you placed a kiss on Florence's cheek before taking your seat. "Thank you, mommy!" Emma spoke, followed by Declan looking up from his switch, throwing a smile at the two of you.
"You're welcome my sweet girl" Florence smiled. You handed Tyler his special fork as Florence pours 5 glasses of water. "Dec, turn the switch off please, it's dinner time" you looked over to your son who just rolled his eyes and paused his game.
Once everybody was eating the normal conversation started to flow. Florence asked Declan about his day at school followed up by Emma talking about how excited she was to finally start 'big girl school'. Dinner with your family was one of your favorite times of the day, all of you coming together to talk and laugh over a meal that either you or Florence had made. After dinner came the desert, simple ice cream and pudding before it was time for a bit of family time in the living room watching a movie then sending the children off to bed.
"Bonne nuit citrouille" you smiled to Emma as she cuddled her bunny rabbit plushie close to her chest, you gave her a kiss on her forehead, "je t'aime" you whispered. "je t'aime mama!" She smiled as Florence tucked her in, "I love you, mommy" she added. "Our smart girl" you smiled, "very smart" Florence adds as she places her own kiss on the child's forehead, "goodnight darling" she whispered. "Goodnight mommy"
Moving onto Declan whose eyes were glued to his book, something he would do while you and Florence would tuck the younger ones into bed. "Ready for bed honey?" Florence softly knocked on his bedroom door, he smiled and placed a bookmark on his page and closed the book before placing it on his bedside table. "sí" he replied. Talking in either Spanish or French came naturally to the young boy, having learned it all from you sometimes it just slipped but it warmed your heart knowing you'd taught your children something special.
Once the kids were tucked in, you and Florence found yourselves relaxing on the sofa with Florence snuggled up to you as you both paid little attention to the movie playing on the TV. "We really do have some special nuggets upstairs" Florence looked up at you with a soft smile, your heart falling in love with her all over again. "It's crazy to think they are only going to continue getting smarter" you replied, placing a kiss on the top of her head. "Do I have to wait until Tyler has learnt the basics before you teach me, or can I squeeze in a lesson?" She asked with a chuckle.
"Of course baby, I just didn't think it was something that you were interested in"
"Are you kidding me?" She sat up to face you better, "darling, watching our children grow up learning more than one language is so special, even more that it comes from you. I would love to surprise them and talk Spanish or French to them one day" she explained. You couldn't help but smile and pull her in for a kiss as you brushed a lock of hair behind her hear. "I've tried to take my own notes but all I know is Hola, sí, gracias, bonjour, adios, you know, the real basics" she added with a smile.
"That's okay baby, I'd love to teach you" you sat up a little more, "Te quiero mucho" you added which only confused Florence a little. She's heard you use those words before but she couldn't remember exactly what they meant. "Take it easy on me!" She playfully slapped your arm causing you both to chuckle.
For hours you taught Florence the basics of French as she wanted to learn that first. The two of you getting lost in the night with giggles and many, many mistakes but no matter how hard she found it to remember the way to say things in a certain way, it warmed your heart so much to have this moment with your wife. A moment you will never forget, being able to teach her something so important to you. "I think I have this, ready?" She chuckled before you nodded your head, "il est tard, on devrait se coucher" she said slowly while she tried her best to remember everything, you'd taught her.
"Well done baby!!" You smiled widely, clapping but not too loudly, "you said your first sentence in French!! I'm so proud of you!" You pulled her close and kissed her lips, "my smart girl" you smiled against her lips. "I have a wonderful teacher" she kissed you once more. Even though you both were tired, it didn't bother you much that you both soon lost yourselves once more as you spoke to her in French and she did her best to work out what you were saying.
It truly was a night you'd remember forever.
Taglist: @red1culous | @bentleywolf29 | @jeyramarie | @lissaaaa145 | @high--power | @parkerdaramitzzzz | @mmmmokdok | @wackymcstupid | @kiwiana145 | @sophie-xox | @shin-conan-kun | @nattyolw | @ripofflizzie | @get-the-fuck-outta-here | @goofy-goonie | @makegoodchoices | @apollo2907 | @marvelfan98 | @wandaroman0ff | @dumb-fawkin-bitch | @lovelyy-moonlight | @santana1437 | @sophie-xox | @fluffyblanketgecko | @inluvwithfictionalwomen | @jaymieflorissssssss | @tita001 | @youralphawolf72 | @crescent-witch | @randomnessbecausewhynot | @natashamaximoff69 | @a-dorkier-book-keeper |
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Four in One Post
For my Filipino Friend's Cloth Tober Posts of Emme and Jo.
Now that can be fun and cute for Lisa to wear Jo's clothes since Jo has got a chance to wear Lisa's clothes like Emme did.
Not only with Vanilla’s, but Lisa would enjoy wearing Emme’s clothes too and she’ll have all three clothes from them since the three got to wear Lisa’s clothes as well. Even Maxwell and Sam would be surprised to see their loved ones ready to be snuggled. 😊
Lisa 😺❤️⚡: Wow they look cozy of me wearing Emme and Jo's clothes. Maybe Vanilla and I can snuggle them together even if Emme and Jo are trying to both wear our clothes. 😊🤗
Response to both my Filipino Friend and for my A-Pal
First Response to my Filipino Friend
Yeah these Dental related stories can be really funny since I did remember seeing that happen in Kirby, especially when wanting to do a Cartoon Network story called Dental Dilemma where Darwin and Benson both have a Toothache and the Wattersons and Mordecai and Rigby and Pops too, them both to see the Dentist. Much like how Starfire took Robin to see the Dentist. But I’m sure Spot, Riya, Miya, Cude and Aace would be Surprised to see Bonn’s braces.
Shadow R 😺🗡️: You’re braces are not bad, Bonn. I usually brush my teeth every night before I go to bed and I sometimes brush my teeth every time my teeth are hurting. But let’s see how Spot, Riya, Miya, Cude and Aace feel about your braces.
Second Response to my Filipino Friend and to my A-Pal
I do enjoy both shows a lot. I did remember seeing a Kiff Halloween special on YouTube that played a few days ago, normally it’s a 2nd Halloween special and I bet you guys will like it compared to the other Halloween special. And for the other show, my mom and my sister enjoyed Hi Hi Puffy Ami Yumi since they both love the show and their songs. And I also like the show too. I also own the video game, Kaznapped on GBA. And I was also going to include both Ami and Yumi for Cartoon Network in Persona 4. Ami will work at the Inn, and Yumi will work as a Detective. Yumi will summon Sukuno Hikona and Ami will summon Konohana Sakuya. Now Ami and Yumi can both help out with Mac on the investigation team to investigate the Midnight channel.
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Fic Rec for February
I feel like I have expanded my reading horizons a little this month. Still mostly short one-shots, but you'll find some multi-chapters fics in there. And even a bit of smut to celebrate the Lovers' holiday.
Gen
To the Wonder of All Things: A story of Castiel and his relationship with humanity, and most of all, love, by @hauntedpearl/The Purple Starflower on AO3. With a nice characterization of The Empty/The Shadow, and a peak at Castiel's past. (Castiel x Dean)
Untitled: Season 7 Second-person POV on all kinds of love. When you are not good with words, objects take a different meaning. A delightful short piece of writing (149 words) by @pinknatural (Dean x Castiel, Dean & others)
Toothbrush : A little untitled slice of bunker life by @starcrosseddeancas but since it’s about a toothbrush… (Dean x Castiel)
Dancing Dean: @thoughtslikeaminefield favourite short they wrote. Cute and wholesome. (Dean & teenage female hunter)
Reciprocus: a weechester story (a wee Dean story, really) by @thoughtslikeaminefield It’s about survival but not in a gruesome way. It’s about how a teacher can leave a mark.
Teen and Up
In the Woods: A mystery story with a mute Dean and a hurt Castiel that might develop into something else. By @amemipiacitu
You Aren't Going Without Me: A finale fix-it by @bobwess where Jack is the main character. I read it in December in the Prompted fic; it's worth putting here again now that it's its own story.
Dean's Demise in Flower Pics: A safe-for-work story all in suggestions... and beautiful flower pics by @cloverhighfivewritestoo. Discovered thru Fishing for Treasure (Dean x Castiel)
Mature/Explicit
If we make it through December: Donna wants the Winchester brothers to live Christmas with loved ones. A multi-chapter story written by @thoughtslikeaminefield as a secret Santa gift. Start cute and awkward, with a steamy finish. (Donna x Dean)
Something about fate: something I rarely read: an RPF, a reader insert, and a WIP. And yet here we are! With a theme of homelessness that shakes things up a little. By @jawritter (Jensen x Reader)
Fanfics (or fics) not Supernatural related
Bonne Chance, Fat Chance: an incursion into the Bon Cop Bad Cop (2006 movie) universe, by Thea M on AO3. For a little Canadian-ness and the same type of humor that made David and Martin popular. (No pairing)
End of the Road: A look into Paradise that is not what you expected with family feels but even more crack! by @verobatto on AO3. (Original work; no pairing)
The Girl who Waited Rewrite: Just as the title says; a cute rewrite of the Doctor Who episode with the 11th Doctor, Amy, and Rory, where communication works, so it's short! By TheDinosAreBack on AO3.
Untitled Collective Work: From the prompt "Temples are built for gods. Knowing this a farmer builds a small temple to see what kind of god turns up" by @writing-prompt-sI. f you want to read something so beautiful it makes you cry. (No pairing)
Canary: A Stranger Things post-season 4 AU where Eddie lived and Steve realised 1986 is not his year. By the marvelous Astra_Wards on AO3. It's a WIP, but I know it's worth it because I read Supernatural stuff from them before and those stories were amazing! (Steve x Eddie)
Happy Val: Because I could not do a February rec list without at least one Valentine’s Day fanfic, here is some pure fluff from the MCU: a one-shot coffee shop AU featuring Steve Rodger and a shy Reader, by @darsynia (Steve Rodger x Reader)
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félicitations pour compléter vos examens jusqu’à présent! très fier de toi, bonne chance pour vos examens restants <3
that’s so cute thank you ✨😭
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8 and 10!!
I'll do Andreas for this one cuz I've been missing talking about him :~) How do you think your F/O would propose to you? If they already have, describe how it went! Due to circumstances, Andreas and Elisabetta are unable to wed for many years! By the time he finally has the chance, they're both a bit older... so I think at that point in their lives they wouldn't want anything overly extravagant. But! Because this time Andreas is blessed with the opportunity to choose a bride for himself rather than someone his family wanted him to marry, he would want it to be a bit special. I think it would be a private proposal somewhere gorgeous <3 I like to think he'd propose during one of their travels together, maybe while the cherry blossoms are blooming in Bonn What’s your favorite physical feature of your F/O? What about your favorite aspect of their personality? His nose </3 </3 </3 I... really think larger noses are attractive in general 😭 they're a very beautiful feature to me :~) and also his eyebrows (thick). And his expressions are really silly and cute too... <3 As for personality I love that he's kind of just So Weird. Even when he's older and depressed he remains weird <3 And while it's not necessarily a "good" feature to have (especially in the context of the game) I personally love that he's nosy as hell and a know-it-all, if you make him a Latinist he becomes the kind of guy who types "*you're" if you typo during an argument with him
#💌 | a letter from hermes#[ love is the only reason to do anything in this life ]#thank u so much for the ask!
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Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: 🐻 NWOT Bonne Chance Beaty Cute Picnic Dress- Size XL 🐻.
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🧸🎃 Spooky New Collection!! All cute dresses $36.99 and cute baby t’s under $20!! 🎃🧸
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Je ne vous dirai jamais au revoir puisque je sais que nous nous croiserons à nouveau !
@pinkiichu
Parce que l'Eras Tour est partout !
Taylor Swift doit encore exécuter son propre béton, sans réserve, pour s'arrêter.
Bonne chance, et continuez à sourire et à encourager car je crois que l'individu sera charmant lorsqu'il pourra être lui-même !
CQK MALA attend qu'on en ait de plus en plus jusqu'à se revoir !
Veuillez garder cela à l'esprit,
" It's a Cruel Summer with you... " ☀️
#gotzyredlips 👄
#goodtime #friends #love #instagood #happy #fun #smile #photooftheday #memories #goodvibes #goodtimes #party #friendship #funny #awesome #bestfriend #best #bestfriends #goodday #life #like #goodfriends #cute #chill #summer #friend #photography #live #nature
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Club 27
Hollywood, CA – 1975
Bonnie strums her guitar as she attempts to follow the sheet music scattered across the glass coffee table, stopping to tune a string or two. The morning’s mind fog refuses to lift. Freckled cheeks framed by her long red hair give her the appearance of a teenager. She is in her mid-twenties, but feels sixty.
Bonnie would often joke, Of course I like to party – that’s what I do for a living, so I can hang out with cute guys, have a good time and stay up late. That demonstrates my devotion to the music. Yet she is painfully aware of how little sense that makes.
On this particular day, she is playing music written by Joni Mitchell. Bonnie admires Joni’s talent. She’s not only a prolific songwriter, poet, and photographer, but also a really good friend. Joni is able to communicate all she sees and hears through her art. Most of all, Bonnie idolizes her originality. Bonnie has always marveled at those who can express their thoughts and ideas through music. How do they do that? Every time Bonnie tries to create her own material, she hits a wall. Long ago, she figured that her talent - her way of being authentic – was the spin she would put on other people’s works. There's no shame in that, she tells herself.
Strumming chords on her guitar, she curses at the intro because she can't quite get the rhythm right. She tilts her head as she hears the percussion in her mind. Then, as if someone opened a door, she smiles and falls into the song.
They paved paradise
And put up a parking lot
With a pink hotel, a boutique
And a swinging hot spot
Bonnie stops and remembers the way Joni looked at her last night. She has seen that look many times before, the look of disappointment and frustration. It's the look people give her when they realize that she has betrayed herself once again.
The phone rings. Bonnie takes a sip of last night's brandy and places it near the phone.
“Hello?” She cradles the receiver so she can still strum but instead drops the phone onto her guitar with a loud acoustic BONG!
“Oh criminy!” Bonnie says, exasperated. “Hold on! I'll be right there!” She leans the guitar against the side of the couch. She takes a deep breath as she brushes a few strands of hair from her eyes.
“Hello?” she giggles, a bit flustered. “Thanks. You still there?”
“Hey Bonnie, it’s me.” It's her agent Ted.
Bonnie relaxes. “Yeah, hi, Ted. I was just about to call you. Do you have any gigs for me? I hear the Doobies are looking for someone to open for them at the Troubadour next month. Can you look into that?”
“What?” says Ted. “No, I had a folder of cover songs sent over to you yesterday. Have you had a chance to go through it?”
Bonnie stands, reaches for a yellow file folder lying on a nearby side table, and sits back down.
Ted continues, “You've put out four albums of fantastic cover songs since '71, and so far they haven't been very successful.”
“I know, Ted. You're brutal, dude. It's all about the money,” she sighs. “That's the way the world goes 'round.” Bonnie quickly shuffles through the papers in the folder.
“If we play ball with them, maybe they'll extend your contract. But I'll be honest with you Bonnie, Warner’s feels you need to go in a different direction.”
Bonnie rolls her eyes, followed by another long pause. “Which direction is that, Ted?” She knew what was coming.
“You know this isn't coming from me, but they think it's a good idea if you would just...you know...sex it up a bit. It's just a matter of wearing a little makeup, maybe showing a little cleavage or even wearing a dress...”
Bonnie throws the folder across the room.
“Bonnie?”
Immediately after Bonnie slams the receiver onto its cradle, the phone rings again. Startled, she returns it to her ear, “Ted?”
A young female voice, with a distinct British accent, floats from the phone.
“No, luv, it's Amy.”
Amy? Amy who? Bonnie stammers, “Uh...who...”
“If you’re looking for a place that can nurture your God-given talent, ducky, come down to the Club 26.”
Bonnie searches her mind unsuccessfully as to who this nice British woman might be.
“Yes, sweetie,” Amy continues. “You are definitely an untapped quantity. Bye, luv!”
As Bonnie holds the receiver, she hears a click, followed by a dial tone. She places the receiver back on its cradle, and then stares at it for a moment.
Bonnie had heard of the Club 26, but has never been there. All she knows is that it’s an old New York style restaurant and bar on Hollywood Boulevard that has been there forever.
She grabs the thick local Yellow Pages, licks her index finger, and leafs through to the restaurant section. Where is it? Okay, here it is... the Club26 ...6667 Hollywood Blvd. She writes the phone number on a nearby notepad, picks up the receiver, and dials.
A man's voice answers. “Club 26.”
“Hi there! My name is Bonnie Raitt, and I was just talking to someone named Amy, who said she was calling from your club. Is she still there?”
“You said Amy, right?”
“Yeah. I'm a musician, and she contacted me about perhaps playing there, but she forgot to give me the details about the date and time, so I...”
“Excuse me, but there’s no Amy here,” the man interjects.
Confused, Bonnie wonders if she remembered the brief conversation correctly.
“Miss?”
“Oh, I'm sorry, my mistake. Thank you though,” Bonnie apologizes, flustered. She gives the man her name and phone number in case he runs into the mysterious Amy.
She hangs up and tries to forget about the weirdness that had just happened.
Although Bonnie is starting to become frustrated with constantly trying to keep up in the male-dominated music business, she is mostly disappointed with herself at what she sees as her own inability to be creative. She constantly tries to shake off the feeling of being a fraud, that she is taking a free ride on the music of others. Time for another drink.
Later that evening, the man from the Club 26 calls back. “Miss Raitt? There's an envelope here with your name on it,” he reports, sounding a bit confused himself. “I'll leave it here at the bar. You can come in through the back any day after 11 am.”
“Uh, okay. Thank you.” She hangs up.
The next day, Bonnie navigates her way down Hollywood Boulevard, just east of Las Palmas Avenue. She parks her Volkswagen Beetle in the almost empty back parking lot.
She approaches the heavy canopied back door, pulls it open, and steps across the well-worn black and gold doormat decorated with the Club 26 logo. As Bonnie enters, it takes a few seconds for her eyes to become accustomed to the darkness. Finding herself in a narrow hallway, she moves forward, passing two antique phone booths. She arrives at the entrance of a quintessential 1940s New York bar, with all red leather upholstery and dark mahogany walls.
A young, effeminate maître'd rushes to Bonnie.
“Are you Miss Raitt?”
“Uh...yeah.”
“Please follow me.” He gives her a fashion look-over and smiles. This is the kind of place where you could visualize a fast-talking gumshoe grabbing a dirty martini.
The maître'd shows Bonnie to a red leather barstool. On the bar in front of the stool is an envelope with the name “Bonnie Raitt” handwritten on the front. She sits on the stool and takes a deep breath. She desperately wants a shot...maybe several shots. She carefully extracts a note from the envelope.
Come to the scene! It's outta sight! We need good people.
We're in the private room behind the phones.
Amy's friend, Janis
Who the heck is Janis? Bonnie wonders. She remembers passing two vintage phone booths on her way into the bar. She retraces her steps back to the two booths. There is no entrance. She's getting frustrated now. Is this some kind of joke? Who do I know that would mess with me? This is ridiculous...
She suddenly hears a London-style double ring from one of the phones.
RING RING…RING RING
Apprehensively, Bonnie picks up the bell-shaped receiver, raises it to her ear, and in the first of many surreal moments, speaks into the phone’s mounted, funnel-shaped mouthpiece.
“Hello?”
“Darling, we’re waiting. Come, let's have a chat!” requested a familiar British accent, followed by a CLICK.
Puzzled, Bonnie hangs up. Between the two booths a wooden disk begins to pulsate with a bright, glowing green light. Bonnie takes a closer look, as the disk becomes brighter and brighter, appearing to separate from the rest of the connecting wall. She pushes on the disk, and with a thunderous rolling sound, the dark wooden wall becomes a set of double doors that open to a place of unknown origin. Bonnie isn’t sure whether to be terrified or not. Perhaps this is something all the Twenty-Six Club patrons knew about.
Bonnie enters the room as Procol Harum's “A Whiter Shade of Pale” surrounds her.
As she walks through the hallway, on her left are the framed autographed faces of Robert Johnson, Jimi Hendrix, and Jim Morrison. On her right are Brian Jones, Ron “Pigpen” McKernan, and Pete Ham.
Bonnie finds herself in a medieval-style lounge area as the double doors close behind her. A bit startled, she convinces herself that this is probably all just part of the club's mystique. As she walks forward, she hears the clacking of her heels on the marble floor. The room is dimly lit, the colors dark, rugged and mysterious. There are large pieces of wooden furniture, chunky and dark, with intricate carvings.
As Bonnie's vision becomes clearer, she notices the figures of two women seated in over-sized chairs. On the floor in front of them is an antique treasure chest serving as a coffee table. The women seem to be in a deep but playful conversation, laughing and drinking from big brass goblets.
“When I sang, I felt like you do when you're first in love,” shared one of the women. “It's that first point of connection. But it's gigantic, multiplied by the whole audience. I got chills. On stage, I made love to twenty-five thousand people, then I went home alone.”
Bonnie feels the blood drain from her body. It was Janis - Janis Joplin, the belle of the Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test ball. She is messy and beautiful. Janis has always been Bonnie's avatar for her raw and daring side. Janis is wearing layers of bracelets and necklaces. Her layered outfit includes a tank top with a vest and two leather belts hugging a pair of purple and pink striped bell-bottoms. Janis' face beams beneath a crown of flowers.
Seated next to Janis is a woman with a dramatic, yet undefinable style. She has black hair sculpted into an exaggerated beehive, dark winged eyeliner, and a skin-tight satin and velvet dress. To complete the look, her arms were covered with tattoos.
“I wasn't a natural born performer, but I was a singer. I was quite shy, really. You know what it's like,” the woman reflects.
This must be Amy, Bonnie thinks, recognizing the British accent.
The woman continues. “I don't mean to be sentimental or sappy, but it was a little like being in love, as you say, when you can't eat, you're restless. It's like that. But the minute you get on stage and start singing, everything's okay.”
Janis responds, “Music is the only kind of love I can deal with.”
Bonnie is trying to figure out how any of this makes sense. Janis died five years ago. She remembers crying for a week after that. It was a tough year for rockers, losing Janis as well as Jimi, Tammi Terrell, and Alan “Blind Owl” Wilson.
Janis continues, “The last time a guy spoke to me about love, it was Jim Morrison. He kept following me around writing poems about me. It was all too much. I ended up hitting him over the head with a bottle of Southern Comfort!” They both lean back laughing, and Bonnie, caught up in the moment, joins in. The two women stop and turn to Bonnie - a frozen moment. Bonnie is awe-struck.
“Oh, ducky! You've made it!” squeals the beehive woman. “It's me, Amy. We talked on the phone, remember?” Bonnie nods in acknowledgment, wondering when she’s going to wake up.
Leon Russell's “A Song For You”
is now playing.
Janis says to Amy, “Looks like she's havin' a come-to-Jesus moment, don't it?” She laughs.
Janis invites Bonnie to sit in the empty chair across from them.
“Thank you,” Bonnie says nervously. “I don't quite understand...What is this place?”
“Rock ‘n’ roll purgatory, sweetheart,” declares Amy.
Bonnie’s eyes widen as she asks, “You mean I'm...”
“Hell no, darlin'. You ain't dead. You barely even got started. You haven't sacrificed enough yet, though. Ain't that right, Amy?”
Amy hoists her goblet high in approval.
Janis' bracelets jingle as she also raises her hand in the air and a small glass tumbler spontaneously materializes. She hands it to Bonnie. “Bourbon, right?”
“What? Oh yeah...sometimes.” Bonnie accepts the offering and takes a sip. She shudders as the bourbon goes down.
Thoughtfully, Janis says, “I prefer to call this place a stopover to paradise. We poor souls only come when we're needed. For some reason, you're the only one who can figure out if you need us for something. But it's a good scene, baby, so don't trip.”
...I love you in a place where there's no space or time. I love you for life, you're a friend of mine...
Bonnie wonders if it's the bourbon, but she is now feeling comfortable. These wonderfully complicated ladies are looking warmly at her. Why do they even care? she wonders. “You know...” Bonnie relates, “I often feel my loved ones that have passed on. I feel them looking over my shoulder...so yeah, this is pretty profound.”
Amy smiles, “You're so beautiful, luv. May I ask your age?”
“I'm twenty-six,” answers Bonnie.
"We're twenty-seven...as always.” Amy proclaims, rolling her eyes.
Janis examines Bonnie. “Look at that long, foxy hair! You could be a pop star, child!” she cackles.
Bonnie laughs. “I'm not that beautiful. And I sure as hell don't want to be a pop star!”
Janis continues, “As far as all the stardom stuff, I promised myself when I left Texas to always to just do what I love and never bullshit myself.”
Amy chimes in, “Ducky, most people our age spend a lot of time thinking about what they will be doing for the next ten years. The time they spend thinking about their lives, I would spend drinking.” She laughs and holds her goblet high. “I'll have another Rickstasy, please.” She lowers the goblet to her lips and takes a sip. “Mmmmm...thank you.”
“Hey, what's in that stuff anyway?” asks Janis.
“Well...it's three parts vodka, one part Southern Comfort, one part banana liqueur, and one part Bailey's.”
“That's a lot of parts,” quips Bonnie. She is feeling really comfortable now.
“Way too fancy for me,” winces Janis. “I'll take just the Southern Comfort and I'll be a happy lady! In fact...” She reaches inside a carpetbagger shoulder bag and pulls out a bottle. “Eureka!” she shouts, delighted at the vision of her favorite amber libation.
The music changes again. The sound of a demented organ announces the start of
“Strawberry Fields Forever”.
“I got into my first band because they were my friends and the scene was happening. It was all my scene and my people,” Janis recalls with obvious nostalgia. “In small towns like the one I came from, you're supposed to get married right out of high school, have a brood of children, and keep you mouth shut.”
“I wouldn't say I was a feminist, but I didn't like girls pretending to be stupid just to get along,” adds Amy.
Janis grimaces. “Yeah, I would've never quit music to become someone's old lady.”
Bonnie smiles and leans in. “You know what? We have a choice. We ain't no amoebas.” The three women share a quiet moment of solidarity.
Janis is on a roll. “I never wore cardboard eyelashes and a girdle and played Vegas, but I was always just Janis.” Her eyes open wider. “I just did it on a slightly different level!”
They laugh again.
Amy looks Bonnie up and down and declares, “You must have found religion, duck. Your voice and melodies are simply angelic.”
She heard me sing? She heard me play? Bonnie wondered.
Bonnie takes another sip of bourbon, “Religion is for people who are scared to go to hell. Spirituality is for people who have already been there.” The other women nod in agreement.
Bonnie continues, “I feel that I was somehow brought here to be inspired."
“Who you are is what you settle for, you know,” Janis interjects.
“Every bad situation is a blues song waiting to be written, darling,” says Amy.
Bonnie sits back in her chair. She is silent for a moment, and then sighs. “It's the fear. The reason I can't write songs. The fear is paralyzing. I worry it won't be good enough. I mostly fear the naked honesty of the process.”
“I get it, sister. I always wanted to write my own stuff,” Janis confesses. “I was always a victim of my inner self. There was a time when I wanted to feel and explore everything. But what I found scared me. But Bonnie, that's where to good stuff is, where great writing comes from. Unfortunately, by the time I figured that out, I died.”
Willie Nelson’s “Angel Flying Too Close To The Ground” flows gently through the room. They embrace the song with reverence.
“I tried to write a song once, but when all was said and done, it turned out to be another version of ‘Stormy Monday Blues’.” Bonnie shakes her head and grins.
Janis faces Bonnie and says, “Never be frightened of being vulnerable, sweetie. There's no point in saying anything but the truth.”
Bonnie sits back and closes her eyes. The music changes again.
...just look to your soul
and open your mind
Crystal Blue Persuasion...
When Bonnie opens her eyes, she sees two very dusty chairs in front of her.
There's a knock at the door. “Miss Raitt? Are you okay? Miss Raitt? What are you doing in the storage room?” asks the maître'd.
Bonnie's head is spinning as she arrives back at her apartment. Am I inspired? Do I feel touched by a divine power? Have I gone stark raving mad? She doesn't know, but something is different. Feeling a powerful urge to write, she picks up her guitar.
Come on girl, you can do this!
Twenty minutes later, Bonnie has produced ten crumpled sheets of lyrics on the floor.
An hour later, she is pouring her second shot of Jack Daniels.
An hour after that, she is strumming a galloping rhythm on her guitar.
By midnight, she is asleep on the floor between the couch and the coffee table.
...Climb in the back with your head in the clouds
And you're gone...
Lifting her head, Bonnie realizes that her living room is filled with pot smoke. Oh crap! Did I set the place on fire? When the smoke begins to clear, she can't believe what she is seeing: John and Yoko, in bed wearing their famous white pajamas.
Bonnie: Oh my God! Am I losing my mind?
John: Life is what happens while you're busy making other plans.
Bonnie: John...uh..and Yoko? You guys are having a bed-in in my living room?
John: Anything for a good cause.
Bonnie: Rumor has it that you gave up making music, is that true?
John: Bonnie, that's just about as true as the existence of “Shaved Fish”.
Bonnie: In the sixties, you wrote the truth of a generation.
John: The thing the sixties did was to show us the possibilities, and the responsibility we all had to pursue them. It wasn't an answer, it just gave us a glimpse of creative opportunities.
Bonnie: When I was growing up, I saw my father become a successful performer largely by staying in the lane that was provided for him. When I try to carve out my own lane, I get lost.
John: Most kids draw, write poetry, and create art. Some of us continue into our teens before someone says, “That's not good enough.” We're told that all our lives. “You don't have the talent.” or “It's not supposed to be done that way.” It happens to all of us. If somebody had told me all my life, “Yeah, you're a great artist!” I would’ve been a more secure person.
Bonnie: It just seems that the process of writing, really good writing, the kind people can really feel, is such a personal and solitary experience.
Yoko: Music and lyrics are both art forms in and of themselves. But when music is combined with a powerful, honest message that needs to be expressed, there are few things more incredible than that!
John: Bonnie, listen to me very carefully. There are two basic motivating forces in life: fear and love. When we're afraid, we withdraw from life. When we're in love, we become open to all life has to offer. All hope for a better world rests in being fearless and open enough to embrace others as well as ourselves.
Bonnie: I have to figure out what I can write that people can feel.
John: Our role in society - any artist or poet's role - is to try to explain or describe feelings we have in common. We don't tell people what to feel.
Bonnie: But I don't know when I will ever be able to achieve that.
John: There is no time but the present. Anything else is a waste of time.
Well we all shine on
Like the moon and the stars and the sun
Well we all shine on
The phone rings. Bonnie opens one eye. The phone rings again. “Hello?”
"Hi, Ted. What ya got?” Bonnie quickly stands, knocking the ashtray to the floor.
“Oh shit! You ain't shittin' me, are you, dude?"
"Okay, sure."
"You mean they want me to do those cover tunes?"
"Two of them?"
"Oh, just one."
"Sure. Well, no, of course it's good news, Ted."
"Okay. Thanks, Ted. See ya.”
Bonnie is booked to be the opening act for the Doobie Brothers at the Troubadour, something she has really wanted. Her feelings are equally divided between elation and terror. She lights a joint, inhales its smoky courage, and releases it with a sigh of decisiveness. She puts out the joint and picks up her guitar. Come on girl. Cover tunes are fine but I think I have may somethin' to talk about. She takes a deep breath.
A tarnished frame traces us from long ago...
It's gig night at the Troubadour, West Hollywood's biggest little club, which is packed to capacity. The Troubadour is hallowed ground for the L.A. music scene. When the sound man gives Bonnie the two-minute warning, she gently squeezes her guitar. She now realizes that her music - all music - is communication. She has a new awareness that no one else can communicate what only she has to say.
At this moment, Bonnie remembers Janis: “Never be frightened of being vulnerable, sweetie. There's no point in saying anything but the truth.”
After Bonnie is introduced, she takes center stage. She has been through this many times over the years, starting with sharing the theater stage with her father as a child. But tonight, she feels naked. She has decided not to try to touch people through other people's words and music, but instead through her own. Bonnie waits until the club is silent. She tosses the guitar strap over her shoulder and steps up to the microphone.
“Hello, Troubadour! My name is Bonnie Raitt, and I hope you all enjoy this.”
She starts to play the intro with her eyes closed. When she gets to the verse, the melody is shimmery, clean, and crisp.
A tarnished frame traces us from long ago
It was taken the night we saw that Vegas show
Beside it is a picture of a much younger me
With shining eyes beside a Christmas tree
She takes a breath.
I'm a prisoner in my skin, unseen, unheard within
But I try to be the me I'm supposed to be
I play the part so well, you could never even tell
That the woman lying next to you isn't me.
A smattering of murmurs ripples through the audience.
An old married couple walked down the road
ahead of me
Their hands were joined together like a tangled tree
I would love to feel that kind of
authentic connection
Instead, my yearning comes from every direction
A tear falls.
But now, I've been freed from within. I'm seen.
I'm hear., I'm open.
I am no longer the me I'm told to be
I got lost and I fell. Now you can tell
The woman lying next to you is me
As the applause grows, Bonnie feels her heart lift.
One by one, and then in groups, the audience stands - clapping, whistling, and shouting. The Doobie Brothers are cheering from just offstage. From the back of the club, the spotlight envelopes her, as if it's God's official blessing. Bonnie takes her bows, waves, and leaves the stage.
As the Doobie Brothers start their set, Ted takes Bonnie aside. He looks irritated. “I thought we agreed you were going to do a cover tune.”
Bonnie was too happy to worry.
“I'm really pissed, Bonnie.” Ted breaks into a broad grin. “I'm upset that you've been keeping your talent hidden.” He holds up a stack of business cards. “Do you know what these are, Bonnie?”
Bonnie shrugs. “I dunno. People you owe money to?” she laughs.
“No. They're producers, record companies, and artists who really want to work with you.”
Bonnie is called up onto the stage to join the band on “Black Water”. The rest of the night is filled with compliments, hugs, and high fives. She is approached by old friends, old enemies, and strangers. Bonnie has received plenty of praise in her twenty-six years, but this is different. For the first time, she is being acknowledged not for the talent she brings to other people's words and music, but to her own. People are connecting to what her heart has to say.
As the club empties, Bonnie walks onto the stage to retrieve her guitar. Suddenly, the spotlight reappears. She shields her eyes and looks toward the seats in the very back of the club. There, she can barely make out the silhouettes of two women. The shape of a large beehive hairdo, surrounded by swirls of smoke, makes Bonnie smile.
“I knew you could do it, kid!” crows a familiar voice.
Bonnie picks up her guitar and walks off the stage...a songwriter.
#fiction#short story#supernatural#27 club#janis joplin#amy winehouse#bonnie raitt#music#ghosts#70s#songwriter#fame
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I just copped so much cute stuff from bonne chance collections :0
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