#paris sounds great this time of the year

[itsshawtyfellas]

I like them nerdy and submissive. That's it. That's the post.

#paris sounds great this time of the year #i want both of them in my mouth- #they're a munch #i just know it #boyfriends fr #the granny hasn't dipped yet #dave lizewski #dave lizewski x reader #todd haynes #todd haynes x reader #aaron taylor johnson #atj #evan peters #btw i just reached 100 followers #thank you guys so much🩷 #pietro maximoff #marvel x reader

[zvaigzdelasas]

Millions of solar panels are piling up in warehouses across the Continent because of a manufacturing battle in China, where cut-throat competition has driven the world’s biggest panel-makers to expand production far faster than they can be installed.

The supply glut has caused solar panel prices to halve. This sounds like great news for the EU, which recently pledged to triple its solar power capacity to 672 gigawatts by 2030. That’s roughly equivalent to 200 large nuclear power stations.

In reality, though, it has caused a crisis. Under the EU’s “Green Deal Industrial Plan”, 40pc of the panels to be spread across European fields and roofs were meant to be made by European manufacturers.

However, the influx of cheap Chinese alternatives means that instead of tooling up, manufacturers are pulling out of the market or becoming insolvent. Last year 97pc of the solar panels installed across Europe came from China.[...]

The best estimates suggest that about 90 gigawatts worth of solar panels are stashed around Europe. That solar power capacity roughly equates to 25 large nuclear power stations the size of Hinkley Point C.[...]

The sheer scale of the problem was revealed in a recent report from the International Energy Agency (IEA).

It warned that although the world was installing at record rates of around 400 gigawatts a year, manufacturing capacity was growing far faster.

By the end of this year solar panel factories, mostly in China, will be capable of churning out 1,100 gigawatts a year – nearly three times more than the world is ready [sic] for. For comparison, that’s about 11 times [!!!!] the UK’s entire generating capacity.

For some solar power installers, it’s a dream come true. Sagar Adani is building solar farms across India’s deserts, with 54 in operation and another 12 being built.

His company, Adani Green Energy, is constructing one solar farm so large that it will cover an area five times the size of Paris and have a capacity of 30 gigawatts – equal to a third of the UK’s entire generating capacity.

“I am installing tens of millions of solar panels across these projects,” says Adani. “Almost all of them will have been imported from China. There is nowhere else that can supply them in such numbers or at such prices.

“China saw the opportunity before others, it looked forward to what the world is going to set up 10 years on. And because they scaled up in the way they did, they were able to reduce costs substantially as well.”

That scaling up meant the capital cost of installing solar power fell from around £1.25m per megawatt of generating capacity in 2015 to around £600,000 today – a decrease of more than 50pc – making it cheaper than almost any other form of generation, including wind.[...]

“Up to 2012 there was a healthy looking European solar panel industry but it was actually very reliant on subsidies and preferential treatment.

“But then European governments and other customers started buying from China because their products were so much cheaper. And China still has cheap labour and cheap energy plus a massive domestic market. It’s hard to see Europe recovering from those disadvantages.”

Trying sososo hard to make this sound like a bad thing [23 Mar 24]

#sowwy ur nationalistic fever dream got outcompeted #free market innit #now shut up and install the fucking panels #shocking revelation: combatting a global problem isnt most efficiently done through local solutions #'we cant install that many' yeah you can lol #wheres that 'become an accompished scientist' meme

[lenoraah]

𝙥𝙖𝙙𝙙𝙤𝙘𝙠 𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙘𝙚𝙨𝙨𝙚𝙨

pairing - dad!oscar piastri x mom!reader

summary - when Oscar and reader decides to bring their daughters to a race, they become the princess of the paddock

a/n - this will be aged up obviously, just another normal day 🤍 ah hem, here we go; Gayle (5), Niamh (3), Lola (1) also i have this idea of matching Owalas with the kids, i don’t know they’re so cuteeee

★ ☆ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Three kids, three water bottles for hydration, three mini bags of their things and entertainment will be; well you know the race and the people.”

“Nice thinking mom,” Avery teases and elbows Y/n in the arm.

“Hey, all I want to do during a race day is relax and let Oscar watch the kids before the actual race begins. Also I just want to be a cool mom who has matching water bottles with her kids.” Y/n shrugs, taking a sip from her Owala.

The two watch as Gayle and Niamh run around Lando, laughing and talking with her. Lola toddles around with Oscar’s help, trying her best to catch up with her sisters.

Y/n and Avery stand in the sunlight with their sunglasses resting on their faces. Y/n holds her water in her hold while Avery has her arms folded.

“I don’t think I’ve ever told you how much I love the Brazil race. Lovely weather, well most of the time.” Avery shrugs with a smile on her and Y/n laughs.

“Just like every other race destination, unpredictable.” Y/n sighs and she laughs once again watching Lola fall down on her butt as she tries to run after Lando.

The toddler laughs and flailing her arms around energetically. Oscar chuckles as he helps her up and into his arms.

He swings her around and gently rocks her. The girls hover around their dad as they all try to grab his attention. Of course, he can’t help but divide his attention among the three and make all three of them giggle at one of his dad jokes.

Y/n sighs with a content smile on her face and leans against Avery’s shoulder.

“Makes you want to have one right? You know Jefferson is very ready, you’ve seen him with the girls.” Avery rolls her eyes and Y/n gently hits her hip against hers.

“Yes, because having a toddler who looks actually like Jefferson with his green eyes and black curls and pale skin running around while he’s gone in Paris for fashion week and there is a messy house is a great idea. And if I’m like you and end up having three kids because we can’t get rid of each other, then that’s kind of a lot. Three kids with dark green eyes and perfect black curls.” Avery hums and holds onto Y/n’s arm.

“Sounds like you already can see your kids, or you have baby fever.” Y/n teases and Avery shakes her head.

“Jefferson does, not me.”

“Sure, let’s check that out again in five years.

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x y/n #oscar piastri one shot #f1 imagine #original post #original writing

[hederasgarden]

Night Drive

Summary: Your reunion with Rooster gets interrupted by Hangman. 

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x F!Reader x Jake “Hangman” Seresin

Word Count: 867

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only. Semi public oral sex (m receiving), discussions of threesome, cum swapping and dirty talk.

A/N: Thank you @whatblogisthis216 @therebeccaw and @wildbornsiren for looking this over. I have been away for a while and had anxious moment about my writing skills. Thanks guys!

Please reblog or comment if you enjoyed! Your support keeps me writing.

Masterlist ♡ Top Gun Masterlist

It’s dark on the beach, the stars above bright and beautiful with the ocean waves crashing against the shore, but you don’t see or hear any of that. Your face is pressed firmly against Rooster’s hard, tanned stomach and his soft grunts fill your ears.

“Fuck,” he sighs, hands on the back of your head keeping you in place.

You moan in response, trying to breathe around his thick length as you suck on his cock. Giving him a blow job in the front seat of his bronco isn’t the brightest idea, but you’re parked in a quiet and secluded spot. Here Rooster can be as loud as he wants and there’s no danger of someone overhearing the wet, sloppy sounds you’re making.

God, you’ve missed him. He’s been gone on a mission for weeks and the familiar taste of his skin and cum are enough to have you wet and achy.

“Couldn’t wait to get home, huh?” A voice asks, startling you both.

It’s Hangman, his southern drawl unmistakable. If you weren’t so preoccupied with swallowing all of Rooster, you might have told him to fuck off. You ignore him, bobbing your head.

“Like you’d deny her,” Rooster retorts, panting, squeezing and rubbing the back of your neck.

You can see Hangman’s feet shuffle closer and he whistles, bending down until his face is level with yours. He drags his fingertips along the curve of your jaw.

“Can’t blame you, Rooster. She looks real pretty like this with those tears and that eager little tongue.”

You can tell your boyfriend is getting ready for a quippy retort so you hollow your cheeks and swirl your tongue. He swears, groaning deeply. Hangman’s eyes are still on you and it emboldens you. The hand on your head twitches and you continue to work Rooster over, more enthusiastically than before. Just when you feel his heavy balls draw up against your lips you pull off him.

Sitting up with a smile, you ignore the wrecked sound Rooster makes in response. His thigh trembles below the hand you rest there, letting you know just how needy he is. “Sweetheart,” he whines, trying to guide you back to his cock.

“This isn’t a free show. It’s going to cost you,” you tell Hangman, ignoring your boyfriend.

“Oh darlin, you know I’m good for it,” he boasts, using his thumb to wipe the spit on your mouth. He maintains eye contact as he slowly licks his finger clean. The skin around his eyes crinkle and he gives you a smug look.

“What did you have in mind?” You ask him, dropping your hand to Rooster’s lap to lazily stroke him. His desperate little grunt has you slowing your motion, teasing him further. Hangman’s gaze follows the movement, seemingly entranced.

“Paris is nice this time of year,” he says finally, grinning when Rooster bucks into your hand.

“Here?” you ask, doubtfully.

“No, at home,” Hangman tells you. “Unlike Rooster, I don’t like people looking at what’s mine.”

You roll your eyes, but shake his offered hand. Like you were going to say no to a night between your favorite men.

“Great. We have a deal. Now shut the fuck up,” Rooster dismisses, grasping the back of your neck to draw you back down to his aching cock. “Can’t you see the lady’s busy?”

You start again by teasing the head of his cock, tonguing at his slit while you twist his length in your hand. He’s achingly close and normally you’d let him come down your throat but tonight you have something else in mind. You keep just the tip between your lips, sucking and teasing him until he lifts his hips and fills your mouth with his hot, salty spend. You swallow some, savoring the taste and moaning deeply. Then you rise up on your knees and beckon Hangman closer.

He seems aware of your plan, licking his lips before kissing you deeply. You open your mouth to share Rooster’s taste with him, loving how your tongues tangle together, and Hangman swallows without hesitation. He rubs your arms and continues to kiss you until air becomes necessary and you pull away.

“Well shit, honey,” he begins, reaching down to adjust himself. “That was fucking something. I think you sucked Rooster’s brains out.”

You glance down at your boyfriend who looks absolutely spent. He’s panting heavily, his cheeks flushed. His cock is still half hard, shiny from your spit and his cum. He groans when you swipe your thumb over his head to gather whatever your mouth missed. One eye snaps open to watch you lick your finger clean.

“Fuck,” he mutters, laying his head back.

“If you’re not up for it Bradshaw, I can handle her all on my own,” Hangman taunts.

“Fuck off,” your boyfriend grumbles. “Give me two minutes and I’m good to go.”

“You better be,” you warn him, leaning down to kiss him sweetly. “I was promised quite the trip and we both know Hangman can’t get me there on his own.”

"Better watch that smart mouth," Hangman warns.

"Make me," you shoot back, grinning.

“You two are going to kill me,” Rooster sighs.

♡

I no longer have a tag list, please follow @hg-library and turn on notifications.

#rooster x reader #hangman x reader #rooster x reader x hangman #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin x you #jake hangman x you #hangman x you #rooster x you #jake seresin x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin

[17020]

☆ THE SUITE.

It's Yoichi Isagi's birthday, and he attends his best friend's football match. 0.7k crack, fluff. happy birthday yoi !!! srry for the late post.

YOICHI ISAGI is uncomplicated when it comes to his birthdays.

He is content with a small sweet treat, as well as spending time with his loved ones. Nothing big, no birthday extravaganza. Yoichi Isagi is a simple guy.

So he got ecstatic when his best friend Meguru had sent him a ticket to one of his upcoming matches, which just so happened to land on his birthday.

It was the perfect plan: A flight to Barcelona. Barcha v. Paris X Gen, competing for the Champions League quarter finals. He was offered VIP seating, given that Meguru owned a suite, as well as a nice dinner at his best friend's apartment.

The flight was, for the most part, unpleasant. He tried his best to sleep all eighteen hours of the flight, but the crying baby behind him did not do Yoichi any favors. He arrived at his best friend's apartment (because of course, Meguru had given him a spare key, in case he ever were to surprise him with a visit), he grabbed the keys to the suite which Meguru had left for him at the countertop and quickly left for the stadium.

The stadium was packed. As expected, since F.C. Barcha and Paris X Gen were some of the biggest names in the European football leagues. His phone buzzed as soon as he was about to slide the key into the suite's lock. He pulled his phone out, only to see that it was a text from Meguru.

Bachira HAPPY BIRTHDAY lmk when youre insideee enjoy your gift and youure welcommeee ;)))))

Yoichi's lips curled into a smile, before the corners on his lips turned down in fear. His eyes were wide open as he unlocked the door, fearing for his life, because no surprise from Meguru Bachira was a good surprise.

This time he seemed to have been proven wrong as the door slid open, revealing Bastard Munchen's Social Media Manager (and his 'silly little work crush' that has lasted for more than a year), Yn Ln, sitting on the suite's couch. Along with Yn were a few tealight candles on the countertop, a nice floral arrangement with roses and tulips, as well as a cake and birthday candles.

"Isagi, I've been waiting for forever! Happy birthday!" you smiled, standing up and walking towards the boy. With open arms you pulled him in for a hug, slowly swaying both of your bodies side to side. His cheeks were dusted pink as you pulled away, running towards the countertop and picking up a gift bag, handing it to him, gesturing for him to open it. He rummaged through the tissue paper, only to find a light blue braided bracelet.

"I know light blue's your favorite color, and I saw it a few weeks back on a handicraft market when we had our match in Munich!"

Yoichi Isagi swore he was going to cry.

He smiled, and this time it was him who had his arms tightly wrapped around you. Blinded by excitement, he nuzzled his face into your neck, muttering many "thank you's."

"Can you put it on me?"

With your cheeks hot and tinted red, you took the bracelet from his hand, slowly pulling it open and sliding it in, adjusting it on his wrist so that it did not fall. Yoichi's eyes gleamed with joy, his gaze fixated on the bracelet. He felt like a little kid who got his dream gift. 'I'm never taking this off I swear I swear I swear I swear I—'

The sound of a whistle caught his attention. The match had begun. Taking your hand in his, Yoichi guided you towards the suite's balcony, sitting down to watch Meguru (as well as your other friends and acquaintances) go against each other. His arm was wrapped around your shoulder, and in return you rested your head on his shoulder.

With a total of 48 minutes, the first half came to an end. Both you and Yoichi stepped back inside, discussing the first half and how it took you by surprise: Barcha and PXG were 1-1.

Yoichi's phone buzzed again.

Bachira I see things are going GREAT ill send u some food during halftime hahaha bone apple teeth don't get nasty in my suite

His brows furrowed from the confusion.

Isagi What do you mean 'you see'?

Yoichi Isagi was horrified.

Bachira yeah with my baby monitor 5" with 30 hour battery 2 cameras with pan-tilt-zoom 100 ft range video audio monitor no wifi night vision 2 way talk with lullabies dont make me use the 2 way talk man make your move

No surprise from Bachira is a good surprise after all.

#blue lock x reader #yoichi x reader #yoichi isagi x reader #isagi x reader #isagi x you #bllk x reader #blue lock x you #bllk x you #blue lock x y/n #bllk x y/n #isagi x y/n

[corruptedcaps]

Bitchy Besties: part 2

In the car ride over Tanya gabbed about everyone in high school and all their dirty little secrets. Kate couldn’t believe the insight she was gaining about the other students she had known for years. Tanya even spilled the beans on her best friends.

Kate figured Tanya saw Kayleigh as more of a peer than some beta follower like the rest of Tanya’s friends. Despite despising Tanya, Kate found it somewhat rewarding having her bully so enamoured with her.

Tanya brought her around to all the bougie stores and they tried on outfit after outfit and the two were having a genuinely good time together. Kate had never worn so many tight and revealing outfits but she had to admit that they all looked great on her.

Finishing up with a trip to the nail salon, they both got a matching set of new press on's. As the beautician worked, Kate entertained her bully with fabricated stories of her life, who thankfully seemed to eat it up. Some stories were just things Kate remembered Tanya had done but she tweaked certain details to be more ‘Kayleigh’-like, whatever that had come to mean.

Posing for a selfie together, the two girls proudly showed off their new nails.

“This is going to blow up on socials babe, two hawt bitches like us. What’s your handle so I can tag you?” Tanya asked.

Kate started to panic, a girl like Kayleigh would certain have more social media than anyone else but Kate had never bothered. She had to think of an excuse.

“Oh I don’t have any. Well not anymore anyway. Remember the cyber bullying I told you I was doing before? Well my parents made me delete everything, otherwise they weren’t going to fund my trip to Paris.” Kayleigh said sounding genuinely pissed at her fabricated parents.

“Well did you go to Paris?” Tanya asked.

“Eh yeah, remember I told you about the hot French guy I fucked there?” Kayleigh replied.

“Then the statute of limitations are up.” Tanya said grabbing Kayleigh’s phone from her hand before she could be stopped. Tanya was like a pro quickly setting up new accounts for Kayleigh. In 60 seconds flat she handed the phone back.

“Now to tag you in this gorgeous pic of us. Annnnnd posted. You’ll be royalty in this town before the end of the day. So naturally I gave you the handle QueenKayleigh. No need to thank me. Don’t you love it?” Tanya said with a gleeful smirk.

Kaleigh pulled up the post of the two of them and saw the caption read “Hanging with my new BFF @QueenKayleigh, add her now! She’s the real deal.” Kayleigh stared for a long time at ‘BFF’. She had never had a best friend before, it felt kind of nice even if it was Tanya. Speaking of which she realized that Tanya had been waiting for an answer.

“Oh babes this is amazing, we look like twins don’t we?” Kayleigh said to a waiting Tanya who beamed at her.

“Totes! A pair of bitchy babes. Oh looks like you’re blowing up already.” Tanya said as Kayleigh’s phone started a waterfall of chimes. Kayleigh looked down at her phone and sat a barrage of likes, comments and follow requests. It was kind of overwhelming but satisfying to see so many people give her attention.

Comments such as ‘dammmmmn! Who’s the new hottie?’, ‘queens!’, and ‘omg, instant follow!’ were quickly going to her head, she did look stunning after all. Each chime was like an endorphin hit.

“Thanks hun, this will help me jump the social ladder to the top, where sexy babes like us belong. Assuming I pick your school.” Kayleigh said with a natural bitchy purr.

“I hope you choose to come to our school babe, it’s a dump for sure but together the two of us would be unstoppable together. The names Kayleigh and Tanya will make all the losers shudder and all the boys hard. Speaking of which I think I see one checking you out right now.” Tanya said nodding over to a handsome guy sitting in the food court.

Kayleigh looked over to see a handsome college aged guy smiling at her. It had taken her years to attract the meagre attention of Cory and now the hottest guy she had ever seen was checking her out. She remembered the Evie stories and tried to picture what the girls in those stories would do. Standing up she turned and gave Tanya a wink and strode confidently over to the guy.

“Hey hot stuff, were you going to stare at me all day or were you going to ask me out?” She said with a tilt of her head and a sly smile. The guy seemed taken aback by the forwardness but quickly gained his composure.

“Eh yes of course I’d love too. How’s Saturday?” He asked. Kayleigh felt a power over him that she had never felt before. His eyes drank her in and he seemed eager to please. He wanted her and he would do anything she asked. She had to test it out. Remembering how Tanya snatched her phone from her, Kayleigh quickly took the guy’s phone from his hand and started to type.

“No. You’ll pick me up Friday, 9pm, got it? Here, you’re following me on Insta now. DM later for my address.” She said playfully as she handed his phone back to him.

Tanya couldn’t tell what they were talking about from where she sat but could see Kayleigh had the guy wrapped around her little finger. Kayleigh seemed to be having fun, giggling, touching his arm, playing with her hair.

“See you Friday Lucas, and don’t be late.” Kayleigh said wrapping up their flirtation finally. With a cheeky smile, she turned on her heel and strutted away. She felt his eyes on her butt and made sure he had plenty of time to take it all in.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Lucas shouted after her.

“Oh babes you’re such a baddie. He’s gorgeous. What did you two talk about?” Tanya asked eager to hear.

“We’ve got a date on Friday.” Kayleigh said with a nonchalance tone.

“Oh girl you work fast, I’m so jelly. I should have pounced on him first.” Tanya said with a smirk back to her.

“Oh you misunderstand me babe, when I say ‘we’ I mean you, me, him and his frat brother. They’re taking us to a club. Maybe we can swap at some point during the night, if you’re that keen on him.” Kayleigh said grinning as Tanya listened, her mouth open.

“Kayleigh, where have you been my whole life? You’re the baddest bitch ever.” Tanya said suddenly hugging Kayleigh.

The whole act seemed to momentarily dislodge Kate from what she was doing and stand back mentally from it all. Only yesterday Tanya was bullying her and she was an outcast and now she was suddenly her best friend with plans of a double date that she had orchestrated! What was she doing? The whole scenario was bizarre and she realized that this wasn’t her, she needed to wrap this up and fast.

“You ok babe?” Tanya said noticing something off.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Just been a long day.” Kaleigh said feigning a yawn.

“Yeah for real, let me drive you home.” Tanya said but Kate suddenly panicked. Tanya couldn’t see where she lived plus she needed to retrieve her clothes still.

"No my parents are expecting to pick me up at the school so you can drop me back there." Kayleigh said already getting up.

The drive back to the school was quieter than the ride to the mall. Kate was deep in thought, her mind at war with itself. Tanya continued to gossip but Kate wasn't taking it all in like before.

"Are you sure you don't want me to drop you home babe?" Tanya asked, sensing something still off about her new friend as she got out of the car.

"No I'm perfect hun, it will give me time to think about my choices." Kayleigh said with a smile.

"Well you know what I hope you choose, this school could use Kayleigh and so could I. See ya later!" Tanya said returning the smile and speeding off. Kate stood in front of the school unsure what to do next.

To be concluded...

#f2f #corruption #bitchification #self corruption

[ego-meliorem-esse]

TBH your Francis sounds like he sees Matthew more as a pet rather than a child

I think thats the root of the problem. Not really a pet but rather a status symbol. Look at him he has a child who is a personification who looks like a mini version of him that means he is truly influential and an empire bla bla.

I consider love Arthur has for alfred pretty linear. From year 0 when Al is born he is loved fully. He is loved fully by his father (even if showing it would be less likely than cutting his own limbs off with a shovel) during the civil war, he is loved fully during the great war and the war that followed. He is loved fully today.

Matthew and François have a different love. Or rather, François' love is very non linear. I imagine it has spikes, but also periods of drops. When Mathieu is born François is proud. He loves his son but pride is stronger. Is always is for François. He has his own very kitch life, he is not made to be a father. Especially not to an emotional and sensitive lil babe. Mathieu is forgotten often and when he does ask for his needs to be fulilled, when he asks for any kind of attention form his papa, it comes to him with conditions. Yes, you can have new books imported from Paris but I will choose what you read. Yes, you may spend time with me but its going to be at a ball with hundreds of other aristocrats. Pets? Alright, but only the small and weak dogs that show status. It died during the winter? Oh well, that happens.

After a while Mathieu doesnt ask for anything. He yearns and accepts whatever comes his way in regards of a show of affection from the one who made him. If he gets attention its because he did something right, if he is forgotten, its becouse he isnt adequate.

I like to compare Arthurs and François' love by comparing their homes. Arthurs country mansion where Alfred grew up has signs of Alfred everywhere, in every room. You can tell there is a child living in this house. Not only is there a child living in it, you can tell exactly what type of person that child is, what their interests and hobbies are. One look at the bookshelf and you see what fascinates the boy. When you look at the very desk in Arthurs study, its cluttered with neat and precise handwriting with scribbles and doodles right under. The garden with fantastic and grand flowers has small patches of trampled flora at every point. The room where the child resides is always open, always visible from the staircase.

Françpis' home in the heart of Paris is clean. It smells of parfume and repolished wood. His hallway is cluttered with French history. The partlor is tidy except from vibeantly dyed clothing hanging drom the chairs and sofas. There is a half empty bottle of expensive wine on the table next to neatly placed, yet scattered papers. The only noteworthy contents of those papers is the exquisite handwriting that lays upon it. The floor is clean. The sofa is clean. The space is tidy. You can tell a man lives there. A man. Nobody else. If you were to take a peak behind the closed doors of the other rooms you'd find a room with a grand bed with eternaly disheveled blankets and pillows along with pieces of clothing hanging from the edges. Its a used bed. This bed is used by a man. Another peak behind another door at the end of the hallway shows a guest bedroom. A guest bedroom for a child. Some ten books are stacked neatly on the small yet elaborately decorated table next to the bed. A bed with clean and unwrinkled bedding. The colors of the room match to a fault except for the small personal items of the guest child. One could assume the child had no idea what the room they are staying at would look like and whatever it did look like, theyd spend so little time there that in the end it doesnt matter how it looks. The closet is extensively decored with patterns of gold and light blue without a scratch on it. The floor is clean and tidy. It would seem the child forgot to bring any toys while residing here. One wouldnt be at fault for thinking this man has some distant relatives or personal friends with children, and would ocassionaly let them stay at his home.

It's a long conparison but its the best way i can explain myself while sporting a pulsating headache after a long day of classes

So yeah, while I dont think Mathieu is in a position of pet by his father, he is in a position of child who is the result of an one night stand and has to visit his father whenever the court decides and whenever his father decides its convenient.

#long answer you didnt want #god im sorry about the rambling #i have feelings about this dynamic #love these asks #they allow me to dump this hot garbage mwahhhhhh #i will take any chance to talk about these two #hetalia #hws england #hws america #hws canada #hws france #meli speaks #ask meli #historical hetalia #my headcanons #sorry about the typos im losing my fucking vision lol

[roo-bastmoon]

To the Sockpuppets in my Asks

"Jimin is so private! What does he have to hide?"

*Flashbacks to Jimin's mail being "omitted" four times and his national ID and address being leaked online, which the press sat on until his OST With You dropped, or, years prior, when folks accused him of whoring and doing coke because he... [checks notes] played a forehead-flicking game at a pub restaurant in Paris*

"Jimin keeps saying he's all alone!"

*Jimin is seen at work, at the gym, taking trips for work and vacation, posting photos on Insta, and appearing on shows and in dance challenges*

"Jimin never goes out anywhere!"

*Yet another idol scandal is in the news, this time involving illegal drugs, yet somehow, Jimin's photo at the official Nike dinner with Joon gets circulated as him "out clubbing"*

"Jimin and Jungkook never show that they hang out! They are never together any more!"

*South Korea enacts  Article 92-6*

Look, conspiracy theories are bullshit, but ALSO:

Jimin and Jungkook are both cooking big, big feasts for us before service and they are focused on that right now. There's still plenty of evidence they see each other and are on great terms, if you actually listen to them, so stop flooding my ask box under sockpuppet accounts, crowing that Jimin is all alone and Jungkook doesn't care about him.

Look, puppykitties...

I cannot tell you Jikook are dating. I do not live in their cupboards and watch them 24/7.

Yes, JK has been hanging out with 97 line friends these days and yes, Jimin and Yoongi (and Hobi) have all gotten super duper close (or are at least more comfy talking openly about how close they've always been) in solo era. And yes:

Jikook don't talk about Jikook these days.

But what ISN'T being said sounds so loud that half this fandom froths at the mouth every other day.

Jimin has two gaming chairs in his apartment--including one chair that really looks similar to the one Jungkook had.

Jimin traveled half-way around the world to be with Jungkook during his debut and we still have no idea what they were doing at the restaurant or on the boat. Let's wait patiently.

There's been some highly suspect photos in the past of a guy in a white bucket hat with JK via CCTV at a quick mart (illegal, won't be posting) or of suspiciously similar-looking hands during game nights on JK's brother's Insta (family stuff, won't be posting). There's also video of someone who looks eerily similar to Jimin in expensive designer clothing at the arrivals terminal of the airport when JK got back from the World Cup--and later, just beyond the airport, footage of JK's car pulling away from another company car with fans screaming "Jimin!" to the riders inside (unofficial content, won't be posting).

Jungkook knows every single lyric in Jimin's songs, and his choreo, AND what he says, word for word, on his interviews.

Jimin took up boxing and has showed us he has a punching bag in house.

Jungkook muttered that Jimin moved his lamp.

Jimin went to the airport sporting what looked like a big dog scratch.

Vminkook went to a cafe in Jeju. K-Army said they spotted Jikook there well before Tae posted about it.

Jimin and Jungkook both watched the same random anime series recently.

Jimin ran up to Jungkook to cutely say "periri" so often that Jungkook was afraid he'd accidentally say it on stage.

JK quietly stopped by Jimin's docu-live, and Jimin lit up like a Christmas tree and then grabbed his moob.

AGAIN: I. CANNOT. TELL. YOU. THEY. ARE. DATING.

But don't come here with that "Jimin is always alone" and "JK only cares about his career, not Jimin" nonsense.

Please make better use of your time by watching JUNGKOOK'S GOLDEN PREVIEW and JIMIN'S SPECIAL TALK LIVE and then go watch YOONGI'S SUCHWITA WITH 2MIN for good measure!

And next time you come to my blog, if you can't say something nice...

Okay?

Okay.

*hugs* Love, Roo

#jikook

[emeritusemeritus]

hey! I love your work, you're incredibly talented ❤️ I was thinking, could you write something about y/n and george weasley going to hogwarts together (not best friends but not strangers either) but losing connection after the war and reuniting when she opens a cafe in diagon alley, so they start to see each other more often and hang out, and one day they confess that they used to have a crush on each other? very fluffy🥰

sorry if this is badly worded haha, english is not my first language

don't feel obligated to do it if you don't want to, no worries!

Hey Anon! Thank you so much, that’s so sweet of you! My love it would be a pleasure 🖤

Warnings: brief mentions of the war, George losing his ear, tooth rotting fluff. Fred’s only mentioned once, ambiguous if he’s alive or not. George calls us sweetness.

Word count: 2.2k

It had to be him, you were almost certain of it.

The familiar shade of red hair exactly as you remembered, the towering height and the mischievous smile that seemed to light up a room. It was almost certainly George Weasley that you were looking at.

He was stood further down the line, his face partially blocked by the coffee machine as you prepared orders for your customers. Never once had you anticipated the butterflies that would appear at the very sight of George Weasley again when you opened your cafe in Diagon Alley, but here you were, plating up the homemade cakes with a smile, nerves building as he neared the counter.

"George?" You asked, drawing his attention away from the display of cakes and pastries in front of you as his eyes flicked up to your face. He remained expressionless for a few seconds, almost frozen as he looked at you and you could almost feel the sense of dread and embarrassment sinking in. Either it was George and he didn't recognise you or it was definitely not George and you'd made a huge fool of yourself.

"Y/n?" He says with a wide smile, suddenly slipping out of his little daydream, "what are you doing here? I haven't seen you in years!"

You smile and blush under his gaze, hardly believing that this was really happening.

"I came back about six months ago, I went to Paris to study. Decided it wasn't for me and I opened up this little place," you explained, hardly able to get your words out you were grinning so hard.

You and George were friends once upon a time, not overly close but friendly, friends of friends and definitely the person you'd wished you spent more time with at Hogwarts. He made you laugh, he was kind, polite, a great Quidditch player and more than anything he was absolutely gorgeous. He'd been the object of your desire since near enough your third year, with your school girl crush holding out until you eventually lost contact after the war. It seemed silly really but as you stood there in front of him, it was like that teenage crush was still having an affect on you, hear racing, cheeks flushed and butterflies fluttering in your belly.

Marcia, one of your employees kindly took over taking everyone's order as you and George stood for a while chatting like old friends by the side of the till. The years had been good to him, he looked so handsome in his three piece suit with vertical stripes, the colours complimenting him very well. You cursed yourself for not putting more effort into your appearance that morning, unaware that the boy you'd had a crush on for at least four of your seven school years would be standing right there. His laugh was like music, flowing out of him so effortlessly, the sound transporting you back to the time you'd longed to hear him laugh like that for you, the sound always capturing your attention wherever you were in the castle.

"I'm sorry I have to go and open the store," he says after a while, a guilty look on his face as he runs the back of his neck. "How much do I owe you?" He gestures towards the takeaway tea in his hand that Marcia had brought over for him and you frown at his ridiculous question.

"It's on the house," you say casually, as if it were obvious. "Wait one second."

You step over to the display cabinet and pull out one of the pastries you'd baked that morning, a lemon curd turnover that you favoured amongst all the other treats, quickly bagging it up and taking it over to George, holding it out for him to take.

"A deal," you explain as he takes the bag from you with a thankful smile, "free tea if you try this, come back and tell me what you think."

He beams, looking between you and the bagged up naked good in his hand whilst nodding.

"Deal," he smiles, a little moment shared between you.

It had been two weeks since George had stepped into your little cafe and truthfully you'd not stopped thinking about him since. It was like the past few years hadn't happened at all, like no time had gone by, the second he crossed your mind you were rendered useless, unable to concentrate on anything except him. It was ridiculous, you didn't know if he was single, married whatever, but each and every time he stepped through the door, you melted.

He'd been back nearly everyday since, always leaving with a different baked good and a steaming hot cup of tea ready to start the day. You'd started trying to guess his favourite, to find the thing he liked the most in all of the shop. It had become a game between you, he'd try something new and tell you the day after how it compared whilst you tried to guess what his favourite was but he was aloof and secretive, making you work for it.

Each time he'd been back, the lingering at the end had gotten worse, to the point it was dragged out significantly as you both giggled and fought to prolong the inevitable separation. You'd found out in  passing, a stroke of luck, that he was single. He said that he hadn't dated much since the war, too focused on the shop, which had admittedly eased your guilt a little, knowing that you weren't flirting with a married man. You were almost certain that George was flirting back with you, the devilish twinkle in his eye always present.

"What did you think?" You ask as George walks through the door Friday morning before the shop opens, the usual routine you'd built.

"It's was unbelievable," he says with a smile, walking towards you at the counter. "Crispy all over, not even a little bit soggy and the filling was perfect; not too sweet."

"So..."

"Still not my favourite."

"Fuck sake George!" You laugh, encouraging him to laugh along with you, "I'm nearly out of recipes!"

"Then you'll just have to try harder, won't you sweetness."

There it was, the nickname he'd given you that was randomly dropped into conversation over a week ago and had been used everyday since. It made your cheeks heat up and your head spin every time, though you tried to hide it behind your fallen strands of hair. Talking to George was so easy, the conversation flowed so effortlessly that you lost track of time frequently, the two of you so caught up that you only realised the time when the timer went off on one of the ovens, signalling that the bread rolls were ready- and that it was 9am.

"What are you doing tonight?" He asks, grabbing his tea and bag of goodies to try.

"It's bread day, have to make the loaves ready for the weekend, why?" You asked, filling up the coffee beans as you prepared for the impending morning rush, finally springing back to work as you realised that you had barely even made a dent in the jobs you had planned to do.

"Oh, no reason," he says, "hope you have a good day sweetness."

He'd barely walked through the door when Marcia appears by your side, nudging you in the side.

"I thought you liked him?"

"What?" You ask, confused at her words.

"You light up like a Christmas tree whenever he's around, you giggle and I've seen raspberry tarts let pink than your cheeks when he calls you sweetness," she says with a knowing smile. "Poor bloke finally gets up the courage to ask you out and you turn him down."

"What? That wasn't him asking me out! He just wanted to... oh."

Any colour that had been in your face drained almost immediately as you realised your mistake. George had tried to ask you out and you'd waffled on about bloody bread loaves. The over-door bell chimed, signalling the influx of customers and you panicked, needing to stay and serve the line of customers piling on but also wanting to straighten things out with George. You were torn, stressed out by the obvious decision you had to make.

"Go, I've got it," she says, nudging you out the way with her hip. You blurt out a thank you and run out from around the corner, through the door and down the cobbled streets of Diagon Alley until you neared the huge orange building right at the top.

You pulled open the door and immediately tried to seek out George, trying to find his red hair in a sea of people. You spotted Ron on the stairs, finding his red hair first before trying again, sighing heavily feeling deflated after a minute or so of looking when you couldn't see George anywhere.

"Care to try our love potions miss? They really do work," you heard from behind you, the voice sending a shiver up your spine.

"Don't need it," you replied, turning and smiling when you saw George grinning down at you. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise," you paused, feeling like an idiot all of a sudden. What if he hadn't been asking you out? As you glanced up at him, feeling his gaze on you, you lost your nerve slightly.

"If I read this wrong I'm sorry, for you I'm free as a bird tonight," you say, adding. "But if you're not asking like that, then I'm baking bread and we never talk about this again."

You watch as his eyebrows raise slightly before a big smile stretches slowly across his face, eyes lighting up at your words.

“Pick you up at 7?” He asks rather quickly, sparing you from any embarrassment of the moment lingering on. You beam up at him with a nod of your head, reaching up to give him a kiss on the cheek before leaving, casting one last glance back to see George watching you walk away with a smirk.

7pm finally comes around and you’re a bundle of nervous energy, fingers twitching as you adjust your dress for the fifth time in two minutes.

“Relax,” Marcia says from behind you, grabbing her bag and coat ready to leave for the day. “You look incredible and if he doesn’t agree then I’d say he lost his eyes as well as his ear in the war.”

“Marcia!” You say but she simply laughs, waving you goodbye as she steps out of the door leaving you alone.

“You look incredible,” you hear George say and your eyes shoot up to see him looking so handsome, holding a small bouquet of flowers with a gorgeous smile on his face.

“So do you Mr Weasley,” you say, biting your lip slightly at the sight before you and then grinning once he hands you the flowers.

“Okay I have a bit of a confession,” he says as you sit at the intimate little table at the Cauldron, one of the nicest and newest restaurants in Diagon Alley. You look at him with a slight frown of concern, stomach twisting a little as you pray it’s not bad news. He smiles gently at you and you can almost see the hint of a blush upon his cheeks.

“I feel like I need to keep pinching myself, being here with you now, I had the biggest crush on you at school.”

George laughs when your mouth falls open, almost comically so as his words sink in.

“You’re kidding!” You sat, eyed glistening as you look across at him in disbelief.

“I’m completely serious,” he chuckles, “I wasn’t very good at showing it back then, never dreamt of actually being able to tell you. Fred used to tease me about it all the time. But then when I saw you again, I couldn’t let you slip away again without knowing.”

“That would have been very useful to know back then,” you say with a smile, taking a sip of your wine. “I also had a massive crush on you.”

“No way,” he says with a dismissive chuckle.

“Way,” you counter argue with a smirk, “started around third year, by fourth year it was already too late for me.” You laugh, as does George.

“I swear when you hit that rogue bludger away from Harry during the first match against Slytherin, you were right in front of me in the stand, thought I was gonna fall onto the pitch I was so attracted to you.”

“Was?” He says with a smirk, using your use of past tense against you.

“Am,” you corrected, taking another sip of wine and smiling behind the glass. There’s a moment where neither of you say anything, simply looking at each other with dangerously attracted eyes and smiles.

“Would you like to order dessert?” The waiter suddenly appears by your side, gesturing towards the dessert menus in front of you.

“I’ll have the cinnamon apple cake,” George says with a nod and you order your own, offering a thank you to the waiter.

“That your favourite?” You ask teasingly, calling back to the game of guessing his favourite sweet treats.

“‘Fraid not sweetness,” he says with a smirk and a little wink.

“I’m never going to guess am I?”

“Ask me again in 20 years, we’ve got plenty of time to find out.”

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #George weasley #george weasley masterlist #george weasley fluff #requests #George weasley x reader #George weasley x You

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Can I request a fem reader x frollo in an arranged marriage?

The strands of will

warning : obsession, implied dark theme, fluff/comfort

Info : Thanks for the request anon have fun reading hope you like it and everyone else too;)

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

°It was a forced marriage as she saw it a bourgeois aristocrat from one of the post-bourgeois towns around Paris. Since her only child's sons had died in the war, she was the sole heiress to her father's lands, money and reputation. ,,You will not disgrace us, the judge is a good match," she heard her mother say as she helped her daughter into a dress for the first court appearance, the first meeting with her new husband.

°She had heard about him from Judge Claude Frollo, the man who didn't just want people from his town to come and laugh and dance. He ruled Paris with an iron fist and was his own proud man. But he didn't seem to have an interest in women apart from his own righteousness. He was almost three times as old as a man in his fifties who had married a young woman in twenty years of life.

°It was a match she knew to be the best, however, as there could be nothing better. ,,Yes mother I won't disappoint you" she replied before the cords were pulled tighter around her back and only a few minutes later she was invited to tea in the meeting room. ,,My beautiful bride-to-be, it's a pleasure to meet you," the older man greeted her and gave her a kiss on the back of the hand. She curtseyed and smiled cautiously, ,,It's a pleasure to meet you," she replied and sat down opposite him as the family chatted about their soon-to-be husband.

°The wedding at Notre Dame was a great golden wedding, a time of prosperity in which even the people could participate from the outside. When the two said yes to each other, she felt his cool hand on hers and he lifted his veil. ,,I will take good care of you forever, my wife," he murmured as he gave her a surprisingly gentle kiss. The two of them walked out of the church, past the rich people, past her family, who gave their only living child into the arms of the judge, and together they entered a carriage.

°She knew the way to his home, she had looked at a map of the city and wanted to at least find her way around her new "home". His paralysis was true, but his gaze on her was not a look that she could not organize and would not be able to in the next few weeks. She learned that apart from his interest in justice, he perhaps liked her violin playing. ,,Please play again for me, darling," he asked her most evenings when they went through the house together after dinner in the music room to the sound of the violin.

°But she also knew that this righteousness, this hatred and stress he unloaded on her. He could be just too gentle, giving her clothes, sheet music, instruments, colors and being gentle to her. But when he didn't let the traveling musicians get away from him, it was like he was burning in hell. His rough manner, the feelings that came over him, he locked her in the house, ,,You're too good for this scum," he said with a flash of madness in his eyes before the door slammed. His kisses were more eager than usual, as if he were possessed.

°The only thing he never mentioned was her wedding itself, as if they had known each other forever, he loved her, had an obsession for her and didn't want to lose her in life to hate. She was his property and he knew that at the end of the day she had no choice but to love him in one way or another.

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

#disney #the hunchback of notre dame #judge claude frollo #judge claude frollo x reader #frollo x reader #claude frollo

[nataliawrites]

Hello, I am very excited about the end of the cup and Argentina being champion

I could imagine with Pierre Gasly and the Argentinian reader (she being the sister of a player) getting to know each other in the box and discussing/fighting over the game

Love & Football // Pierre Gasly

Whoever decided on the seating arrangements must have had a cruel sense of humor.

It was the final match of the World Cup — Argentina vs France with one chance to win it all — and the Argentine family suite was situated right next to a suite of French celebrities.

You tried to remain calm. Your youngest nephew was sitting on your lap and your two other nephews sat to your side next to your sister-in-law. You didn’t want to set a bad example for them. But when the French fans in the suite bordering yours started heckling your brother, all rational thoughts went out the window. Goal for goal, save for save, penalty for penalty — you traded barbs and insults with a man your age who was enthusiastically supporting France. Your heart was racing wildly in your chest as Argentina gained the lead and then gave it up and then regained it and then gave it up and then finally, gloriously won. By the time your tears and cheers subsided, the French man you had enjoyed going toe-to-toe with was nowhere to be found and it was time for family members to join the Argentine players on the field for a celebration.

Later that night, an impromptu party was thrown for players, family, and celebrities who hadn’t flown home yet. National divides were forgotten as everyone let loose and enjoyed getting to witness history together. You joined the crowd of sweaty bodies dancing to the music when you felt two large hands grip your hips and turned around, ready to slap the stranger for getting too handsy.

You dropped your hand when you noticed that it was the French man from the game, “hey, Frenchie!”

“My name’s Pierre,” he has to raise his voice to be heard over the music.

“I’m Y/N,” you yell back.

Trying to keep the conversation going but getting sick of competing with the booming music, you both retreat to a quieter corner. You decide to extend some sportsmanship, “good game today.”

“France fought hard but Argentina fought harder in the end,” Pierre shrugged.

“It was intense to be sure but I am so happy for the boys.”

He scratches at his neck, “your boyfriend must be very proud.”

“My boyfriend?”

“You and your son seem very supportive of him. He’s a lucky man.”

A boyfriend? A son? What …

“Oh no! You must be talking about my nephew, Ciro. His father is on the team.”

His eyes widened, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-“

“Don’t worry about it,” you laugh it off. “Let’s have proper introductions. Hi, my name is Y/N Messi.”

“Messi?”

“Leo is my brother.”

“Well, I definitely had that messed up.” He returned your greeting, “I’m Pierre Gasly.”

“Your name sounds familiar. Where do I know you from?”

“Ah, I drive for Formula 1.”

“Yes! I remember now. I have to admit that I am not much of a fan but I did get to see the French Grand Prix this year.”

“Really? Do you spend much time in France or was this just a vacation?”

“Leo’s not the only footballer in the family. I play for Paris Saint-Germain Féminine.”

You spent the rest of the night getting to know each other better, both of you relating to struggles as professional athletes and public figures — and it was a good opportunity to show off your rapidly improving French.

When it was well into the early hours of the morning, and the partygoers were breaking up to go back to their hotels, neither of you wanted to leave.

You start making your way out slowly, “I’ve had a really great time talking to you.”

“Me too,” Pierre agrees with earnest eyes.

“How about you come out to a PSG game soon and I’ll return the favor when the F1 season starts back up.”

“Yeah, I’d really like that. Let’s trade numbers so we can make some plans.”

You leave him with a light kiss on the cheek, which you see him touching when you sneakily turn back to take another look at him before getting in your car.

When you’re in bed later, the sun set to rise in just a short few hours, you send Pierre a text before you can think twice of it:

Next time you’re at a football match you have to cheer for my team

#f1 #f1 blurb #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 imagine #f1 rpf #f1blr #f1 x reader #f1 x you #formula one #formula 1 #pg10 #pierre gasly #pierre gasly fluff #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly fic #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly blurb #pierre gasly x you #pierre gasly x reader #lionel messi #football #world cup #psg #paris st. germain

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hey nalyra!

I was hoping you could sort of help put some thoughts in order.

So, what I keep seeing often is the discourse of lestat deserving the murder night vs lestat did not deserve it and that's why paris happens.

On one hand I agree murder night "needed" to happen bc the household had turned too toxic for all of them and something had to give ( and lestat did not seem about to relent on anything tbh ).

And then we have lestat himself saying he would have done the same thing and in a way its his fault things ended up the way they did. ( and we have sam saying lestat needs to be humbled to start a character journey in the next seasons)

On the other hand, there is the argument that paris happened because lestat did not deserve what happened in murder night and murder night was a mistake that claudia and louis paid for with the trial.

I find it hard to agree with the latter (it sounds too punitive and I don't think the trial had anything to do with actual rules it was all armand getting back at lestat and getting louis to himself) but as a lestat fan it was hard to watch murder night and say lestat deserved it as well!!

What are your thoughts on this whole mess? 🤔 😅

Okay, so... I personally think it is not that clear cut.

Because there are a lot of things involved in all of this.

For one - I keep saying - the abuse itself is in the book, so Louis did experience it as abuse, at least at times.

Now, Jacob has said that Louis "presents Lestat as a monster", because he is hurt by what happened. So Louis exaggerates (at the very least a little bit) - for reasons.

However, a tale is also always built on truth.

The Lestat in the book was very young still, and had a temper (well, he does not lose that, lol). Louis remarks on not saying something because he feared Lestat would destroy the parlor in a rage. They fight. And so on. Canon. The Lestat in the show is older, and jaded through loneliness - I personally think that is a great way to introduce the more bitter parts of the relationship, because it lends towards possessiveness and a certain remoteness, because he just sees it very, very differently to Louis, and sometimes cannot really empathize with Louis' actual problems. (Sam notes on that in the podcast, too.)

Now. When Lestat says in TVL that Claudia attacking him was "something he might have done himself"... then that refers to him trapping her in a too small, too fragile, too weak body - for eternity.

He knows he should not have made her. He is aware of that. That is what he refers to there:

From TVL:

But what had I done to Claudia? And when would I have to pay for that? How long was she content to be the mystery that bound Louis and me so tightly together, the muse of our moonlit hours, the one object of devotion common to us both? Was it inevitable that she who would never have a woman's form would strike out at the demon father who condemned her to the body of a little china doll? [...] And on a warm sultry night in the spring of the year 1860, she rose up to settle the score. She enticed me, she trapped me, and she plunged a knife over and over again into my drugged and poisoned body, until almost every drop of the vampiric blood gushed out of me before my wounds had the precious few seconds in which to heal. I don't blame her. It was the sort of thing I might have done myself. And those delirious moments will never be forgotten by me, never consigned to some unexplored compartment of the mind. It was her cunning and her will that laid me low as surely as the blade that slashed my throat and divided my heart. I will think on those moments every night for as long as I go on, and of the chasm that opened under me, the plunge into mortal death that was nearly mine. Claudia gave me that.

From Merrick:

Cover her face; mine eyes dazzle; she died young. I winced at the recollection. Lestat had been condemning himself when he'd spoken those words to her, he'd been offering himself up to her rage. She'd known it.

And here is the crux of it all: "murder night" does need to happen in the grand scheme of things in order to bring both Louis and Lestat onto their journey... they both need to get a reality check, both need to be hauled low so to speak to be able to ultimately heal and the justification is what was done to Claudia (not Louis). And to find peace with themselves.

However, and here is the "problem", if you will - this crime against nature, against Claudia was not only done by Lestat. And that is what her diary entry from "Merrick" is about, and what I believe we already saw hints for in the trial scene when she turns to Louis... Claudia blamed both. "It was never about me." And we saw that already in the show when Claudia argues with Louis before leaving in episode 5, too.

She decided to go and try to kill Lestat, because she thought she could handle Louis more easily.

From Merrick:

To do away with Louis would be foolish, as he is without question the more malleable of the pair. [...] Louis will do as I wish, even unto the very destruction of Lestat, which I plan in every detail. Whereas Lestat would never cooperate with my designs upon Louis. So there my loyalty lies, under the guise of love even in my own heart.

Now, don't get me wrong, I concur with Bailey and Delainey in that Claudia is very justified in her rage, imho :) And... both Lestat and Louis feel the same way, they carry the guilt of what they did to her until the very end.

Now, Paris.

Paris... did happen because Louis and (mostly) Claudia factoring things in) did make a mistake.

They thought (mostly Claudia, and the show hints at that in that episode 6 sex scene when she says to Louis that they "cannot be all like him") that Lestat was the worst.

Like the big bad vampire™, the worst of the worst™, and him (certainly) making mistakes or having a temper or even physically fighting with Louis was the absolute worst that could possibly happen to them.

And that... is the (big, fatal) mistake that is being made.

The show gave us Lestat already brushing Paris off, so I believe show Louis will be a bit more... careful when they get there. A bit more reluctant. Nonetheless, neither Claudia nor Louis are prepared for the old world covens. Or their rules.

Lestat kept them mostly human, a family, because Marius had advised him to do so.

Claudia and Louis, despite their run-ins with the revenants, have no concept of the rules, the viciousness, nor the strength to defend themselves.

They kill off their only protection (so to speak) - and will pay for it.

I believe in one of the interviews it was called "out of the frying pan and into the fire", and that is, unfortunately, very fitting.

That is why "murder night" was a mistake... in Claudia's calculation.

Louis will come to the realization that he "hated Lestat for the wrong reasons" in the second half of IWTV. He will come to a lot of realizations, painful realizations, unfortunately.

Ultimately, it boils down to this, I think (very simplified):

No, Lestat (probably) did not deserve "murder night" for what Louis tries to argue for in s1. Because those reasons will turn out to be the wrong reasons, unfortunately, and likely for a variety of reasons (cue "tinkering" and "suppressed memories")

Yes, Lestat (probably) deserved "murder night" for not heeding Marius' warning. For not trying hard enough, too, maybe. For condemning someone that young. For trapping Claudia (and, by extension Louis) like that.

"I should have listened to Marius's warning. I should have stopped for one moment to reflect on it as I stood on the edge of that grand and intoxicating experiment: to make a vampire of "the least of these. " I should have taken a deep breath."

But he did not.

And the tragedy unfolds.

#Anonymous #asks #ask nalyra #amc iwtv #iwtv #amc interview with the vampire #interview with the vampire amc #iwtv amc #iwtv 2022 #interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt #the brat prince #iwtv lestat #iwtv louis #louis de pointe du lac #beautiful one #iwtv claudia #claudia de lioncourt #the vampire chronicles #vc #vampire chronicles #book quotes #the vampire lestat #merrick #diary #paris

[stupidsagestars]

[𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈-𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒]

visual- here

[𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀]

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈-𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 who's a few million bucks away from being a billionaire. He's not just a volleyball player, he's an incredibly successful owner of many, many business in an array of industries. He owned luxury hotels all over the globe in places likes Paris, New York, Rome, all the best tourist spots, he had a successful wine brand and was an investor. But how could he do it all without his beautiful wife at his side to support him with everything. Without you, he'd be a wreck.

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈-𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 who's in love with the mansion, the two of you bought a few years ago, along with 7 acres of land. When it came to cars, unlike Atsumu, Oikawa wasn't super into high speed, bright coloured cars, instead he was a fan of the more lavish cars, that most definitely showcased his wealth. He had quite a few Bentleys and Porsches in the colour: black, white, grey and sky blue, sure they were pricey but it was 1000% worth it.

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈-𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 who's just as obsessed with designer items as you are. You two are at designer stores at least 5 times a week, his personal favourite being Gucci. You both always needed something: new bag, new shoes, new clothes, new suitcases, it was absolutely necessary that you were both the best dressed anywhere you went.

" wait honey, these are new, do you like them?" You ask, showing your husband a gucci polo shirt, priced at 200 bucks.

Oikawa scans the shirt slowly, tracing his hand through the material.

"the colours nice but the texture is off." He mutters and you roll your eyes.

"You're 10 times more picky than me, it's a nice shirt just buy it." You say, groaning at your husband's pickiness.

"Honey you know it has to be near perfect if not perfect if I'm going to get it."

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈-𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 who loves when you visit his games. You always come with a new sign to cheer him on. His favourite was, "FUCK OFF GIRLIES HE'S MINE!!" With a picture of you and him in a heart. He loves seeing you in your slightly revealing outfits as you jump up and down waving your hands in the air. He especially loves when during short intervals, your rush up to him with your little birkin bag that's filled to the brim with plasters, a water bottle, gum, and a napkin with your initials embroidered on it.

He loved the jealous faces of his teammates when you have him kisses all over his face and wipes his sweat with your napkin.

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈-𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 who's happy to know you opened up an underground club, only for close friends. Being the hardworking girl you were, constantly juggling thousands of things, you deserved your own little club.

"babe I say we get those fancy Gucci envelopes for the invites." You say to your husband who was making a list of everyone you'd invite.

"Sounds great but we've got a dilemma on our hands." He says circling two names.

"What's up?" You say, frowning.

"How do Sakusa and Osamu keep themselves from getting in a fight with Atsumu?"

You laugh straight away, "It's inevitable, the question is how we can get Ushiwaka on the dancefloor." And he nods, " He can't keep himself away from a few strong drinks, it's bound to happen"

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈-𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 who can't help but roll his eyes back whilst your grinding on him in your expensive red dress. You were currently in L.A, in your underground club, having the time of your lives, different coloured lights flashed constantly as people cheered and cheered.

So many of your friends were all gathered in the room doing so many things. In one corner, Suna,Aran and others were filming and cheering as they watched the miya twins drunkenly fight. In another, Bokuto, Hinata and Tendō were competing in a 4th drinking contest whilst in the middle of everything you were on top of him, eyes glued to his.

"fuck, fuck- honey we've got to go in the bathroom." he said, his hands gripping your hips as they moved according to the music.

"hmm okay." you say, letting him carry you away .

𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈-𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐄 𝐎𝐈𝐊𝐀𝐖𝐀 who quickly unbuckles his trousers and slips of his calvin klein boxers, eager to fuck you. He pushes you up against the bathroom wall, placing your hands above your head as you let your legs wrap around his torso.

He shoves his cock into your pussy, groaning from the immense pleasure of being inside you. Each thrust feels more and more good as he increasing his pace, pushing his thick cock deep into you, moaning loudly as he can feel his orgasm coming close.

"I think it's about time we have a baby, don't you think honey." He whispers in your ear, as he feels your pussy clench around him, telling him you also were about to cum.

He chuckles as you respond with whines and moans, "a little prince or princess - agh- running around the house." he says as his thrusts become much more sloppier.

"sounds great honey." you let out breaths, looking at him with lustful eyes.

You both groan as you release at the same time, Oikawa lets you down slowly but you can't help but fall into him,unable to stand properly.

"my legs hurt because of you." you mumble softly, as he picks you up.

"you got me riled up honey." he pouts, putting your dress back on and softly caressing your hair.

"lets finish this off at home." He says, still not satisfied with less than 5 minutes of fucking.

Suddenly just as you both manage to get back in your clothes, there's a loud knock on the door.

"OIKAWA, Y/N STOP FUCKING, USHIWAKA'S DOING A WORM ON THE FLOOR SHIRTLESS COME OUT!!!" Tendō shouts.

You look at Oikawa with a smile and he picks you up bridal style and runs out the bathroom to get a look at the spectacle outside.

You could wait a few more minutes before going home.

-★-★ hihi!! I'm back with the second post of the series, this time with the eccentric Oikawa, please enjoy and make sure to like and follow ★

#haikyu smut #anime fanfic #oikawa smut #oikawa x reader #haikyuu fanfiction #oikawa x you #oikawa headcanons #hq smut #haikyu x reader #oikawa fanfiction #oikawa fic #oikawa imagine #hq oikawa #oikawa x y/n

[cameronspecial]

Before The Last Petal Falls (Part 2)

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.5K

Summary: It's always a funny thing to be invited to your ex-boyfriend's engagement party. It's an even funnier thing when it seems all his family members have something to say to you.

Masterlist

“How about Lace Place?” Lacey asks, flashing her hands in an ark to imitate the arch of the sign she is imagining. Y/N gives her a funny look at the words, “Babe, that sounds like you sell drugs. If you name your restaurant that, you’ll be attracting the wrong type of clientele. Although, if a stoner accidentally walks in, maybe you’ll get some business from the munchies.” Lacey cringes at the realization and nods. “Hey, you think I could sell some cookies at your bookstore? Maybe, it can help drum up some business,” Lacey suggests. 

“I don’t see why it would be an issue. Let me just read up on the regulations on it just in case we need a special license or something, but it’s such a cute idea. I can get one of those rollie carts and call it the Cookie Cart. Ooh, maybe I can give a free bookmark with each purchase of a cookie.”

“That’s a great idea. Then I could offer the same thing when someone buys a certain thing at the restaurant. Like, get a ten percent coupon for the bookstore. How do you feel about being a dinner special?” 

“Ahh, I love this idea. We are just two business girlies supporting each other. Soon, well, be girl bosses dominating the world.”

“Uhh, excuse me. Last time I checked, you were already a girl boss, who dominates the world. I mean In The Shadows has been in The New York Times Best Sellers for fifty-two weeks, now. You went on an international book tour for your debut book and you are writing the much-anticipated sequel as we speak. You made it, girl.”

“Okay, okay. Don’t discount your achievements though. You literally worked at a Michelin-star restaurant and graduated top of your class at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. Now, you are opening your own restaurant at twenty-three.” 

The girls laugh at the little spiel they went on about being proud of their achievement and return to the paperwork they were going through for each of their respective businesses. In the five years since graduating high school, Y/N graduated from Oxford at twenty-one, but not before signing a deal with a major publisher for her book. A year later, her book is on the best sellers list and she is whisked away all over the world to promote it. She does recognize that her success may in part have to do with her mother and considered writing under a pseudonym, but decides against it when she realizes it wouldn’t really do anything. Using a fake name would mean she wouldn’t be able to make an in-person appearance out of concern for being recognized. It’s not exactly like her face has been hidden from her mother’s social media page. She really wants to have those moments to connect physically with her fans.

 On the other hand, Lacey had gone to culinary school at Le Cordon Bleu, and then quickly got a job at the Michelin-star restaurant. She decided to quit her job there so that she could open up her own restaurant. 

——

Y/N has no clue where she is going. Mason had just told her to get dressed nicely and to get in the car. She couldn’t get a question out, so she followed his instructions and got changed. She put on tan-coloured pants and a light pink balloon-sleeved satin blouse. She wore a black belt with a gold buckle and golden jewellery to pull the outfit together. Y/N sulked as she walked to Mason’s car. Her pestering as to where they were going went unanswered. When she sees where he stops the car, she wants to literally jump out of the car and run home. “Why did you bring me here, Mace?”

“It’s their engagement party today. I wasn’t planning on bringing you, but Blythe called and she literally begged me to bring you today. She knows how much you meant to Rafe and wants to get to know you more. She hopes, maybe even, that you guys can make up.” 

Y/N gives Mason a questioning look, “She wants her fiancé to get along again with his ex-girlfriend?” Mason nods and gently moves to bring his sister inside. “Blythe is a sweet girl and she really loves Rafe. She feels secu-.” Realizing that what he was about to say may have made his sister feel bad, he quickly switches to a different path. “Blythe is really friendly. She makes it her mission to help mend broken relationships. Rafe told me that she got two girls who were best friends when they were younger to make up after they got into a two-year fight over a boy. Can you just go in? You don’t have to talk to anyone and I literally brought you a book.” Y/N isn’t too excited about going to her ex-boyfriend’s engagement party, but she does as her brother asks. 

The twins enter Tannyhill together and are immediately given each a hug from the excited bride-to-be. “Ahh, and in comes the best man. You are only a tiny bit late, Mace. Y/N, I’m so glad you decided to come. I just know you and Rafe will make up in a jiffy.” Y/N gives an awkward smile, “Yeah, I totally chose to be here voluntarily.” Mason discretely elbows his sister in the stomach with a smile on his face. Play nice, the action signified. Blythe doesn’t seem to sense the sarcasm in Y/N’s words and turns towards Mason. “We are going to take the wedding party pictures now. Come on,” Blythe orders, taking Mason’s hand and dragging him away. “Rafe, say hello to Y/N.”

Y/N hadn’t noticed that Rafe had been standing at the main entrance too. Blythe has a way of holding everyone’s attention in a room. He had been standing there quietly observing the greetings. He quickly murmurs a hello then goes off after Blythe before Y/N can return it. She isn’t sure what to do and seeing as the only people she knows at the party are groomsmen, she goes upstairs to read on the balcony. She knows she probably shouldn’t be up there, but the balcony was guest free and she really didn’t want to explain who she was to anyone else. 

The broken silence from the front yard causes her to look up from the book. She silently watches as it appears the party is being moved outside. Rafe’s arm is wrapped around Blythe’s waist as she makes a speech thanking everyone for being there. Once she is done talking, Rafe follows her around whilst she talks from guest to guest. Rafe and the older lady listen to something Blythe says and they both laugh their heads off. This is why Y/N had to break up with Rafe. She could never be the social butterfly that matched his need to be around people. She could never fake pleasant conversations with people she doesn’t know. She would never want any of the traditional things associated with a wedding. And Rafe deserves all of that. Watching Blythe be all of those things for him cements the idea into Y/N’s mind that she did the right thing for him. He was able to move on and thrive with someone much more like him. With someone who didn’t hold him back. 

“Why does it not surprise me that you are up here?” A voice breaks the silence. Y/N turns to see a much older Wheezie at the door of the balcony. “OMG, Wheez. Look how big you’ve gotten. You are such a dignified young woman. Are you driving yet?” Wheezie moves herself to go sit beside Y/N, “Thank you, but I only seem to have gotten bigger because you haven’t seen me in five years. And I am driving. Rafe and Sarah are too scared to be in a car with me though. Blythe lets me drive her but I think only because she wants brownie points with me.”

“It’s still nice of her though. Do you like her?”

“Yeah, but you would let me drive you because you believe in my driving. Not because you want me to like you. You bribed me with cookies for that. She does it because she wants me to like her. She’s nice, though. But you know, she doesn’t make Rafe’s eyes twinkle as much as you do.”

“Louisa, you can’t keep comparing me to her. She’s the one marrying your brother.”

“And you are the one who still has a tighter hold on his heart even if he won’t admit it. You know I’m still angry at you for breaking up with him in the first place. But I missed you too much to be mad at you right now.”

“You gotta stop saying that. And I know you are mad. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have iced you guys out like that. I’m back now though and you can tell me all about your high school experience.”

“Yeah, yeah. We can talk about that later. Right now, I want you to sign my book.”

“You read my book?”

“Of course I did. You tell the best stories. You know Damian is an interesting character.” 

“He is, isn’t he? Don’t you just love a good demon love interest?”

“Yeah, that’s totally why I find him interesting…” 

Y/N doesn’t comment on Wheezie’s crypticness and follows the girl to her bedroom where the book sits. She signs the book and is dragged back downstairs to the party by the younger girl. Wheezie promises to come back and darts off to who knows where. Y/N is left alone in the kitchen she once used to make dessert cookies for her first date with Rafe. She resorts back to reading her book on the kitchen island. The sound of someone entering the kitchen causes her to look up from her book. Rafe is at the entryway staring at her with a scowl. “Where did you run off to, Y/L/N?”  

“I was upstairs on the balcony, reading.”

“You know, typically guests aren’t allowed upstairs during a party.”

“Wheezie didn’t seem to have a problem with it.”

“Yeah, well, she worships the ground you walk on so she isn’t exactly a non-biased host.” 

They stare each other down for a few seconds in silence before Y/N decides to break it. 

“You told me you wanted to get married at twenty-five.”

“And you told me that you wanted to be with me forever. I guess we are both pretty good at changing our life plan without telling the other.” 

“Haha, such a good retort. You really thought that would hurt me, Rafe?” Her words are only half true. The reminder of the choice she made stings a lot if she were to be honest, but she wasn’t about to admit that. Rafe just shakes his head and pushes past her to get to the fridge. He gets a drink out of it, “Whatever, I don’t have time to deal with this.” On his way out of the kitchen, he accidentally brushes her arm with his elbow and the scent of sea breeze and pool overwhelms her. The fact that he still smells the same after all these years causes her breath to hitch and tears to start to swell in her eyes. Rafe wants to pretend like he doesn’t see it. He wants to pretend like he doesn’t care, so he does. Now, she is left alone in the kitchen, wondering where the hell Wheezie went. 

Y/N goes in search of the younger girl, but it seems to be like playing a game of Where’s Waldo with the amount of other people in the house. Somehow, Y/N always seems to find herself in the same room as Rafe and it doesn’t go unnoticed by her that every time he spots her, he moves to another room. He’s avoiding her and she obviously understands why he would. Eventually, she gives up on finding Wheezie, but she soon regrets staying in the now-empty backyard. Because Ward Cameron is quick to make his presence known to the girl. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you here.” Y/N looks at Ward with critical eyes, it’s not every day she sees the human embodiment of her insecurities in person. Her hands go to hold her locket and plays with it between her fingers. 

“I’m not here out of my free will. The bride wanted me here and what the bride wants, she gets.”

“Ahh, yes. Blythe,” Ward begins, they both look at Rafe and Blythe through the window. “Isn’t she a much better fit for him? She went to UNC with him. She moved to the OBX for him. Look at everything she sacrificed for him.” Y/N watches as Blythe and Rafe interact with the guests of the party. She can’t listen to Ward’s insistent belittling of her, so she does what Rafe would argue she does best and runs away from Tannyhill. She runs as fast as she can back home without a care for her tired limbs. Once safely in the sanctuary of her room, she slams her back against her door and starts crying. She doesn’t know why she is; she’s over Rafe. She let him go, but something about Ward poking holes at all of her insecurities brought back some complicated feelings she always seems to want to repress. 

——

Rafe had seen Ward talking to Y/N through the glass and he watched confused as she ran off after something his father said. He had no idea what Ward said but he was sure as hell going to find out. The engagement party has finally come to an end. Rose and Blythe went out to do some wedding shopping, while Sarah and Wheezie went to go do sister things, leaving Rafe the perfect opportunity to interrogate Ward. “What did you say to my ex-girlfriend?” Ward turns toward his son in his desk chair, “Nothing she hasn’t already heard before. What does it matter? As far as I know, you didn’t want anything to do with her.” Rafe shakes his head at his dad’s callousness. “Really, Dad? Even after we’ve been broken up for five years, you still find a way to torment her,” Rafe argues. 

Ward gives a questioning tilt of his head towards his father, “She broke up with you. How could you still care for you?” “She may have made the decision to break up with me and I will always be angry at her for that. But I’m not oblivious enough to think you were a harmless observer in Y/N and mine’s relationship,” Rafe begins. “I know you probably said some things to her that set our break up into motion. I want to make something clear, Dad. Even if we are broken up, I don’t want you to get your claws into Y/N’s head ever again. She doesn’t deserve it no matter how much she hurt me.” Rafe finishes his threat and gets up from the chair he sits upon. He storms out of Ward’s office without another word. 

Taglist: @sublimepenguinpeach-blog @gillybear17 @f4ll-for-you @winterrrnight @maggiecc

#before the last petal falls #rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #outer banks rafe #rafe x reader #rafe cameron series #rafe obx #rafe outer banks #rafe imagine #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron x female reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #outerbanks #obx #obx imagine #obx fanfiction #obx fic #outer banks x y/n #outer banks x you

[blackswaneuroparedux]

There is no beauty in Music itself, the beauty is within the listener.

- Igor Stravinsky

“The idea of The Rite of Spring came to me while I was still composing Firebird,” Igor Stravinsky recalled, 45 years after the ballet’s first performance in 1913, in his book Conversations. “I had dreamed of a scene of pagan ritual in which a chosen sacrificial virgin danced herself to death.” If Stravinsky is to be believed, this dream marked the beginning of a process that culminated in the premiere of one of the 20th century’s most important musical works.

Stravinsky’s music was meant to capture the spirit of the scenario, which he had outlined with the help of painter and ethnographer Nikolai Roerich and dancer and choreographer Mikhail Fokine during the spring and summer of 1910. Roerich had filled Stravinsky’s head with tales about all sorts of rituals from ancient Russia – divinations, sacrifices, dances, and so on – involving a variety of characters. The ballet that resulted revolves around the return of spring and the renewal of the earth through the sacrifice of a virgin. In his handwritten version of the story, Stravinsky described The Rite as “a musical choreographic work. It represents pagan Russia and is unified by a single idea: the mystery and the great surge of the creative power of spring….”

Stravinsky completed the score on 29 March 1913, and exactly two months later, the ballet premiered in Paris at the Théâtre des Champs-Élysées, where it caused the famous scandal that ushered in modern music. Nijinsky’s choreography and the wild, unchecked power of Stravinsky’s score were something wholly new. Stravinsky wrote for one of his largest orchestras ever in The Rite of Spring, and he used it with an assurance and confidence one would hardly expect from a composer just out of his twenties and with only two big successes - The Firebird and Petrushka - behind him.

But those two scores, for all of their individuality and accomplishment, did not seem like they were leading to The Rite of Spring. What Stravinsky did was totally unexpected.

The stage action during the ballet’s second half, leading up to the sacrifice, was enough to capture the attention of even that raucous audience at the first performance. Finally quiet, they could hear Stravinsky’s score and watch as Maria Piltz, the dancer who played the sacrificial victim, stood motionless as the ritual unfolded around her, gradually coming to life to perform her dance, with its angular contortions and tortured motions.

What actually happened on that scandalous night will always be a mystery to some degree, because the reports contradict each other. Was it the choreography that annoyed people, or the music? Were the police really called? Was it true that missiles were thrown, and challenges to a duel offered? Were the creators booed at the end, or cheered?

The dancer Dame Marie Rambert remembered that right at the beginning ‘a shout went up in the gallery: “Un docteur!" (Call a doctor!). Somebody else shouted louder, “Un dentiste!" (a dentist!)’. The aristocrat Harry Kessler said that people started to whisper and joke almost immediately. Stravinsky himself was so angry that he stormed out and went backstage to help the dancers keep time.

What is certain is that the audience was shocked - and with good reason. Stravinsky’s score for The Rite of Spring contradicted every rule about what music should be. The sounds are often deliberately harsh, right from opening Lithuanian folk melody, which is played by the bassoon in its highest, most uncomfortable range. The music was cacophonously loud, assaulting the ears with thunderous percussion and shrieking brass. Rhythmically it was complex in a completely unprecedented way. In the ‘Ritual of the Rival Tribes’ the music unfolds in two speeds at once, in a ratio of 3:2. And it makes lavish use of dissonance, i.e. combinations of notes which don’t make normal harmonic sense. ‘The music always goes to the note next to the one you expect,’ wrote one exasperated critic.

Then there was the dance, choreographed by Nijinsky. According to some observers this was what really caused the scandal at the first night. When the curtain rose the audience saw a row of ‘knock-kneed and long-braided Lolitas jumping up and down’ as Stravinsky called them, who seemed to jerk rather than dance. Classical dance aspired upwards, in defiance of gravity, whereas Nijinsky’s dancers seemed pulled down to the earth. Their strange, stamping movements and awkward poses defied every canon of gracefulness.

Both the music and the dance of The Rite of Spring seemed to deny the possibility of human feelings, which for most people is what gives art its meaning. As Stravinsky put it, ‘there are simply no regions for soul-searching in The Rite of Spring’. This is what separates it so decisively from Stravinsky’s hit of 1911, Petrushka. There we’re immersed in a human world, which exudes the very specific cultural ambience of Russia. It’s true that the main characters are puppets, rather than rounded human beings. But they have characters, even if they’re somewhat rudimentary, and at the end there’s even a suggestion that Petrushka might have a soul.

* Pina Bausch's interpretation of Stravinksy's Rite. A masterpiece of modern dance.

#stravinsky #igor stravinsky #quote #music #composer #rites of spring #dancer #ballet #ballerinas #dancers #dance #paris #controversial #modern music #modernism #beauty #aesthetics #polytonal #performance #pina bausch #modern dance

[alder-saan]

Thunderbolt

Larissa x reader

Warnings: pain descriptions, curse

Word count: 1.8k

A lightning slashed the sky. Four seconds later, the silence was ripped by a deep detonation, and as if the clouds covering the city were a sounding board, you felt your eardrums, and even your hair, vibrating. The sky was heavily bleeding with great clear drops, which came crashing against the bitumen, and your see-through umbrella. It smelled rain, but not the rain in your native countryside, it was bitter. It smelled of drenched tar. The downpour, clouding the yellowish trail of some neon street lamps lights on the ground, probably wanted to drill your shelter as the impact against the plastic was so violent. And next to you, rear lights of hissing cars were leaving long traces of blood on the asphalt.

You have loved thunderstorms since you were a child. And you were almost twenty for your first trip alone. 

No parents, no friends. You were alone. It was a bit frightening but, eh. What could happen to you in Paris?

At the corner of a street, you heard a noise. It was a woman’s voice.

Suddenly, the ground disappeared.

“Toi, qui te moque de nous, les parias, je te maudis. Toi, tu deviendras comme nous, pire que nous. A chaque orage, tu te changeras en monstre, hideux, repoussant. Ceux qui te verront auront si peur de toi qu’ils seront pétrifiés. Que ta malédiction se lève au premier coup de foudre. Pour un paria, évidemment.”

A lightning stabbed your left shoulder. You screamed in fear, and the stench of burnt flesh indicated you were hurt. Automatically, you felt great pain, as if you were scorched with a red iron. You were burning.

You woke up.

Your heart was still racing as you thought about the translation of these words, engraved in your mind since that evening in Paris.

“You, who mock us, the outcasts, I curse you. You, you will become like us, worse than us. With each thunderstorm, you will change into a monster, hideous, repulsive. Those who see you will be so afraid of you that they will be petrified. May your curse rise at the first thunderbolt. For an outcast, obviously.”

You knew those words by heart, although you weren’t sure about the meaning. Especially the last two sentences which didn’t make any sense.

Now, ten years later, you hated thunderstorms.

Today was your first day in Jericho, Vermont. You decided to go there, because of the important outcasts diaspora. Maybe you could find someone who would help you there…

You had no really high hopes. You tried so many things, it just didn’t work. 

You even tried to stand at the top of a tree during a thunderstorm.

A lightning hit you, at the very same spot the witch’s one hit you.

And nothing happened.

You tried to see other witches, but none could lift the curse.

You entered the Weathervane, a local café. You had an appointment with the Principal of Nevermore Academy, Larissa Weems. Although you were not the age for going to Nevermore, you asked her to help you, maybe hire you as a cleaner. You needed help.

And as she was very protective of outcasts, she agreed to see you at least once, and to let you have a chance to talk about your situation.

You were a bit early, and ordered a hot chocolate. Maybe not the more professional thing, but you wanted one.

You watched some tik tok videos on your phone, waiting for her to come. The café was empty. Thursday 3 p.m, this was not the time when there were the most customers. The sun was shining outside and through the window, and it comforted you. The sun was your best friend, now. The only days you felt safe were the sunny ones. And the sunlight brushing your skin… It felt so good. 

The video you were watching showed a guy making a house in the jungle, you didn’t know which one, with only bamboo (or reed, maybe), and mud. And you were so absorbed by it, you didn’t even notice the tall woman entering the Weathervane and sat in front of you.

“Good afternoon, mx L/N, isn’t it?” She politely asked for you to acknowledge her presence.

You looked up and saw her. She was… She was so beautiful, your heart skipped a beat. Her silver hair in a perfect updo, her sky blue eyes, her little nose, her red lips, the little wrinkles you could see as she smiled… She was so beautiful.

“Uh… uh, I-yes, it’s me” You managed to reply.

Good job! You just made a horrible first impression. She certainly was thinking you were stupid. But there wasn’t any mockery in her eyes.

“Oh you asked for hot chocolate? You’re right, they make the best in here.”

So she was the perfect woman, uh?

You felt something in your heart. That wasn’t a skipped heartbeat. It was more… sharp, and painful. 

You knew that pain full well. Soon, it extended into your arm. Your face tightened. You curled up in your seat, holding your arm. You were trying to keep your breath normal, you didn’t want her to see that.

“Are you okay?”

“Y-yes… I… It’s a part of the curse… It happens sometimes.” You articulated.

“Do you need something?”

“Thanks, it’ll pass.”

You caught your breath with difficulty. The pain was decreasing, but your heart was still hammering in your chest.

“I’m… I’m better. There will be a thunderstorm tonight.”

“How do you know?”

“My scar warns me.”

“You have a scar?” she asked curiously, and instantly regretted it. “I’m sorry, it’s probably not something you want to talk about…”

“It’s okay.”

You rolled up your sleeve, exposing your scar, stretching down your arm like the thousands of roots of a thousand-year-old tree whose trunk was hidden by your clothes from your shoulder. She gasped.

“Is that… A lightning scar?”

“Yes. Except it’s a witch who casted it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t. It’s none of your fault. But I have high hopes you could help me. You probably know much more outcasts than me… Maybe you know someone who could lift it…”

“Of course, I’ll do some research.”

“Thank you.

The waiter gave her her order, although you didn’t see her ask for someone. A hot chocolate, like you. She took a sip, watching outside. The sun was brushing her face. She was so beautiful. You looked at her eyes, her lips, her hand around the big cup, and thought it would look so good around your throat. She turned her head towards you, and you looked away. She let out a chuckle. You went red.

She had just caught you staring. 

“Is your curse dangerous for others? I can’t hire you if you hurt people.”

“Well… yes and no. I hurt people if they see me during a thunderstorm. As _you saw it_ my arm warns me, I can hide before it and so no one is hurt. Telling the truth, I only petrified one person. And when the thunderstorm ended, he came back to life.”

“Mmh, okay, I see.”

You ended up talking about your lives. Larissa was truly fascinating.

“Yeah, I can’t trust any French girl since I have been cursed in Paris.”

“Ugh, don’t talk about French girls…”

“Any bad experience?” You asked.

“Well she played with my feelings. I really thought she loved me but… Well it turned out she just liked when people loved her.”

“I’m sorry for you.” You said, WAIT YOU GAY??? OMG I… I'M GOING TO DIE RIGHT NOW, you thought. “A-a girl did that to me too. She wasn’t French though.” You added, letting her know you were too.

You didn’t miss the smile growing on her face when you said that. And butterflies swarmed in your stomach.

“Anyway, if you want to work for Nevermore, you can have a room for you. We have rooms for one or two. Any partner?”

“Waw, this is the worst way someone ever asked me if I was single,” you laughed, “I am, though.”

She coughed, her cheeks getting pink.

“Well, I think maybe one day we could… you know, have a date.”

“I think too.”

You couldn’t believe it. She was so perfect, and she wanted to date you?

“Oh, and… You’re hired as a cleaner. Don’t think you have to do that to be hired. I wouldn’t want you to… you know.”

“Thank you! Thank you so much!”

She smiled.

“However, when will I be free? For our date, I mean. As I don’t have my schedule yet…”

“Don’t worry, we’ll discuss that in my office.”

“Okay!”

You stood up and went to the counter to pay.

“It’s on me,” you said, “You’ll pay next time.”

She didn’t argue. You thanked the waiter and went out, followed by Larissa. 

“Do you have a car somewhere?” she asked.

“No, I went by bus.”

“Then let me drive you to your new home.”

She walked towards a car, parked near the café. She held the door, and soon, you were in her car. You didn’t notice it in the Weathervane because of the hot chocolate smell, but she had such a lovely scent. Floral, sweet, it suited perfectly the pastel tones of her clothes.

“Do you know exactly when the thunderstorm will begin? Because I checked the weather this morning, it’s supposed to be sunny the whole week.”

“It usually warns me about 2 hours before, So I think we have something like an hour? I’ll just watch the sky, and as soon as it becomes cloudy, I’ll hide in my room. Besides, it never went wrong.”

“We’ll see, I’ll begin with showing you your room.”

Nevermore was for sure an intimidating building. But you liked gloomy manors in the middle of a forest, especially when the head mistress was Larissa Weems. You walked in it, with wide eyes, detailing everything. The nicely criss-crossed parquet on the floor, the statues wisely guarding doors like silent dogs, the principal’s hips swaying while she walked before you… 

“Y/n ?”

“Yes?”

“Can you tell me what you tried to lift your curse? I’ll find help more easily knowing that.”

“I tried to be struck by lightning.”

“What? Why?”

“You, who mock us, the outcasts, I curse you. You, you will become like us, worse than us. With each thunderstorm, you will change into a monster, hideous, repulsive. Those who see you will be so afraid of you that they will be petrified. May your curse rise at the first thunderbolt. For an outcast, obviously.” you imitated the witch

She abruptly stopped.

“Thunderbolt?” 

“Yes.”

“Did she speak in French or in English?��

“In French, why?”

“Did she used ‘coup de foudre’?”

“Er… yes.”

“Oh, lovely, she didn’t talk about thunderbolts.”

“What?”

“It’s a French expression, darling. It means ‘love at the first sight’”

Oh. oh. OH. Well... the curse was lifted then.

______________________________________

DON'T TRANSLATE LITERALLY!

(same for pet names, please)

#larissa x reader #larissa weems x reader #principal larissa weems #larissa weems #principal weems x reader #principal weems