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bisexualbumblebee-writes · 2 years

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Summer Camping Chapter 5: Memories- Multi Ships

Remus Lupin x Violetta Cook, Sirius Black x Gaia Devereaux, Regulus Black x Cecelia Potter, and James Potter x Ella Underwood

Description: The group looks back fondly at the photo album from their first camping trip. Times may change but their bond is forever

Word Count: 1.4k

1985

“Careful Lily, James will kill us if he sees you bent over in your state,” Gaia warned lightheartedly as she walked into the kitchen. Lily looked over her shoulder at her friend and grinned cheekily.

“Chill out Gaia, I’m capable of handling myself, pregnant and all. I’ve already done it once before,” she pointed out as she stood to her full height after grabbing a cup of yoghurt from the fridge, exposing her swollen belly. The girl rolled her eyes in response, but couldn’t hide the smile on her face as she grabbed a spoon for her friend.

“I can’t wait for baby Emma to be here,” she continued as the two walked back into the living room where Sirius, Henry, Ella, Remus and Violettta were sitting. Harry along with Remus and Violetta’s daughter Jasmine were playing on the floor together while the others watched in between conversations. Right after they sat down, they heard a voice call out.

“Oh my god you guys,” Cecelia exclaimed as she and James walked out of the master bedroom. “You will never believe what we just found.” That caught everyone’s attention and Lily groaned, muttering something about having just sat down. Ella giggled and opted to help her up. They, along with the rest of the adults, found themselves surrounding the kitchen table as Cecelia set a large book on it. On the cover of said book read “Camp 1976” in a cursive font. Gaia gasped silently and smiled.

“No way!” Sirius laughed from beside her.

“I can’t believe it, when’s the last time any of us looked at our copies?” He asked rhetorically. Harry and Jasmine had stopped when Gaia had cried out. The two of them shared a confused look before walking over to the table.

“What is it?” Harry questioned confusedly, climbing onto his father’s lap. James grinned and pointed to the book.

“It’s a photo album from our school days. After our fifth year of Hogwarts your Aunt Ella suggested we go on a camping trip to start off the summer,” he explained. Ella grinned and flipped open the book to the ownership page.

“There are a lot of memories from that trip. It was when your father and I were still dating so your mummy isn’t in this yet. Neither is Uncle Henry,” she added.

“What a dark time,” James joked, which caused Ella to lightly shove him. Violetta picked up Jasmine at the young girl’s request and rested her on her hip.

“Mama!” Jasmine exclaimed, pointing at one of the pictures after Henry turned the page. Violetta and Remus took a closer look only to realize it was the picture of Violetta sitting on the dock on their first day of camping. The girl smiled and nodded at her daughter.

“Oui mon amour, it is,” she spoke gently. Remus smiled and kissed his wife’s cheek.

“I told you it was a good picture.” Violetta giggled then stuck her tongue out at him. Gaia rolled her eyes playfully at them then flipped to the next page. On that page was a picture of her and Sirius laying on separate floats lounging on the lake from the day before they left the campsite.

“Wow, I looked good back then,” Sirius commented.

“Yeah, what happened to you?” Gaia joked. He playfully glared at her then leaned over and flicked her ear.

“Ow!” She yelped before returning the oh-so-kind gesture.

“That’s enough you two,” Cecelia reprimanded. “You’re acting like children.” To prove her point, the older couple stuck their tongues out at her. She rolled her eyes in response before scanning the next page.

“Oh my gosh, do you remember when Prongs tackled Padfoot because he tried to throw me into the lake?” She laughed, pointing to the pictures on said page. It was several pictures from their day in the lake, all taken by Cecelia from the dock. One of them was just the others messing around and having a water fight. Another one was of the couples playing chicken (Regulus being a ref beside Cecelia). The next one was a group photo of everyone from the dock, Cecelia and Regulus in the far left corner. The last one was another group photo of them drying off beside the fire later that evening.

“Yeah, my head and back were hurting for the rest of the day Prongs,” Sirius said, looking at James pointedly. The boy smirked.

“Consider it payback for you practically tackling me off my broom after a game during the school year,” he responded. Sirius began saying something but Gaia was quick to cover the boy’s mouth.

“There are children present, don’t forget,” she muttered, eyes glancing over to Harry, who was staring at Sirius with wide eyes. A playful smile appeared on his lips and he swooped the young Potter boy up. Harry squealed and laughed as his godfather spun around with him still in the air.

“Ah I wasn’t going to say anything bad,” he exclaimed before resting Harry against his chest. “Isn’t that right Harry?” The boy giggled and nodded.

“Right!” Sirius smiled fondly as Harry rested his hands on his face.

“Man, kids are cute,” he muttered absentmindedly before smirking at his wife. “Maybe we should try to-”

“Aaand I think that’s enough,” Lily interrupted quickly, taking Harry. “ It’s nap time for the little ones anyway.” Violetta nodded in agreement and followed Lily to Harry’s bedroom, the boy complaining that he wasn’t tired yet. As soon as they were out of sight, Henry smacked the back of Sirius’ head.

“Really mate? In front of the kids?” He questioned. Sirius rolled his eyes and wrapped an arm around Gaia’s waist.

“Relax you wet rags, I wasn’t going to say anything bad. I do have a conscience, you know.”

“Really? Where does it go for 90% of the day?” Gaia joked. Sirius looked offended.

“I did not come here today to be attacked,” he exclaimed. Violetta shushed him as she and Lily walked back out.

“Don’t wake up the children,” she scolded quietly. Sirius began to say something but was interrupted yet again.

“Look at this,” Ella instructed as she stared at the next page of the album. It was everyone sitting around the campfire making s’mores, but the picture was centered on Sirius and Gaia.

That caught everyone’s attention and they continued to look through the album, sharing and reminiscing memories as they did so. Some of those photos included Cecelia showing Regulus a firefly she’d caught, James and Ella asleep on the hammock he’d set up (Henry voiced how weird it was to see his brother with his girlfriend which made everyone laugh), Regulus teaching Cecelia to swim, Remus and Violetta watching a sunset on the dock, and many more pictures like those.

Eventually they got to the end of the book and the last picture made each and every single one of them smile. It was another group photo, this one having been taken the day they left the campsite. The group was sitting in the car and it looked like it had been taken by Ella. She was sitting beside James, who was in the driver's seat. Sirius, Gaia, Remus and Violetta were in the next seats. Sirius’ arm was wrapped around Gaia’s shoulders and his jacket was draped over her. Violetta’s head was resting on Remus’ shoulder and his head rested against hers. Finally, Regulus and Cecelia were in the last row of seats, both of them leaving on the seats in front of them so they were closer to the camera. Everyone could faintly see their held hands resting on the seat between Sirius and Gaia's heads. Every single one of them had a bright smile on their face.

“That was such a fun week,” Violetta stated softly as James closed the book. The others nodded in agreement.

“We should do it again soon,” Remus said. “Lily and Henry haven’t gotten to experience it.” Ella perked up at that and she nodded enthusiastically.

“The kids would love that!” She added. Everyone seemed to light up at the idea and they began talking animatedly to each other, voices overlapping.

“It’s nearing summertime,” Regulus pointed out. “All we have to do is free a week’s worth of schedules and we’re good to go.”

“Let’s get started then,” James announced, standing up. The group headed to the living room as they continued talking. That camping trip was quite possibly the best thing that had ever happened to them and it impacted every single one of them in a good way. Times may change but their bond was forever.

#harry potter #harry potter imagine #remus lupin #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin x oc #sirius black #sirius black imagine #sirius black x oc #regulus black #regulus black imagine #regulus black x oc #james potter #james potter imagine #james potter x oc

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timmymyluv · 2 years

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limping

timothee chalamet x reader

warning(s): implied/mentions of sex, aftercare, smugness, privacy invasion

summary: after a crazy night, you're caught stumbling and walking funny out of timmy's apartment and everyone especially he is amused at your antics

word count: 700 words

notes: wanted to try something new, formatting/with smaller font and a shorter drabble!! hope y'all like it- helped me get out of my writing rut slightly

“Where are you going, babe?”

Stumbling on your shaky feet from your previous night, the funny, awkward way you were walking around your shared apartment with unruly hair that refused to be tamed, and makeup that’s smudged so bad it’s still visible on your skin.

“I’m meeting with a casting director who wants me to be in one of his films. I have to go really soon, I don’t want to be late. Sorry I have to go, wish I could stay longer.”

Timothee sits up shirtless from your bed, blanket tugged up to his waist as he smirks amusedly at your still wrecked state.

“You’re walking funny today.” He crosses his arms and proudly admires your still shaking form, earning a playful eye roll from you.

“I wonder who made me like this, hmm?” You retort, picking up your discarded shirt thrown carelessly to the floor last night and new underwear hidden in your drawers.

Jumping into your jeans and quickly buttoning it up before you rush by the mirror close to the door, brushing away the loose strands of hair all over your face.

“I gave you a bath and a long massage last night, mon amour. Was that not enough?” Timmy teases as he languidly admires you from the distance, curls flopping in every direction in a way that tinges a heartstring inside you.

But cute was not the word to define him yesterday, or up to the late morning that nearly caused you to run late.

"Apparently not. If you didn't fuck me so good and your cock wasn't so big, maybe."

"And you know you love it." He replies in a sing songy voice.

"One of the million things I love about you, yes. Not the only, don't forget that!"

"Never will, Mon amour. never will."

Bag slung over your shoulder as you hastily put on your sneakers, you attempt to smoothen out the wrinkles of your top before you say your goodbyes.

“Where’s my goodbye kiss?” He pouts at you almost childishly, arms open in anticipation for your embrace.

Chuckling as you’re unable to resist him, you saunter over with a quick embrace and peck gentle kisses down his forehead and nose before a quick, passionate kiss on his lips.

“I’ll see you tonight, okay?”

“Hmm, dinner plans?”

“Yes, sir. Your pick of the resto tonight to make it up to you.”

“Call me that again and we'll have a part two to yesterday.”

As you make your way out the building, limping and rushing over to the car provided by your management, you spot your driver’s car as you wave over, opening the door and buckling yourself up immediately.

Even before you can say anything- “Ew, is that a hickey on your neck? God he went at you like a vulture. That’s gonna be hell to remove with a shitton of concealer.” Your makeup artist Vera jokingly scolds you, eyes bulging at the spanse of purple and blue down your neck and spilling over to around your collarbone and torso.

Shaking your head in embarrassment and slight pride with rosy cheeks, you drive off with your day to your series of meetings and appointments for the rest of the day.

What you did not expect was the rare time you checked your social media, you were trending over viral photos of you hastily dressed after an evident night of a passionate, salacious rendezvous with hair out of place, clothing full of wrinkles and tucked in the wrong places, and the way you were walking in an unusual way gathering enough submission.

Shaking your head, your phone pings and you get a notification from Timmy. A smug and satisfied emoji, alongside his message of “had a good night ;)” You could see him winking and pleased with himself over his sexual prowess and how he basically rearranged your guts real good and the whole world can see it.

“Oh she got that good good last night”

“I just know he’s big - WHAT who said that”

"That dick changed lives clearly"

You spent your breaks laughing at the creative comments social media would spit out after your recent ‘scandal’ of sorts, but your ego was sky high knowing that everyone else can only dream of being impaled, split in half on his god-like, enormous cock that it got you walking funny.

Laugh all they want, but it’s you he comes home to. It's you he spoils and worships on his cock, raw and harsh or passionate, delicate love making.

taglist:

@blackqueenstarseed1 @softhecreator @ohmysw33 @imnotoverlyobsessive @mondieumat @chanotel @starberry-cake @timotheel0ver @chalametsimp @hellomadamebutterfly @themonsterheloved @chal-latte @s-we-e-t-t-ea @zelleriz @strawberriescherrieskiwi @fangirl125reader @xoxoloverb @us3rd1stort1on @thebetawolfgirl @chelseamendes99 @yomidebby @esmaada @princessandtheflea @thestarsaregivenonceonly @meetmyothersouls

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lightsovermonaco · 3 years

Text

His Good Sweater: Chapter 12

Masterlist

Winding down from the frenzy of the last chapter... Thanks to @acollectionofficsandshit for being my bestie and beta reading! This would have never happened without her ❤

Word Count: 5.9k

Recommended song: "I Don't Care" by Fall Out Boy

“Mon amour, wake up.”

Pierre’s sleep-heavy voice rouses you from the best sleep you’d had in a long time. You’d fallen asleep to the sounds of his even breathing under the soothing touch of his thumb tracing patterns on your side.

You crack your eyes open to see him silhouetted by the white light of the waning moon, his bare chest left uncovered by the blanket slung low over his hips. The sight alone has your mind instantly jumping into overdrive, fighting the need to sleep with the need to continue ogling the bare skin a foot from your face.

“I let you sleep as long as I could,” he says softly, reaching behind him for his phone. “We have to be on the M1 in about half an hour.”

“Mmmph,” you groan, snuggling back under the blanket and closer to him, chasing the warmth radiating from him. “The sun isn’t even out.”

His chuckle shakes the bed. “I figured you would say that which is why I made you breakfast and picked out your clothes. All you have to do is brush your teeth and get dressed.”

You hum appreciatively and press a kiss to his bare sternum. “Is this how you’re going out today? Because I won’t complain but you might cause a few heart attacks.” A kiss to your temple is a small reward for your comment, as well as a concession.

"Don't worry, this is reserved only for you." He stretches an arm above his head, grinning when your eyes immediately are drawn to the way the muscles ripple and pull under his skin. You stare shamelessly as he flexes a little for your benefit, the action going straight to your head.

"As it should be." You bite your lip and let your fingertips dance over his chest, memorizing the way it rises and falls so predictably with each deep breath. Against your better judgement you trail kisses up over his pectoral and spot them along his shoulder, dragging another light chuckle from him.

"My love," he warns, voice tinted with mischief, "we don't have time."

"Oh I think we do." You continue your path over his collarbone and to the hollow of his throat. Taking advantage of his biggest weakness, you flick your tongue over his prominent adam’s apple. The move has his hand engulfing your upper arm, giving you a warning squeeze.

"As wonderful as this is" -he sucks in a sharp breath when your teeth graze his neck- "if I'm late Horner will kill me."

"What's new?" You say, but draw back. The mere mention of his name made you see red and shattered the moment. "Do you really want to go back to Red Bull after how they treated you?"

"No," he admits, slipping an arm around you and tugging you up and into a sitting position, taking advantage of the momentary lapse of lust. "But if I want a shot with a top team when my contract is up, I don’t have much choice."

"Where do you see yourself going?"

Pierre studies you as you slip into the clothes he had selected for you. Nothing fancy, just an AlphaTauri branded navy and white hoodie and some light wash jeans. You don't miss the way his lips twitch upward when you notice it's his hoodie, his last name embroidered in block font on the cuff a dead giveaway even if the hoodie hadn't been ridiculously oversized on you.

Cheeky bastard.

"I think I would look good in sunshine yellow," he remarks. You make a show of looking him up and down under the pretense of imagining him in a Renault branded hoodie or their signature black race suit. Truthfully it was just another excuse to drink him in like the fine wine he was and recall how he had tasted on your tongue last night.

He would look good in any color on the grid but you don't grant him the satisfaction of pointing that out. Instead, you lean forward to toy with the waistband of the jeans he had hastily buttoned seconds earlier. "You and Daniel get along just fine." You snag him by the belt loops and yank him forward back onto the bed. "I think you should go to McLaren.”

“I’d still look good in orange.”

You wind your fingers under his waistband. “I think you’d look best wearing nothing at all, actually.”

“The time,” Pierre protests lightly when you pop open the button and undo the zipper. He groans when you yank the denim down around his thighs, finally submitting to your touch and lacing his fingers in your hair. Your lips explore the planes of his abdomen, any and all thoughts of speed abandoned on your end. "If you don't hurry up we're gonna be late."

"Maybe you'll just have to drive fast. I hear you’re good at that."

**********

"So how is it that they got your car all the way to London?"

"It's got its own private jet."

You roll your eyes and smack the hand resting on your thigh. His response is a light squeeze and a chuckle before he continues, "They've got a few spares they keep around for when drivers come to town. I can't be seen in a Mini or it would cause a scandal."

"Oh yes it would be quite tragic." His hand charts a dangerous path along your thigh. He knows exactly what he's doing as he slots a thumb between your legs and presses it tight to the apex of your thighs.

You snap your knees shut, effectively trapping his hand "Now you're just being cruel."

"Only dishing out what you did this morning," he points out and wiggles his hand free to rest on your knee instead. The message was clear: he had shaken you well enough for his liking and was perfectly content to leave you frustrated until he could get you home.

“So catch me up on what I’ve missed,” you say, determined to distract yourself from Pierre’s slight teasing. “What’s new in the life of the rising star in Formula 1?”

“Rising star,” Pierre mumbles and rolls his eyes. “Not yet, my love. Getting there, but not yet.”

“Please, you’re too modest. Last night when you fell asleep- you were out like a light as soon as your head hit the pillow, don't give me that look!” Pierre picks his jaw up off the floor and shakes his head as you continue, “I read plenty of articles that called you the next big thing, right up there with Max.”

The comparison didn't seem to sit right with him. He shifts in his seat, rolling words over on his tongue. “I’m sure you’re caught up then. I haven’t done anything really besides train and race.”

“I did notice you’ve beefed up a bit.”

“Yet another reason to thank Pyry.”

“At this point I should send him a fruit basket for his trouble.”

“Maybe you should.” Pierre grins, hand leaving your thigh for a split second to upshift. “What about you? How’s year four treating you?”

“Ugh, don’t get me started,” you groan. “My senior project is already killing me and I’ve only just started it. We have to design a building from the ground up- I mean I like architecture but I’m trying to be an engineer, not an architect. I dunno why I have to be the one to design a building! At this point it’s just a brick box.”

“Sounds challenging,” Pierre notes, flooring it when he merges onto the highway. Though the speed makes your stomach flip, you don’t miss a beat.

“My team doesn’t do much either, I’ve been doing most of it. I could rant for hours about it.”

Pierre glances at the clock, then back to you. The blue of his eyes is blocked by his signature purple tinted sunglasses, shielding them from the rising sun that casts him in a warm orange glow. “Humor me. We’ve got time.”

The hour and a half drive was by no means dull with Pierre's teasing touches and endless string of questioning along the way. He asked after every aspect of your life that had transpired in the last four months, only stopping you once in a while to interject with an opinion or anecdote. He didn't stop at your life either, even asking after Ben's relationship. You'd been happy to report that he had indeed wooed his crush and had officially asked him to be his boyfriend.

"Those secret French lessons paid off," Pierre jokes as he pulls up to the imposing glass fronted building that served as Red Bull Racing's headquarters. The sweeping curve of the entrance was flanked on either side by two-story red and yellow bulls; proof that the team's dramatics extended far past the track. Anyone approaching for the first time would have been intimidated by the sheer size of them that suggested they were ready to stomp on their competition at a moment’s notice.

“Guess it’s time.” You sigh and undo your seatbelt and fiddle with the buckle, doing your best to stall. There was no reason to be this nervous. You were no one to these people; the focus would be entirely on Pierre. You would be an afterthought, not that you minded because it made it easier to fade into the background.

Pierre picks up on your hesitation in a heartbeat. “I’ll keep them off your back,” he promises and you nod, the single sentence taking the edge off. “Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” You reach for the door handle but Pierre tsks and you pause.

"You know better." You bite your lip to keep back the grin fighting its way to the surface as he comes around to open your door. He offers you his hand and you gladly take it and are pleasantly surprised when he threads his fingers through yours and heads for the entrance.

The atrium serving as the lobby is breathtakingly gorgeous. You had to hand it to the interior designer; they knew what they were doing. Sleek white marble floors are accented by red and yellow leather chairs scattered in small groups throughout the grand space. A tiered circular modern interpretation of a chandelier hangs above to offer guidance to the accountants, engineers and artists that weave through the lobby on their way to their respective wings or offices.

A waist high, glass front cabinet of drivers helmets serves as the reception desk. The unmistakable scent of a fresh cup of coffee hits you as you approach and the secretary hands a steaming paper cup to someone before they scurry off, presumably to a private office if they were important enough to warrant special attention. The first rays of morning sunlight glint off the silver Red Bull logo inlaid in the black marble behind the woman at the counter, making you squint.

"Bonjour Monsieur Gasly," she says in perfect French. "Ça va?"

"Bien," he says simply and switches to English for your benefit. "Has Christian come through yet?"

"He has," the woman says, glancing sidelong at you. Whatever conclusions she draws about you are insignificant enough that she writes you off immediately, angling her body towards Pierre and resting her chin in her hand. The posturing puts her ample chest on display, nearly spilling out of her billowing blouse, but Pierre's eyes don't wander. "He's not expecting you yet. Voulez-vous un cafe?"

"I'm good." The woman may have been determined to alienate you but Pierre was having none of it. Pierre turns to you, a grin playing on his face. This was your first test as an official couple and he intended to see how you handled it. "How about you, my love? Coffee?"

The woman's eyes slip to where your hand remains clasped in his. She cocks her head so slightly you think you might be imagining it until Pierre's grip tightens, a silent encouragement. Your confidence soars. If this was how Daniel's girlfriend felt when the two of them were out, you finally understood why they didn't hide. It was a rush knowing that everyone wanted Pierre but he only wanted you. No matter how blatantly women threw themselves at him, there was no doubt in your mind that he would never give a single one of them the light of day.

It was about damn time you afforded him the same unwavering commitment as he had shown you.

"No thank you," you reply sweetly with a mocking smile directed to the woman. You lean in and drop your voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You might want to fix your shirt though, it’s… slipped. I know I'd hate for that to happen to me and no one tell me, especially at work. I don't think I'd ever recover from it."

Her face immediately turns scarlet as she stands straight and folds her arms over her chest. "If I were you-"

"Let Horner know I'm here," Pierre interrupts and it's somehow the hottest thing he's ever said. His purely commanding tone leaves no room for argument.

"Of course," she replies with a sharp smile in your direction that makes your spine stiffen. "Good luck. Christian is in rare form this morning."

"Just ignore it," Pierre murmurs and sweeps his thumb over the back of your hand as he leads you across the cold marble and down a carpeted hall. "You handled that well.”

“I may have gotten a few pointers from Daniel’s lover.” Your soft smile doesn’t quite reach your eyes. The short interaction had sapped most of your confidence, leaving you on uneven footing. “I would rather not have to deal with that again soon though.”

“I can handle the women easy enough when I know I’ve got you to come home to.”

The tightness in your chest eases further when the hall opens into another startlingly white space, this time packed with rows and rows of navy cubicles. But that's not where your attention is drawn- instead, your gaze is immediately snagged by the case of trophies towering high along the back wall. Cups of every shape and size shine within, each one representing a different podium for the team achieved in various years and tracks.

"There must be over a hundred," you breathe, mesmerized by the glinting silver and intricate craftsmanship. The case was easily thirty feet tall and you had to crane your neck to catch a glimpse of the ones in the top row. Each one told a story of blood, sweat and tears, each one earned by a driver who had made countless sacrifices to be where they were and finish on a podium.

"A hundred and eighty five to be exact," he counters, laughing at your amusement. "Your inner architect is screaming isn't it?"

"Only a little."

Pierre laughs outright at your white lie and tugs you along. "You can stare on the way out. I'll even show you which ones were Max's."

"Did you memorize what all his trophies look like?"

"Hey, meetings with engineers get boring. It's one of the more interesting ways to occupy your time when they are going on and on about fluid mechanics and thermodynamics- you know, stuff you understand but not me."

"Oh whatever, you enjoy those meetings and you know it."

"Only a little," he quotes.

People recognize him as you pass and some nod or give a simple greeting as they go about their morning but no one stops him to chat. The air feels a bit hostile, like no one knows what to do with him now that he's walking through the building after a nearly two year absence.

"Do you miss it?" You ask after he smiles at someone for the millionth time.

"I miss the team," he admits, "but not the management culture. My team was great- they supported me any way they could but it didn't help that Horner didn't exactly encourage them to believe in me. It's hard to crank out results when there's no one on your side."

"I'm on your side," you point out, nudging him with your hip. "You've got me forever, no takesies backsies."

"I'm grateful for it," he murmurs and gives your hand a squeeze. He hadn't let go once; not when he had to open a door or the two of you had to walk single file to let people pass.

The building was a labyrinth and if it wasn't for Pierre you'd have been lost the moment you set foot inside. He navigates the twisting halls with ease, having no need for the countless signs posted along the way.

He leads you up a set of steel stairs after what seems like ages. When he knocks on a heavy oak door, his grip on your hand turns possessive like he suspects the office’s occupant would try to rip you away from him.

“Morning.”

God, even the one word makes rage simmer in your veins. The voice precedes the man and Christian Horner swings open the door, a plastic smile splitting his face. He doesn't bother acknowledging you with a greeting, instead addressing his driver directly.

“I wasn’t expecting you to bring a guest.”

“A pretty face was needed around here,” Pierre snaps back without missing a beat. You bristle, free hand curling into a fist. If there was one person you didn’t mind teaching a lesson to, it was Horner. He had little respect for anyone he viewed as disposable- up to and including “underperforming” drivers.

Christian raises an eyebrow. “Sure. She can wait out here- you and I have terms to discuss.”

Fine, Horner wanted to play dirty? So could you. When it came to staring him down, you became fearless. He was the one person you refused to let intimidate you.

Drawing on your newly minted confidence you smile up at Pierre and silence the protest forming on his tongue with a grin. “Gimme a kiss, race winner.”

Pierre doesn’t hesitate to press his lips to yours. Cupping a hand to the back of his neck you draw him in and nip at his lower lip. The hand on your hip tightens at Christian's scoff but Pierre makes no move to break away. You linger a moment longer than necessary to drive your point home: you didn’t care what Horner had to say about you, you were here to stay and he would have to get used to it.

Pierre gives you a small, blissed out smile before dropping your hand and following Horner inside. The door clicks but doesn't shut all the way, Pierre leaving it cracked for your benefit.

Uninterested in eavesdropping on small talk, you lean on the metal railing to observe the research and development garage coming to life on the floor below. Hybrid engines in various stages of disassembly dot the space, small teams of mechanics and engineers tweaking components to reduce weight or increase horsepower. Pistons and valves are scrutinized and exchanged before being placed under stress to test their strength.

An FIA official in a red jacket wove through the garage to observe and jot notes down on a clipboard. He looks over the shoulder of an engineer pouring over formulas on a whiteboard, startling him when the official asks a question. Someone calls your name from below and you search for the origin, finally spotting the woman and waving back at her.

Management may have their qualms with Pierre but it was clear there were still some within the team that had his back. They were likely the same ones that knew he would have to leave the Red Bull umbrella to find any semblance of success. They may not have possessed the guts to stick their necks out for him when Horner had cut him but they were at least happy to see him back around headquarters.

"You sure you'll rise to the challenge?" Horner's question drags you back to the mezzanine.

"I'll take seventh. I'm only a few points away and we have plenty of races left."

He had five races to catch up to be exact. Pierre currently was comfortably ahead of the pack in ninth, Sainz was only three points ahead in eighth, and Norris ten points beyond in seventh. It would only take a DNF or two from his rivals and a few podiums to pass them up.

"Right," Horner starts. "There's a reason you've done so well this season and it's not luck. You've been racing exceptionally well and I don't want that to change."

"If there's something on your mind just get on with it." Pierre's voice is calm and collected in a way yours wouldn't be if you had been in his shoes. You've been dying to rip into Horner since the day he wrote Pierre off.

"There's been a fire in you the past few months since she has been gone-"

"Leave her out of this."

The tone sends a chill down your spine. It maintains the same level headedness that Pierre had perfected over the years and you had come to expect when he was backed against a wall, but it was laced with an unspoken threat. The intent was clear: he would walk out and abandon his chance for a seat at Red Bull if it meant protecting you.

You creep to the door to peer through the crack. Horner crosses his arms, a sly smile on his face. "You would sacrifice your chance at a championship winning seat for her? Everything you've worked so hard for, gone in a flash, because of her?"

"Without question," Pierre answers immediately. The conviction and commitment behind it nearly makes you stumble. "I'm sure there's plenty of other teams that would love to have me after the season I've had. She’s not going anywhere, so either you stop disrespecting her or I walk out."

You clench your fists, ready to burst in and demand Pierre stop being a fucking idiot. His long term plan saw him at another top team that would take care of him and nurture his skill- a long stint at Red Bull Racing was never in the cards. It wasn't an environment for everyone. Some people like Max thrived in it, letting the toxicity roll off their backs but for Pierre it was a cruel form of punishment. However, a seat at Red Bull for the 2022 season could mean the difference between an offer from Alpine and an offer from Haas when his contract was up for renewal.

The idea of seeing his number stickered to the floor in a Red Bull garage excites and intimidates you. Last time he hadn't been given the chance to prove himself. Would they still hold that against him? Knowing Christian, he probably would. On the other hand, it meant that they admitted their mistake in cutting him mid-season, whether they said it outright or not.

Pierre's redemption day was on the horizon and you couldn't wait to see the look on Horner's face when he finally won. And the longer Christian stays silent, the more potent the urge to throttle him grows.

Christian gives a slow clap. "Now there's the unwavering commitment that was missing during round one."

Your heart hammers in the dead silence as papers are shuffled. "Here's the contract. Terms are as discussed, you secure seventh in the world championship in 2021 and the second seat at Red Bull Racing is yours for the entire calendar in 2022. No demotions, substitutions, or shuffling of drivers unless medically necessary or mutually agreed upon by all affected parties."

"And the same spec car as the number one seat," Pierre insists, spine straight. "Same strategy."

Christian waves a hand. "Yes, that's in there too. Feel free to take a moment and read it over."

He does, allowing Christian time to pour a knuckle of whiskey and set the glass before Pierre. He pours himself an identical glass and waits until Pierre signs and initials all the boxes before raising it in acknowledgement.

"Congratulations. Welcome back to Red Bull- conditionally."

Pierre leaves the glass untouched and remains silent, staring his potential future team principal down. He gives the man no margin to question his abilities further, conveying all he needs to with a look that would have had you shaking at the knees. Even if you can't see his face, wrath radiates from him in waves and you wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it when it explodes.

"Right then." Christian lowers the glass, his fake smile vanishing. "I look forward to seeing what you can do."

"Don't worry. I'll deliver."

You step back and allow him to set the mood as he exits the office and slams the door behind him. Pierre sighs and scrubs a hand over his face. "You heard all of that right?"

You nod. "You wouldn't have really walked out, right?"

"I almost did."

He says it like it's the most obvious thing in the world. Like you should know that he would choose you over all of this, that all of his dreams and everything he had sacrificed to achieve them thus far meant less to him than you did. How many times did he have to prove his unwavering commitment before you realized it was true?

Pierre laces his fingers through yours, the heat welcomed by your ice cold skin. It was as much a comfort to you as it was to him. "I just have to grab some things from Max's office and then we can head out."

His jaw is still set after his stand off with Christian and you want nothing more than to ease his mind. Publicly comforting him with a touch to his chest or a kiss to his neck was out of the question so you settle on temporary distraction.

"Hey, you know what I want to see?"

"What's that?"

"That room full of all the old chassis. You know, the one that they hold all the fancy virtual events in? I wanna see those."

"I think I should be able to get you back there." He veers down a hall and you yelp, pulled along by his momentum. His attitude brightens a little at your laugh. The grin he throws your way is your own personal sun, warming your soul.

"Hey- hold on." You pull him to a stop and lead him into an alcove. The inch of space between your chests is charged with electricity, begging to jump from one to the other.

"Can I help you?" He asks and grins down at you.

"No," you say nonchalantly. "Just wanted to be selfish for a second."

You rise up on your tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips. He melts into you, one hand coming up to cup your jaw while the other finds the small of your back. You side your tongue over his lower lip and he presses you against the door leading to who knew where and opens his mouth to you. You sigh into the kiss, arms winding around his neck and losing yourself in him.

Now that you had gotten over your anxiety, everything was so much easier. You know there's press roaming about the building and any number of them could pass by at any moment but you genuinely couldn't care less. Let them talk; you were over caring what anyone thought or said.

All that mattered was the man beneath your fingertips. You would endure a lifetime of insults if he was the one to soothe the wounds afterwards. As long as you both were happy, no one could come between you ever again.

Pierre pulls away when someone passes by and coughs quietly. "You're trouble," he murmurs, leaving an arm propped next to your head and effectively caging you in.

"And you're dangerous," you tease, tugging on his hair and exposing his throat enough to nip at it once. "Together we're the perfect pair."

He groans and leans away. "Keep that up and I might have to stay in London an extra week."

You slip out of his grasp and give him an unrestrained grin. "Don't threaten me with a good time." You spin on your heel and set off down the hall, swaying your hips a little more than necessary.

"You know where you're going?" He calls after you.

"Someone will point me in the right direction, I'm sure."

"Someone like me." He catches up to you and once again takes your hand in his. He was enjoying showing you off almost as much as you enjoyed hanging on him.

"Maybe we should head right to Max's office and hurry home, huh?"

"Maybe-"

"Pierre, there you are."

You both turn to a woman hustling up the hall after you. She’s slight and her brown curls bounce as she jogs to where the two of you pause at a bend. You glance up to Pierre to see if he's just as confused as you are.

"Hey Mary," he says cheerily. "How are you? Sorry I didn't check in with you when I got here."

"Oh it's fine- why aren't you in the Alpha samples I sent?” The woman props a fist on her hip and tips her head to the side. “I think I got your size right now that I’ve laid eyes on you. I was hoping for a shoot today since you've finally come by."

It takes you a moment to register that she's addressing you. You shoot Pierre a look and he offers you a tentative, closed off smile. "Um, what Alpha gear?"

The woman's chocolate brown eyes go wide. "The ones I've been sending to Pierre. Hoodies, dresses, jackets. All the stuff from the new line. They have been sending the samples to you, right?"

"Um, yeah I've gotten them," Pierre says, rubbing his neck. "I haven't given them to her though."

"Oh, I see!” Pink tinges Mary’s cheeks. “I must have missed a memo. I just thought that you'd want to do a shoot with her today, since we already had a quick one planned for you. After all, you talk about her all the time."

"He does?"

Mary nods. "Oh yes, we've all heard plenty about you. You're lucky to have someone so enamored with you. I just dropped off some more samples in Max's office as a little thank you for letting us steal him so often-"

"Okay, thank you Mary," Pierre says abruptly. "I'll get back to you on that."

Pierre steers you away and down the hall. "What was she talking about? Why would they want me to come by for a photo shoot?"

Pierre runs a hand through his hair and pauses outside Max's office. The Dutchman must have been away because Pierre pulls out his key and fits it in the lock. "I just- come on."

He waves you inside and you obey, letting him close the door and grant you some semblance of privacy before continuing.

"I never formally told anyone that we broke up. Most people came to their own conclusions once they didn't see you around for a while. Some people didn't get the message. Obviously Mary was one of them. I would still talk about you, I couldn't help myself. There was one shoot where Yuki and I were together and he mentioned off hand that you'd be a good brand ambassador. I tried to explain that it wouldn't work but Mary wouldn't hear it and she just kept sending me more and more samples.”

You draw a breath and interrupt his rambling. “But where-”

"I had it all in a box in my office but I struggled to concentrate with a reminder of you hanging over my head. I sent it over here to Max and that's where it's sat ever since. I used the excuse that Max was in town more often than I was and no one read too far into it."

"Why didn't you tell me?" You whisper. "I would've taken them. I'm sure you got an earful from Mary."

"Would you have?” Pierre pauses, your silence in the face of his frustration speaking volumes. “I waited four months to hear from you. Tell me that sending you thousands of dollars in unreleased merch wouldn't have made you even more hesitant to come back to me."

Not knowing what else to say, you let your gaze fall to the carpet. Sending you expensive things would have felt something like a bribe, like he was trying to influence you with fancy clothes.

Pierre shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter, it’s in the past now. We can take it home today and you can wear it when I take you for dinner and Alpha will get the press they’re after. Everyone will be happy.”

He wasn’t happy. That much was plain to see. He hadn’t been able to stomach seeing something intended for you, even that minute of a reminder had been too much for him to bear. God, you had thoroughly wrecked him. You were lucky that there were still enough pieces of him left to heal.

“I didn’t realize you were hurting so bad,” you say, voice barely above a whisper as you cross the cramped space to him, stepping over piles of strewn paperwork carefully so as to not disturb whatever random order they were placed in. You don’t dare reach out to touch him as his shoulders slump, any and all forward momentum he’d gathered suddenly sapped.

“It’s one of the worst things I’ve ever gone through.”

Unable to let him suffer alone with his thoughts, you wrap your arms around his middle and let your cheek rest between his shoulders. “I didn’t mean to alienate you. I was waiting for you, too.”

“You needed space and I gave it to you.” His hand rests on your arm with a gentleness you’ve come to expect when he lays himself bare like this. “There were so many times I almost gave in to the impulse and just messaged you but I made myself wait. I didn’t want to rush it and make things worse. You always need time to think things through- I knew you would come around eventually. It didn’t make it any easier though.”

You rub soothing circles on his side as you blink back the tears that spring to your eyes. “I’m sorry I put you through that. I’m sorry I took so long and I’m sorry I made you wait. It had to have been torture-”

He turns in your embrace and cups your chin, forcing you to look up at him. The pad of his thumb sweeps across your cheek, the metal of the ring on his middle finger biting into your flushed skin. “It’s alright. You had a lot to sort through and I had to respect that.”

“We lost so much time-”

“Hey,” he says softly, ducking his head to meet your eyes. “We’re together now. If there’s one thing I’m sure of it’s that you can’t let missed opportunities control you or else you’ll never be happy.”

You nod, swiping your sleeve under your eyes. “What did they send?” you ask, nodding towards the box overflowing with tan and navy threads.

“Pull up a chair,” Pierre suggests, “there’s a lot.”

You roll over Max’s desk chair and tug on Pierre’s arm. Once he gets the picture and sits, you settle in his lap. He winds an arm around your middle, the close contact already soothing your frazzled nerves.

“That better?” he murmurs.

“Much better.”

@seasidetom @flashcal @limp-wrist-max @sunshinesewis @lifeofzoemichael @ninuffi @perfectfantasies22 @lamboleglerg @ladyperceval @0forgottenparadise0 @evie-pr @avsensio @ninuffi @ricciartodododo

If you have asked to be tagged in the past and I missed you I apologize! Just comment below and I’ll get you added for future updates. Thanks for reading ❤

#my writing #pierre gasly #pierre gasly imagine #formula 1 #formula 1 fanfiction #formula 1 fantasy #formula 1 fanfic #pierre gasly x reader #f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic #f1 fantasy #f1 imagine #formula 1 fic #formula 1 imagine #f1 rpf #formula 1 rpf #pierre gasly fanfiction

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microcosme11 · 4 years

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Famous letter from Napoleon to Josephine. Heartrending!!

This is the letter and its translation.

Nice, le 10 germinal

Je n'ai pas passé un jour sans t'aimer ; je n'ai pas passé une nuit sans te serrer dans mes bras ; je n'ai pas pris une tasse de thé sans maudire la gloire et l'ambition qui me tiennent éloigné de l'âme de ma vie. Au milieu des affaires, à la tête des troupes, en parcourant les camps, mon adorable Joséphine est seule dans mon coeur, occupe mon esprit, absorbe ma pensée. Si je m'éloigne de toi avec la vitesse du torrent du Rhône, c'est pour te revoir plus vite. Si, au milieu de la nuit, je me lève pour travailler, c'est que cela peut avancer de quelques jours l'arrivée de ma douce amie, et cependant, dans ta lettre du 23 au 26 ventôse, tu me traites de vous.

Vous toi-même ! Ah ! mauvaise, comment as-tu pu écrire cette lettre ! Qu'elle est froide ! Et puis, du 23 au 26, restent quatre jours ; qu'as-tu fait, puisque tu n'as pas écrit à ton mari ?... Ah ! mon amie, ce vous et ces quatre jours me font regretter mon antique indifférence. Malheur à qui en serait la cause ! Puisse-t-il, pour peine et pour supplice, éprouver ce que la conviction et l'évidence (qui servit ton ami) me feraient éprouver ! L'Enfer n'a pas de supplice ! Ni les Furies, de serpents ! Vous ! Vous ! Ah ! que sera-ce dans quinze jours ?...

Mon âme est triste ; mon coeur est esclave, et mon imagination m'effraie... Tu m'aimes moins ; tu seras consolée. Un jour, tu ne m'aimeras plus ; dis-le-moi ; je saurai au moins mériter le malheur... Adieu, femme, tourment, bonheur, espérance et âme de ma vie, que j'aime, que je crains, qui m'inspire des sentiments tendres qui m'appellent à la Nature, et des mouvements impétueux aussi volcaniques que le tonnerre. Je ne te demande ni amour éternel, ni fidélité, mais seulement... vérité, franchise sans bornes. Le jour où tu dirais «je t'aime moins» sera le dernier de ma vie. Si mon coeur était assez vil pour aimer sans retour, je le hacherais avec les dents.

Joséphine, Joséphine ! Souviens-toi de ce que je t'ai dit quelquefois : la Nature m'a fait l'âme forte et décidée. Elle t'a bâtie de dentelle et de gaze. As-tu cessé de m'aimer ? Pardon, âme de ma vie, mon âme est tendue sur de vastes combinaisons. Mon coeur, entièrement occupé par toi, a des craintes qui me rendent malheureux... Je suis ennuyé de ne pas t'appeler par ton nom. J'attends que tu me l'écrives. Adieu ! Ah ! si tu m'aimes moins, tu ne m'auras jamais aimé. Je serais alors bien à plaindre.

P.-S. - La guerre, cette année, n'est plus reconnaissable. J'ai fait donner de la viande, du pain, des fourrages ; ma cavalerie armée marchera bientôt. Mes soldats me marquent une confiance qui ne s'exprime pas ; toi seule me chagrine ; toi seule, le plaisir et le tourment de ma vie. Un baiser à tes enfants dont tu ne parles pas ! Pardi ! cela allongerait tes lettres de moitié. Les visiteurs, à dix heures du matin, n'auraient pas le plaisir de te voir. Femme !!!

***************Translation from napoleon.org***************

I have not spent a day without loving you; I have not spent a night without clasping you in my arms; I have not drunk a cup of tea without cursing the glory and ambition which keep me from the heart of my very being. In the midst of my activities, whether at the head of my troops or inspecting the camps, my adorable Josephine stands alone in my heart, she occupies my mind and fills my thoughts. If I depart from you with the speed of the rushing Rhone, it is only so that I may see you again more quickly. If I get up in the middle of the night to work, it is because this may hasten by some days the arrival of my sweet love. Yet in your letter of the 23rd and of the 26th Ventose, you address me as ‘Vous’.

‘Vous’ yourself! Ah! Wretched woman, how could you have written this letter? It is so cold. And then there are those four days between the 23rd and the 26th; what were you doing? Because you were not writing to your husband. … Ah, my love, that ‘Vous’ and those four days make me long for my former indifference. Woe to the person responsible! May that person, as punishment and suffering, experience what my conviction and the evidence that he is that person’s friend make me experience! Hell has no torments great enough! Nor the Furies serpents! ‘Vous’! ‘Vous’! Ah! What will it be in two weeks?

My spirit is heavy; my heart is in chains and I am appalled by my imaginings…You love me less; but you will recover. One day you will no longer love me; Say it; I shall then know how to be worthy of this misfortune. …Farewell, wife, torment, joy, hope and heart of my being, whom I love and fear, and who inspires in me gentle emotions which draw me close to Nature and violent impulses as volcanic as Etna. I ask of you neither eternal love, nor fidelity, but simply…truth, unlimited honesty. The day when you say “I love you less”, will either be the end of my love or the last day of my life. If my heart were base enough to love without being loved in return I would tear it to pieces with my teeth.

Josephine! Josephine! Remember what I have sometimes said to you: Nature has made me strong and decisive. She has made you out of lace and gossamer. Do you love me no longer? Forgive me, love of my life, my heart is racked by conflicting forces. Obsessed by you, my heart is full of fears which make me unhappy…I am distressed not to be calling you by name. I shall wait for you to write it. Farewell! Ah! if you love me less you can never have loved me. In that case I shall truly be pitiable.

Bonaparte

P.S. The war is completely changed this year. I have had meat, bread and fodder distributed; my armed cavalry and baggage will soon be on the march. My soldiers are showing inexpressible confidence in me; you alone are a source of chagrin to me; you alone are the joy and torment of my life. I send a kiss to your children, whom you do not mention. By God! If you did, it would make your letters longer, and then the ten o’clock in the morning visitors would not have the pleasure of seeing you. Woman!!!

#Napoleon's letters #napoleon.org #love letters of Napoleon

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blkgirlsinthefuture · 3 years

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My BlackGirlMagicPotion (in the making)

English and French version

-------------------------------English--------------------------------------

My potion feels like a lie, like a fraud. She is a mix of two amazing sorcerers that forgot to give me my first grimoire.

My potion is the discomfort against the hungry looks that jackals give me, for being this fetishized creature. My potion is how pretty my hair is because it’s bigger, more alive, more fun than white girls’, but smaller, more acceptable than black women’s. It’s how everyone around me feels entitled to touch it and tell me that it would be great as a pillow. My potion is how light my skin is, while still having this honey layer come out when the sun resuscitates me. Making my white friends jealous. It’s my father’s features being slimmed down by my mother’s.

But my potion is also the sun-warm hugs that my dad wraps me in. It’s the long hours spent in bathtubs with my mom detangling my curls. It’s my grandmother’s warm apple pie undertaken by the taste of cinnamon that she only does for me. It’s the sound of my parents dancing to the rhythm of zouk. It’s the calm that my soul is, under the shining sun and breathing of the waves. It’s how the salt covers my body like a star dress. It’s how watering my plants feels like nurturing my soul. It’s how decorating my room makes me proud. It’s how my stretch marks flash like lightning. It’s how my body awakens to music by dancing. It’s how a shared fresh beer feels like a vacation. It’s how my aunt braids my hair while reminding me of my place in this world. It’s how pineapple is sweet both in my mouth but also on top of my head, no matter what that dumb child said in middle school. It’s how fictional characters feel more reachable than real people. It’s how fictional characters are so much more lovable. It’s how taking care of my appearance feels like a ceremony. It’s when my giggles forbid me to breathe. It’s the late-night bike rides. It’s my mom’s lasagna. It’s the naps with my baby brother. It’s my friend’s godly presence. It’s the rugby games on the TV. It’s the chance to debate with people and to learn from them. It’s the taste of my dad’s and aunt’s cooking. It’s my zodiac sign serving as an excuse for my love for food, my bed, and my stubbornness. It’s how addicted I have become to inked needles and shiny ones. It’s how the beads in my hair sing like bells, even if it makes too much noise sometimes. It’s how freedom feels driving my car. It’s how magical stars look in the silence. It’s how my brain is one step away from becoming the character from my stories. It’s how proud I am to be a woman. It’s the smell of spices, mostly garlic and madras on my hands. It’s how the cards feel familiar between my hands during the family afternoon. It’s the smell of lavender in my clothes, my bedsheets. It’s the shrimp beignet that my uncle makes. It’s how the rug in my living room feels like a cloud. It’s the late-night cravings that turn into a gastronomic dish. It’s my hair being frozen by coconut oil in winter. It’s the sand in the shower drain. It’s me stealing vinyl from my grandfather because he does not listen to them and they deserve to be loved. It’s being surrounded by a crowd of color, of zouk, of afro-music, and feeling like you are a part of something bigger than yourself. It’s the Vaseline that comes with you everywhere. It’s the tapping of my nails against a table, or my leg jumping up and down because I am too much alive sometimes and I want to explode.

I have my place in both worlds, but I also do not. My potion comes with privilege that others don’t have. It comes at the price of not knowing which community you belong to, it comes to being an individual. I was always reluctant to define myself. I was never the person that says, I am mixed-raced. Because of how light I am, people did not believe me. I always said that my dad was brown and my mom was white. They were definable. And that if I did not look at all like my mom and brothers it was because I was my dad’s daughter. I am aware that I will never experience what black women experience. I am not a black woman, neither am I a white woman, I am neither and both at the same time.

--------------------------------French--------------------------------------

Ma potion a un goût de mensonge, comme une escroquerie. Ma potion est un mélange de deux sorciers incroyables qui ont oublié de me donner mon premier grimoire.

Ma potion est-ce malaise face aux regards affamés que les chacals me lancent, étant cette créature fantasmatique. Ma potion c’est le fait que mes cheveux sont magnifiques car ils sont plus grands, plus animés que ceux des filles blanches, mais plus petit, plus acceptable que ceux des femmes noires. C’est le fait que les gens autour de moi pensent avoir le droit de les toucher et de me dire qu’ils feront un super coussin. Ma potion c’est ma peau claire, tout en ayant ce sou teinte de miel qui ressort quand le soleil me redonne vie. Rendant ainsi mes amis blancs jaloux. C’est les traits de mon père amincis par ceux de ma mère.

Mais ma potion c’est aussi les câlins doux comme le soleil dans lesquels mon papa m’enveloppe. C’est les longues heures passées dans un bain avec ma maman à me démêler les cheveux. C’est les tartes à la pomme chaude, imprégnées de Cannelle, que ma grand-mère ne prépare que pour moi. C’est le son de mes parents qui danse au rythme du zouk. C’est le calme qui envahit mon âme sous le soleil étincelant et le halètement des vagues. C’est le sel qui recouvre mon corps comme une robe d’étoiles. C’est arrosé mes plantes comme si je nourrissais mon âme. C’est le fait que décorer ma chambre me rend fière. C’est mes vergetures qui chatoient telles que les éclairs. C’est mon corps qui s’éveille en dansant au son de la musique. C’est ce sentiment de vacances qui accompagne une bière fraîche partagée. C’est ma tante me tressant les cheveux qui me rappelle ma place dans ce monde. C’est l’exister de l’ananas à la fois dans ma bouche mais aussi sur ma tête, qu’importe ce que ce gosse stupide m’a dit en grande section. C’est à quel point les personnages de fiction semblent plus accessibles que les vraies personnes. C’est combien les personnages de fiction sont beaucoup plus attrayants. C’est comment me préparer me donne l’impression de procéder à une cérémonie sacrée. C’est rire à m’en étouffer. C’est les balades en vélos au milieu de la nuit. C’est les lasagnes de ma maman. C’est les siestes avec mon petit frère. C’est la divine présence de mes amis. C’est les matchs de rugby à la télé. C’est l’opportunité de pouvoir débattre avec les gens et d’apprendre d’eux. C’est la saveur de la cuisine de mon père et de ma tante. C’est le fait d’utiliser mon signe astrologique comme excuse pour mon amour de la nourriture, mon lit et mon entêtement. C’est mon addiction grandissante des aiguilles d’encres et de bijoux. C’est les perles dans mes cheveux qui chantent comme des cloches, même si parfois elles font trop de bruit. C’est ce sentiment de liberté en conduisant ma voiture. C’est cette atmosphère magique que les étoiles ont dans le silence. C’est cette envie irrésistible de devenir un de mes personnages d’histoires. C’est la fierté que je ressens d’être une femme. C’est cette odeur d’épices, d’ail, de madras qui émanent de mes mains. C’est la familiarité des cartes dans mes mains les après-midi en famille. C’est l’odeur de lavande sur mes vêtements et mes draps. C’est les beignets à la crevette que mon oncle prépare. C’est le fait que le tapis du salon me fait penser à un nuage. C’est les fringales au beau milieu de la nuit qui se transforment en repas gastronomique. C’est mes cheveux congelés par l’huile de noix de coco en hiver. C’est le sable dans le siphon de la douche. C’est le vol de vinyle de mon grand-père parce qu’ils ne les écoutent pas et qu’ils méritent d’être aimés. C’est le fait d’être entouré par une foule de couleur, de zouk, de music afro et d’avoir l’impression de faire partie de quelque chose plus grand que toi. C’est la Vaseline qui t’accompagne partout où tu vas. C’est le tâtonnement dès mes ongles sur une table, où ma jambe sautillant parce que des fois je suis si vivante que je veux exploser.

J’appartiens à ces deux mondes, comme je n’y appartiens pas. Ma potion viens avec un privilège que d’autres n’ont pas. Elle vient avec ce prix de ne pas savoir à quel communauté tu appartiens, elle vient accompagnée de l’individualité. J’ai toujours été réticente à me définir. Je n’ai jamais vraiment été cette personne qui dit, je suis métisse. Les gens ne me croyaient pas parce que ma peau est claire. J’ai toujours dis que mon père était métisse et ma mère blanche. On pouvaient les définir. Et si je ne ressemblais pas à ma mère ni mes frères c’étaient parce que j’étais la fille de mon père. Je suis consciente que je ne vivrais jamais ce qu’une femme noire va vivre. Je ne suis pas une femme noire, ni une femme blanche, je suis une femme noire et une femme blanche, je suis à la fois les deux et rien du tout.

-Chelsy

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hinatsu23 · 4 years

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List of songs from PotO 1990

I have just watched the PotO TV miniseries adaptation of 1990 !

It was very lovely and I really liked all the traditional french songs incorporated inside !! (also cherik ahah)

Sadly the songs are quite hard to find back or even to identify,, So I decided to try to regroup them and type them if possible in that post so maybe it can help some people fr some phan creations or even just sing them along the movie huhu ~ (also that way i can escape the stress of my oral in few hours,,)

Moreover, while I searched for the songs, I noticed the movie tended to modify/altern the lyrics most of the time, so I wrote the one sung in the movie by preference and the original is quoted so you can search for the original lyrics by yourself.

Sadly as I’m only French, I tried my best for the Italian operas’ ones but it’s very difficult for me to tell if some lyrics were added/removed bc of sound quality so sorry for the mistakes ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

There's a song or two sadly i couldn't identify so if you have any clues about them let me know ! ✨ (also very sorry on word its very clean but on tumblr somethings went berserk and the look isn’t changeable im so sorry it looks sometimes yurk like ;;)

Finally if you want english translation for the French songs I can provide some just ask me even tho it won't be perfect as English isn’t my native language tho (for Italians ones well too bad I don’t speak it but they’re easy to find online!)

(The songs are in order of apparition)

Song of Christine Daaé in the Attic w/ all the objects (inspired by "Auprès de ma Blonde")

“Elles viennent de chez mon père

Les lauriers sont fleuris

Tous les oiseaux du monde

S'en vont y faire leurs nids

Auprès de ma blonde

Qu'il fait bon, bon bon, bon bon

Di lala di li, La lilili la

Elle chante pour les filles

Qui n'ont point de mari

Ne chante pas pour moi

Car j'en ai un joli

Auprès de ma blonde

Qu'il fait bon, Lala ladi

Auprès de ma blonde,

La da dilili hon hon hon

Auprès de ma blonde

Qu'il fait bon dormir !”

Song of Christine Daaé wondering around the theater - first time Cherik sees her (Inspired by Laissez-moi planter le mai, only few lyrics)

“ -does some Aah/Lala/Dululu-

En riant, tout en riant

Laissez-moi- (dululu ..)

Moi qui suis gentil galant

Bergère il faut aimer

En riant, tout en riant

Laissez-moi planter le mai

Moi qui suis gentil galant ”

Faust by Charles Goudot : Act I - End of 1st scene, start of 2nd - Rehearsal of Faust (Récitatif & Duo)

“ (Faust)

Maudite sois-tu, patience!

A moi, Satan! à moi!

(Méphistopheles)

Me voici ! – D'où vient ta surprise ?

Ne suis-je pas mis à ta guise ?

L'épée au côté, la plume au chapeau,

L'escarcelle pleine, un riche manteau

Sur l'épaule ; – en somme

Un vrai gentilhomme!

("A moi!" echoing a bit until the scene is over)”

Norma by Vincenzo Bellini : Sediziose voci di guerra – 1rst Carlotta disaster (Italian)

“ (Norma)

Sediziose voci, voci di guerra

Avvi chi alzarsi attenta

Presso all'ara del Dio?

V'ha chi presume

Dettar responsi alla veggente

Norma, E di Roma affrettar il fato arcano?

Ei non dipende, no, non dipende

Da potere umano.”

Sonnambula by Vincenzo Bellini – Lesson w/ Cherik (Italian) I have heard it was this song but I really don’t know which one is it from the opera sorry

La Traviata by Giuseppe Verdi : Libiamo nè lieti calici (Brindisi) – 2nd Carlotta’s disaster (Italian)

“(Alfredo)

Che suscita l'amore, Poiché quell'occhio al core Onnipotente va. Libiamo, amore, amor fra i calici Più caldi baci avrà. (Everyone) Libiamo, amor fra i calici Più caldi baci avrà. (Violetta) Tra voi, tra voi, saprò dividere Il tempo mio giocondo; Tutto è follia, follia nel mondo Ciò che non è piacer. Godiam, fugace e rapido È il gaudio dell'amore; È un fior che nasce e muore, Né più si può goder. Godiam c'invita, c’invita un fervido Accento lusinghier. (Everyone) Godiam la tazza, la tazza e il cantico La notte abbella e il riso; In questo paradiso Ne scopra il nuovo dì. ”

Le Fiacre by Jean Sablon – First song sang in the bistrot by a woman

“ Un fiacre allait, trottinant, Cahin, caha, Hu, dia, hop là ! Un fiacre allait, trottinant, Jaune, avec un cocher blanc.

Derrièr' les stores baissés, Cahin, caha, Hu, dia, hop là ! Derrièr' les stores baissés On entendait des bai-baisers.

Puis un' voix disant : " Léon ! Cahin, caha, Hu, dia, hop là ! Puis un' voix disant : " Léon ! Pour ... causer, ôt' ton lorgnon !"

Un vieux monsieur qui passait, Cahin, caha, Hu, dia, hop là ! ”

(There’s a song while Philippe is talking but I have no clue what it could be)

Also there’s another song right after Cherik saying “I’ve never seen such perfection” I have nooooo idea what it could be but I was able to catch some lyrics (only the start bc the rest is inaudible w/ the charas voices on top of it)

“ Et que le diable emporte

Si je n’ai jamais su comment !

(S’il n’a jamais su comment !)

La deuxième et la première

Ainsi que la quatrième,

Elles pleurent

(Elles pleurent)

Je les pleure également !

Au-delà de la septième plaie(?)”

And then I don’t hear anything oops

Chevaliers de la Table Ronde – Last song before the Epic Opera Battle (I could catch only a line and the final one bc voices again but it seems that before the final line, the lyrics aren’t the same as what’s written online)

“(Man)

Allons soyons humble,

Chacun et portais-je

Ma vie prendre mes deux poussières ( ?? it makes no sense but i hear half of what theyre saying)

(…)

Sur ma tombe, je veux qu’on inscrive

« Ici-gît le roi des buveurs »

(Everyone)

Sur ma tombe, je veux qu’on inscrive

« Ici-gît le roi des buveurs »

(Man)

« Ici-gît ! »

(Everyone)

« Ici-gît ! »

(Man)

« Ici-gît ! »

(Everyone)

Dans la tombe !

(Man)

« Ici-gît le roi des buveurs

Ici-gît ! »

(Everyone)

« Ici-gît ! »

(Man)

« Ici-gît ! »

(Everyone)

Dans la tombe !

(Man)

« Ici-gît le roi des buveurs »

La fille du régiment by Gaetano Donizetti : Par le rang et l’opulence… Salut à la France – Christine vs Carlotta song

“Sous les bijoux et la dentelle, ah je cache un chagrin sans espoir

Sans espoir, sans espoir, sans espoir, sans espoir… A quoi me sert d'être si belle,

Lui seul, il ne doit pas me voir. (Carlotta then Christine)

Lui seul, il ne doit pas me voir.

Oh toi qui je fis ravir, Dont j’ai partagé le destin… Je donnerais toute ma vie

Pour pouvoir vous serrer la main ! Je donnerais

Je donnerais toute ma vie

Pour pouvoir vous serrer la main !

(Carlotta leaves)

Je donnerais toute ma vie

Ah, pour pouvoir vous serrer la…

Pour pouvoir vous serrer

La main…”

Laissez-moi planter le mai – Flashback of Christine and Philippe’s childhood

“Hier matin je m’y levais

Laissez-moi planter le mai

Vers le bois je m’en allais

En riant, tout en riant

Laissez-moi planter le mai

Moi qui suis gentil galant

Hier matin.. ”

Faust by Charles Gounod : Act II Scene 5 (Ainsi que la brise légère) – Christine’s disaster

“(Everyone) Ainsi que la brise légère Soulève en épais tourbillons La poussière de les sillons,

La poussière de les sillons, Que la valse nous entraîne ! Faites retentir la plaine De l'éclat de vos chansons ! De l'éclat de vos chansons !

(Faust) La voici ! ... C'est elle ! ...

(Méphistophélès) Eh bien, aborde-la !

(Siebel) Marguerite !

(Méphistophélès) Plaît-il ?

(Siebel) Maudit homme ! encor là ! ...

(Méphistophélès) Eh quoi, mon ami ! vous voilà ! ... Ah ah ! Vraiment ! mon ami ! vous voilà !

(Faust) Ne permettrez-vous pas, ma belle demoiselle, Qu'on vous offre le bras pour faire le chemin ?

(Marguerite) Non, monsieur ! je ne suis demoiselle, ni belle- !”

Faust by Charles Gounod : Act V scenes – Final song w/ Cherik interfering (Mix of several scenes)

“ (Act I Scene 2)

(Méphistophélès)

Je puis contenter ton caprice.

(Faust)

Et que te donnerai-je en retour ?

(Méphistophélès) Presque rien ! Presque rien ! Ici, je suis à ton service, Mais là-bas, tu seras au mien !

(Faust) Là-bas ? ...

(Méphistophélès) Là-bas... Allons, signe ! Eh quoi ! ta main tremble ! Que faut-il pour te décider ? La jeunesse t'appelle ; ose la regarder !

(From Act I Scene 2 to Act III Scene 4)

(Marguerite)

Ah ! je ris de me voir, Si belle en ce miroir ! Est-ce toi, Marguerite ? Est-ce toi ? Réponds-moi, réponds, réponds, réponds vite ! Non ! non ! – ce n'est plus toi ! Non ! non ! – ce n'est plus ton visage ! C'est la fille d'un roi, C'est la fille d'un roi, C'est la fille d'un roi, Qu'on salue au passage ! – Ah, s'il était ici ! ... S'il me voyait ainsi ! Comme une demoiselle, Il me trouverait belle.

Comme une demoiselle, Il me trouverait belle.

Comme une demoiselle, Il me trouverait belle. Achevons la métamorphose ! Il me tarde encor d'essayer Le bracelet et le collier ! Dieu ! c'est comme une main qui sur mon bras se pose !

Ah, ce n'est plus ton visage, Non ! c'est la fille d'un roi, Qu'on salue au passage.

(From Act III Scene 3 to Act V Scene 4)

(Méphistophélès)

(Le geôlier) dort, – voici les clefs, il faut Que ta main d'homme la délivre !

(Faust) Laissez-nous !

(Méphistophélès) Hâte-toi ! – Moi, je veille au dehors !

(From Act V Scene 4 to 5)

(Faust) Mon cœur est pénétré d'épouvante !

O torture ! O source de regrets et d'éternels remords ! C'est elle ! La voici, la douce créature, Marguerite ! Marguerite !

(Marguerite) Ah c'est la voix du bien aimé ! A son amour mon cœur s'est ranimé.

(Faust) Marguerite !

(Marguerite) Au milieu de vos éclats de rire, Démons qui m'entourez, j'ai reconnu sa voix !

(Faust) Marguerite !

(Marguerite) Sa main, sa douce main m'attire ! Je suis libre, il est là, je suis libre,

Il est là, je l'entends, je le vois !

Oui, c'est toi ! je t'aime ! Oui, c'est toi ! je t'aime ! Les fers, la mort même Ne me font plus peur, Tu m'as retrouvée, Tu m'as retrouvée,

Me voilà sauvée ! C'est toi bien, je suis sûre !

(Faust) Cherik

Oui, c'est moi, je t'aime !

Oui, c'est moi, je t'aime ! Malgré l'effort même Du démon moqueur, Je t'ai retrouvée !

Je t'ai retrouvée ! Te voilà sauvée

Te voilà sauvée

C’est moi, Viens, viens sur mon cœur !

(From Act V Scene 5 to 6)

(Méphistophélès)

Alerte ! alerte ! ou vous êtes perdus ! Si vous tardez encor je ne m'en mêle plus !

(Marguerite) Mon Dieu, protégez-moi !

(Faust) Both Viens !

(Marguerite) Mon Dieu, je vous implore !

(Faust) Both Fuyons ! Peut-être il en est temps encore !

(Marguerite)

Anges pure, anges radieux, Portez mon âme au sein des cieux ! Dieu juste, à toi je m’abandonne ! Dieu bon, je suis à toi, pardonne !

Anges pure, anges radieux, Portez mon âme au sein des cieux !

(Faust) Cherik

Viens, suis-moi, je le veux !

(Marguerite)

Anges pure, anges radieux, Portez mon âme au sein des cieux !

(Méphistophélès)

Hâtons-nous !

(Marguerite)

Dieu juste, à toi je m’abandonne !

(Faust) Both but Cherik is clearly dominant

Viens, suis-moi !

(Marguerite)

Dieu juste, à toi je m’abandonne !

(Faust) ^^^

Viens, suis-moi, suis-moi !

(Marguerite)

Dieu bon, je suis à toi, pardonne !

(Faust) ^^^

Viens, je le veux !

*(Marguerite) Anges pure, anges radieux,

(Faust) ^^^

Viens, viens, quittons ces lieux !

(Marguerite) Portez mon âme au sein des cieux !

(Faust) ^^^

Déjà le jour envahit les cieux !

(Marguerite)

Anges pure, anges radieux, Portez mon âme au sein des cieux !*

*(Marguerite)

Dieu juste, à toi je m’abandonne !

(Faust)

Viens ! Viens !

Viens, c’est moi, c’est moi qui te l’ordonne !

(Marguerite) Dieu bon, je suis à toi, pardonne !

Anges pure, anges radieux,

(Faust)

Viens, viens, quittons ces lieux !

(Marguerite)

Portez mon âme au sein le ciel !

(Faust) Both but clearly Cherik at the end

Déjà le jour envahit les cieux !* ”

(* = They sing it almost at same time so I tried to write it in the order they sing it but yeah as well a nightmare to follow as to type it down while listening to their wonderful voices at least ten times)

I hope it will be helpful or will serve anybody !

71 notes · View notes

seachretlyunique · 5 years

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theauthorunicorn · 7 years

Text

Inevitable - Part 6 | Shawn Mendes x Reader

Summary: Reader is an actress and was about to attend her boyfriend’s concert, Shawn’s when she met her inevitable fate.

Missed anything? Read Inevitable Series below;

Read Part One of Inevitable here.

Read Part Two of Inevitable here.

Read Part Three of Inevitable here.

Read Part Four of Inevitable here.

Read Part Five of Inevitable here.

Authors note: Font like this, italics is a flashback/memory.

Shawn

I can see her.

Reader

He's here.

Shawn

I inhaled deeply as I entered her room. She was sleeping, so beautiful. An oxygen supports her breathing, slowly, her chest is simulating a movement of aspiration. I stood still as I watch her.

"Hi." I mumbled.

I settled her coffee and the bouquet in the table situated in her left. I brushed my hair as grabbed a chair near her bed. Rested myself for a while, as my right hands slowly massaging my temple. Seeing her filled my empty spaces tonight. I leaned towards her bed as I slowly grab her hands and hold to it, I run my fingers rubbing against her cold hand. I smiled weakly.

"Hi." I murmured again.

Reader

"Hello." I answered him sweetly.

I can see the sadness in his eyes while he's looking at me. He makes himself comfortable as he sat on the chair. He bought me coffee and a bouquet of rose. I smiled at those. He managed to get a coffee and bouquet of rose at this late time. Real smooth, Mendes. I am forever in love with you.

As he brushed his hair and massaged his temple I can see the weariness in his eyes. If he could hear me, plausibly, I'll tell him none of this was his fault. It was the truck's driver fault and my judgements too. Probably, if I stepped the breaks earlier that moment, this would never happen. None of this. Presumably, the tires could bear rain bathe road. It's all on me, I guess.

His fingers found mine as he rubs it slowly. I wanted to feel anything, his hands running against my skin, it's warmth. But, I feel nothing but nothing.

He continued doing it and I'm pissed as hell that none of those sensation were perceived.

"Hi." Shawn whispered again.

Shawn

"Is it okay if I'll put a headset on her so she can listen, some," I hesitated, "songs?" I asked the nurse as she checks Y/N's vitals.

"Mmm," she mumbled, "Yeah, it's okay." she answered.

I nodded and smiled at her.

"I'll be back after an hour." the nurse notified me as she egress the room.

My eyes finds Y/N's face, eyes were still closed. I pulled my phone and my earphones. I stood up to put the earphones in her ears slowly, not trying to cause any harm with the medical wires attached to her head.

She continued breathing.

I scrolled over my phone searching for the playlist she made two months ago.

"Tadaaaa!" she exclaimed, "I made you a playlist, mon amour, so that if we're oceans apart you always have me." she smiled sweetly.

"Oh, this is cool, babe." I pulled to hug her as I planted a kiss on her forehead. "I'm missing you already."

"What?!" she looked at me dismayed, "I'm here, you're here and you missed me already?" she questioned.

"Just the thought that any minute from now I'll be dragged by a car to the airport away from you makes me miss you already." I confessed.

"Well, listen to the songs in that playlist so you'll never miss me." she said as our body still intertwined by our arms wrapped around our bodies.

"Mmm," I mumbled as I grabbed her left hand and kissed it softly. "I wish you could be with me, in this tour."

"Yeah, I wished that too, but, I got some errands to run and," she paused as she cupped my cheeks, "we gonna see each other sixty days from now." she smiled sweetly.

"Sixty days without you by my side is a pain in my heart." I said teasingly.

"Oh, not this again, your cheesy pick-up lines. It's gross." she told me.

"Well, just a heads-up, if I am not in a tour and I'm not doing anything, if you have a taping even if it's early in the morning I'll be with you on the set and you, know watching you and befriending your co-stars." she laughed as I spoke those words.

She rested her head against my chest as she closed her eyes.

"Be well and wishing you a lot of luck for this tour, babe." that's how she like saying her goodbye's to me. I kissed her hair as I looked at her adoring the woman who captured my heart.

My phone buzzes, "That's our cue to stop hugging while talking to each other, Mendes." she breaks off from our hugs as she lace her fingers with mine walking to the door.

The walk were silent. She opened the door of her apartment for me as I exited her flat. She smiled sweetly that it aches my heart.

"We'll see each other, two months from now, babe and I'll surely miss you." she said as she her lips found mine for a quick kiss. She took a deep breath, "Bye." she waves me goodbye as I pulled her once again for a hug.

"Bye, my love. I love you." I told her.

"Aww, Shawn, I love you, too." she replied as we separated our bodies from the last hug we will have for the next sixty days as I walked away from her.

She standstill, leaning against her apartment's door frame, watching me walking away from her. I didn't look back because I'll surely run my way back at her arms.

I entered the car and we closed our door in union.

I scrolled my phone to see the playlist she made and grabbed my earphones.

I pressed play.

Reader

He puts an earphone across my ears and I suppose he wanted me to listen to some melodies as if it'll help to loose some eerie feelings.

I can hear him talk.

But, I can't hear the music.

I know he pressed the play button and set the rightful volume but I can't hear any music.

I can hear Shawn's humming.

But, not the tunes from this earphones.

Was it broken?

Or is this a part of being alive but not physically awake drama?

Read Part Seven of Inevitable here.

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glittergroovy · 3 months

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spring breakers • charli xcx

#spring breakers #spring breakers by charli xcx #charli xcx #charli xcx lyrics #album: brat #gif warning #glitter text #lyrics #pink #bloggif.com #mon amour two font #pink outline #thick outline #oie #hi it's me you're all in danger

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tides-of-clarity · 6 years

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“Ami just like we practice okay?” Kaito whisper as they sneaked up to Abel who was cooking dinner. Holding Ami the child giggle quietly into his hand. “ One, two, and three. Je t’aime mon amour!! “

“J’aime ta mere !!” They both burst into the kitchen holding the cake in shape of a heart with red font of please move in. Katio tried nearly a week to learn and also teach Ami to say that phrase. They still had their Japanese accent mixing into the french cutely.

@wandering-gentry

#i told you this was going to be cute and abe melting #you can save replying to this for later or whenever you want.#kaito asking official like a cutie

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lavegetarienne · 3 years

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comment ça il y a de l'amour dans l'air?

beh oui!

on ne va pas s'étendre sur le martyre de Saint Valentin dont on nous rebat les oreilles tous les ans, (quoique, si on en croit Sheldon, assister à un meurtre brutal peut être une idée d'activité à faire ce jour-là) parce que tout le monde le sait, non?

mais on pourrait plutôt mettre un peu de bucolique et de pensées d'amour dans cette journée. qu'on soit amoureux ou pas, d'ailleurs. il n'y a qu'à regarder dehors (même s'il neige par chez vous) l'appel du printemps est bien là, les oiseaux font leur nid (depuis plusieurs jours, je surveille des pies depuis la fenêtre de mon bureau, qui bâtissent leur forteresse en haut d'un pin) et chantent tôt le matin, bien avant que le Soleil ne se lève. alors pourquoi ne pas remplir ce jour d'amour et de fleurs? Aphrodite et Flora sont à l'honneur car de quoi avons nous plus besoin dans ce monde que de Beauté, d'Amour et de Fleurs? (mais non je ne suis pas hippie, je suis trop jeune d'abord... bon, ma soeur est plus jeune que moi , et elle l'est

... va comprendre Charles

faites des jolis gâteaux, partagez les avec les gens que vous aimez, et envoyez un peu d'amour dans ce monde individualiste et technologique, méditez un peu et mettez une petite bougie, qui sait ce qu'il en résultera? (en tout cas, c'est mieux que de la rancoeur ou de l'indifférence, on est tous d'accord là dessus) faites une petite plantation à deux pour symboliser votre amour, ou tout/e seul/e en visualisant que l'amour va s'épanouir dans votre vie comme cette plante qui va pousser, ou encore pour rendre à la Terre une infime partie de tout ce qu'elle nous offre, chaque jour.

vous voyez, les idées ne manquent pas!

quand j'étais adolescente, avec mes (rares) amies, on s'offrait des fleurs et des feuilles du jardin du lycée, que je faisais sécher rituellement dans mon agenda, en espérant que ça attirerait sur moi le regard d'un certain garçon...

ça a dû marcher...(il faut savoir être patient...

) aujourd'hui, j'ai reçu un cheesecake et offert des biscuits! voilà vous savez tout, et je n'en dirai pas plus d'abord! ah, si, vous aurez les recettes bien sûr, parce que, ben vous êtes là pour ça!!! (et vous faites bien, ma foi).

PS: pas besoin de vous jeter sur les ingrédients tout de suite, la fête de l'Amour ça peut -et ça devrait- être tous les jours, ça peut donc attendre vos prochaines courses; l'arrivée du printemps, le renouveau, tout ça tout ça, on est dedans pour plusieurs semaines!

🌺 les sablés rose-vanille

ingrédients

- 150g de farine dont 1 cuillère à café bombée de cacao amer (c'est pour la couleur) - 100g de St Hub, - 50g de sucre dont 2 cuillères à café de sucre vanillé - de la rose moulue et/ou de l'eau de rose (si vous utilisez de l'hydrolat de rose pour vos rituels de beauté, vous pouvez tout à fait l'utiliser, à condition qu'il soit bio et qu'il n'y ait qu'une seul ingrédient: de la rose) - quelques pétales de rose séchés, un nombre qui vous parle (par exemple: un pour vous et un pour votre aimée/e, ou un pour la paix dans le monde, ou pour votre meilleur/e ami/e, que sais je moi? à qui voulez vous donner de l'amour, c'est ça la question; bon pas plus de cinq... sinon les biscuits vont être un peu space) - un peu de colorant rouge, pourquoi pas

préparation

dans un saladier, fouetter le St Hub, non en l'honneur de la torture de Saint Valentin, mais bien pour le rendre crémeux. ajouter juste le sucre vanille, et mélanger à nouveau. ajouter la rose: poudre, hydrolat, pétales, selon votre goût et ce qu'il y a dans votre placard magique^^/ c'est le moment aussi de mettre de l'amour ! mélanger avec la conviction que l'amour va se répandre dans votre vie, et dans le monde, accessoirement.

revenons aux choses plus terre à terre: la farine, ce qui va donner du corps à l'esprit, héhé. on commence par ajouter le cacao amer, on fouette un peu, puis on ajoute la farine.

travailler le tout à la main, avec inspiration, toujours!

former une boule, envelopper de film alimentaire et mettre au fridge au moins 30mn.

et là vous pouvez disposer de votre vie, un petit moment. (pour ma part j'ai joué à LoL, lol).

sortir puis étaler la pâte sur un plan de travail fariné pour atteindre environ 0,5cm d'épaisseur. préchauffer le four à 160°.

découper des formes à l'aide d'un verre ou d'un emporte pièce en forme de coeur, ou autre chose qui vous apporte du réconfort, un chat par exemple, au hasard hein

et les disposer sur une plaque de cuisson.

enfourner 10 à 15mn, en surveillant bien la cuisson. vous pouvez mettre une feuille d'aluminium ou de papier cuisson sur le dessus pour qu'ils ne brunissent pas trop/

à conserver ou offrir dans une boîte en métal, jolie s'il vous plaît.

🌺 no cheese cake vanille-framboise-violette

ingrédients

- 1 barquette de tofu soyeux (400g) - 1 briquette de crème végétale (soja) - 1 sachet de poudre pour flan à la vanille (ancel) - 80g de sucre glace - 1 paquet de biscuits secs type petit brun , vegan avec huile de palme ou "petit nature" de bjorg, vegan sans huile de palme - matière grasse végétale type St Hubert (sans huile de palme too) - des framboises surgelées - du sirop à la violette - 1 sachet d'agar-agar - des violettes fraîches

un moule rond à bord haut et si possible à charnière un mixeur ou un fouet électrique.

préparation

tout d'abord, écraser finement les biscuits, y ajouter deux bonnes cuillerées à soupe de St Hub, et travailler la pâte à la main, ça doit devenir un peu compact (on peut faire fondre le St Hub au préalable)

préchauffer le four à 180°.

tasser la pâte obtenue au fond du moule en appuyant bien. si le moule est petit, faire remonter sur les bords.

enfourner 15mn, au bout desquelles on mettra le moule sur le rebord de la fenêtre.

dans un saladier, mettre ensemble le tofu soyeux, la crème de soja et le sucre glace.

battre longuement la préparation à la main ou plus succintement au fouet électrique.

ajouter la poudre de flan, mixer.

bien bien lisser au mixeur ou au batteur en raclant les bords.

répartir les framboises sur la croûte (en garder quelques unes pour la finition si vous le souhaitez), verser l'appareil , baisser le four à 150° et enfourner 50 mn environ

surveiller la cuisson: le bord doit être pris.

éteindre le four et laisser le gâteau jusqu'à complet refroidissement, puis le mettre ensuite au fridge, pour au moins une demi-journée.

mélanger le sirop de violette avec un peu d'eau (à vue de nez, en sachant que ça va perdre du goût à la cuisson, donc ne lésinez pas sur le sirop, et puis goûter, ça aide toujours...), ajouter un peu de colorant si besoin, et bien sûr l'agar-agar et porter à ébullition, en remuant bien. laisser ensuite tiédir, sans que ça fige, puis verser sur le cheese cake, en commençant par le bord du moule et non le milieu. remettre le tout au fridge au moins deux heures, mais vous savez que c'est toujours meilleur le lendemain ;)

(demain je vous mets des photos des parts! faudra revnir!)

petite playlist qui m'inspire pour cuisiner

pour l'amour universel: ► Imagine Dragons - Love

pour les amoureux old school: ►Phil Collins - Two hearts

pour les amoureux qui rock

► The Ramones - Baby I love you pour les romantiques (attention la vidéo pique les yeux) ► Boys town gang - Can't take my eyes off you

pour les amoureux transi/es: ► Sugababes- Too lost in you

pour les amoureux timides: ► Jarvis Cocker - Magic works

pour les amours désespérées: ► Céline Dion - Ziggy

pour ceux qui veulent déclarer leur flamme haut et fort

► Moulin Rouge - Elephant song medley

pour les trèèèèès romantiques

► Elvis Presley - Can't help falling in love

pour ceux qui s'aiment envers et contre tout

► Hans Zimmer - Marry me at the world's end

et pour finir, la petite balade du jour (pour chercher les violettes pour mettre sur le gâteau!!)

#vegetarienne

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riovikings · 4 years

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Bonjour à tous et à toutes ! Je me présente, Rio Ryvers ! L'auteur présumé de ce livre intitulé Vikings Imagine. Comme le titre l'indique mon œuvre est destiné à écrire des one-shot/two-shot et plus sur l'univers de la série Vikings. Avant tous j'aimerais précisée que mon personnage favori de la série est Ivar Lothbrok. J'ai plus de facilité à écrire sur ce personnage, mais rien ne m'empêche d'écrire sur les autres personnages de la série. Bien, passons aux différentes étapes pour passer une demande !

A LIRE : Les demandes se font en message privé ! N'hésitez pas à poser des questions en commentaire ! (si jamais vous ne pouvez pas m'envoyer de message alors faites votre demande dans l'espace commentaire.)

Etape 1 : Un bonjour, les formules de politesse sont toujours là bienvenue. Je pense que ceci est la première chose à faire avant de demander une quelconque demande. Je me sens obligée de le précisé, car malheureusement certaines personnes ne sont apparemment pas en mesure de faire preuve de politesse envers autrui.

Etape 2 : L'identité du personnage de la série Vikings.

Etape 3 : Nom, prénom, âge, physique, caractère de votre personnage. Si vous n'avez pas d'idée pour l'identité du personnage je mettrais en place le concept du reader, autrement dit le lecteur.

Etape 4 : Le lien entre votre personnage et le personnage choisit de la série.

Etape 5 : Il y a-t-il d'autre personnage que vous voudriez mettre dans votre imagine ? Ainsi que leur lien avec votre propre personnage si il y en a. (Exemple : le reader à un lien de fraternité avec Bjorn. Ou le reader est la fille de Floki.) Vous pouvez également inventer d'autres personnages si vous le désirez !

Etape 6 : La thématique de votre imagine (exemple : dispute, perte de mémoire, amour, rivalité, grossesse...etc). Vous pouvez également combiné plusieurs thématique !

Etape 7 : Choisissez entre un lemon, lime, ou aucune scène à caractère sexuel.

Etape 8 : Vous avez la possibilité de faire un petit résumé pour d'écrire vos idées, si vous voulez ajouter des petits détails (exemple : scène d'allaitement d'un enfant...etc).

Bonus : Venez avec vos bonnes idées !

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juliet-7 · 7 years

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Ghost companion.

“And being very tired and having nothing inside him, he felt so sorry for himself that the tears rolled down his cheeks. What put a stop to all of this was a sudden fright. Shasta discovered that someone or somebody was walking beside him. It was pitch dark and he could see nothing. And the thing (or person) was going so quietly that he could hardly hear any footfalls. What he could hear was breathing. His invisible companion seemed to breathe on a very large scale, and Shasta got the impression that it was a very large creature. And he had come to notice this breathing so gradually that he had really no idea how long it had been there. It was a horrible shock.

It darted into his mind that he had heard long ago that there were giants in these Northern countries. He bit his lip in terror. But now that he really had something to cry about, he stopped crying. The Thing (unless it was a person) went on beside him so very quietly that Shasta began to hope that he had only imagined it. But just as he was becoming quite sure of it, there suddenly came a deep, rich sigh out of the darkness beside him. That couldn’t be imagination! Anyway, he has felt the hot breath of that sigh on his chilly left hand. So he went on at a walking pace and the unseen companion walked and breathed beside him. At last he could bear it no longer. “Who are you?” he said, barely above a whisper. “One who has waited long for you to speak,” said the Thing. Its voice was not loud, but very large and deep. “Are you – are you a giant?” asked Shasta. “You might call me a giant,” said the Large Voice. “But I am not like the creatures you call giants.” “I can’t see you at all,” said Shasta, after staring very hard. Then (for an even more terrible idea had come into his head) he said, almost in a scream, “You’re not – not something dead, are you? Oh please – please do go away. What harm have I ever done you? Oh, I am the unluckiest person in the whole world.” Once more he felt the warm breath of the Thing on his hand and face. “There,” it said, “that is not the breath of a ghost. Tell me your sorrows.” Shasta was a little reassured by the breath: so he told how he had never known his real father or mother and had been brought up sternly by the fisherman. and then he told the story of his escape and how they were chased by lions and forced to swim for their lives; and of all their dangers in Tashbaan and about his night among the Tombs and how the beasts howled at him out of the desert. And he told about the heat and thirst of their desert journey and how they were almost at their goal when another lion chased them and wounded Aravis. And also, how very long it was since had had anything to eat. “I do not call you unfortunate,” said the Large Voice. “Don’t you think it was bad luck to meet so many lions?” said Shasta. “There was only one lion.” said the Voice. “What on earth do you mean? I’ve just told you there were at least two lions the first night, and -” “There was only one, but he was swift of foot.” “How do you know?” “I was the lion.” And as Shasta gaped with open mouth and said nothing, the Voice continued. “I was the lion who forced you to join with Aravis. I was the cat who comforted you among the houses of the dead. I was the lion who drove the jackals from you as you slept. I was the lion who gave the Horses the new strength of fear for the last mile so that you should reach King Lune in time. And I was the lion you do not remember who pushed the boat in which you lay, a child near death, so that it came to shore where a man sat, wakeful at midnight, to receive you.” The mist was turning from black to grey and from grey to white. This must have begun to happen some time ago, but while he had been talking to the Thing he had not been noticing anything else. Now, the whiteness around him became a shining whiteness; his eyes began to blink. Somewhere ahead he heard birds singing. He knew the night was over at last.

A golden light fell on them from the left. He thought it was the sun. He turned and saw, pacing beside him, taller than a horse, a Lion. The horse did not seem to be afraid of it or else could not see it. It was from the lion that the light came. No one ever saw anything more terrible or more beautiful. Shasta had lived all of his life too far south in Calormen to have heard the tales that were whispered in Tashbaan about a dreadful Narnian demon that appeared in the form of a lion. And of course he knew none of the true stories about Aslan, the great Lion, the son of the Emperor-over-sea, the King above all High Kings in Narnia. But after one glance at the Lion’s face he slipped out of the saddle and fell at its feet. He couldn’t say anything but then he didn’t want to say anything, and he knew he needn’t say anything.” —C.S. Lewis, The Horse And His Boy

À l'aéroport, j'ai demandé au chauffeur s'il pensait que je pouvais atteindre Blotzheim à pieds.

Il m'a regardée bizarre.

J'ai croisé une fille qui m'a dit : “Ouais ouais c'est pas loin, en dix minutes vous y êtes !” Alors j'ai marché au bord de la route, dans ces galets merdiques qui font perdre l'équilibre, comme quand t'essayes de courir dans le sable.

Au début je me sentais comme Bilbon qui part à l'aventure, toute excitée ; j'aime bien aller à des endroits où je suis jamais allée. Mais au bout d'une heure, quand la nuit est tombée, que j'avais mal au dos, mal au cou, mal aux pieds, j’ai commencé à sérieusement me demander si l'espace-temps était biaisé sur la route qui mène à Blotzheim. J'avais plus de batterie sur mon téléphone. J'ai pensé à Emy. J'ai pensé à ma vie. J'ai pensé à ma vie d'avant. Quand je voulais être missionnaire. Je me suis demandé si tout ce que je vivais, c'était pour un jour où je serais au fin fond de l'Inde ; si les galets d'aujourd'hui étaient une préparation pour un sol de plus tard. J'ai pensé à Moïse. Je me suis demandé s'il s'était senti pareil, avec ses brebis et ses sandales dans le désert. S'il s’était demandé si c'était pour quelque chose d'autre, ou si ce serait les cailloux toute sa vie. S'il s'était demandé où était Dieu, qu'est-ce qu'il foutait, pourquoi il ne faisait rien.

J'ai pensé à Jésus.

Je me suis dit qu'il allait d'un endroit à un autre sans jamais avoir de maison. Qu’il marchait aussi pendant des heures et des heures. Qu’il était aussi fatigué. Affamé. Solitaire. “Les renard ont des tanières et les oiseaux du ciel ont des nids, mais le Fils de l'homme n'a pas un endroit où reposer sa tête.” Je me suis sentie différemment tout à coup. Comme si j'ouvrais les yeux, pour voir qu’il marchait avec moi ; comme Shasta. Lui, il me voyait, et il comprenait ce que je ressens. Il savait. Il marchait avec moi. J'étais plus en mode “j’suis seule au milieu de nulle part, coupée du monde et au bout de ma vie.”

Je me suis sentie comme si j’étais exactement au bon endroit, comme je ne l'avais plus été depuis mille ans.

Peut-être qu’il fallait que je me retrouve complètement seule, au bout de mes forces, paumée au milieu de la campagne, en bord de route, comme une outcast, pour que je me demande enfin : “En fait, c'est quoi ma vie ?”

Je me suis demandé : “Qu'est-ce que je fais ici, dans les chardons, au bord d'une route, right here, right now ? Pourquoi je suis là, à valdinguer entre villes et villages, pourquoi est-ce que je m'use dans une salle de classe et sur des copies d'écriture ? Pour les enfants ? Pour moi ? Pour Toi ? “Pour Ton royaume” ? Pourquoi je fais ça ? J'ai même pas su trouver de réponse.

Pour rien.

Tout ce que je sais c'est que je fais ça. Et que je suis là. Et je sais pas pourquoi.

Mais je me suis rendu compte que j'en avais rien à faire. At the end of the day, all I longed for was to walk sur le bord de la route avec Jésus. Peu importe ma vie, du moment que c'est avec le Seigneur que je marche. C'est des mots bateaux, mais ça faisait tellement longtemps que je ne m'étais pas retrouvée avec Lui comme ça. Que j'avais pas ressenti combien cette présence me manque et comble tous les épuisements de mon âme.

Quand je suis enfin arrivée à Blotzheim, dans une rue, sur le trottoir devant moi à quelques mètres, il y avait un chat qui me regardait. J'ai pas beaucoup d'amour pour les chats. Mais celui-là, il n’est pas parti quand je me suis rapprochée. Il restait là, comme s'il m'avait attendue. Je l'ai regardé, et je me suis accroupie. Il a frotté sa tête dans ma main. Il me regardait, et poussait ma main, et appuyait sa tête contre ma jambe, et puis me regardait, et puis frottait sa tête contre ma joue. À son contact, je me suis rendu compte que c’était la première fois depuis des lustres qu’on me faisait un câlin. J'ai enfoui mon visage dans sa fourrure, et j'ai pleuré, comme une débile, comme si c’était Dieu qui me caressait le visage.

Sur ce trottoir, un souvenir m'est revenu ; j'étais ado et j'étais aussi en train de pleurer par terre, sur le carrelage de la salle de bain, pendant une période maëlstrom. Le chat avait débarqué pour venir se frotter contre moi. Et au milieu de mes larmes et de mon coeur d'ado ballotté par l’orage, j'ai pensé à Aslan. “J'étais le chat qui t'a rassuré au milieu des maisons des morts. J'étais le Lion qui a éloigné de toi les chacals pendant que tu dormais. J'étais le Lion qui a donné aux chevaux effrayés l'énergie du désespoir pour le dernier kilomètre afin que vous puissiez arriver à temps auprès du roi Lune. Et j'étais le Lion dont tu ne te souviens pas et qui a poussé le bateau dans lequel tu étais couché, enfant à demi-mort, pour qu'il s'échoue sur le rivage où un homme était assis, éveillé à minuit, pour t'accueillir.”

Sur le bord de cette route, je me suis enfin sentie rentrer à la maison. Sauf que c'était pas Blotz. C'était Toi, Amour.

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