#"Vexations" (musical work) | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

otmaaromanovas · 1 year

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As mentioned by the wonderful @foreverinthepagesofhistory, there exists an anecdote about Tatiana Nikolaevna's wig falling off in 1913 and her running to hide from everyone out of embarrassment. This comes from the book 'Four Sisters' by Helen Rappaport:

"One day, when she was playing a skipping game in the park with Maria Rasputin and some young officers from the Corps de Pages, Alexey’s dog had run up to her barking; Tatiana got her foot caught in the rope, tripped and as she fell ‘her hair suddenly tumbled down and, to our amazement, we saw a wig drop off’, Maria recalled. Poor Tatiana ‘revealed to our eyes and those of the two embarrassed officers, the top of her head where a few short, sparse hairs were just beginning to grow’. She was absolutely mortified, and ‘with one bound she was on her feet, had picked up her wig and dashed towards the nearest clump of trees. We saw only her blushes and vexation and she did not appear again that day.’"

Rappaport references Matryona 'Maria' Rasputina's book 'Real Rasputin' here. I unfortunately cannot find this version of her memoirs anywhere online (I think she wrote about three, and 'Real Rasputin' was her first), so I sadly can't check the actual quote for any more information.

If I'm being entirely honest, I don't know how much I believe this. Neither Olga nor Maria Nikolaevna's diaries from 1913 ever mention Rasputin's children Matyrona (Maria), Dmitri, or Varvara visiting them for fun and games, though they do talk about sometimes being in their company.

'After dinner [I] played, at Papa's request, religious things [music] and everyone went to Anya's where Father Grigori's entire family was present: Paraskovia, Feod[orovna], Mitya, Matryona, and Varya... and Zhenya.' - Olga's diary, Christmas day 1916

It's also important to note that Maria believed in Anna Anderson for a time, and a common criticism for those who supported her claim was that they didn't actually know the family well at all, so she might have put this anecdote in her book to try and combat this. Knowing that Tatiana wore a wig might have added to this supposed closeness she was trying to convince readers of.

Her memoirs have been questioned time and time again as to how accurate they actually are - she tries to paint her father, Grigori Rasputin, as having been framed for the downfall of tsarism, and she believes him entirely innocent of the various allegations against him. There are more inconsistencies. For example, in her memoirs she writes degradingly about Felix Yusupov (who was involved in the murder of her father), then named her two dogs 'Youssou' and 'Pov' after him... Also, the cover of her memoirs are quite funny, it reminds me of a bad film poster lol, but that is besides the point.

Also, Tatiana's album has photos of her posing on the Standart and on the beach with her wig off, which might suggest she was at least a little comfortable showing her shaved head to some people, like her favourite officers. When OTMA had their heads shaved in 1917, they also posed for various photographs and found it funny, not embarrassing - but it could be argued that was because they were going through it together, rather than Tatiana being the 'odd one out'.

Personally, I also don't enjoy 'Four Sisters'. Helen Rappaport sadly put quite a few misconceptions and outright lies into her books, so her quoting from a very unreliable source doesn't surprise me sadly.

I also want to add that despite being a little harsh here about her memoirs, Maria Rasputina was a fascinating woman. She actually worked as a lion tamer in a circus for a few years, and there's a video of her doing this which you can see here. She ended up being mauled by a bear whilst working for the circus, but continued working with the company and advertising herself as the performing 'daughter of the mad monk'. She also claimed she was psychic and held seances. She needs her own book about her!

#Tatiana Romanov #Tatiana Nikolaevna #Romanovs #Romanov sisters #1913 #Maria Rasputina #Matryona Rasputina #Rasputin #Grigori Efimovich Rasputin #wigs #hair #my own #myths #Helen Rappaport #books

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starrswife · 3 years

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What Goes On - Ringo x Reader

Friends from childhood, an unlikely pair of Liverpudlians face the challenges of growing up.

Thank you @moodysunflowergirl for beta-reading this chapter and being so kind to me.

I hope you all enjoy this series!

Word Count - 2.1k

Warnings - none

Chapter Summary - November, 1957, Y/n decides to concentrate on schoolwork, but a bored and restless Richard has other plans.

“Doncha half to get back to work soon?” Y/n attempted to ask, mouth full.

Everyday since Richard had dropped out of school, he bought her a pastry from the local bakery and walked her home during his lunch break. At first, the baked good had served as reparations for what Y/n said was, quote, “Abandoning me all alone in hell,” but the tradition continued to stick.

“Nah, my boss let me off early,” he walked backwards to face her, “What do ya’ wanna do? My whole day’s cleared.”

Chewing her last bite, she brushed off her hands of any crumbs. Rich gestured for her to take back the schoolbag she forced him to carry, despite knowing she would just shake her head and make him hold it for the entire walk.

“I’ve got to study, I’m sorry.”

“Again? But you’ve been at it the entire week,” he complained.

“College is a lot more difficult than our old school, Rich. But I’ll go over to yours, if you’d like. Maybe… say, tutor you a bit?”

He rolled his eyes and turned back to face the right way.

“Don’t waste your energy trying.”

She huffed, “Fine, be illiterate your entire life.”

“I’m not illiterate.”

“You can hardly spell.”

“Well, I can read.”

“Oh, lovely, at seventeen years old, you’ve got at least half of it down.”

“Lay off you prick.”

Richard made a move to shove Y/n, but she dodged it, taking off down the sidewalk.

Accepting the stupidly immature challenge, he wasted no time chasing after her.

They maneuvered through pram-pushers who gave them a friendly nod, and business men who scowled at the very sight of their smiling faces.

The icy air felt like blades against her skin as she ran, but with Richie gaining on her, she only sped up the pace. Like usual Liverpool weather, the sky kept at a gloomy grey, and the cobble walkways were darker in color, dampened by the previous night’s rain.

Y/n hopped over the puddles, not wanting to get her oxfords dirty, but Richie couldn’t bring himself to care, charging straight through them.

Reaching their turn and not wanting to give up, Y/n sprinted across the road, Rich following close behind. They screamed out of both fear and amusement when cars honked at them, or shouted, expressing their vexation.

“No!” Y/n yelled, glancing backwards. She tried to speed up, but it was too late. Richard grabbed her arm and pulled her back, wrapping his arms around her shoulders to keep her from escaping. They struggled to catch their breath, each puff coming out as white clouds, that faded into the air. It proved difficult to do so, while simultaneously in a fit of laughter.

“Let me go!”

“Surrender!”

“Never!” Y/n wriggled around in his grip, but to no avail.

“I won’t until you admit what a loser you are.”

Rich laughed, a high pitched and boyish sound that always evoked a smile from Y/n, even while she was mumbling about how much of an arse he was.

Eventually tiring out, she went limp, fully defeated.

“You give up? Say it.”

“I give up.”

“And what?”

“You win, and I’m a loser! Now get off of me.”

He obliged with a grin of triumph then stepped away, and immediately, the winter air chilled her spine as if a blanket had been ripped off of her.

Was it odd to want the warmth back? To want him to pull her closer?

She walked a bit farther away from him, deciding it was odd.

They fell into comfortable silence, enjoying their peaceful stroll as they usually did when not bantering. As the town led further into Richie’s neighborhood, the houses became more and more decrepit, tiny lots with peeling paint and splintered door frames. Abundant rubble, sad reminders of the war, had become playgrounds for imaginative schoolboys. They had grown used to these surroundings, and now, reaching 10 Admiral Grove, the dirt coated bricks and rusty letterbox had become a warm, familiar welcome.

They hung up their coats and headed up the creaky, narrow stairs to his room.

Rich slung her bag onto the bed and sighed in relief. The amount of textbooks she had to haul around made him glad he’d dropped out.

Y/n sat at the foot of the bed, grabbing her bag and pulling out a few of them.

“Mind if I practice a bit?” Richie asked, already walking towards his drums. His stepdad, Harry, had recently bought him his very own set, and he had become a menace, constantly playing, even into late hours of the night.

She groaned. She loved his drumming, really, but it wasn’t the best background noise for calculus homework. Still, she nodded for him to go ahead.

An hour passed, and Richie was now lying on the floor, twirling his drumsticks. One slipped and smacked him on the face, and he glanced up at Y/n to make sure she didn’t see that. Luckily, she was laying on his bed, fully absorbed in her history notes.

Another hour gone. Richie put on a record and cranked up the volume. Y/n made him turn it down. He resorted to making tea.

Sixty minutes later. His half-drunk tea had gotten cold and now sat solitary on his table. He was laying beside Y/n, flipping through her books and giggling about the human anatomy photos.

By six in the evening, Richard had grown fidgety and impatient.

“Y/n.”

No reply.

“Y/n.”

Nothing.

“Fine. I’ll just take a nap.”

He laid back and sprawled his limbs about the bed, making a point to bother her. With his leg over her back and an arm balanced on her head, she finally snapped at him in irritation.

“What do you want?”

He stared directly at her for a moment, then shut his eyes and pretended to snore.

Y/n pushed him off of her and grabbed a pillow to try to suffocate him.

“Someone help!”

He dramatically writhed around before going limp like a corpse.

Slowly, she lifted the pillow up, peering behind it to see his face, eyes shut with his tongue hanging out of the corner of his mouth.

He snatched the pillow from her and pushed her over with it.

She screamed, stifling her laughs and curling into a ball as Rich whacked her with it, her schoolwork spilling off the bed.

“I hate you,” she stated as he flopped backwards, both out of breath.

“Aww,” he cooed mockingly. She threw the pillow at him and got up to retrieve the things from the floor. “Seriously?”

“Seriously, what?”

“It’s been hours, Y/n. It’s Friday night. Let’s go do something.”

“I look horrible, I don’t want to go out.”

“No you don’t, you always look nice. Can we go, please, please, please, plea-“

“Ok, fine! Let me get ready, will you?”

Like a puppy, Richie sat on the edge of the bed, watching Y/n intently as she stood in front of the mirror, trying her best to brush her wind-tousled hair with his comb. She readjusted her black headband, making sure her bangs were out to frame her face. Once finished, she grabbed a tube of rosy lipstick from her bag, and dotted just a bit on before rubbing her lips together to blend it.

It had to look natural.

Her mother had once told her she looked like a hooker for wearing full coverage makeup, and for some strange reason, she felt uncomfortable doing anything remotely feminine around her father. Even when they weren’t near, the need to appease them stuck.

She turned around, “How do I look?”

“Like a square,” he teased.

Y/n glared, and he was quick to reword his statement.

“A pretty square!”

The gusty, evening air was as cold as ever, and the two of them stuffed their hands in their pockets, trying to somehow shrink themselves into the warmth of their coats.

“What did you do at work today?” Y/n asked, shivering.

“Uhm, we really just fooled around. Roy, Eddie, and me.”

“Ah, I gotta see the Eddie Miles band in action one day.” “Actually, we renamed ourselves Eddie Clayton and the Clayton Squares. We might pick up some gigs soon, I don’t know, hopefully.”

“Oh, that’d be fab. I’ll be there for every one of your shows,” she looked up to meet his eye, “I promise.”

Richie smiled. It was small, but sincere and warm. He held her gaze just a bit longer, admiring how she looked under the yellow glow of the lampposts. The tip of her nose was pink from the cold, and the way she looked all bundled up was so... so... adorable.

He cleared his throat and turned away from her. “Thanks.”

They got on the bus to Garston, and as it was Y/n’s turn to pay the driver, she caught up to Rich when she was finished.

Even if the bus was completely vacant, the two ran up to sit on the second floor, racing to get there before it started driving again. It was just another one of their antics.

Finally arriving at Wilson Hall, the two took off their coats and followed the crowd to the dance floor. On stage was a group of rough-looking boys, playing as loud as they could with their makeshift instruments. The audience nearly matched the volume, laughing and hollering as they spun about.

“Well, c’mon then,” Richie grinned, reaching out to grab her hands.

She giggled bashfully as he twirled her, and after a bit, loosened up until the both of them were twisting wildly as if their life depended on it. Richard’s slicked back curls bobbed as he stepped, and Y/n’s circle skirt swayed proudly with her hips.

It was crowded, hot, and stuffy, but while dancing, no one seemed to care. It was electrifying, freeing, and for once they were able to forget about their hardships and stresses.

The song came to an end and the crowd gave an applause, eagerly awaiting for the next band to come on.

“I’m going for a coke, d’you want anything?”

Y/n shook her head, “I’m okay, I’ll wait here.”

Rich nodded and squeezed his way through to the bar.

She stood alone, fiddling with her fingers as the next band started and the couples began to dance.

The music now was more jazz than rock or skiffle, and everyone was paired up, swinging each other around and leaving Y/n to stick out like a sore thumb.

Looking over the room, she thought about how much better the other girls looked than her. Their dresses were sleeveless, their faces glowing with expertly done makeup, and their hair somehow curled perfectly at the ends.

She tugged off her cardigan. Would that help? It didn’t show any skin -her button down blouse preventing it- but at least it took a layer off. She glanced down at herself. Were her boobs not big enough? Nah, they were an all-right size for her age, but maybe just a little bigger would be-

“You alright, miss?”

She gasped, snapping her eyes up from her chest.

There, towering over her, was a man with Elvis-esque hair, a fitted leather jacket, and a smirk tugging at his lips. He looked older, perhaps in his early twenties, and he… just wow.

Y/n was taken aback.

“I-I’m alright.”

“How come a pretty girl like you doesn’t have a partner?”

“Oh, uh, thank you. I’m actually waiting for someone to get back, he just,” Y/n awkwardly gestured behind her, lost for words.

“Mind if I keep you company until then?”

He offered his hand to dance, and with a hesitant nod, she accepted.

The trip home was almost silent.

Y/n vaguely addressed why she was gone the whole night, and Richard said it was okay.

After a bit of a search, he’d realized she was with another guy and went off to dance with the other birds too. However, he didn’t know how things had… escalated with her and the man.

He asked if she would step out with him. He was mysterious and suave, and it was exhilarating. How could she say no? But when the nameless man pressed her against the brick alley, hands caressing her hips and waist, a sudden tsunami of uncertainty and panic crashed against her. He was nearing her lips, but the once sensual closeness had become suffocating- she couldn’t do this!

“Y/n, love?”

She blinked out of it.

“What’s wrong? You’ve been staring at the wall.”

Spewing the words before she could think them through, Y/n deadpanned, “Teach me how to kiss.”

#ringo starr x reader #ringo starr #the beatles #beatles x reader

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writing-of-a-british-bitch · 5 years

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Not His Fucking Prostitute

silwrFandom: Queen/ Bohemian Rhapsody

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Brian May X reader

TW: language, Freddie’s a fucking dick, slut-shaming I guess????

Genre: ANGST, tiny bit of fluff

Word Count: 1.6K

Requests: OPEN

A/N: So, this is more of a lazy write, because i wanted to get a fic out, considering that the last chapter of Child Of Mine is taking forever. Because it’s a lazy write, I kind of took my favourite scene from the movie. Sorry if this annoys anyone. This was fun to write and if y’all like it, I’ll probably write a part 2!

You clutched the two boys hands tightly as you were led into the living room by Paul. Your brother, Roger, let go of your hand as he wandered over to one of the chairs, collapsing into it lazily. You shook your head lightly before taking a seat next to your husband, Brian, but still close enough to Roger just in case either of you lashed out. There was a pit in the bottom of your stomach and you could tell that your bandmates felt exactly the same. Roger quickly lit a cigarette, taking a drag before handing it over to you. Brian sent Roger a disproving glance. He didn't care that both of you smoked, it was the fact that you shared cigarettes that he found peculiar. It was something you'd started doing in university. What was the point in wasting money buying two packs for two different people? You both pretty much went everywhere together anyway. Deacy was lounging on his seat, perching his head on his hand. Brian took your hand as you passed Roger the cigarette back after taking a drag. Suddenly, Freddie strolled in trying to look casual, but it was obvious he was on edge. Your fellow lead singer poured himself a drink as Paul took a seat in the corner with a cup of tea. Roger quickly extinguished the cigarette, placing it in the ashtray. Freddie kept his back to the band as he began to speak.

"MTV banned our video. The Youth of America. We helped give birth to MTV." Freddie announced, swiftly spinning on his heel to face you all, annoyance clear on his face.

"It's America. They're puritans in public, perverts in private." Brian reasoned, leaning back slightly.

"I'm never touring in the US again. And I'm the one being blamed for it. Not you dear, whose idea, I believe, it was to dress up in drag." Freddie gestured to you and Roger, who immediately exchanged glances " And not you." he looked at Brian " Not even you, who wrote the bloody thing."Deacy was next to be aggressively pointed at " No. Crazy, cross-dressing Freddie. Freddie the freak. Freddie the fag. I'm tired of touring, aren't you? Album, tour, album, tour. I want to do something different." Freddie huffed and your friends shot him an exasperated look.

"We're a band. That's what bands do. Album, tour, album, tour." Brian responded, raising an eyebrow

"Well, I need a break. I'm sick of it." Freddie turned to the window harshly.

"What are you saying, Freddie?" Deacy questioned, voice clear of any emotion. There was a pregnant pause, doing nothing to relieve any of your nerves.

"I've signed a deal with CBS records."He finally admitted. Everyone shot up in their seats, faces showing both surprise and anger

"You've done what?" Roger snapped, glaring daggers at Freddie's striped shirt.

"Without telling us?"You added, voice rough. Brian squeezed your hand. You had an identical temper to your brother. Short, explosive and sometimes terrifying.

"Look, I'm not saying we won't record or ever tour again. Queen will go on. But I need to do something different. Do you know what I mean? I need- I need to grow. What's-what-what's the song? "Fly Away"?" Freddie tried, swivelling around. Out the corner of your eye, you could see Paul's beady eyes watching the band's every move, his mole-like face failing to hide his joy.

"Spread my wings and fly away" Deacy quoted, his eyes narrowed slightly. You were shaking at this point, anger coursing through you. Brian was watching you carefully, just as Deaky was watching Roger. One Taylor's temper was one explosion on its own. But two? It was like a world war.

"Spread my wings and fly away" Freddie parroted, a small, awkward smile on his lips.

"A solo album?"Brian asked in disbelief, both his eyebrows raised. He couldn't believe that this was happening.

"Two, actually."Paul chimed in and your head snapped in his direction, fire in your eyes. However, Roger managed to voice his annoyance first

"Another word out of you and ill throw you out the bloody window." Roger barked, his hands formed into a fist

"But that's years Freddie. I mean that'll take years" Deacy stated, resting both his elbows on his knees.

"Ye of little faith, "Freddie remarked

"I don't believe this." Roger huffed and you twisted your torso to look at Freddie.

"How much?" You questioned, voice hard. Even Roger was scared, underneath his own fury. "What did they pay you?" You recieved no response, so you stood up, your knee catching the coffee table, causing it to scoot back. Roger stood up too, prepared to stop you if you tried to hit someone. "I wanna know how much they paid you!"

"4 million dollars!"Freddie yelled and your eyes widened and you began pacing, Roger close behind. He leant on the back of Deacy's seat and you were leaning on his shoulder

"That's more than any Queen deal." Deacy murmured, shock lacing his voice.

"Look the routine is killing us. I mean, you must all want a break from the arguments. I mean, whose song gets on the album, whose song's the single, who wrote what, who gets a bigger slice of the royalties, what's on the B-Side, all of it! You must need a break!"Freddie exclaimed, his tone surprisingly light

"Freddie we're a family."Brian snapped, edging on a hiss.

"No, we're not! We're not a family. You've all got families, children, wives! What have I got?"Freddie shouted suddenly, making you tense. He gestured at you as soon as he said wives, glaring at you slightly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you gripped Roger's arm to stop yourself from doing anything irrational.

"You've got 4 million dollars, perhaps you can buy yourself a family," Deacy remarked, clearly trying to stand up for you considering that your vexation was rendering you speechless for the time being.

"I won't compromise my vision any longer."Freddie growled, bringing his cigarette to his lips as he snapped his body back to the window

"Compromise? Are you joking?" You piped in, unable to bite your tongue

"You were working at Heathrow before we gave you a chance!"Roger continued, usual soft voice turning bitingly cold

"And without me...you'd be a dentist, drumming 12/8- time blues at the weekend at the Crown in Anchor." Freddie stormed over to Roger, getting right up to his face " And you. Well, you would be Dr. Brian May, author of a fascinating dissertation on the cosmos, that no one ever reads." Your grip on Roger grew impossibly tight as Freddie began targeting your husband "And Deacy, for the life of me...nothing comes to mind."Freddie finished, letting out a small breath of air

"I studied electrical engineering, does that meet your standards?"Deaky sighed. You saw Paul hide a laugh. You really wished Roger had thrown him out the fucking window.

"That's perfect."Freddie chuckled before finally looking at you.

"And (Y/N). You'd be sharing an apartment with your brother in a failing theatrical career, standing on street corners to earn extra money. Because you wouldn't have Brian to feed on or to become his prostitute." You felt yourself falter. That's when Brian and Deacy stood up. Deacy held Roger's arms as he lunged at Freddie. Brian began walking over to the group. Brian had a lot of patients... but hearing someone who was supposed to be his and his wife's friend basically call her a slut... it put gasoline on an otherwise calm fire. That's when you suprised Brian. You reached up and landed a harsh slap to Freddie's cheek. Freddie's cheek burnt and he gave you a flabbergasted look.

"You can say a lot of things to me. But never, ever say that I'm using my husband just to get money or fame. Just because you haven't realized that that is precisely what someone is doing to you. There's a lot of things that I am. But I'm. Not. His. Fucking. Prostitute. The fame has gotten to your head Bulsara. " You hissed and Freddie simply replied with a blank stare before beginning to head to the door.

"You just killed Queen."Roger snapped before he could leave.

"Oh give it a kiss one day. She might wake up."Freddie stated cockily.

"You need us, Freddie. More than you know."Brian tried one last time.

"I don't need anyone."Freddie then took his leave. Paul followed, after putting his hand on Roger's should, which was instantly shoved off. Deacy finally let go of Roger who immediately pulled you into him.

"I should have fucking killed him,"Roger mumbled into your shoulder

"Yeah, I should've too," Brian replied and you could see on Deacy's face that he agreed.

"So what do we do now?" Deaky asked and you pulled back from Roger's hug.

"We can't make music without Fred. It wouldn't be the same. I suppose we just continue on with our lives as best we can." Brian sighed and you glanced between your three boys.

"I'm sorry guys. I shouldn't have gotten as angry as I did. And i shouldn't have hit him." You apologized quickly.

"Don't apologize (Y/N). Shit-faced or not, Freddie should never have said that. You have every right to be angry." Deacy replied, running a hand over his face.

"I guess we should probably get out of Freddie's house," Brian suggested and you all nodded in agreement. After leading yourselves out, you and Brian got in a cab, wishing Deacy and Roger goodbye. They were both heading back to their own families. As you and Brian began your journey home, he wrapped his arm around your waist, resting your head in his neck and placing his own head on top of yours. He loved you so much. Freddie could say whatever he wanted. But he was yours, just as you were his.

Tags: @dusthas-beenbitten @writingfortoomanyfandoms @queens-n-roses @silvver-rose @benhardyjones

i think tags are broken again. Also, i know this isn’t everyone but tumblr is super glitchy and and my google docs keeps crashing.

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wildefiction · 5 years

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Of Course...Mr. Collins

SIXTEEN

For a brief moment, your mind swirled with doubt. You’d have never dreamt of talking to your boss in such a condescending tone, and you tried to persuade yourself that it hadn’t been intentionally catty…

Shaking your head, you knew that wasn’t true. Trying to convince yourself you’d hidden your irritation from Misha was all the proof you’d needed to realize your mistake. “Too late now…” you mused. Hopefully your new boss would put it out of his mind and move on, much as he’d done with the activities of the previous night.

Leaning against the back wall of the elevator as it painstakingly climbed through the air, you closed your eyes, concentrating on the feeling of the cool air swirling through the structure around you. Unlike most interior elevators, this one lacked the musty, cloying smell of metal and oil.

As your mind was filled with the possibility of whether elevators came with dedicated air conditioners, the lift slowed and the heavy doors opened. Stepping forward, you scrutinized the unfamiliar pale green walls and looked around you. Noticing you’d inadvertently gotten off before your stop, you turned back around, extending your finger to press the call button; the golden light of the panel flaring around the intrusion.

“[Y/F/N]?” Shoulders tensing as the familiar voice floated down the hallway, you slowly lifted your head and winced as Norman strolled towards you, an easy smile spreading across his face.

“I swear, I’m not stalking you.” Groaning, you offered the man a tentative smile as you assaulted the button in front of you again, willing it to hurry.

“I’unno…ya do ‘ave my picture on yer wallet…” Norman’s large shoulders lifted briefly before dropping, his hands thrust into the front pockets of the loose charcoal jeans he wore.

“Don’t flatter yourself Mr. Reedus. My wallet has Daryl on it, two completely different things,” you reasoned.

“Nah, I know Daryl. There’s a lotta me in ‘im, and a lotta ‘im in me.”

Turning your head as Norman approached, you raised an eyebrow as the whisper fell from your lips; “kinky…” A huff of levity his response, the man slowed to a stop just as the doors opened again.

“So, did ya talk ta Misha?” Bristling to yourself, you managed a quiet “nope” as the elevator doors closed with a hush and the car continued to climb.

“Why nah?” Flicking your eyes to the light blue ones staring down at you, your resolve began to falter. Were you being childish with the hope that he’d miraculously understand your vexation?

“And whaddya mean when ya said you could be “intense?””

He put ‘intense’ in air quotes before lowering his hands again. A short bark of laughter escaped your lips, your cheeks flushing momentarily as you turned to look at your friend. Shrugging, you launched into what had happened the night before, watching his face for any hint of a reaction.

Invested as you were in the re-telling of your situation, you stepped from the elevator as the doors opened for the second time, Norman trailing behind you as you moved through the hallway towards your room. Pulling the key card from your pocket, you slid it into the door, shoving on the handle before it had fully unlocked.

Norman, having not paid attention ran into you as your body collided with the barrier which had remained firmly locked. Stiffening at the contact, you sucked in a breath, waiting for him to move back. When he didn’t, instead catching himself with a firm hand against the cream-colored wood you had to take a steadying breath. Trying a second time, you were only slightly disappointed when the lights blinked rapidly and the soft click of the lock shifted as the door opened.

Flopping backwards on the bed, you threw an arm over your face as you continued with your story.

“Everytime we sit down to talk about our “relationship”, we get interrupted. I mean, I know he’s married and I’ve met Vicki, she’s fucking amazing. “I’m feeling a bit…tawdry right now and so I’m just going to put my big girl panties on and wait for this all to blow over.”

With a huff, you moved the arm from your face and turned your eyes back to the man standing in front of you. Involuntarily, you shivered. He stood at the foot of the bed, his thick forearms crossed over one another as he regarded your evident distress.

Suddenly, his shoulders began to shake, a tight-lipped grin belying his attempt at sympathy as he shook his head.

“What’s so funny?” Scowling, you lifted yourself into a sitting position and, pushing against his rigid frame, you weren’t surprised when he didn’t even step off balance.

“Nuthin’, nuthin’…” He was still trying not to laugh. “Sounds ta me like ya all hot n’ bothered fer yer boss there now Sunshine…” “I dun’ geddit though, ya even said he never gotcha off, so what’s with the fangirlin?”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes, “yeah, well I’m used to it.”

“Well, if ya were mah girl, ya wouldna’ be able ta wal’ when I was through with ya.” Patting his chest reassuringly, you smiled - though it didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“I’ve heard that before.” “Anyhow, I gotta go get ready for this party tonight.” Walking with him to the door, you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, squeezing briefly before stepping away.

“Thanks for letting me ramble.” A ghost of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth, and he ducked his head, nodding briefly before stepping outside.

As soon as the door shut behind Norman, you turned and stripped off the shirt you were wearing; padding into the bathroom to start the shower. Leaning against the cool marble countertop, you surveyed yourself in the mirror. Methodically, you began taking various containers and palettes from your makeup bag and arranging them on the surface before you. Normally you opted for a light-touch, if your wore make-up at all. But you’d decided to take your sister’s advice, going all out and teasing him right back wasn’t childish…right?

An incoming text drew your attention from the task before you, and you clicked on the notification from Norman;

“Lemme know if ya need a date fer yer party ;)”

Thinking about it only briefly, you replied with concurrence before tossing the device out onto your bed and stepping into the shower.

*******************

Fingers working over the keypad, Misha wrote several texts before deleting each one. Sighing before slipping the phone back into his pocket, he resolved to talk to [Y/F/N] about why he’d left in such a hurry this morning.

Lowering himself to the plush cushions of the soft grey sectional couch, he stared out the window, musing about how he should approach it. He’d already tried acting as if nothing was wrong, clearly she hadn’t responded well to that idea. For a brief moment he contemplated calling Vicki and asking her opinion, but quickly dismissed the thought. He needed to talk to [Y/F/N] directly. Completely. No more interruptions.

Striding across his room to the door he shared with [Y/F/N], he rose a fist, intent on getting the conversation started as quickly as possible. Pausing when he heard music flowing over from the next room, he decided instead to put it off until tonight. He’d never been one to avoid uncomfortable situations but there was something about this woman that set him on edge. Dropping his hand, he turned from the door, picking up the bright Hawaiian print shirt and laying it out on his bed with a pair of jeans. The sunny yellow pineapples splashed across the front made him smile as he made his way into the bathroom to begin readying himself for his role in the celebrations that night.

********************

Immediately after stepping from the glass walls of the shower, you parted the long, thick hair clinging to your fevered skin into three sections before twisting them into a tight braid. The simple task kept the hair from your face and would provide soft, beachy waves for the luau tonight. It was a win-win. Sliding your hands across the still damp surface of your skin, you smiled. The lavender and mint sugar scrub you’d spread over your body had made you soft to the touch.

Rummaging through the top drawer of the hotel dresser, you pulled a pair of simple panties from the depths. Dropping the thick, white towel from your body, you stepped into the garment. Edged with black lace, the blue boyshorts hugged the curve of your ass. You’d always preferred boy shorts, feeling they were way more comfortable and attractive than thongs, which you’d never really understood the appeal of. Scrunching your nose in distaste, you muttered under your breath that you’d rather wearing nothing than deal with fabric in your ass all day.

You laughed to yourself at how easily your mind was prone to wandering as you returned to the bathroom to apply makeup. Your favorite part of the arduous process was choosing the colors and style you’d be using on your eyes. Selecting a matte navy blue shadow you spread it across your eyelids, blending the edges into an inky black. At the inside corner of your eye, you chose a steel grey, using a creamy white to highlight the darker colors and bring life to the smoky eye. Finishing by lining your upper lid and waterline with a kohl pencil, you stood back and surveyed the result. Applying two layers of mascara enhanced your already long eyelashes and framed the brilliance of your Green irises.

After finishing the rest of your makeup, you plugged in the blow dryer and ran it over the thick braid in an attempt to get the waves you wanted to set faster.

Turning to the dress you’d bought the day before, you scrutinized the billowy fabric while lifting it out of the shopping bag by your bed. The primary dress was short, falling to mid-thigh in a navy so dark, most people might say it was black. An overlay of long chiffon wrapped around the garment in diverse values one might see from the ocean; the layers that would wrap around your chest matched the base color, evenly fading from midnight to a clear, bright cerulean.

Untying the airy fabric, you slid into the dress, pulling it up around your curving thighs to cover the black strapless bra you’d added for support. Cinching the wide swaths of fabric around your body accentuated your cleavage. The saleswoman had mentioned there were varying ways to wear the dress, with options for a halter tie, a one shoulder crossover and the timeless look of strapless. Trying all three options, you decided you liked the one shoulder crossover the best. After tying a knot in the fabric to hold the dress up, the remainder flowed seamlessly down your back to blend with the outer layers of the dress.

Crossing the room to where several pairs of shoes were lined up in the closet you considered each one, but in the end, decided to go barefoot. This party was on the beach after all and your lack of shoes took the dress from formal to breezy and fun. With the addition of a simple silver ankle bracelet, you reached up to remove the band holding your hair together. Although still slightly damp, running your fingers through the heaviness, you were able to separate the layers into beautiful waves that nearly reached your waist. With a quick dab of lavender oil between your breasts, along your wrists and behind each ear you were ready.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

TAGS: @jamielea81 @wings-of-a-raven

#WildeFiction #Misha x Reader #Supernatural Fanfiction #SPN x RPF

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gospelmusic · 4 years

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Catholic Daily Reading + Reflection: 26 September 2020

Saturday September 26, 2020

Weekday (25) Vestment: Green Today’s Rosary: The Joyful Mystery Ss Cosmas & Damian, M (opt mem) (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

FIRST READING

“Remember your creator in the days of your youth before the dust returns to the earth and the spirit returns to God. ” A reading from the Book of Ecclesiastes (Ecclesiastes 11:9-12:8) Rejoice, O young man, in your youth, and let your heart cheer you in the days of your youth; walk in the ways of your heart and the sight of your eyes. But know that for all these things God will bring you into judgement. Remove vexation from your mind, and put away pain from your body; for youth and the dawn of life are vanity. Remember also your Creator in the days of your youth, before the evil days come, and the years draw nigh, when you will say, “I have no pleasure in them”; before the sun and the light and the moon and the stars are darkened and the clouds return after the rain; in the day when the keepers of the house tremble, and the strong men are bent, and the grinders cease because they are few, and those that look through the windows are dimmed, and the doors on the street are shut; when the sound of the grinding is low, and one rises up at the voice of a bird, and all the daughters of song are brought low; they are afraid also of what is high, and terrors are in the way; the almond tree blossoms, the grasshopper drags itself along and desire fails; because man goes to his eternal home, and the mourners go about the streets; before the silver cord is snapped, or the golden bowl is broken, or the pitcher is broken at the fountain, or the wheel broken at the cistern, and the dust returns to the earth as it was, and the spirit returns to God who gave it. Vanity of vanities, says the Preacher; all is vanity. The word of the Lord.

RESPONSORIAL PSALM Psalm 90:3-4.5-6.12-13. 14 and 17 (R. 1)

R/. O Lord, you have been our refuge, from generation to generation. You turn man back to dust, and say, “Return, O children of men.” To your eyes a thousand years are like yesterday, come and gone, or like a watch in the night. R. You sweep them away like a dream, like grass which is fresh in the morning. In the morning it sprouts and is fresh; by evening it withers and fades. R. Then teach us to number our days, that we may gain wisdom of heart. Turn back, O Lord! How long? Show pity to your servants. R. At dawn, fill us with your merciful love; we shall exult and rejoice all our days. Let the favour of the Lord our God be upon us; give success to the work of our hands. O give success to the work of our hands. R. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

ALLELUIA 2 Timothy1:10

Alleluia. Our Saviour Jesus Christ abolished death and brought life and immortality to light through the Gospel. Alleluia.

GOSPEL

“The Son of man is to be delivered into the hands of men. They were afraid to ask him about this saying. ” A reading from the holy Gospel according to Luke (Luke 9:43b-45) At that time: While all were marveling at everything Jesus did, he said to his disciples, “Let these words sink into your ears; for the Son of man is to be delivered into the hands of men.” But they did not understand this saying, and it was concealed from them, that they should not perceive it; and they were afraid to ask him about this saying. The Gospel of the Lord.

Today’s Reflection

In the gospel, Jesus challenges the outlook of his disciples about the Messiah. He repeatedly predicts his death so when it does happen, their faith would not fail them. He is preparing them for what is going to come, so it would not break them up. He wants them to understand that the cross is the choice he made and not something foisted on him. It is the way to salvation and a path he must take. But the disciples fail to understand as so many Christians today still do – they find it hard to reconcile with a crucified Christ and his cross. Today, the Lord still challenges our thought and outlook; we cannot separate Christ from the cross.

Today’s Saint and Quote: Pope Paul VI (Blessed) – September 26th

Every mother is like Moses. She does not enter the Promised Land. She prepares a world she will not see.

Personal Devotional

- Pray for the grace to sustain a deeper conversion with Jesus as regards your challenges. - Pray for those who are at the edge of giving up on God, that their faith will be strengthened.

Let Us Pray

I declare that I will love my neighbor by refusing to house a judgmental spirit. I refuse to focus on the sin in my neighbor’s life as opposed to the sin in my own. I will, however, be bold enough to challenge my neighbor in love and to pray for areas of bondage, pain, injustice, and sin in his life. I will love my neighbor by understanding that love doesn’t always feel sure, but often challenges and calls out something greater so that he can experience the fullness of Christ.

Please help spread the gospel. Share our posts on social media using the share buttons. He who wins a soul is wise. God bless you abundantly! (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); Follow us on social media: Facebook: @hottestnaijadotcom Twitter: @wherehot Instagram: @hottest9jablog (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

Click here to take a look at our posts on gospel music download

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You may also like our gospel worship songs page which contains, the best, coolest and hottest Nigerian Gospel Songs, and Foreign Gospel Songs. Whatsoever is the mood, we've got you covered. Do you feel like dancing, rejoicing, shouting, screaming, or you're filled with jubilation because of the Mighty things the Lord has done? Then look no further, cos our gospel praise songs page, containing the hottest Nigerian and foreign praise songs collection, was prepared specifically for you. Peradventure you need the lyrics of the songs you are downloading now, just downloaded, or have downloaded before, our lyrics page is the best place to look. What more could be more helpful and entertaining than seeing the lyrics of your most favourite song before you, as the music unfolds unto the climax. Hey we've been there before, and still encounter it from time to time when the vocals get lost in the cloud of heavy orchestration.

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Are You a Classical Music lover, our classical music page, contains the best of classical songs, composed and written by composers like G. F Handel, Bach, Joseph Haydn, etc. As you listen to your best gospel song, you may also want to get some more insight and knowledge about the word of God, from eBooks written by God's servants, or you may want to learn something new or build yourself up in some way. Then our eBook Page is the right place to look. (adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({}); You may be in need of entertainment, and probably want to watch a video too. We understand that as well. You can get entertaining video downloads from our video downloads page.

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#Music #Lyrics

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jeup · 6 years

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💖🍓💝

💖 are there any words that you live by?

this is so late i’m sorry a;lskdjfsdf ut it was Too Deep to do off mobile uhh probably any quote from lolita not bc i wanna glorify that pedophilia shit but c i can relate a lot to dolores haze :// like the dialogue w/her and humbert humbert where she says there’s no point in going anywhere and then the other flashback where she says to her friend that the worst thing abt dying is that you’re all alone and also the scene where she just groans in vexation at humbert trying to fuck her again; i mean it’s not smth i deliberately want to promote or “live by” per se but i feel that it’s a very integral part of my personality conditioned by my life experiences ya feel? sry i’m tipsy rambling :// herman hesse’s “siddhartha” and paulo coelho’s “the alchemist” have way more philosophical sayings to live by but the raw applicability of nabokov’s “lolita” and the character he depicted in dolores haze have had far more impact on me js :// also yes all of my life mottos come from old ass literature lmao

🍓 is there a piece of art (music, book, painting) that always inspires you?

lol this is semi-pertinent to the last question but ya most of nabokov’s works (i.e. “lolita,” “pale fire,” “ada or ardor”) inspire me. while i don’t necessarily advocate for the actions or morals championed by the characters, i admire the author for experimenting with such a grey region of morality. kind of like tolstoy’s “anna karenina” and dostoyevsky’s “crime and punishment.” the ethical conflict within the protagonists and strewn throughout the plot fascinates me endlessly. i suppose i can attribute that to my more liberal mindset since most readers might antagonize the protagonists for their questionable actions. evaluating both sides and typically sympathizing with the protagonist (thought not blindly supporting) really inspires me both as an author and as a human. it widens my perspective and intellect in addition to providing me muse. okay shut up next question ;ksladjf;kasjdf

💝 what are your favorite cities?

i’m really thankful that this question won’t bring out the dumb drunk literature oe in me but you never know… anyways jk now that i think abt it, i have written a few short memoirs on where i currently live which is las vegas !! even tho a lot of locals feel disdain towards the city, i’ve grown to adore it in the two and a half years i’ve lived here. it’s not the most culturally diverse by any means but a vast improvement over my rural origins (aka the midwest aka ohio). i think there’s something oddly empowering about the most common attraction here: the strip. even though the buildings are owned by wealthy men (i.e. mgm grand), in a sese, the buildings - or at least the vices they offer - retain some ownership over their visitors. their guilty pleasures hold the ability to inflict pain upon those who fall victim to the materialistic lures of gambling, drinking, etc. and yet in that intoxicated state, ppl delude themselves into thinking they’re the ones in power; it’s amusingly ironic. i hope that made sense and didn’t sound like some nihiilstic shit :// i feel like vegas has character tho beyond the commercial attractions, little niches of the city that bring it to life in the present while still maintaining its past. i also stan new york city, seoul, tokyo, bangkok, la, and any major ciites in greece but that’s just my onion!

ask away!

#uhh sorry lmao i didn't mean for this to get so long and excessive but ://#tipsy me likes to be an introspective bitch #jaeshope #kayla.txt

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stephantasmagoria · 6 years

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Paper Crane Mother’s Day without a Mother

May 14, 2018

Facebook Post:

This post is late because I needed the day yesterday to honor my mom as I reminisced, cried, laughed, listened to her favorite music (mostly the Cranberries), put on a smile to celebrate Mother’s Day with my 90 year-old aunt Charlotte, and started folding the first 10 of 1,000 paper cranes.

My mom taught me about Sadako Sasaki when I was a child. At that time, I was only a few years younger than Sadako when she died of Leukemia in Hiroshima a decade after the nuclear bomb decimated her hometown. My mom was born a year after the bomb fell, but she carried its horrors with her as if she was Sadako’s mother. If I were asked to identify one of my mom’s greatest strengths, I would definitely say it was her compassion that defied physical, mental, and temporal borders. That, and her deep conviction that peace is the only thing that makes any damn sense in this world. I think Sadako’s cranes were a symbol representing this belief for my mom.

I can still picture my mom’s face as she shared Sadako’s story with me. Her eyes were moist with sadness, her brow furrowed with vexation, her mouth moving purposefully even though her jaw quivered as she alternated between distress and rage. She spoke with a voice both vulnerable to the pain it described, and strong in the assurance that this was a story necessitating repetition for future generations. I remember trying to learn how to fold origami cranes that day, but I was terribly impatient and I moved on to some other childhood interest. Still, I never forgot the story of Sadako Sasaki.

Two weeks ago, I heard a history podcast recount Sadako’s story. I thought about my mom during the entire episode, and I resolved that I would finally learn to fold paper cranes. Then the resolution mushroomed – not like the smoggy mushroom clouds that exploded over Hiroshima and Nagasaki during the summer of 1945, but like the natural fungus that blooms from the Earth and provides nourishment to the cycle of life. I decided I am going to fold 1,000 paper cranes between Mother’s Day and my mom’s birthday on November 25th. I did the math and found this would mean I need 3 days of folding 10 cranes, and the remaining 194 to fold 5 cranes. I chose the endpoints of Mother’s Day and my mom’s birthday to fold 10, along with the day of Sadako Sasaki’s death.

I am also writing notes to my mom on the paper I’m using to make the cranes. They are memories - both pleasant and unpleasant, in recognition of the very human relationship we had as mother and daughter. They are also quotes from her favorite works of art, conversations in which I choose to engage with her in her afterlife, and messages of gratitude. That last one proved to be the most plentiful yesterday and today.

Pictured here is the first crane I successfully folded. All I have to say is a big shout out to YouTube, and here’s to the past twenty years that helped me mature to the point that I could grin and bear it as I struggled to fold paper into a crane. Most of all, let this tiny victory serve as a reminder of the potential boundlessness of love between mother and child.

To all the mothers out there, I wish you a very happy, albeit belated, Mother’s Day. Never underestimate the influence you have in this world, and in honor of Sadako Sasaki, please don’t underestimate the influence your children have in this world either.

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