#also yes i have a thing for michael york's voice
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Grieving
Elizabeth Olsen x Fem!Reader
TW: Loss, Grieving Process, Eating Disorder Behaviors, Fainting, Exhaustion, SH
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You and Lizzie had been dating for a while when you got the news that changed your world. You had been working through a script when you got a call from an unknown number, showing Lizzie she shrugged not knowing whose phone number it was. Picking up the phone and putting it on speaker phone.
"Hello, is this Y/N Y/L/N?"
"Yes this is, can I ask who's calling?"
"My name is Ryan Jackson and I am calling from the New York City Police Department. "I'm calling in regards to your brother Michael."
"Is he alright?"
"I'm sorry to inform you, he passed away about an hour ago."
Your heart shattered and time stopped after you heard those words. He died, your older brother, your protector, your best friend, died. Your body becomes numb as you drop to the floor, letting out an agonizing scream.
Lizzie who was watching the conversation rushed towards you, holding you in her arms as you cried. Your heart is beating rapidly and breathing unsteady. Sobs wracked through your body as Lizzie held you, eyes watering as she saw you break down. "Shh darling, it's all going to be okay," she said, trying to calm you down. "
N-No you don't understand, he was everything to me, he protected me when I was younger, we did so many things together, and now he's dead," you say, voice unsteady from your tears. "I know love, but you're going to get through this, you are so strong, and now you need to be strong for him as well".
You continued to sit in Lizzie's lap while she rubbed your back, whispering assurances in your ear. You felt numb, like the world around you wasn't real. You couldn't process what was going on, there was nothing that you could do to help yourself.
You learned that the funeral was going to be in a week, knowing that your father was going to have a hard time planning this funeral. It had only been six months since your mother died, and he hadn't even had time to grieve over her death, before your brother, his son, was taken from him too.
He confided in you later that day after you heard the news. You had never really been close with your parents. As soon as you turned 17 you moved out, finished high school a year early, and applied to NYU.
You got in and packed up your things, with the help of your brother, who was the only person from your family that you talked to. It was you two against the world. You studied acting and ended up getting the role of Gamora, and met Lizzie on set during the filming of Avengers Infinity War.
Your father had called you to talk about the funeral arrangements, he wanted you to be responsible for planning the funeral for your brother. You couldn't say no to him, but Lizzie was not thrilled that your father put this huge weight on your shoulders. She knew you, she knew that you would become hyper-focused on the funeral and not let yourself process the trauma you just went through.
"Darling, are you sure that you want to take this on? I know that you want to be there for your father, but I also want you to be able to grieve," she said as you worked on your computer, reserving the burial location. "Yeah Liz I'm fine, I promise," you said, assuring her that you were okay.
She looked at you skeptically knowing when you were lying but choosing to push it. You continued to work on the funeral reservations, making sure you had a place for the service, a coffin picked out, and wrote the speech that you would deliver. During the week, you had become so consumed with the planning you probably slept a total of five hours combined, and skipped almost all of your meals, all while trying to reassure Lizzie that you were okay.
She didn't believe you, each night you would go to bed together but once she thought you were asleep she would get up and go to work on the funeral plans. She could see you slowly falling apart in front of her, and she felt helpless. The bags under your eyes became darker, your skin pale, and your ribs protruded.
The day of the funeral approached and you and Lizzie were in your room getting dressed. You were wearing a knee-length black dress, black stockings, black heels, and a beige trench coat over it.
Lizzie was wearing a black dress with a cardigan over it, black stockings, black leather boots, and a black coat as well. You both made your way to the car, Lizzie insisted on driving, and you accepted. The ride to the funeral home was quiet, Lizzie's hand intertwined with yours.
Once at the funeral home you go into the room where the service will be held, giving yourself time to have one last look at your brother. You found out how he died, driving drunk and hitting a street lamp.
Lizzie let you have time with your brother, she knew how much you loved him and how close you were with him. She was sad that she never got to meet him. You guys were planning on meeting him for dinner in a few weeks.
"I know he's so proud of you darling," she says, joining you in the service room. Tears start to well up in your eyes, but you didn't want them to fall. You tried your best to conceal the fact that you were close to crying, but your girlfriend knew you better than that. "Love if you need to cry, that's okay, you are going through a traumatic and upsetting experience, it's healthy to feel these emotions," she said rubbing your back.
"I'm fine, we should go out to the main lobby. There are probably people here already," you say trying your best to give Lizzie a convincing smile.
The funeral comes and goes, and your father never actually showed up, which made you want to cry. You had done everything he asked, you had done something that you had never thought you would have to do.
Lizzie was extremely furious with your father, putting you through hell when she knew that going through the grieving would be hard even without planning the funeral, but because he had you plan it, it took away from the time you could have to start the grieving process.
You and Lizzie make it to the burial site, just the two of you and the casket carrying your brother's body. You had some time to say your final goodbyes. As they started lowering your brother's casket into the ground, all of the feelings that you buried deep inside you rose to the surface, causing you to collapse into Lizzie's arms.
When you came to you were in your shared bed, Lizzie holding you in her arms, gently stroking your hair. "What happened," you ask quietly. "You collapsed from exhaustion, you pushed yourself too hard.I know that it was important for you to do this, but you weren't taking care of yourself, and it finally caught up with you," Lizzie responds, worry in her voice.
"Darling, you can't just push these feelings down, grieving is a normal response to a loss, no matter how close they are to you. You lost your brother, someone who you relied on, and now he's gone. And you need to be able to grieve," she says as she pulls you to her chest. "I know, I'm just scared," you respond. "I know love, but it will be good for you, and I'll be here the whole time".
Denial
The following weeks were hard for you to say the least. You tried your best to be present in your daily life, but Lizzie could tell that you were having an incredibly hard time.
You had become numb, you didn't want to believe that he was gone, it was like he was here one day and then gone the next. You tried your best to be present in your relationship but didn't feel like you were being a good girlfriend to Lizzie.
Thoughts spiraled as the days went on, "He's not gone, he's going to call, right?" you ask Lizzie as you sit on the couch. She could tell that you knew that it wasn't true but you didn't want to believe that he was gone. He was everything to you.
Anger
The anger came next, you were mad, mad at the world, mad at the fact that he was dead. "If he hadn't been drinking, this wouldn't have happened," you say as you pace around your room, looking at a photo of you and your brother. Lizzie was downstairs working on her computer.
Your anger was building up, and it scared you. Your breathing grew faster as your pacing sped up, you didn't know what to do, you felt like you were spinning out of control. The built-up anger finally became too much, throwing the photo against the wall, shattering the glass frame, you fell to the floor letting out a blood-curdling scream.
When Lizzie heard the scream, she ran upstairs and straight to your shared room. Seeing you on the floor shattered her heart, she never wanted this for you. She ran straight to you and wrapped you in a tight hug, once you felt arms around you. Startled, you started thrashing around, fighting the person behind you.
"Shh darling, it's just me," Lizzie says, trying to calm you down. "No, let me go," you say, trying to release her grip. "Love, I need you to calm down, I know you're angry, and I know that it hurts, but I need you to calm down". Your breathing starts to even out as you start to cry. "Why did this have to happen to me?" you ask, tears falling down your face. "I don't know love, the world works in mysterious ways sometimes," Lizzie says as she picks you up, bringing you to the bed. "Promise me you won't leave me," you say, clinging to her as she places your head on her chest. "I promise my love".
Bargaining
Three months had passed since your brother's death, you had felt angry about him leaving, but knew that it wasn't his fault. Lizzie was working with you to try to help you work through your anger due to his death. You felt like your emotions were too intense and you needed to be able to feel like you were in control again.
"What if I had gone with him, this wouldn't have happened if I had just gone with him," you say to yourself. You hadn't seen Lizzie in the doorway but she had heard you. "Y/N you can keep blaming yourself, it wasn't anything you could have done," she says as she finishes making lunch for the two of you.
Depression
The next three weeks felt slow, you spent most of your time in your room, not eating, talking, or taking care of yourself. Lizzie started going back to work, filming a new TV show since filming for Avengers was on hold. She would usually get home around 9 p.m. and you would be asleep already. You started up old habits, not knowing how to cope. You always wore baggy clothes and long sleeves.
The restricting came first, you would wait till Lizzie left for work to "eat" and if she insisted on having breakfast with you, you would skip the rest of the means for the day. You started cutting again after being clean for five years, you knew that if your brother knew he would have been upset with you, but he wasn't here with you anymore. You knew that Lizzie would find out at some point, but now you were keeping as best a secret as you could.
Lizzie knew that something was up once you started dropping weight quickly, she wasn't sure how to address it with you, knowing that you have been having a rough time with the loss of your brother but knew that this was dangerous and couldn't afford to lose you.
You were so special to her, you were everything to her and she wanted to protect you at all costs, even if you were upset with her about it. She found out that you were harming yourself when she found a bloody razor blade sitting on the ledge in the bathroom. She could tell something was wrong when you started wearing sweatshirts and sweatpants every day.
She knew that she would have the conversation today, deciding to leave the set early, to get home to you as soon as possible. When she got home she entered the house dropping her stuff on the kitchen counter before walking up the stairs to your bedroom.
"Y/N darling, where are you?" she asks looking in your bedroom, seeing that you were not there, she moved to the ensuite bathroom. Knocking on the door waiting on a response, getting none. Seeing that the light was on, she got a sinking feeling in her stomach.
"Y/N darling are you okay, the light is on, I know that you're in there," she said. With no response, she tried the door to no avail because it was locked. "Darling, I need you to open the door, or I'll kick it down," she said. With still no response she backed up and kicked the door in, finding you on the floor of the bathroom barely conscious. "Y/N can you hear me?" she asked, panic rising in her voice. "Lizzie, I'm sorry". "It's alright darling, I just need to know what happened," she said trying to comfort you. "No, you'll be mad". Lizzie knew that you were scared that she would be mad at what you did, but that was the last thing that was on her mind, she was only concerned with helping you.
"Darling, I'm not mad at you at all, but I need to know what happened so I can help you. "I cut my leg and I tried to stand, but it hurt so much, I passed out," you said. "Okay, I need to see your leg okay," she says, helping you sit up on the bathroom floor. "It's not just my leg," you say looking down at the floor, not wanting to meet her eyes.
"Alright, we will take care of everything, let's just take this one step at a time. You nod in agreement, taking off your sweatpants and sweatshirt as Lizzie starts a bath for you. She helped you up from the floor, not paying excessive attention to the cuts on your arms and legs, only focusing on making sure you are comfortable and safe.
You didn't look up from the bubbles in the bathtub scared to meet Lizzie's gaze. She said nothing, getting ready to leave the bathroom to get you new clothes when you stopped her, "pleases stay, I don't want to be alone right now, it's scary," continuing to look at anything but her. "Okay love, can you tell me what's scary?" she asks to take a seat on the floor next to the bathtub.
"The thoughts, I can't seem to make them go away, I just want them to go away," you say as you lay your head on Lizzie's shoulder, quietly starting to cry. "I know darling, it's so hard, but you are so brave, I know that telling you this may not help you but that's what I'm here to do. I will be here for you, whenever you need me, because I love you," she says, kissing the top of your head. "Now let's get you washed up, we can cuddle and talk after." You nod your head as you stare blankly at the wall.
Lizzie was gentle with your arms and legs, considering they were covered in new and old cuts. Some are scared over, some only a couple days old. After finishing up with the bath she grabbed fresh clothes for you from your closet and helped you into them, making sure to be extra careful.
You sat on the bathroom counter as she took the first aid kit from the cabinet under the sink, taking out gauze medical tape and antibiotic ointment.
Working quickly and carefully she disinfected the cuts for a final time before applying the ointment and wrapping your arms, doing the same steps with your legs. Once finished she put everything back, and washed her hands before picking you up and carrying you back to your room. Whimpering in pain as your legs wrapped around her torso, your face in the crook of her neck.
She sat you down on the bed making sure to grab your favorite blanket before getting into comfy clothes herself, grabbing an extra sweatshirt for you, before climbing into bed.
Acceptance
Lizzie helped work with you for the next few weeks, helping you find a therapist to help you process your grief and help you through any bumps in the road. You had some ups and downs but were overall doing well, you worked with a therapist to help you process your grief, you also had Lizzie by your side the whole time, being supportive as ever.
You were getting to the place in the grieving process that you were starting to accept reality for how it was. You knew that your brother was gone, and while you would still have some days that were harder than others, you knew that he was watching over you.
"Darling, I'm so proud of you, you have been so brave through this whole journey, I know that it was hard, and you felt like you would never be the same, but you are doing so well, and I couldn't be more proud of you," Lizzie says as you lay between her legs watching a movie. You just blush and look down at your hands, fidgeting with the rings on her fingers. Shifting so that you were face to face with her, lifting your chin, so that you were looking at her.
"I know that you have a hard time taking compliments, but believe me when I tell you, I am beyond proud of you. You have gone through so much, faced so many challenges, but you're here and working through your grief in a healthier way. I hope that you can learn to love yourself the way that I love you, unconditionally and forever. You are my everything, and I hope I can be yours." She says the last part a whisper, but you still heard her. You smiled as you saw small tears form in your girlfriend's eyes. "You're already my everything." You say pulling her in for a kiss.
#elizabeth olsen#elizabeth olsen x reader#elizabeth olsen x you#elizabeth olsen imagine#elizabeth olsen x female reader
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idk if the newsies fandom is still active on here bUT I saw the new London production on Saturday (Dec 3rd) and need to share my thoughts bc THIS SHOW -
apologies in advance for the amount of fangirling i'm about to do. also this will probably be very long so prepare yourselves
so newsies is my absolute favourite musical and I actually can't believe I got to see the first professional UK production - not only that, I also got to finally meet my best friend who I met through the show! we also made a new friend whilst in the merch line - and another two at stage door after the show. it was so cool to be around other fans of the show!
and wow - I was completely blown away. guys, the choreography for seize the day and king of new york is out of this world, I was in awe the whole time. and the end of once and for all, oh my god. 3 standing ovations as well! (two in seize the day, and during the curtain call/bowsies)
the talent in this show is unreal; michael ahomka-lindsay and bronté barbé were really great as jack and katherine, I really enjoyed their portrayals of the characters and they both have great voices. moya angela was amazing as medda, she wore this beautiful outfit during 'thats rich' that matched what the bowery beauties were wearing, which I really liked, and she had a really nice voice. matthew duckett was great as crutchie, and yes letter from the refuge made me cry. my favourite character portrayal was probably ryan kopel, there was just something about how he plays davey that i loved, and he understood the assignment with poor guys head is spinning which made me very happy.
there were also three swings performing; bradley trevethan as elmer, jordan isaac as romeo, and zack guest who made his finch debut, and they were all amazing!
honestly I could watch those boys dance forever.
the cast made great use of the large space they've been given, there were some walkways that were used in various parts of the show, such as during brooklyn's here with the different boroughs, and the cast going into the audience (such as going up/down the main stairs) makes the show really immersive.
brooklyn were all girlsies. and they had a dance break during brooklyn's here. there was one brooklyn girlsie who had her arm in a sling and her name was splint.
new things they added/details I noticed and really liked were:
• les was actually involved in king of new york
• katherine wore a lady liberty crown made out of spoons at the end of kony which I loved
• race's cigar actually smoked
• there was a little bit at the start of the show, before santa fe prologue, which showed the newsies trying to sell papers
• jack had a small photo of santa fe in his pocket which he was looking at during santa fe prologue, it was a small detail they added that I absolutely loved
• during the 'world will know' scene where they're going on strike, katherine is on one of the walkways (the one closest to where we were sat) watching, which I really liked as her then wanting to help the newsies made more sense as she watched them declare their strike
• there was (at least to me) a small homage to the 1992 movie - during seize the day, they knocked over one of the newspaper carts and started ripping up the papers
• jack did a full on like tarzan swing from a rope (that seemed to appear from nowhere) during the fight scene, les went to do the same thing but davey was like 'um no get down'
• jack was in the seize the day dance break, and he was really good!
• he gave katherine a newsie cap in the finale it was so cute
the newsies were used for a lot of scene changes, specifically for when props needed to be brought on stage. my favourite one was when katherine said 'thank you' to the two newsies who brought her desk and chair on for watch what happens. (sidenote, if you're sat in manhattan, you walk under the stage and get to see all the props which was so cool)
we stage doored after the show and it was so cool, we met michael & bronte (who we actually also met before the show), matthew and ryan, and they were all so lovely!
the best piece of live theatre i've ever seen, it was like nothing i've ever experienced.
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1.5K CELEBRATION
Requested by: @retromafia
Warnings: drinking, smoking
HAPPINESS IS A BUTTERFLY
“So you’re a gangster, huh?”
Sitting on the cold floor, your back resting against the sofa behind you, you observed the guy sitting on the armchair across from you as he lit himself a cigarette.
“I am.”
“And you’re from Birmingham.”
“Yes.”
“What are you doing in New York?”
Michael took a long drag from his cigarette, taking his time to reply. You watched as he exhaled the smoke, unable to take your eyes off him. There was something deeply attractive in his way of acting, of measuring every word and every gesture.
“Business.”
His answer was vague, but you didn’t really care as the alcohol you had been drinking made your mind numb. You swirled the champagne in your glass, focusing on the bubbles raising to the surface.
“So you live here? In this hotel room?” You asked out of curiosity, looking around you. It was big, luxurious. Probably better than any other apartment in the city. And it was in a private area of the hotel, so isolated that you couldn’t even hear the music of the party going on in the room reserved for the events.
“Yes.” He said. “I like it here.”
You emptied your glass and placed it on the small table in front you. “You like the parties.” You teased him, jokingly pointing a finger at him.
“How would you know?” He squinted his eyes, the shadow of a grin making its way on his face.
“Well, I come here every Friday night.” You casually explained. “And you always join the party.”
If it weren’t for the alcohol in your system, you would’ve never had the courage to admit to Michael that you had noticed him long before that night.
“Maybe I have a reason to.” He looked deeply into your eyes. The allusive tone of his voice got you wondering whether he was trying to say that he also had had his eyes on you for longer than you thought, but any further explanation was left unsaid.
“You know, I heard things about you.” You changed the subject. “About your family.”
“What things?” He asked, leaning forward to put out his cigarette in the ashtray.
“They say you’re all criminals. Bootleggers and killers.” You hesitated a bit before going on. “And that you’re cursed.”
A chuckle escaped his lips. “Cursed?”
“Their words, not mine.” You raised your hands.
Michael poured himself a glass of whiskey, before leaning back in the armchair. He didn’t confirm what you had just said, but he didn’t deny either.
“Have you killed?” You dared to ask.
Silence fell between you for a few seconds, and in a moment of clarity you thought that maybe now you had asked the wrong question.
“What, are you afraid I might hurt you?”
Lucky for you, Michael didn’t seem bothered by your question. He had a strange glint in his eyes and an amused smirk on his lips. He knew you weren’t scared.
You shook your head, shifting your gaze to the empty bottle in front of you. “I’m already hurt.”
You faked a dramatic tone, but you couldn’t hide the hint of truth in your voice. Hopefully he was too drunk to catch it.
“I have killed.” He admitted after a while. A veil of sadness misted his eyes, and he seemed to get lost in some distant memory. Some dreadful memory.
Even after Michael’s revelation, you weren’t scared. Maybe it was because he didn’t seem dangerous, or because the champagne was making you brave and stupid, or maybe because, indeed, you were already hurt. What was the worst that could happen to a girl who was already hurt?
“You’re hurt, too.” You whispered.
As if woken up by a trance, he cleared his throat. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” He said defensively. “It’s late, I’ll call you a taxi.”
“Don’t be a jerk.” You protested. “Let me stay. I won’t remember any of this anyway.”
Michael pondered for a moment before relaxing again. He probably figured you were right. He took a long sip from his glass, his eyes studying you.
“So you’re hurt, eh?” He asked, curiosity clear in his voice.
“Yes.” You mumbled. “And for that, I’ll never be happy.”
“Sounds a bit drastic.”
“Happiness is a butterfly, Michael.” You ignored his answer. “I try to catch it, but it always escapes from my hands.”
Silence filled the room as he seemed to take in your words, reflecting on them. Perhaps he felt like that, too. After a few seconds of hesitation, you stood up and walked towards him. A look of surprise came over his features as you sat on his lap, but he promptly wrapped one of his arms around your waist. You teasingly took the glass from his hand and took a sip from it, before placing on the small table next to you. His gaze slowly shifted from your eyes to your lips, his now free hand coming to rest under your chin. Unable to restrain yourself any longer, you pressed your lips against his. He brought you even closer to him as he deepened the kiss, the taste of smoke and whiskey making you feel deliciously intoxicated.
When you moved away, you traced his cheek with your fingertips, taking in every detail of his beautiful face, and it was impossible for you not to voice your thoughts.
“Maybe now I’m cursed as well.”
Tag list: @arwyn-the-cyrptic-bisexural @iamngoclinh08 @lilywinchesterlove @fandom-puff @capitanostella @caelys @lucillethings @peakyxtommy @queenofkings1212 @lyarr24
#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinder imagine#peaky blinders fics#michael gray x reader#peakyswritings1.5kcelebration
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BTTF Year-End Tag Game!
I was tagged by @cheriboms! Thanks for the tag!
How many times would you guess you watched the first back to the future movie?
Ummm let’s see, I may say about 4 or 5, I forgot. However, I did go and watch it in theaters this year!
Did you get any sweet bttf merch? If so, what!
Okay so I hyperfixated this year and when that happens I start collecting. I got my Loungefly bag from 707 Street (still available!), the Lego DeLorean, a Marty Pop to go with my Doc that I had forever, and a Back to the Future cookbook.
How many cans of Pepsi Free did you chug this year?
None, the only Pepsi I like is Wild Cherry (and better than Cherry Coke). I am more of a Dr. Pepper girl.
What was a favorite bttf fanfic you read this year?
Again hyperfixated, so I devour fan works! One that I go back to is I Jump Off And Into Your Arms (But I Don’t Trust the Fall) by Goddess of Confusion
https://archiveofourown.org/works/49698481/chapters/125443009#workskin
Also It's a beautiful thing (two out of three ain't bad) by @penny-anna https://archiveofourown.org/works/50192956
I am a sucker for wing fics, but I also really love all of Penny’s works!
A favorite bttf fanart you saw this year? (please give us a link, not a screencap/repost!)
All of @future-boi’s work! Also the Animations that @cheriboms makes (especially the one with the audio from Bluey, Cheri you need to do one with the audio of Bandit saying ‘It was the 80’s!’ 😉)
Did you create any bttf fanart or fanfic? If you did, what one(s) are you proudest of?
I am currently working on a multi chapter fic that is a crossover with the podcast called The Bright Sessions, where Marty is getting therapy.
But I have made a one shot called Maybe We Should Get Married in the Chapel O’Love https://archiveofourown.org/works/51528580
It isn’t the greatest fic, mostly I wanted to get my thoughts down and I wanted tooth rotting fluff of Marty and Jennifer.
How many times were you late for school this year?
Okay so I am a teacher! Now we are contracted to be at the school at a certain time and pick/meet the students at a certain time. Have I been late for the contracted time this year? Yes, many times. Was I ever late getting the students? Never.
Did you watch any other movies/tv shows with BTTF actors in them?
SO MUCH CHRISTOPHER LLOYD! He is like everywhere! I was rewatching King of the Hill and at one point I was like ‘that grounds keeper sounds familiar.’ And it is Christopher Lloyd!
Michael J Fox is in my top favorite Disney movie! Atlantis The Lost Empire, I watch that movie at least once a year. I also played a bit of Homeward Bound this year for my students of Chance (the dog Michael J Fox voices) yelling ‘It’s Birdzilla!’
Also Elisabeth Shue in Adventures in Babysitting. Funny is one point I was thinking of a Jennifer adventure where she is watching Jules and Verne and it turns into Adventures in Babysitting and then I realized, ‘Wait that is the same actress!’
Pat Buttram who was Jeb also voices Napoleon in the Aristocats.
Was there a memorable moment you heard a Huey Lewis song this year?
I heard Back in Time in the car when I was on a weekend trip with other teachers this year and I had so much fun that weekend with them.
How many times did you fall down this year?
At least three, and that was playing kickball with my students at recess.
Did you get to see BTTF: The Musical? What was your experience like!
No.
Though I am working on a trip to New York to watch and go fabric shopping. Legit doing a two day trip. Fly in, see the musical, spend the night, day out, spend the night, and go home.
How many times did your mom retell the story of how she and your father met?
Because I live two hours away, most of the time when we call or see each other. We are catching up with each other. If she tells stories about the past, it is more of my late grandfather. More accurate is how many times my mom tells me about the pineapple story.
If you could describe your year in a BTTF quote, which one would it be?
I think it is a tie with “If you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything.” And “I finally invented something that works!” Mostly I was trying new thinks with my teaching and with cosplay.
⚡️LIGHTNING ROUND⚡️ Did you get to: go on any trains, skate on a skateboard, ride a horse, drive a Delorean, run in the rain, go to a dance, hang up a clock, play the guitar, pull an all-nighter, read science fiction, or drive thru Burger King this year?
No, no, no, no, yes, yes, yes, kind of, no, yes, and yes.
Your future is whatever you make it! So what are you going to make of this coming year?
Just pull myself out of my funk this year and go out more!
Cause I was late with this if you wish to do this you can!
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I think something has happened to Michael... last time he was this quiet on social media he was very ill with corona, and now David received the stage award without him again... I hope I'm wrong. I liked David acceptance video but I miss Michael, and I especially miss Michael with David.
(Grouping these together, since they are in a similar vein.)
Aw, Anon #1. I remember that from last year, too...Michael being sick with Covid, which ended up being the reason David accepted the Radio Times award without him. It was a bittersweet time, because even though we didn’t get to see them together, we could see how much David was (and is) missing Michael.
But in the case of last year, it was the Covid, whereas in terms of right now, I think Michael’s been so quiet because he is busy filming a new series called Best Interests for BBC1 and it’s a serious, emotional drama, so that is probably taking up most of his time and energy. There are also a few new pictures that have emerged of Michael in Cheltenham with Sharon Horgan on set:
So Michael seems to be in fine form and fettle (thankfully)--just super busy with filming this series (and oh yeah, AL is also pregnant with kid #2--which has oddly barely warranted a mention since the initial announcement back in March).
But I am with both you and Anon #2...I definitely miss Michael and David together, too. I love that there is such a parallel between David’s face and reaction when accepting the New York Film and TV award this year and when accepting the Radio Times award last year:
In both cases, David can’t help but mention Michael (which of course makes sense, given that the awards are for Staged), but what does it for me is the twinkle in his eye and the little grin he gives to the camera. With the NY award particularly, you can see him try not to, but he can’t hide the smile on his face when talking about Michael. And with the Radio Times award, we see that David quite literally has a giant cardboard cutout of Michael’s head (...why?) and implying that he has had Georgia imitate Michael’s voice in the past.
This actually becomes the first appearance of the giant cardboard cutout, with David showing it off again just a few weeks later on the Late Late Show AND calling Michael his “emotional support pet.” In both instances, you can feel and see the emotion and affection underpinning everything David is saying, how he just lights up from within when talking about Michael, and it’s absolutely the sweetest thing ever.
At this point, it does seem and feel strange to see David and Michael without each other--especially when it comes to anything related to Staged. I’ve mentioned this on my blog previously, but I’m not sure how I feel about a third season of the show. If it were just Michael and David making each other laugh and flirting, I would watch it in a fucking heartbeat...but I’m afraid it might just be a rehash of the first two seasons, and/or cluttered up with more celebrity cameos (which just got to be distracting after a while, and took away from Michael and David’s screen time).
I also think the world has moved on, and that particular cultural “moment” in time--the zenith of lockdown, as it were--has passed, so it just wouldn’t really work in a post-Covid world (not that we are post-Covid, because the pandemic is definitely still happening and affecting disabled/immunocompromised/high risk individuals, but way too many people are acting like it isn’t).
But yes...Anon #2, I feel you in anticipating the GO season 2 press tour, and right now it just seems a million years away, which makes the absence of Michael/David content and them being together even more pronounced. We can hope that something will happen before then--perhaps after Michael finishes filming this series, depending on how many commitments and projects they both have coming up--but if not, at least we have that glorious press tour to look forward to one day.
And even if they don’t make a public appearance together, we can still hope that Michael and David are getting to spend time together privately, or will have the chance before long. Because as much as we miss them together, I don’t think it’s anywhere near as much as they miss each other when they’re apart. So lovely...
#anonymous#reply post#michael sheen#welsh seduction machine#david tennant#soft scottish hipster gigolo#radio times#new york film and tv awards#also it amuses me to no end that in both acceptance videos Georgia is there but not even visible#while Michael is prominently featured/mentioned and isn't even there#i'm just saying#and here i thought David was supposed to be the subtle one#amazing#nothing moments that add up to something#ineffable lovers#discourse#gifs by me
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Michael Cuscuna by Jimmy Katz
Michael Cuscuna R.I.P. 1948-2024
Our fantastic friend, then client, Michael Cuscuna, record producer/historian extraordinaire and co-founder of Mosaic Records, passed away on April 19, 2024. Both of us –Alan and Fred– wrote remembrances that we’re reposting here.
.....
Michael Cuscuna by Thomas Staudter
I knew the voice of Michael Cuscuna before I ever met the man. Growing up in an area of New Jersey where we could pull in both New York and Philadelphia stations, I would listen to him DJ at WMMR out of Philly. He had a quintessential FM DJ voice — soft-spoken, intimate, gravelly, authoritative. He didn’t yammer on, but I remember he was clever and his sense of humor was dry as a bone. He played a mix of progressive rock and some things that clung to the precipice of musical genres.
Years later our paths merged. I started seeing his name on the backs of albums I’d play on my college jazz radio show — now I was the DJ, and he had become a prolific producer, supervising dates for a diverse list of artists, including many dedicated to the avant garde. He also produced for Bonnie Raitt and other groundbreaking musicians. I am searching my memory in vain to recall how we became connected, but he was also creating a monthly promo disk sent to radio stations by Crawdaddy Magazine and I became his producer, using the free facilities of the college station to record and edit. He would collect the interview tapes from the magazine’s feature writers, I would edit them into a coherent radio show, then he would come in and record his host segments. Out of that association, I started writing reviews for Crawdaddy of new jazz releases. He was as wickedly funny in person as I remembered him on the radio. I was a little in awe of his extraordinary knowledge of music — an artist’s historical significance, how a musician’s style linked that person to the artists that came before and after, and why certain artists deserved more recognition than they had received by the public. He turned me onto a lot of music. I think we did the show for a couple of years.
More time passed, and Michael came into my life again through my partner at our media advertising agency, Fred/Alan. By now, Michael had established himself as an important compiler of jazz reissues that went above and beyond what was typical at the time. Starting with Blue Note Records, but ultimately including the libraries of other labels, he’d go into the vaults and unearth the unreleased sides and alternate takes and place them alongside the more well-known songs. His two-fer series for Blue Note was particularly noteworthy. On the back of that success, he and a former Blue Note executive named Charlie Lourie created Mosaic Records. Their concept was to do numbered, limited editions in luxurious box sets aimed at the collector market. Initially vinyl only, they switched to CDs when that was the prevailing release format. The boxes were gorgeous, each with a booklet filled with photos, an essay by a prominent jazz historian, and absolutely accurate discographical information. They specialized in “complete” collections depending on the frame they decided was relevant. That frame might have been the three-day recording binge from 1957 by organist Jimmy Smith that resulted in enough material for three CDs, the unreleased complete recordings of Charlie Parker’s live solos recorded by Dean Benedetti, or the complete Capitol recordings of the Nat King Cole trio, a box that weighed-in at 18 CDs. They were sold only through the mail, direct to consumers. But they weren’t reaching the market and needed help. In an earlier era, my partner Fred Seibert had attached himself to Michael to learn as much as he could about producing records. Knowing the two of us, Michael asked if we could come up with a direct marketing campaign. In our typically arrogant belief that we knew how to do almost anything or could figure it out, we said yes.
We began producing a catalog that was mailed out to jazz enthusiasts, slowing building a list of devoted listeners and buyers. My job was to write that catalog. We dissolved the advertising agency in 1992, and mailed catalogs gave way to internet promotion, but I continued writing the sales copy for each release, save one or two that I didn’t do for reasons lost to time. I just wrote one last month for an upcoming set featuring vibraphonist Bobby Hutcherson.
I developed a format for my essays. I started with some thesis about why that artist deserved more recognition, or why the music from that era was crucially important — in other words, why you absolutely had to own that collection. I segued into a couple paragraphs of biography, followed by a few paragraphs where I singled-out important tracks or tried to convey in words the feeling, the sound, the artistry of the musician. I wrapped it up with more “don’t delay” language. In all those years, each and every time I approached a new assignment I had two thoughts crowding my mind — will Michael agree with my thesis? Will Michael take issue with the way I chose to describe the music? Each package gave me an opportunity to do a deep dive into the music, but I knew I didn’t have Michael’s personal connection to many of the artists, or his historian’s perspective on the music. And by the way, he was himself a damn good writer. It never stopped thrilling me when he’d send back an email merely correcting a calendar date, or the number of unreleased tracks, with a message that he thought it was otherwise perfect. More than anything I wanted to impress and satisfy Michael. I was alway so happy that I could.
I think they had done four releases when we got involved in 1984. The company is closing in on 200 box sets. I can’t believe it’s been a 40-year association.
We lost Charlie more than 20 years ago. This weekend, Michael passed after a long illness. I will miss his husky laugh, his personal stories about the musicians we both obsessed over, and the gratitude he expressed each time I turned in an assignment.
To many, his name was a name on the back of an album jacket. To those of us who knew him, we know him as someone who single-handedly rescued the Blue Note archive and other treasures from oblivion, who introduced us to overlooked artists such as saxophonist Tina Brooks, and who demanded we take a second look at music that was significant and mind-blowing. As a colleague, as a client, but mostly as a music lover, I am forever in his debt. My sympathies to the family of this enormously important figure in music. RIP Michael Cuscuna.
–Alan Goodman (repost from Facebook)
.....
Michael Cuscuna, photograph by Jimmy Katz
Michael Cuscuna
Michael Cuscuna, one of my great inspirations and sometime collaborator, passed away this weekend (April 19, 2024) from cancer. Being a cancer survivor last year myself, when someone I’ve known and worked with for over 50 years it hit particularly hard.
Blue Cuscuna: 1999 promotional sampler from Toshiba-EMI [Japan]
Michael has been the most consequential jazz record producer of the past half century, a man who had not only a passion, but the relentlessness necessary to will the entire history of the music into being. Don’t believe it? Check out the more than 2600 (!) of his credits on Discogs. Substantial and meaningful he might have been, but to me, he was a slightly older friend who was always there with a helping hand. Hopefully, I was able to hand something back on occasion.
As I said when he answered “7 Questions” eight years ago: “I first encountered Michael as a college listener to his “freeform,” major station, radio show in New York, and was fanboy’d out when a mutual friend introduced us at [an] open rehearsal for [Carla Bley’s and Michael Mantler’s] Jazz Composer’s Orchestra at The Public Theater (MC has a photographic memory: “It was Roswell [Rudd]’s piece or Grachan [Moncur III]’s. You were darting nervously around the chairs with your uniform of the time – denim jean jacket, forgettable shirt and jeans.”) By 1972 or 73, he’d joined Atlantic Records as a producer, and since that was my career aspiration, I’d give him a call every once in awhile. He’d patiently always make time for my rambling and inane questions, and I never forgot his kindness to a drifting, unfocused, fellow traveler.
“...patiently always make time for my rambling and inane questions...” says a lot about Michael. His raspy voice could sometimes seem brusque, but ask anyone and they will tell you that he always made time to talk. Especially about jazz.
I desperately wanted to be a record producer and Michael was one of the first professionals I encountered. He had already produced my favorite Bonnie Raitt LP when somehow or other I bullied my way into his Atlantic Records office, where he was a mentee of the legendary Joel Dorn. Over the next few years, Michael was often amused at some of the creative decisions I made, but he was always supportive and even would sometimes ask me to make a gig when he couldn’t. When I spent a year living in LA, he invited me over to the studio while he was mining the history of Blue Note Records that would define his life for the next half century. I completely failed to understand what the great service to American culture he was about to unleash. Along with Blue Note executive Charlie Lourie, Michael’s research resulted in a series of double albums (”two-fers” in 70s speak), but little did the world know what was on Michael’s and Charlie’s minds.
The Cuscuna/Lourie Blue Note “Two-Fers” that ignited Mosaic Records
“I don’t think it’s generally understood just how imperiled the musical and visual archives of Blue Note Records were at one point, and just how heroically Michael stepped in to make sure this unparalleled American music survived for future generations. If you like jazz, you owe the man.” –Evan Haga
(Joe Maita does a great interview about Michael's career here.)
Fast forward a few years. The air went out of my record producing tires, I became the first creative director of MTV, I quit MTV and along with my partner Alan Goodman started the world’s first media “branding” agency. Leafing through DownBeat one day I saw an ad that started a new relationship with Michael that would last, on one level or another, for the rest of his life: the “mail order” jazz reissue label Mosaic Records.
Charlie Lourie & Michael Cuscuna at Mt. Fuji Jazz Festival, Japan 1987. Photograph by Gary Vercelli / CapRadio Music
Long story short, in 1982 Michael returned my check for the first two Mosaic releases with a note asking for some help. Initially, Mosaic wasn’t the sure fire, instant success Michael and Charlie had hoped for, did I have any ideas? I did, but no time to do anything other than make suggestions, we were busy trying to get our own shop off the ground. This cycle repeated itself for another couple of years when this time when Michael called he said Mosaic was on death’s door. Fred/Alan was in better shape, so Alan and I, on our summer vacation, came up with the first Mosaic “brochure,” convinced the guys we knew what we were doing (I’d read a few paragraphs in a direct mail book in a bookstore) and, with nothing to lose, Charlie and Michael took the plunge with us. Success! 42 years later, the former Fred/Alan and Frederator CFO at the helm, Alan and I always answer any call from Mosaic.
The first Mosaic Record box set 1983
There aren’t many people in the world like Michael Cuscuna. The world’s culture will miss him. I will miss him. Most of all, of course, his wife and children will miss him.
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So yes we finally seen the new
Illumination animated movie Migration
and yes there was a few collectable things
for it which you can see here.
As for the movie I have been wanting to
see this for a while now I remember seeing
the trailer for it and thought
it would be good and I was not wrong!
This was a great movie!! it was cute and
funny and honestly one of the best animated
movies we've seen in a while.
your basic story is this is about a family
of ducks (Mallards) who decide to leave the
safety of their pond and migrate to Jamaica
after meeting another group of ducks on there
way there. The father duck Mack voiced by
Kumail Nanjiani is reluctant to go at first but
ends up changing his mind and the family
is off on this grand adventure! and that is
where most of the hilarity ensues they do
take a somewhat wrong turn that leads to
some discoveries about the big open world
but they get back on track after a few
mishaps.
Now like I said it was a great movie
the character designs were good and
the character animation and production
design was I thought very impressive.
I can't imagine the research that was
put into this for the bird movements
and how they fly and everything
it must have been extensive.
also they put alot into the backgrounds
and the open world was pretty amazing
for the whole time in New York City
(I told you there was a wrong turn)
the creation of that as much and as little
as you see of it I felt that it was a
living breathing realistic New York that
they go through. I did think it was impressive
like the Cinematography and all that was
so very good.
Not only was it good visually but the voice
acting was excellent also and you do get
the voices of not only Kumail Nanjiani
but Elizabeth Banks, Danny DeVito,
Carol Kane, Awkwafina and Keegan-Michael Key
to name a few but everyone in this
did an amazing job.
but yeah I was happy to finally see it
and would recommend it if you want to
watch something that is cute and funny
and is kind of a shame it wasn't nominated
for an Oscar. but yeah I would defiantly
say give it a watch if your interested
#Migration#Migration Movie#Migration 2024#Migration Movie 2024#Illumination#Illumination Migration#Animated Movies#Animation#NaughtyGirl286#ShannonJ286
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Hello, your Santa here <3
It is harder, but like, I love when the lyrics flow along with music, then I can treat the vocal as another instrument without feeling that it bothers me - that's why I can't listen to Polish music. It's my native and I'm always thrown out of the mood when I hear it XD
"Goodnight Vienna" is an amazing album! Sure, make the list, I'm curious to see what you got!
I had a dog, a tiny york terrier, he lived up to 15 years and a little bit more. Right now I have a female canary who sings like a male and actually tricked us at the very beginning. I love her tho, even if she's as stubborn and moody as I am XD
What about you? Do you have or had any animals?
And also a question from me, because you've mentioned The Monkees earlier. How did you get into them? What makes you love their music and what are your favorite songs by them?
Sincerely, your Santa <3
hi!!
i totally see what you mean, that's why it doesn't bother me at all to hear music in languages i know absolutely nothing about! by the way, even if you don't really listen to polish music, do you have any recommendation of polish songs that i could like? :^)
i'll definitely listen to ringo's albums, it's unfair i've listened to most of the three other beatles' discographies but not ringo's one!
ooh a canary, so cute!! i didn't know canaries had different voices according to their gender :o like is the pitch different?
i don't right now but when i was younger, we had a bunny that lived for like 12 years! i think he had a happy life cause he wasn't living in a cage, he had a small area for him in our greenhouse where he dug a burrow! when it was sunny, we let him gambol in the garden where he could run and eat dandelions :^)
to be honest, i don't really remember how i got into the monkees!! i don't even remember if i watched an episode or something first and then listened to their music or the other way around. i wish i could answer but really, i don't remember at all! one thing for sure is that i learnt their existence on tumblr!
what i love about their music is mainly when it sounds country-like, thanks to michael nesmith of course :^) i love never tell a woman yes, hollywood, magnolia simms, good clean fun... i also love their "psychedelic" approach which is not TOO deep like circle sky or the porpoise song (i really like the album head in general) and shout-out to lady's baby which is a very pretty song! it's impossible to choose, i love too many songs :^) what about yours?
see you soon!!
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sonofgondcr replied to your post: “-me listening to an audiobook of ramses the damned mostly because...”:
are you kidding lmao
she seems very selective with how she researches things and it’s frustrating
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Everyday Matt Murdock Scenarios #2
Matt Murdock x Genderneutral!Reader
Warnings: One sexual innuendo
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Matt tried, he really, really tried. He put on a smile, smiled through the pain, but you could tell something was wrong.
“It’s too salty, isn’t it? I shouldn’t have used that new smoked paprika salt, but it just smelled so good and I thought it would pair with the dish so well”, you said.
Matt, sensing the regret in your voice, shook his head. “It’s not too salty, it’s actually perfect.”
It wasn’t. At least not for him and his sensitive senses. Yes, they were his superpower and allowed him to do the things he did, but they could also be a curse. Even the softest fabrics were too rough against his skin, the annoying neighbours down the street kept him up with their music most nights, he could smell the garbage and piss in the New York air more than most people, and even the smallest hint of spices burnt his tongue.
it wasn’t just the salt. It was the salt, the pepper, paprika, garlic, cayenne pepper, chilli, even the onions burned like fire. Some days were better than others, sometimes he could eat like everyone else, though the more spicy dishes were always out of the question.
“Matthew Michael Murdock, I may not have your senses but I can tell that you’re lying to me. If my cooking sucks at least tell me so I can do better next time.”
He reached across the table to take your hand in his, slowly bringing it to his lips and pressing a soft kiss on the back.
“I’m sure you’re a sensational cook. But, you see-”
“I swear, if you’re gonna tell say ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ I’m gonna walk out that door and never return”, you threatened, though the obvious humour in your voice betrayed your true intention.
“What I was gonna say is that I have a heightened sense of taste, which means that as much as I’d love to eat everything you offer me, I simply can’t.”
You nodded. You should have known, but you loved to cook and it had seemed like such a good idea to reward Matt after putting on an amazing trial earlier today.
“But”, he continued, his voice now deeper and a bit rougher. “There is something else I would love to taste.”
You couldn’t hold back your laugh, squeezing Matt’s hand with a big smile still on your face.
“Get your mind out of the gutter, Murdock, and let me finish my meal, then we’ll see whether there’s some dessert for you.”
Matt leaned back on his chair, shovelling a bit of plain rice on his fork in the process.
“Looking forward to it, sweetheart.”
-------
Check out more of my work and more Everyday Scenarios here
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock x you#matt murdock x y/n#daredevil x reader#daredevil x you#daredevil x y/n
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Here we have Reaching Out, what I'm gonna call the first of the Rebecca Rose Trilogy (if you know, you know):
Oh, so that's how Luz is charging her phone
That reminder's gonna come up again later, isn't it
I totally believe Luz when she says she feels great. Yup. Absolutely.
Oh, so a light, relaxing day
Ah, Luz basically discovered Featherfall
...How often does that happen, King? (Who am I kidding, this is the Boiling Isles)
Something subversive about a house building a door
Lmao Luz stalking Hunter on Penstagram with Eda's scroll
Wait, "RULERZREACHF4N?!" Does he know who wrote that?
He's sending Willow pics of Flapjack wjtjoeowk
Luz, you've lived in this for too long to get away with that
Wonder what that ritual might be...
And here comes Amity with the convenient plot hook
Bonesborough Brawl? Well consider my inexplicable urge for a pro wrestling AU intrigued...
Didn't see or hear
Emperor's Coven tryouts? I thought we were over that...
Way to blow off an attempted moment of connection there, Alador
Uh, nice disguise
And there, Amity straight up saying she doesn't want to join a coven! Maybe now that one section of the fandom will shut up. (Spoiler: they won't)
I could go on about the details in that photo, but the fandom will have already done that many times over by the time this goes up
"You should know I always go for the chaotic route!"
(Good screenshot #1)
Of course Eda knows all about the Brawl
Hmm, voice imitation. Wonder if she learned that one from the twins?
Ah, Luz calling Amity boo
Oh, speaking of the twins
Oh, so their default appearance has been an illusion this whole time. Interesting...
Well now we know what's up with Emira's gem
Boy, Em and Ed are a lot more distinguishable without those concealment stones. Also, I like they both look without them
Oh Luz loves it!
(Good screenshot #2)
Oh hey, Wrath again
Way to rub it in, Eda
"Imprisioning my student/child" Ah, the Mama Eda fans loved that one
Also, we now know where that one screenshot came from
Figures she would have a backup plan
I hate that I mentally followed "You know the rules" with "And so do I." I've been on the internet for far too long
I'm getting some "Blind Bandit" vibes here. I believe Kevin Michael Richardson did a voice in that, too
"The Mighty Mittens" lol
That surfing in on the abomination goo was really cool, though
Luz being supportive gf in the crowd❤
Uh oh, the thoughts return...
There's obviously more to this "ritual"
*sigh* Luz, you are very clearly not okay
Ah, so she is entering
Avoiding discussing the issue until it comes to a head? Couldn't be
Good to know there continues to be blushing aplenty. Ooh, just thought of a joke! Those two must be a neighborhood in a New York borough, because they're blushing queens!
Anyways...
I think it's too late for that, Amity (Get it? Because of Luz's poorly disguised emotional distress?)
Ooh, Em knows healing magic!
Pfffft Batric
(Yes, I do know that that's the bat from Adventures in the Elements)
(Also, first thing that came to mind: "No, this is Batric!")
Ooh, separate twin development. I know of a certain fic author who would appreciate that
Skin badgers? Sounds gross
Third ooh in a short time frame: Edric knows beast keeping magic!
"Nah, too close to Eda" lmfao
Hooray, he gets to help!
Whoops. Oh well, Ed is from a rich family and he has a thriving black market fireworks business, I'm sure he'll be fine
Dang, Batric is very well trained to just hover there
Luz certainly knows how to make a dramatic entrance
Also, Spellraiser 10/10 name
And another promo shot
And of course Amity is loving the way Luz looks here
(Good screenshot #3)
Yes these Good Screenshots are all Lumity related, what of it?
Putting that new glyph to use, I see
A nice reminder that Luz is good at this
Alternaring montage scenes? Guess we got two sporty episodes in a row
Super Saiyan Goat Granny
King still calling Wrath Eda's boyfriend
I did not have Edric and King bonding moment on the bingo card, and I don't imagine many other people did, either, but it's nice
Oh dear, here we go again
This is starting to look more and more like a trauma response...
Well then, that thing is back
That was probably not the best idea...
Yup. Trauma response. Poor thing
This won't end well
Tell me lies, tell me sweet little lies...
(Okay, maybe a bit harsh, Luz isn't quite Todd Howard)
Final battle?
Or not
Yikes...
And still with the denial...
Wrath still filling the designated jobber role, I see
"I already have one" Well then
Oh, Mittens is pissed
"Either of you" ooooof
The way that line was delivered hits hard
That serum probably isn't gonna work as intended
So are we finally ready to talk about our feelings, Luz?
Oh, the Grom tree, that seems...purposeful
....oh
This is gonna be heartwrenching, then
(Also we finally find out what happened to Luz's dad)
God, this face. Drives the point home that it is, in fact, a Big Fucking Deal
Jesus Christ the way her legs gave out
I don't think I'll be over that for a good long while
To use an AO3 tag: Amity Is An Awesome Girlfriend
Oh, and just for the sake of evening things out a bit:
(Good screenshot #4)
The smallest change to a formula can have dire consequences. That was a lesson I learned while going to college for my chemistry degree
Hell yeah, Harpy Eda time!
Dick move, Al
Meanwhile Eda eagerly helps Luz. Slick contrast
Ayyy she gave the same look from Grom
"You're welcome" OHHHHHHH CALLBACK ECHO GET REKT
"Were you always able to do that?" I mean, maybe she had the potential?
Boy, Eda let him off easy, all things considered
Oh, Wrath you've fallen far since that first episode
"Not inviting to magickind" In other words, Philip/Belos fully intending to wipe out magic altogether
Niceeeee
(Good screenshot #5)
Hey, nobody said they all had to be Lumity related
Lol Emira
Ah, so Odalia did want Amity to join the EC
Also, Alador is deeply uninformed about the lives of his children
Oh my god he's expressing willingness to do the barest minimum, Dad of the Year! /s
Hug: Denied
Well, now we know how it works when glyphs are a bit off
Wow, Luz looks so exhausted, poor baby
This screenshot says more than I could about this part
And back at the Noceda household to drive the sadness home...
Holy shit, this episode...wow.
I wasn't sure if, when, or how anything was gonna top Knock Knock Knockin' On Hooty's Door, but they went and gone done did it! Just...the cute Lumity moments, the separate development of Edric and Emira, Eda being the schemer and mom she is, the badass action scenes, and the way it shows how someone grapples with grief even years after a loss! Just a few things off the top of my head I could list that made this fantastic! I've seen quite a few people say this was one of the best episodes, if not the best, and I'm inclined to agree.
This show just continues to deliver and amaze.
#the owl house#luz noceda#eda clawthorne#king clawthorne#hooty#hunter#willow park#amity blight#alador blight#lumity#emira blight#edric blight#warden wrath
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If you're still taking them, #47 from the prompt list please? 😊
// there will be a part two. may even make it into a series...//
THEN CAME YOU SERIES (working title)
“Thank you. I’ll be more than happy to answer any questions after lunch,” you said to the audience. A round of applause followed your presentation.
When your business partner asked you to speak about DNA collection and testing advances, you were thrilled. Not only would new samples be run faster, but old samples could also still be run even on some that have deteriorated due to damage or age. You were excited to get the chance to share the new information. The only downside was you missed your six-month daughter, Adalyn Reese.
“Excuse me, Y/N. I’m Michael Dodds. Sorry to interrupt your lunch. Mind if I sit?” he asked, pulling a chair out and sitting his plate on the table.
“Yes, please,” you said. But, oh, holy smokes, he had gorgeous green eyes. You shook your head. “Uh, what can I help you with, Michael?” you asked.
He took a sip of water. “I’m a sergeant with Manhattan SVU. I think my precinct would benefit from your presentation.”
“Of course. What precinct?” you asked.
“We’re the 16th precinct on East 51st. My commanding officer is Olivia Benson,” he informed you.
“Great. I live in Murray Hill so I’m close,” you said as you pulled your datebook from your bag.
“I live close to Bryant Park. We’re practically neighbors. We should get coffee or lunch sometime,” he offered.
“I’d like that.” A big smile crossed your lips. Was he flirting? No, probably just business.
“Oh, here this fell from your book,” he said, picking something off the floor. “Is this your daughter?” he asked, passing a picture to you.
“Thank you,” you said. “Yes, that’s my daughter, Adalyn,” you answered. “She’s six months old.”
Mike smiled. “She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah, she is,” you said softly. “She’s with my parents while I’m here.”
You and Mike conversed for a few more minutes. Mike was very easy to talk to and not to mention he was very handsome.
“I have taken enough of your time. Here is my card,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “My desk and work phone are on the front, and my personal cell is on the back,” he explained.
You gave him a business card with your info as well. “It was nice meeting you, Michael.”
“The pleasure was all mine. I look forward to hearing from you,” he said.
“Bye, Addy! Momma loves you!” you said to your six-month-old daughter later that evening. “I’ll be home tomorrow evening,” you told your Mom when she turned the screen back to her face. “Thanks again for keeping her.”
“Oh, honey. I’ve enjoyed having her. How are things going with the conference?” she asked.
“It’s going well,” you responded. “I already have a couple of precincts that want me to present to their staff.”
“That’s wonderful, darling,” she said.
“Yeah, and one of the sergeants, Michael, lives just a few blocks from me. He is in Manhattan SVU. I had a great conversation with him. We’re going to meet up for coffee to discuss things more,” you explained.
A smile crossed your Mom’s lips. “He seems very nice. I’m glad to hear you’re meeting new people, especially after…” she trailed off, and the smile fell from her face. “I’m sorry, dear,” she apologized.
“It’s okay, Mom. I’m going to get off here and get some dinner,” you said. “Love you.”
“Love you too, my darling girl.”
After the phone call with your Mom, you went to the hotel restaurant. No tables left, of course. “How long is the wait for a table for one?” you asked the hostess.
She glanced up from the podium. “About 30 minutes. There is one person ahead of you.”
“Hey, you can sit with me,” a familiar voice behind you said.
When you turned, it was Michael. “Oh, no. That’s ok.”
Michael stood from the bench where he was waiting. He had changed from a suit into a pair of jeans and a fitted sweater. “Please. I hate dining by myself. You would be doing me a favor.” He flashed you a sweet smile.
“So, have you lived in New York your whole life?” Michael asked after the hostess sat you and took your drink and meal order.
“From the time I was two. My father was in the army and stationed in Italy when I was born. After that, he taught at West Point until he retired,” you explained.
“West Pointe. That’s impressive,” Michael said.
“What about you?”
“I lived in Chicago for a while growing up. I enlisted in the army after college. Then went to the police academy. Been in New York for about ten years,” Michael said. “How did you get into forensic science?”
The conversation continued through dinner and into dessert. And you didn't want it to end. You could talk to Michael all night. Not only did he have good stories, but he also listened to what you had to say. In the little time you spent with Michael, you knew there was a deep connection. You just hoped he felt the same.
After dinner, Michael invited you to take a walk in the hotel's courtyard. It was a beautiful but chilly autumn evening. You rubbed your hands up and down your arms.
“Here,” Michael said, offering you his sweater.
“Thanks,” you said with a smile when he draped it over your shoulders. It was warm and smelled of his cologne.
“Listen. I want to ask you a question, and please don’t take offense,” he stated. Michael scratched the back of his neck. He was nervous, you could tell.
You furrowed your brow. “Ok. Shoot.”
“Are you married? In a relationship?” He stopped and gauged your reaction.
Shaking your head, you answered his question. “None taken. I’m single,” you continued. “I can explain Adalyn’s father-”
Michael held up a hand. “Not my business. I only asked because I like you and I think that you like me-”
Turning, you grabbed Michael’s T-shirt. “Would you just shut up and kiss me?”
Michael grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”
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Stopping You [Part 10] - Michael Gray
Words: 8.9k+
Summary: Y/N’s recovery from both her feelings and her wound takes a step back after a specific night.
Warnings: Female!Reader. Mentions of wounds, a lot of blood, death and night terrors. Emotional cheating. Self-hate (discrediting their own sadness and feelings; hateful inner voice).
Prologue Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11
It has been a total of 24 hours.
Yesterday was a bad day. Both mentally and physically.
Polly tried her best into bringing your mood up, which worked in some way. She eased your mind by telling you that what you were feeling is completely normal, but as soon as you were alone, it was like the whole world was crashing on you.
Over crying so much as hateful questions filled your mind, you were sore at the end of the night. You contracted your muscles so much while sobbing that you could feel your wound pulsate against your skin in pain.
You questioned almost everything about your life before and after Michael left and when he reappeared. Things have changed, not just around his family, but also around you. And that seems to be one of the most confusing matters.
You never cared too much about this, but you can’t help but think about how so many things have changed since Michael came back. From your behaviors to how you function. Everything has changed in some way.
You’ve always suffered with night terrors in your life, ever since your parents left, but they were almost never about Michael. The exception being when the whole Italian/New York mafia situation went down, and Michael got injured. But other than that, it was always you, or anybody else close, that would die.
Never Michael.
You want to know what could’ve possibly awaken those thoughts and that part of your brain that makes you think like that. Could it be because you now connect him to something bad in your life? Or that when he came back, he had-
No, you’re not going there. It’s useless. It will cost you nothing pain, and it won’t grant you any answers. Might as well push that away and live your life.
Or at least try.
You bring your hot mug back to your lips and take another sip of your tea, letting your eyes fall to the ground.
Polly believes you could talk to him. Tell him about how you’ve been feeling lately. But, honestly, for what? To say that you’re falling right back in love with him just to later be thrown in the face that he does not love or feel anything for you anymore.
He. Is. Getting. Married.
It would just be simply ridiculous to do such a thing.
He doesn’t feel anything for you and that’s okay. All he feels is pity and maybe he got a little scared over you being shot, but that’s it. There are no feelings attached, no romance. No nothing. Just simply… a connection through pain, which awoke lost and forbidden memories.
Maybe this could just be your pride talking over your heart but, you just can’t believe that you’re letting yourself fall so easily. After so long of crying over him and overworking yourself to become a Peaky Blinder and just- not worry about anything in your demolished love life. All of it going to the trash because… You caught feelings for him again?
It’s disappointing to say the least.
Today, you awoke as soon as the sun made its way into the living room and since then, you haven’t done much. You walked back to your room after getting yourself a warm drink and sat by the window staring at the green grass of the neighbors’ house like it’s the most entertaining thing in the world.
A book is resting beside you. You have read a few good pages, but you can’t bring yourself to read more than 20 at a time.
Your mind is too heavy.
Voices coming from downstairs make you look away from the window and up to your door. You try your best to identify them as soon as you find them familiar.
You can hear voices and the laugher of Lizzie and Arthur. Which is awfully strange.
You scowl at the sound, and the soft patter of quick feet running around the house squeezes your heart. The kids are here too.
You rise from your seat and walk across your bedroom to the door. You open it softly and the sound of everyone’s voices is now louder. Confusion is the most prominent emotion you can feel right now, but you can’t help but welcome it better than any other one you’ve been feeling lately.
While walking down the main stairs silently, a soft gasp is heard over the loud voices. Ruby’s.
You smile at her as she spots you walking down the stairs and she quickly let’s go of her mother’s hand to run towards you.
As you’re distracted swallowing down the jab of pain at your middle while leaning down to grab her, Polly’s eyes meet you. The smile in your face is almost like a warm hug in the winter. She could get used to this sight forever.
“Look who came back from war,” Ada jokes as she spots you.
She walks towards you and her arms wrap around you as soon as you’re close enough. You lean towards her, even with Ruby on your hip, and she squeezes you in closer.
“I was so worried,” She tells you, “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
You pull away from the hug with a small smile and she gives you a wide one in return. It’s been a few weeks since you last saw her. She had left back for London not long before the whole event happened. You honestly didn’t expect to see her this soon.
As Ada moves back, everyone’s attention goes over to you. Everyone, or at least, almost everyone pulls you into a hug, sharing their words of how grateful they are from knowing that you’re still breathing.
You know they had visited you back at the hospital when you were still asleep, but nothing compares to actually seeing you move like nothing had happened. Arthur’s words, not yours.
Talking about Arthur. He was awfully apologetic while you two hugged it out. You believe he must have blamed himself for what happened, but you were quick to take that idea off his head.
You’re not about to see anybody else beating themselves for something out of their reach. Unless that’s you, of course.
Tommy and Arthur, not even 20 minutes into stepping in Polly’s home, excuse themselves and leave off to work.
The crowd in the living room doesn’t consist in much more people. Both Ada and Lizzie, and of course the kids, stayed behind and took a seat on the couch. The kids surrounded you as soon as you all sat down, while the women in front of you were distracted on talking about whatever, or rather, whoever worth of gossiping.
You listen to some of their words while being continuously pulled into conversation by Charlie as you let Ruby sit next to you, leaning to your side.
Karl is sitting closer to his mother, but looking at you and joining the conversations, nonetheless.
“What about you, Y/N?” Ada asks as she sips her tea.
“What about me?” You ask confused, obviously having no clue on what she’s on about.
“We were talking about weddings,” Lizzie explains, “Sharing our opinions on what is the best wedding. And Ada asked if you have anyone in your mind as your future husband?”
Her tone is playful more than anything. Both Lizzie and Ada expect a disgusted scowl or a roll of your eyes as an answer, but Polly can’t help but tense up against her seat at the question.
As innocent as this conversation was, it was more than powerful to push you back into your inner darkness.
“Not that I know of.” You answer, trying to mimic Lizzie’s tone.
“Oh, come on. You don’t find any man attractive?” Ada asks, putting her cup down beside her, “Not even one?”
You shake your head slowly and she stares at you with half closed eyes, almost as if she has a suspicion of some sort about your feelings towards any male presences.
“There has to be someone,” Lizzie agrees with Ada, “It’s been… what? 3 years?”
You shrug, fighting your urge to correct her since it won’t do you any justice, and the two women share a look as Polly watches all the action unfold.
“What about Finn?”
Oh god, you almost gagged right here.
Ada laughs under her breath at your disgusted yet shocked look and shakes her thoughts of that couple even be slightly real, away.
“God.” Polly scoffs out loud, making every woman rip a slight smile.
“What’s so wrong about my baby brother?” Polly asks, hands over her hips, playful grin on her face.
“Nothing is wrong,” Polly explains, “They would just be the most chaotic couple to existence. Can you imagine?”
You chuckle at her words and shake your head.
“They would burn down the church right at their wedding,” Polly jokes making both Lizzie and Ada laugh, “Probably even when saying their vows.”
There’re a few seconds of silence as the women let their giggles die down.
“Where is Finn?” Lizzie asks curious.
“Oh, Tommy has been making the boy work double the shifts now, for some reason.” Polly answers, “I don’t understand why, but they changed a lot of his shifts since their last meeting.”
“There was a meeting?” You ask confused.
Polly looks over at you.
“Yes, there was. It was only between Tommy and some of the men.” She answers with a short nod, “Nothing too important was talked about, I’m sure.”
You nod at her a little bit unsure and Charlie is quick to grab your attention back to him. He pulls you by your sleeve to look at him and he starts showing you his new toy horse, again.
You feel like you’ve seen that horse a thousand times, now.
Another conversation restarts between the women and you lean back on the couch, letting Ruby continue to play with your gold necklaces as Charlie talks his heart out about the horse that his dad gave him.
Your mind is constantly somewhere else. But this time, it focused on work. Mainly, on what the meeting could’ve possibly been about. As if any meeting with just the men was ‘not important’. They always have the most interesting meetings.
And with that train of thought, hours go by.
You were so distracted by listening to the women beside you laugh and talk, or just with looking down at the kids, that you didn’t even notice the time pass.
Your mind is still on that damned meeting, but you don’t let it get the best of you. You’re sure that the information will eventually reach you. In one way or another.
Three knocks are heard from the front door, and only Polly stands to open it. Nobody thinks too much of it. Everyone knew that eventually someone would come and pick up Ada, Lizzie and the kids.
It’s soon to be dark out, they must be almost leaving now.
“I’m sorry that we’re late.” A familiar voice sounds from the door.
Ada freezes and at the same time she looks up at you, you look up at the door. Not even 5 seconds later, Michael enters the house, followed by, of course, Gina. His blue eyes travel to the couch in the living room, and as he finds you, you’re already looking down at Charlie.
Your hand rests against Charlies’ head, smoothing his soft hair between your fingers, detangling it softly.
He forces his gaze to go back to the blonde behind him and his mother closes the front door behind them.
“Go sit. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go make more tea.” Polly says, voice strong, not as soft as it was previously.
Ada’s and Lizzie’s eyes stay on both Michael and Gina as the couple stands in silence. They don’t find the women’s gaze as nothing more than their way to look at guests before exchanging some welcoming words, so, the tense air and shock just came unnoticed.
“Oh, hi Michael” Ada says, standing on her feet. “Didn’t expect to see you today.”
She gives her cousin a quick hug, in which he hugs back, but her eyes quickly fall on the blonde.
“And who are you?” Ada asks softly.
“Michael’s fiancée, Gina” She says with her American accent, extending her hand towards the other family member she hasn’t heard of before.
Ada shakes her hand, feeling slightly confused and shocked with her words, but, just like anyone else in this room, she’s quick to hide her emotions.
“Please, sit. I don’t want you standing all night.” Polly says to the new guests, from the kitchen door.
Michael is the first one to move towards the couches. You don’t dare to look up at him and he notices, fighting his own urge to start a conversation.
Your heart quickens the closer he gets to you and Charlie looks up at him, probably recognizing his face somewhere.
“Charlie, honey, scoot over a little.” Lizzie tells the boy.
The boy in front of you nods in response and takes his eyes off Michael. He stands on the couch and carefully steps over your lap and sits on your other side, by the arm of the couch.
Michael takes his seat next to you and you hold in your breath as your arms rest completely against one another. Lizzie moves a bit to the side and Gina sits beside her fiancée, who has his attention somewhere else.
“How are you?” Michael whispers down at you and you still don’t look up.
“Good.”
Your tone is cold and distant, which he finds extremely strange and awfully uncomfortable.
The couch is surely not large enough for 4 people, but you and Michael are having it worse than anyone else seated down on it. Lizzie and Gina have at least a few inches between themselves, while you and Michael are almost completely leaning against one another, trapped between Gina and Charlie.
Michael’s hands rest over his lap as he hears the awfully awkward conversation between the women start, not finding it at all surprising that you are paying them no absolute attention.
Ruby lets go of your necklaces for the first time and looks down at your hands.
They’re slightly sweaty over the presence of the man beside you but she pays them no mind, grabbing onto them as she eyes the expensive jewelry, surely something she loves a lot about you.
Polly comes back not too long after, and she’s quick to serve everyone another cup of tea.
You refuse any more, since you feel like you’ve already drank too much and explode your own bladder if you keep on going. And as your hand lifts to dismiss the tea from Polly, Ruby catches it.
You smile a bit at her and Michael grins slightly at the sight of the small girl being so interested in your hand. You let her twist the rings on your fingers and her gaze moves up at Michael.
His grin seems awfully contagious to her since she ends up smiling shyly at him as she continues to hold your hand up. As they do their staring contest, you look over at Charlie, who entertains himself and his mind with his new, and very loved, horse.
You sigh softly as your heart continues to beat quickly against your rib cage and you can’t tell if it’s just because you’re anxious about Michael or is it just his presence that is making you react like this.
“Have you taken your pain meds?” Polly asks.
You look up quickly as you notice that the question must be for you and a shiver runs past you as everyone’s eyes fall on you, even Gina’s.
“I will when I go to sleep.”
She gives you a disapproving look and you give her a grin in return.
“It helps me sleep.” You justify, and she sits back in her chair.
Michael grins at the exchange of words and your stubbornness and Ada notices it before continuing with her conversation.
Ruby rests your palm against hers and starts comparing both sizes.
You chuckle at her and as your body jumps at the laugh beside Michael, he looks down at Ruby to see what made you react. The small girl looks up when sensing his eyes on her and as Gina joins the conversation between the other women, Ruby extends her other hand at Michael, holding it upright.
He looks at her confused and you notice.
“She wants to compare your hand to hers.” You explain in a low whisper.
He takes his hand from his lap and extends it to her. His hands are surely bigger than yours, and that seemed to shock the small girl.
You smile as she lays her hand over his with widen eyes and Polly looks up from her tea at you, mind still on the conversation she started.
Her heart swells up at the sight. You and Michael smiling down at the girl sitting on your lap as she holds your hands up and compares them to hers. She can’t hear what you say over the loud voices and from being across the room, but she sees you saying something to Ruby, making her nod.
Michael’s smile widens at the small girl and you look up at him quickly, stealing a look before you get caught, which you don’t, not by him at least. Polly surely did, but she doesn’t say or do anything.
It’s so obvious that you still feel something for him, at least for her. But Michael seems to be unreadable, sometimes. It’s hard to figure anything out.
Gina stares at Polly while grinning at what Ada says and finds her staring at her son, she follows her gaze and clenches her jaw. The urge to roll her eyes feels stronger than her, but her bottled up rage triples at sight of you smiling.
Ruby takes her hands off yours quickly, shyly putting them close to her chest. You continue to smile down at her and as you and Michael try to retreat your own hands, she holds on to them.
Her actions are innocent, purely curious on the size of your hands, but she still leans both of your palms together, still holding them upright.
You and Michael don’t give that much of a reaction as Ruby tries to align them perfectly at the base of your palms and see the size difference from the top of your fingers.
An idea pops in your mind as your hand rests against Michael’s, and as Ruby pulls back to check the difference after so much adjusting, you slide your palm against Michael’s, so your fingers align right at the same height.
Michael chuckles at the confused look on Ruby’s face and she smiles at the contagious sound.
But as soon as the small girl notices what you’ve done, she sends you a glare, making the two of you laugh at her.
Your conjoined laughs catch everyone’s attention for a quick second and Gina doesn’t even care to take a second look. Ada smiles as she sees Ruby readjusting your palms, and, this time, it’s Michael who moves his hand, almost making his fingers only lay over half of your palm.
Ruby glares at him too and you two laugh, again.
“Alright, we’ll stop.” You tell her.
Ruby retries, but this time she has a tactic. As she makes sure that you are aligned perfectly, she holds both your and Michael’s thumb and force them to rest against the other’s back of the hand.
She leans back and stares at the difference between your hands, now happy with her achievement.
You two let her stare at the size difference with her big wide eyes, but something interrupts the sweet moment.
“Michael, honey.” Gina calls out as the conversation between everyone restarts, “Can you pass me that cup?”
Michael takes his hand off yours and you can’t help but feel disappointed at the loss of his touch. He leans forward on the couch and grabs the cup of tea for Gina from the center table, something she could easily get it herself.
You let your hand fall back to your lap and you take a sharp deep inhale, not wanting to be sitting on this couch for any longer.
You let some minutes pass, so you don’t seem like a total bitch, and when feeling ready, you lean forward on the couch, wincing in pain as your body shows to have grown sore over the lack of painkillers and from not moving at all for the past few hours.
Polly’s eyes go over to you at the sound only her seemed to notice, and you look back at her.
“I’m going to bed, I think.” You explain, making everybody get silent and look at you, “I feel exhausted.”
“Need help to find your meds?” She asks, already starting to get up, and you shake your head.
“No, no.” You hold your hand up stopping her, “Stay here. I’ll find them.”
You make sure to sit Ruby on the couch comfortably before forcing yourself up from the low couch. You fight off any sound of pain as you stand on your feet, but your face made it quite obvious.
You really should’ve taken those meds earlier.
You walk to the kitchen, trying not to show any other expression of pain, and everyone’s eyes are on you. Gina stares as you lean against the doorframe to regain your strength, yet she doesn’t feel anything in return. Not even an ounce of pity.
You stumble into the kitchen and look at the main counter, expecting the meds to be sitting right in the middle, just like you left them. But this wouldn’t be Polly’s house if they were.
Your feet get dragged as you take your time walking around to the kitchen.
You start opening every cabinet and drawer that could possibly have your meds, but there are too many to find them right away. Maybe going to bed without your meds wouldn’t be that bad.
You just need to lay down, now.
“Need help?”
You turn on your heels to find Michael by the doorway, already in the kitchen. You look away quickly back to all the drawers and try to hide any type of emotion towards his sudden appearance.
“No, I think I got it.” You answer back.
You continue to look through the many drawers and only after 2 minutes of seeing you struggle; Michael decides to move. He walks towards you and you stand still as he does so.
As he passes between you and the counter behind you, he holds onto your shoulders to make you stand back a little and let him pass. Something that surely made your skin react, but, thankfully, it all came unnoticed to him.
He opens a drawer slightly away from you and pulls out exactly what you’re looking for.
“How did you know?” You ask, curious.
“This is where she would put my meds after I got shot. It’s her drawer from stronger meds.” He explains.
How the hell did you not know that?
You walk towards him as he opens the small paper bag, taking your medicine out and handing it over to you. You take it from his hands carefully and put it down on the counter beside you.
“Thank you” You whisper at him.
You take your medicine in silence as the conversation restarts in the living room, and you try not to cringe at anything that you’re taking. Why is everything so bitter?
Whenever you’re done with one of the meds, Michael grabs them slowly and puts them back on the bag without saying anything.
He slides the drawers closed when done and you start taking the jewelry off your hands, just to start and get your way to the bed way quicker.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks and you look up at him.
“No. But I’ll be.” You say sincerely before looking away and taking a step away from him, “That’s what matters.”
Michael notices your hesitation into continuing some sort of conversation, just like your slight cold tone, but he tries his best to ignore it.
“I’m going to bed,” You announce while turning your back to him and making your way out of kitchen.
“Good night.” He says as you reach the doorway.
You send him a tight-lipped smile and walk out, back into the living room. Polly is, of course, the first one to notice you.
“Did you find it?” She asks.
“Michael did.” You answer.
You walk over to her and once close, lean over and kiss her cheek. The rest of the family distracted with something else or some other type of conversation.
Michael walks out of the kitchen and you reach the stairs, after saying a quick good night, loud enough for everyone else to hear.
You jump up the steps with your rings in your hands as you bring your cold and clammy hands to your neck to try and unclasp your necklaces. Your eyes land on Michael’s as you reach the top floor and he’s staring back.
Gina calls his name in a whisper and he looks at her, breaking your eye contact. And as soon as his eyes reach Gina’s, he doesn’t hesitate into giving her a sweet smile.
As he looks back up while walking around the couch, his eyes meet nothing but some painting on the wall.
You’re not there anymore.
(…)
The sound of birds surrounds you, their soft and energized tweeting coming from the trees far away from you and some branches above you, as the warm summer wind hits your body like a warm hug.
You shift your position on the ground, laying on your stomach and looking up at the sky between the branches high up, far, far away from you.
Solitary clouds float over the bright blue sky, almost not shielding any land from the sunlight.
Your exposed back is warm, erupting into chills whenever Michael moves his hand. You close your eyes again and let yourself relax again.
A hand touches the side of your head softly and slowly you feel its fingers start to trace your hairline. You open your eyes, blinking the sunlight away, and look up at Michael.
His hand falls to your cheek as you move and a small smile spreads over his lips.
“Let me sleep,” You whine, and he finally gives you a full smile.
“Alright,” He answers in a whisper, “Sorry.”
You sigh and hold yourself up with your hands, you push your body up on his torso and his hands go to your waist. Not caring over only wearing a dress, you lay yours legs over his hips, straddling his lap while pulling yourself up.
“I forgive you.” You whisper back playfully.
You snuggle into the crook of his neck and his smell hits you like an embrace. The small bit of communication pulled you away from your sleepy thoughts and movements, but you still felt just as clingy and slow.
As you lay back against him, his arms wrap around you, pulling you close to him with everything in him. You snuggle in to welcome his tight hold and one of his hands stretches over your skin of your back.
You’re wearing a simple black dress, baggy from your waist down, but completely backless.
“Can we lay here for, like…” You pause, “Forever?”
Michael chuckles from under you and leans his head to the side to rest it against yours.
“We’ll get hungry eventually.” He answers, and you smile.
“I’m sure there’s some animals around here.” You continue to play around, smile prominent in your voice.
“I hope you know how to make a fire, then.”
You giggle into Michael’s neck and pull away slightly. His hold loosens slightly so you can move a bit and you look down at him.
“Don’t you know how to make a fire?” You ask and he frowns.
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know” You shrug, “Weren’t you like a country boy or something?”
With that, Michael lets out the biggest belly laugh ever, leaving you to smile as he cackles away at your words. Your tone had been obviously playful, but it still made it just as funny for him.
“I lived at a farm. I wasn’t a cave man!” He exclaims, tilting his head to look at you better.
“Sounds the same to me.”
He smiles at you and you bring one of your hands to his cheek, caressing it with your thumb. You lean in and give him the softest peck you could. When pulling away, you look at him in the eyes as he tries to pull you into another kiss. You let him, letting your lips rest over the softness of his as you too fall into the pit of slow and lovingly making out.
He sits up in the middle of the kiss and you sit over his legs as he does it. His hands travel effortlessly down your waist to your legs, lifting your skirt enough to slither in his hands underneath.
You pull away and look down at him as you stand on your knees, adjusting your seating on his thighs. You peck his lips multiple times before sitting back and eyeing him.
“I love you” He confesses in a whisper, eyes staring back onto yours, “so much”
“Really?” You ask, serious, leaning a little back and he frowns.
“Yeah…?”
He’s confused, but soon your playful smile reappears.
“How much, again?”
“A lot.”
“How much is ‘a lot’?” You keep going. “Like, ‘a lot’ like the size of a mountain or ‘a lot’ as in…” You think for a second, but he interrupts.
“How old are you again?” He teases about your childish words and you force your smile to disappear, just so you can scowl at him.
“Oh, fuck off” You say to him, “I was trying to be cute here, no need to ruin the moment for us.”
“Alright, keep going then” He says, “The size of a mountain or…?”
“Uhm… The size of…” You try to think, mind completely blank over any ideas. “The size of… the ocean?”
He chuckles at your final words and you grin.
“The ocean.” He says, sure of his words, no hesitation.
You stay silent for a bit.
“Which one?”
“Oh, come on!” He says, completely bored out of this conversation, making you laugh at him, “The biggest one you can think of”
“Really?”
“Yes. Now, can you please” He emphasizes the word comically, dragging it, “for the love of God, just tell me that you love me back?”
You kiss his lips over his frown.
“You’re so romantic.” You comment sarcastically.
“I know.”
You smile at him and decide not to give in just yet. The boy can suffer for a bit.
Telling him that you loved him now or in 5 minutes won’t exactly make that much of a difference.
You stand up on your feet, away from his lap, and he stares up at you while letting out a sigh.
“You gotta earn it.” You say with a playful look, making his frown break slightly.
“Oh really?”
“Yes.” You nod.
You take a step back as he stands up and your smile doesn’t disappear at all as you move away from him. Every step forward from Michael is a step back for you, making his urge to get to you bigger.
And soon, the running around starts.
You laugh as you run from him, sometimes feeling his fingers graze over your arms, making your heart beat faster with the adrenaline.
The tall weeds slap the skin of your exposed legs softly, tickling you as you ran away from your boyfriend. The scenery in front of you motivates into keeping on running, the summery flowers all open and colorfully staring up at the sky.
All you hear is your soft steps over the plants and the birds, it gives you peace. You can still hear Michael running behind you.
You let out a giggle as he’s about to touch you and out of nowhere, it stops.
The warm breeze lifts into a cold one and you look around confused.
You know that the weather can be unpredictable, but this is too radical for it to make sense.
Your hands start getting cold rapidly and soon your body is enveloped into complete body chills, your dress being nothing but useless when it comes to make you stay warm.
The breeze goes from cold to freezing in the matter of seconds, leaving you nothing but panicked.
You feel lightheaded and short of breath and as you try to warm yourself up with your own arms, soon you realize… You can’t feel your own palms touching your skin.
The sunlight fades as clouds fly their way in to color the skies a dark grey and you stare up.
You’re in a dream.
You’re dreaming.
You look over your shoulder at Michael to find him just as confused just a few steps away. He must have stopped running right as you did. But his skin, is not reacting like yours. His exposed arms, from the folded sleeves are not reacting to the cold in chills. It’s like it’s not affecting him.
He’s not the real Michael.
“What’s happening?” He asks you.
“I don’t know” You lie. You know exactly what’s happening.
Your dream is becoming a nightmare.
You look around as the wind gets harsher and your heart starts to beat more violently, just like your shortness of breath forces you into panting your way to find your peace again.
You step closer to Michael and cup his face.
He stares back at you still with his confused eyes and you kiss him. Your lips touch his and his hands come to rest over your waist as the wind continues to come at full force towards you.
Your hands feel numb, not being able to feel the texture of his suit, just like you had felt a few minutes prior. But you feel his hands, the way they rest on your waist, warming your skin under the violent and freezing wind.
“I love you,” You tell him as you pull away.
You open your eyes and you’re met with Michael’s pale face. His eyes are empty, with absolutely no light or sign of life.
You caress his cold cheeks with your thumbs, and you notice blood over his bottom lip. His hands had fallen a second ago from your waist, and you already miss his familiar warmth.
You bring your finger to wipe the blood away carefully and notice that it’s all over his mouth, coloring his white bottom teeth.
A small trail of blood starts falling off his nose and soon from his ears as well, slowly coloring your hands into the color red.
Red, hands completely filled with deep red, now that you try and wipe it.
Michael falls onto his knees and you do the same, holding him close to you even though it’s just his corpse. He’s cold and his hold is not even there anymore. His arms are by his sides as his head rests over your shoulder.
You wrap your arms around him, and the wind becomes more and more violent.
You force your eyes closed and let it take you too.
You open your eyes, and a loud gasp escapes your mouth. You’re not panting anymore, but your heart is beating quickly.
You try to sit up, but a sudden jab of pain hits you. You gasp and wince in pain but still bring yourself to do it. A sob escapes your mouth too right as you’re able to sit upright.
Your face feels wet and cold in the air of the room. You must have been crying before you woke up.
You whine in pain as you bring yourself to turn on the light beside you and as the warm yellow light illuminates the room, all you see is blood.
Your own blood, spread around your white shirt and white sheets, painting your hands just like in your dream.
“Pol-” You try to call out, but your voice breaks in a sob as pain runs through you.
You sob into the empty and silent air and try it again.
“Polly!” You sob out loud, hoping that that was enough to awake her if it’s late enough for that.
You wait a few long seconds for any sound coming from the hallway or stairs, but nothing.
“Polly!” You try to scream louder.
Polly holds her hand up to shut up Gina and the room falls silent. Michael leans forward from the railing of the stairs and looks at his mom confused; arms still crossed over his chest.
“Poll-” You cough.
Michael, before Polly could even get up, makes his way up the stairs and runs down the hall, trying his best to be fast enough to get to your room.
Your door swings open and you continue to sob as the lights are turned on.
“I don’t know what I did wrong.” You sob to whoever is at the door, staring down at your hands, “I-I, I woke up and…”
Michael shakes his shock away at the sight of your bed all bloodied, just like your hands, and walks towards you. His eyes fall to your shirt and notices from where your blood is coming from, your wound.
“Mom!” Michael shouts while looking up at the door.
Your ears start to buzz as panic starts to set in in your system and two hands move yours away from your eyes.
“You’re okay, you’re okay.” The voice repeats and you sob helplessly.
Michael sits in front of you in the bed and brings you close to him, ignoring that he’s now being covered in blood as well.
He makes you rest your hands on his shoulders so that they’re away from your eyes and starts to unbutton some of the buttons of your shirt.
Polly finally gets to the door and the sight is absolutely terrifying.
“She ripped stitches. I think.”
Polly forces herself to walk to the bed and to help Michael check your wound. He continues to unbutton your shirt with one hand only and he’s quick to rip the bandage off.
You sob in pain as he does it and both him and Polly try to look past the blood and ignore your sobs to see what happened to your wound. It opened, maybe 3 of the 9 stitches ripped.
“I’ll call the doctor.” Polly says.
Michael nods and holds you closer to him, not wanting you to move too far away. Your side rests against his chest and he wraps an arm around your shoulders, while one of his hands grabs the sheets and holds them over the wound.
You sob silently while leaning closer to him and he looks up at your face.
“Hey. You’re okay, look at me.” He whispers at you and you do it, “You’re okay. It’s not too bad. You’re safe. I promise.”
You stare at him in the eyes and he leans his forehead against yours.
“You’re okay” He whispers lower.
You nod as tears continue to roll down your face and he nods with you. Your breathing starts to slow down, and he presses a kiss over your wet cheek.
“I got you.” He whispers against your skin.
(…)
Michael sighs loudly as he walks into the kitchen and he feels exhausted.
“Is the doctor finished?” Polly asks him and he just nods, “And her?”
“Passed out before he could even start” He answers, “The doctor said to just let her sleep.”
He walks towards the sink and he turns on the water, holding his bloody hands under it. The two women standing in the kitchen are silent, watching him wash his hands carelessly while staring at the wall.
“I’ll go get you a clean shirt.” Polly says.
His mom walks out of the kitchen and he turns off the water, turning around to face Gina.
“Are we going to the hotel after this?” She asks softly.
“I can drive you there, but I’m staying here, tonight.”
She takes a deep breath and brings her hands to her head, annoyed.
“Why? She’s asleep. You can visit her tomorrow.” She tries.
“I’ll sleep better here.”
She scoffs.
“You’re fucking unbelievable.”
“I’m unbelievable?” Michael answers, bringing his hand up to point at his own chest.
“Yes!” She almost screams, “You are unbelievable! And you want to know why?” She asks, “Because no matter what I fucking do or fucking say, you will always put her before me.”
“Always, Gina? Are you serious?” Michael asks in disbelief, “You’ve been my fucking priority ever since we met, and now because I show some sort of affection towards a girl that is fucking bleeding and crying her lungs out, I’m supposedly putting her before you?”
“Yes! I don’t even know what you had with her before me!” She shouts, “Ever since I step foot into this shit hole I’ve been listening to her name and seeing her over and over again. Do you really think I believe that she’s simply a ‘family friend’?” She air-quotes.
“You want the truth?” He asks, no shouting needed, but he sounds mad.
“Yes.”
“We dated for 4 years, almost 5. I ended our relationship when in America.” He answers and Gina stands silent, “See? I can tell you the truth when you ask nicely.”
“And if you broke up why do you still like her?” She asks, ignoring his hateful tease at the end of his sentence.
“You have to be joking-”
“Are you going to say that that’s a lie?” She asks, crossing her arms over her chest, “Let me give you some of my truth, Michael. I honestly don’t give a shit about what you two went through, or if you were in a good relationship or not when with her, but you broke up. I don’t care why, but you did. And there was a time when you chose me over her. That’s why you proposed, right?”
Michael doesn’t answer her.
“So, please, for the love of God, stop being a child and move on with your life. You’ve been mopping around her, touching her all the time as if you’re dying to do it at every second of the day… Even if she does still like you, you are with me now, not her.” She spits at him, “Move. On. She’s not yours anymore, Michael. I am.”
He swallows hard at her words and looks at her emptily.
Polly makes her way back inside the kitchen, acting as if she didn’t hear a thing, but that seems to not scare off Gina from continuing.
“Are you even listening to m-?”
“I am.”
“Then say something, Michael.” She scolds, “Is it not true, what I’m saying?”
Polly looks between them as if waiting for it to evolve in any way, and simply extends her hand towards Michael, so he can grab the clean shirt.
“Is she your priority or no-”
“Yes.” Michael answers, “Y/N is my priority.” He nods, sure of himself and his words. “Yes, I’m engaged to you, Gina, but I care for her, and she will always be my priority.”
Gina bites her tongue and looks at Michael.
It honestly comes to no surprise. She had just thrown these words at him not that long ago, at lunch. He had just never confirmed it for her, and now… he did. But ‘always’? You will always be his priority? Now, that, doesn’t sit right with her.
They stand in silence and Michael leans back on the counter, finally taking the shirt from his mom’s hands. He thanks her with a look but to no avail because her eyes are not even on him.
“You’re serious?” Gina comments in slight disbelief.
“I am.” Michael confirms.
“What does that mean for us, then?” She asks.
Michael stays silent and the blonde slides off the highchair she has been sitting on, standing on her heels. Her eyes stay on him as tears threaten to swell up at her eyes.
“I’m not sure.” Michael answers truthfully.
She nods at his words and brings her eyes to the ground. She feels disappointed but mostly betrayed. Her eyes are good to show that emotion, but soon, it evolves into something else. Pure anger. Anger over the betraying words and truth, the one that just got thrown around as if it was nothing.
And Polly notices it.
“I think it’s better if you leave, Gina.”
Michael takes his eyes off his fiancée to stare at his mother, who just opened her mouth. He didn’t expect her to get herself involved in his worries, but she did.
“What?” Gina asks, bringing her head back up to stare at Polly.
“You heard me.”
Her eyes travel to Michael in hopes that he would defend her, but nothing. He’s just staring back at her, almost holding the same look as his mother.
He doesn’t want her here. He wants her to leave.
She shakes her head, overcome with emotion, and forces her feet to move. Her palms tingle with the idea of hitting something, or rather, someone, but her eyes fill with tears.
How could have she been so stupid?
She slams the front door shut behind her and the Gray family stand in the kitchen unphased.
“Rather dramatic that one, uh?” Polly asks her son.
Michael doesn’t answer her venomous comment, but that didn’t seem to surprise her. His mother walks around the counter and grabs the cup Gina used for her whiskey, bringing it to the sink so she can wash it.
It’s like this conversation didn’t affect her a slight bit.
Michael feels weird. He doesn’t regret telling Gina anything but the look she gave him spoke more than any of her words could. She felt betrayed by him, and she was holding back so many emotions and words.
He knows that if it wasn’t for his mom, Gina would be screaming at him, maybe even throwing stuff at the walls. Just like she usually does when she’s upset. But she didn’t do anything, she decided to contain herself and not scream or even curse him out.
And honestly, Michael doesn’t know what’s worse. The fact that she could be destroying his mom’s kitchen or the fact that she’s bottling up all her frustration and anger.
He thought he knew Gina before coming back home, but the trip only made him and her show their true colors. One can’t stop comparing his newfound love to his old one, and the other obsesses over the idea of power and desperately wanting to overthrow anyone in her way.
Quite a pair, that’s for sure.
(…)
You open your eyes as the lights burns your eyelids open and an involuntary groan runs off your mouth as you’re hit with the morning light right in the face. You turn your head to the side, but you’re met with another window with the curtains open.
“Fuck.” You curse out loud.
You sit up and another sound escapes your mouth, but this time, a whimper of pain.
It takes you a few seconds to connect the dots and you finally remember why you’re in pain in the first place.
“Jesus Christ.” You comment to yourself, again.
Your bloody sheets are set to the side, right next to your door, and before your mind could even try to process it, you push any thoughts of your nightmare away from you.
You pull yourself up carefully and try to ignore the tightness that you feel over your wound. You’re not quite sure what happened after the doctor appeared, but if you’re still at Polly’s house, it could only mean one thing…
It’s not as bad as it looked.
You walk to the bathroom and the sight that meets your eyes is, just, great.
Your shirt is mostly unbuttoned, bloodied, just like your bra. Some of your skin has been cleaned, but not all. Your face as some blood smeared on it, but it doesn’t surprise you. You remember moving so much when you woke up, it would be a miracle it your feet would be clean.
You throw the clothes into the bin and start cleaning yourself off. You can’t exactly bath over having to make the wound be dry at all times. But you have been able to manage quite nicely. With weird positions, for sure, but you’re able to wash your body and hair quite nicely.
You put on some washed clothes on and make your way out of the bedroom. It must be really early since the house is more than silent.
Before you walk down the stairs, you walk over to the guest’s room just to check. Finn is laying on his back over the large bed, mouth partly open as some light snores escape his lips, making you smile at him.
You take a step back and close the door back up. He must’ve gotten here after the doctor.
You make your way down the stairs easily, and as soon as your eyes land on the couch, you see Michael.
He’s awake with a mug on his hands, eyes on the carpet as he is completely lost in thought. He has a scowl over his face, hiding any kind of emotion from anyone’s eyes, and as your feet finally meet the last step, he looks up.
His scowl disappears and a slight grin appears over his lips.
“Good morning.” You say before he could.
“Good morning.” He answers back.
You walk towards him and he watches you as you carry yourself with ease over to the couch. You take a seat next to him and notice that his mug is still filled with warm coffee.
He extends the mug your way when noticing your interest and you smile, taking it.
“Thank you.” You whisper.
The hot mug burns your cold palms, and you welcome the almost uncomfortable heat into your skin. You bring it to your lips and take a small sip of the dark liquid.
You’re sitting close to Michael, sitting on top of one of your legs as you sit looking at him. You’re not wearing much more than a shirt, exposing your legs to him and to anyone in the house, but you don’t seem uncomfortable with your lack of clothing.
“Are you feeling okay?” He asks and you bring the mug down from your mouth, licking your lips at the same time.
“Yeah” You nod.
You give him back his mug after taking your generous sips and he takes it back onto his hands.
“When did Finn get here?” You ask him, curious.
“About half an hour after the doctor left.” He answers, leaning forward to put down the burning mug on the coffee table, finding it impossible to drink from how hot it is, still.
You nod at as his answer and while you’re thinking about what else to ask, he speaks again.
“You scared the living shit out of us last night.” He says, making you look back at him.
His eyes are back on the carpet and your chest tightens at the sight.
“I’m sorry.” You apologize.
“Don’t.” He says, finally looking back up, “It’s not your fault.”
He leans back on the couch and both of you continue to look at each other. The air is not thick as it usually is, it’s light and easy to breathe in. Your looks are both familiar, always taking your minds back in time for a quick second.
Your mind takes you to your dream and soon his pale face reappears in your mind. You shake the thoughts away, right as Michael opens his mouth to talk.
“Are you hungry?” He asks, “I can make you something to eat.”
You smile widely at him and bring your hands to your lap.
“Are you finally proving yourself useful around the house?” You tease, making him smile back, “I must be in a dream. Since when do you-”
“I’ve always been able to cook” He defends himself.
“Yeah, right.”
“It’s true!”
“Michael, you couldn’t even cook potatoes!”
“Couldn’t!” He says to you, leaning forward to be right in front of you, “Things have changed in my kitchen.”
A laugh escapes your lips as he smiles down at you and he stands from the couch. He gives you his hand and as soon as your palms touch, he pulls you up from the couch.
“Come on, I’ll show you my experienced cooking.” He encourages as you take small, demotivated steps his way, “Do you want me to make you potatoes, just so I can prove my point?”
“No.” You giggle, “Just- Do whatever.”
He turns around and starts walking to the kitchen, letting your hand fall from his as you stay a little behind.
“You know what?” You ask him as you get in the kitchen, making him look back at you, “Maybe you’re not as insufferable as I thought you were”
Michael laughs at your words as you say them, and he nods.
“Oh, why, thank you!” He says enthusiastically, “Aren’t you lovely right as the sun rises?”
You let out a loud laugh and he moves over behind the island counter, looking around the cabinets to look for something to cook for you.
You stare at the back of his head as he walks around and take a seat on one of the chairs.
One could get used to this.
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#michael gray x reader#michael gray#michael gray imagine#michael gray imagines#michael gray fic#michael gray fanfic#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders imagines#finn cole#finn cole x reader#finn cole imagine#finn cole imagines
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Is that a Dog?
It all started, as did many of the things that went wrong in Percy’s life, by not asking the right questions.
In his defence, it hadn’t seemed necessary to ask Grover anything other than “Can I have one” when his best friend and roommate had pulled out some freshly baked brownies from the oven.
First mistake.
The second mistake was sneaking two more brownies while Grover hadn’t been looking.
It could be said, as Percy would later point out, that Grover was the one responsible for everything that happened after that. Months later Percy would look back on that moment and realise Grover hadn’t even attempted to warn him that there was weed in the brownies. Then he’d shake his head and think wow Grover really screwed me over. But that was months away.
In the present, Percy felt like he was floating, everything felt bright and new, and Grover was driving him to go get a milkshake. How could he be mad at Grover when he was the reason Percy felt so at peace? He could hear Grover’s Michael Franti CD playing, and his soft voice singing along, not quite drowned out by the loud honks of irate drivers stuck like them in New York traffic. If he were in a clearer state of mind, Percy would likely have realised that Grover had also eaten one of the brownies and shouldn’t have really been driving. But he wasn’t, instead he let his eyes drift out the window up towards the perfectly blue sky. So blue it almost looked like the ocean and Percy wondered if he just reached up would he fall in and-
What?
Holy. Shit.
“A puppy!” Percy screeched, starting out of the window and at the car a few places ahead of them to the left. He turned to Grover and pointed to the little golden retriever that was poking its head out of a car window. It’s tongue was hanging out of its mouth and Percy felt his heart clench at the sight. He hadn’t known it before, but now he realised that was what he’d been missing in his life.
“Nice spot, what a cute dog.” Grover approved, peering over, his eyes looking slightly red and heavy-lidded.
“He looks... Like he gives good hugs”. Percy mused. He desperately wanted to test out his theory. Percy sent up a quick prayer asking for help, and was elated to find the traffic moving. He waited with bated breath while their lane moved forward until they were parked next to the dog. “Fuck yes!” he virtually screamed. Today was the best day!
“He's so tiny?” Percy mused, eyes continuing to stare dreamily over and then… the puppy looked at him and BARKED. And Percy just knew he was calling out to him. Asking to be petted.
Percy unbuckled his seat belt and rolled down the window, decidedly ignoring Grover’s confused exclamations. “He wants to be petted!” Percy offered as he reached out to touch soft golden fur. The dog yipped happily in response, pushing his small wet nose into the offered hand. Percy could feel his eyes growing misty again. He loved dogs so much. He’d always wanted one growing up, but Gabe had never allowed it. His mum had felt bad about it, getting him a fish instead which he’d loved - but it wasn’t the same. Don’t get him wrong, fish were awesome and that gift had been one of the reasons he was now studying marine biology. But… no fish had ever given him this moment. The moment where they look at you with adoration in their eyes and promise to love you forever. Percy hoped the puppy knew that Percy felt the same way.
“Um, Luke. A stranger is petting your dog.”
Percy looked up from the deep blue eyes of his new ride-or-die bestie and saw a blond girl who looked to be around his age staring at him like he was crazy (which Percy thought was a little rude.)
“Is he your dog?” Percy questioned, reluctantly removing his hand away realising that he should probably have asked the owner’s permission before sticking the upper half of his body out of the car to pet their dog. Even a dog as friendly as this, with beautiful and kind blue eyes.
“No. He’s-“
“Mine.” A deep voice cut in, pulling Percy’s attention to the driver seat of the car, where a young man with bright blue eyes, soft golden hair, and a truly wicked smirk was staring at him. The guy looked around 19 with a gnarly looking scar trailing down from his eye to his chin. Which … Damn! The scar should have detracted from how unfairly attractive he was, but instead, it made Percy want to lean over and touch it. He wondered how it would feel. If it would be rough?
Focus Percy!
“Wow, Annabeth, you didn’t say he was cute”. Percy felt his cheeks flush, and he could hear himself spluttering out nonsense for a good few moments, searching for an appropriate response.
The guy kind of looked like his dog, which was weird. What was even weirder was that the realisation made Percy want to reach out and pet his hair too, to see if it was just as soft as his dogs.
“Uuuh, noo..what, not? I’m not… you’re the one that’s. I don’t – cute! Grover. This guy thinks I’m cute?” Percy managed eventually, much to the growing amusement of the man in question. He quickly averted his eyes, turning to Grover who stared back giggling softly. Traitor.
“Percy, you’re very cute. Now you need to sit back down. We could move at any moment.” Grover managed between breathy giggles. He didn’t sound very concerned, so Percy decided it was safe to ignore his warning for now. If Percy had to choose between personal safety and the opportunity to spend time with a cute dog and an equally cute owner, well, safety didn’t stand a chance.
“Okay, Grover,” Percy said in a peaceful tone, turning back around to once again pet the head of the puppy, “but I’m in the middle of something very important right now.” At this Grover’s laughter got louder.
“You!” Percy pointed at the driver, “Have a nice face. And smile. And eyes. Grover and I are going to get milkshakes, would you and your puppy like to join us? We could hold hands and talk about your dog and how all three of you are rocking the blond blue eyes thing-”
“Percy the traffic is moving…” Grover butted in.
“Grover, a moment!” Percy begged, yelping when Grover started to inch the car forwards with the traffic, Percy’s torso still half out of the car. Luck seemed to be on his side today however as the other lane was also moving slowly alongside them, so Percy decided to just continue to pet the dog's head. He shot a quick glare at Grover for good measure though.
“Hey idiot, you need to listen to him and get in the car. What if traffic picks up?” the girl warned, mumbling to herself about high idiots.
“Percy is it?” the driver asked, drawing Percy’s attention away from Grover and back to his unfairly handsome face. Percy could feel a grin stretching across his lips.
“How’d you know my name?” he wonders, feeling pleased. He liked the way his name sounded coming from the older guy, all deep and slow like he was savouring each syllable. The guy laughed at the question.
“Your boyfriend there’s said it a few times.” He explained, and Percy nodded vigorously in understanding, and then begun to shake his head equally as energetically. “Grover? No! He’s like… a brother. Definitely not my boyfriend.” Percy explained forcefully, He really didn’t want the hot guy to get the wrong idea. Grover was his best friend, but he’d rather jump into the harbour than date him.
“Why the harbour?” the guy asked through chuckles. Percy hoped he’d keep laughing, the sound was making his head feel as light as the brownies had.
“Did I say that out loud?”
“Yup, green eyes, you did. And I’m sorry, I’d love to hang out more, but I need to drop my sister off at her girlfriends.” He said, pointing a finger at the girl in the backseat. Percy turned to look at her with sad eyes. The girl with golden curls looked like she couldn’t decide if she should smile or scowl. He was disappointed to note her eyes were more grey than blue.
“Oh, that’s sad.” Percy pouted, retreating back slightly into Grover’s car. Before he was fully in, the guy reached out a hand to stop him. He had nice hands, they were large and calloused, and Percy wanted to hold one.
“Wait. Um, maybe I could give you my number, so I know you got home alright? My name's Luke Castellan. C-A-S-T-E-L-L-A-N. We could get that milkshake another… less traffic-bound time?” Luke asked, looking nervous for the first time, making Percy grin. He quickly whipped out his phone and typed in Luke’s details.
“yes! .” He cheered, once to Luke, and then once again to the dog who was still nuzzling his hand. “So, I’ll see you both soon?”
“I’ll hold you to that, Percy.” Luke teased and Percy felt himself nodding.
“Promise,” Percy said firmly, sliding back into the car to Grover's relief. He waved at Luke once the window was rolled up, pleased to see the guy was still staring over at him. He looked like he was saying sometimes but Percy couldn’t tell what. Whatever it was, it made the girl in the backseat lean forward and smack his shoulder. Luke waved one final time before turning his eyes back to the road. His face looked bright and carefree, and Percy wanted to look at him forever. Then the traffic moved and Luke, and his puppy, were gone.
Percy tried not to feel too sad, but he wished he’d taken a picture.
“Only Percy-fucking-Jackson could get a guy’s number after molesting his dog while high in traffic.” Grover giggled, and Percy allowed himself to be dragged away from his thoughts.
“What can I say. I’m irresistible”. He stated, smirking over at his best friend. Grover just continued to giggle. Laying back in his seat he looked back up to the perfect blue sky and thought of Luke's eyes. Luke Castellan, Luke Castellan, Luke-
Maybe he wouldn’t blame Grover after all.
#Percy Jackson#fanfic prompt#Percy x Luke#Luke x Percy#Lukercy#grover underwood#Luke Castellan#annabeth chase#tw: drugs#[i don't agree with drug use]#[but the prompt was specific]#fanfiction#Percy Jackson au#[luke should have had a dog]#[no one goes evil if they have a dog]
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precious cargo: part two - thomas shelby x Hispanic reader
“Family meeting. Now.” Thomas Shelby called out as he entered the Garrison’s snug.
At the sound of this voice, Aunt Polly could tell her nephew was once again up to no good. But then again when was he not? “Thomas Shelby has had an idea once again. Watch out.”
“Tommy, I’m not doing that again. I will not be made a fool for you. I said the last time was the last time and I meant it,” Finn stood his ground prematurely.
Ada scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. “Jesus Christ, Thomas. What the hell are you doing to our poor Finn?”
“What? No, not that,” Tommy waves off the youngest Shelby brother. “I’ve received a call all the way from America.”
“What the fuck do the Americans want from us, brother? What did you do?” Arthur accuses.
Tommy stands up and rubs his eyes in frustration. “Everyone fucking listen to me. No more interruptions. The sooner we get started, the sooner we can end this family meeting.” Silence filled in the room for a few seconds. “Now, as I was saying: I got a call from America, but it wasn’t the Americans. The Mexican mafia called, and they’re calling in a favor.” A big fucking favor, Thomas thinks to himself.
“You are just the gift that keeps on giving. First the Russians and now the Mexicans.” Polly shakes her head.
“What do we know about them? Can we even trust them?” Arthur asks.
Thomas ignores his aunt. “The Mexican mafia is ruled by the y/l/n family. They go by la familia. Recently, they started several expansions into America. The Don’s people called me some nights ago about his daughter, y/n.”
“y/n y/l/n. I know her,” Michael says.
Tommy doesn’t bother to look at his cousin, slightly annoyed he knew more than he did. “And what is it that our Michael knows that we don’t, eh?” Thomas keeps a stoic stare at the wall in front of him.
“We met during one of my business trips to New York. She recognized our name, said her family owned some businesses near the ones we do. We never kept in touch, but I’ve heard stories about her.”
“What kind of stories?” Ada asked, half afraid for the answer. Just like everyone else in the room, she knew how much her big brother could never resist a challenge that guaranteed some danger. Add in a pretty face and Thomas was lost.
“I hear she’s taking over after Don, not the eldest brother, Santiago.” Arthur feeling this Santiago’s pain from an ocean away stood to pour himself a drink in hopes to mask his suffering.
“And you know what, Tommy?” Michael continued to press him, “She reminded me of you.”
“That’s enough.” Polly places a hand on her son’s shoulder. “Go on, Thomas.”
“She had a run in with some Italians in New York, more specifically Enzo Changretta.” The atmosphere in the room stiffens. “She alone has received the black hand and needs protection.”
“Why have these meetings if you already very clearly have made up your mind?” Polly spits.
“So I can say to all of you that y/n y/l/n is on her way as we speak.” Sounds of disapproval rang out through the snug.
“Fuck, Tommy. This isn’t some backstreet gang. It's the Changretta's. Look around you. John is not here. Michael almost died. You almost died. What can the Mexicans do for us that we can’t already do for ourselves?” The voice of reason called out.
“I have me reasons.” He takes a heavy drag from his cigarette.
“And of course you won’t share what any of them are with any of us.” Ada crosses her arms against her chest.
“La familia are not the kind of people we want to owe favors to, Polly,” he points to her, “It’s better if they owe us. If they owe us, we control the narrative and we have ourselves a new ally. As we all know, allies come in short supply these days.”
“And?” Polly eggs on.
“And they’re fucking rich.” Michael reveals before Tommy can.
“And they’re fucking rich,” Tommy echos, “The y/l/n’s own the majority of their country’s petroleum businesses. They help supply America, except the Italians are now threatened.”
“Who the hell made it your job to play the middleman?”
“It is not my job. It is our investment.” Thomas, having enough of his family’s obvious disapproval, stands up to leave for the night. “y/n y/l/n is coming and we will all protect our investment.”
Over the next few days, all Tommy could think about was you and about your family. He wondered how you would look, how you would talk. Were you any different from the few Americans he has met? Thomas does not recall a time he has met someone from Mexico. You were obviously smart; smart enough to move large amounts of petroleum from your home country to America. His sources told him it was all your doing, all your strategy. He couldn’t help but to think if perhaps Michael was right. Was there some truth to his teasing? She reminded me of you, he remembers.
And of course Thomas Shelby wouldn’t be Thomas Shelby if he didn’t entertain the idea of the y/l/n’s making up a story to take his ever-growing empire. The chances were low, sure, but not zero.
Thankfully Tommy no longer had to torture his mind with any more questions and hypothetical situations about his soon-to-be visitor. Today was the day y/n arrived in Birmingham. His men would be there for your arrival so that they could escort you to Arrow House. Tommy figured only the best for his best investment.
Upon your arrival, the first thing Tommy Shelby noticed about you was your demeanor. You walked in his home with your head high and squared back shoulders. There was not a single trace of worry or fear coming from your face, at least none Tommy could clock. Anyone who could see you would not know there was a mafia hit on your head. But then again, they would also not know you were soon to head your own mafia. When he first heard of you, he didn’t know you were rich. When he did know, he didn’t know exactly by how much. Standing before him, all Tommy knew was y/n y/l/n was rich by a fuck ton. That was just the immediate aura you gave off.
Maids automatically surrounded you, taking your luggage and coat. Even through the crowd surrounding you, your eyes could be found fixating one thing only. Blue. So much fucking blue, you think to yourself. Your eyes never left who you could only assume was Thomas Shelby. And you knew you would not get far in this unfamiliar country with only assumptions. As soon as the crowd cleared up, you decided to take initiative.
“Hello, you must be Thomas Shelby. I’m y/n y/l/n.” He shakes your outreached hand.
“Please, call me Tommy.” His deep voice rings out, demanding to be heard as always.
“Tommy,” you say, trying out the name on your tongue. Tommy kept his eyes on you and no other words were exchanged, a comfortable silence falling upon the two strangers. “Tommy?”
“Yes?” He manages to croak out.
“Do you think I could have my hand back?” Tommy still enveloped his rather large hand in your small one.
Quickly, he drops your hand in embarrassment as if he had just been burned. Tommy couldn’t help but notice the warmth of your palm leaving him rather fast. He has met many rich people. Too many, his Aunt polly would say. But none like him. None like you.
“Why don’t we go to my office and have a drink. We can talk there.”
Tommy wasn’t one to show any facial expressions, you soon realize, but it was all in his words. It was in that moment you knew Tommy Shelby didn’t like to ask for things, even as simple as a drink. He demanded. In your world full of coke, guns, and sicarios, you were used to being the one to make the demands. Given almost any other circumstance, you would have taken action against it, but not now. Not to Tommy. All your feet could do was follow him.
“Tell me everything leading to the black hand.” He demands again as he hands you a glass of whiskey. “What do the Italians want with you other than have you dead?”
“They want what’s mine,” you simply say as you hand him the black hand letter.
“The petroleum businesses?” He asks. His eyes skim over Enzo’s signature.
“That’s not all. We also deal guns in large quantities to our allies. For the past year or so we’ve moved both the legal and illegal side of our businesses to America. We cross state lines where the Italians reside. At first, we were warned. Didn’t listen. They tried to rough up a few of my men. Didn’t work. None of it will work,” you say that last part a little more to yourself than Tommy.
There was something eerie about receiving the black hand. To you, it was all bad vibes. It was the malo ojo. It carried evil energy and a haunting presence. This was something Tommy knew too. Although he would have different opinions on what it carried, it was all the same feeling in the end: eery.
“Are you armed?” He goes to reach for one of his cabinets behind his desk.
“No, I have men for that. The sicarios do the killing.” He slides the gun across the desk. All you could do was stare at the weapon and so could Tommy. His eyes would switch to the gun, then to you, then back to the untouched gun. “We’re living in modern times, Tommy.”
“You are free to conduct the appropriate business here as long as you have that gun and my men too.”
“I just said I have my own men. I don’t need your Peaky boys following me too. Thomas, it was never about your protection.”
Tommy’s eyebrow slightly rises, starting to feel irritated. The motive was now clear to Tommy. It was never about the Peaky Blinders protection but about the land. The y/l/n’s had the potential of being a superpower to the world because of their oil. If they really wanted to, they could knock a few Italian heads on the way. They just couldn’t do it in America. The American government was so different and so were its people.
The Yankees still believed in their government and what was right and what was wrong. And killing was wrong. The Mexicans were too gruesome, too brutal. All you and your family wanted to do was eliminate the threat, and its name was Enzo Changretta. Mexico would want the whole family, women and children alike. In Birmingham, the cops were dirty; all paid by and loyalty to Thomas Shelby. You knew the value of loyalty, thus you knew the value of Birmingham. It wasn’t a city. It was fucking empire, and in his empire killng was allowed.
“You want to draw them out and kill them on my land.”
You down your drink in one large sip, letting out a soft sigh. “Sometimes, Tommy,” so we’re back to Tommy, “killing is a kindness.”
Michael was wrong. y/n was not like Tommy Shelby. Right then and there, he decided you were an extension to himself. You were Tommy Shelby.
“You are still in clear danger.” He yells out to you as you leave his office and the gun behind.
“And I still prefer my bullets over your razor blades.”
It was never about your protection.
Tag List: @apollonshootafar
#thomas shelby#thomas shelby fanfic#thomas shelby x reader#peaky blinders#peaky blinders imagine#peaky blinders fanfic#peaky blinders fanfiction#thomas shelby fanfiction#thomas shelby imagine
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okay so re: smutless long fics, I’ve tried to compile a list of fics as close to 50k words as possible since that’s the wordcount the anon cited and tbh my friends there really are not that many that I personally have read but I did my best. All fics under the cut are over 30k and have either been verified good by me or my trusted friends
delete this transmission by @anxietycalling: 67k mashton sci-fi. I reread this one recently and it’s just as amazing the second time around I very highly recommend it
“Yeah,” he says, catching sight of his reflection in the dimly reflective surface and running fingers through his hair to fluff it up. And instead of getting on the mag-train home like he wants to, he catches the northbound train to the greenlawn with Calum. “You know, I think I might not go through with it,” he tells his best friend, meaning his activation. They sit together across from the back doors of the car and watch the adverts for an upcoming showing of ‘Titanic’ at the interactive theater. While Calum sits beside him silently he gnaws on a thumbnail and wonders whether it’s too late to get his money back.
“You can’t go back on it now,” Calum tells him.
And it’s true: His payment has already been processed, the credits removed from his profile. The invoice showed up in his e-net overnight and he’d added it to his encrypted folder. “It’s just - weird,” he says, weighing each of the words on his tongue before he speaks. “To be in charge of another person like that. I don’t want that responsibility.”
I’m a Falling Star by @pixiegrl: 55k lashton fantasy, very cute and sweet
A philosopher once asked, “Are we human because we gaze at the stars or do we gaze at them because we are human?” Pointless really. “Do the stars gaze back?” Now that’s a question.
Or: Ashton’s a shop boy setting out on a adventure to find a star to help grant a wish. Luke’s a star crashed to Earth looking for some help to get back home. They’re both in for more adventure than they bargained for.
I Wanna Sleep Next to You... by milecgv: 54k malum college au. I read it over a year ago but I’m pretty sure I enjoyed it then
"Cuddle buddies, how can I help you?"
Pausing, Calum thought, he could just hang up. Get over the moment of weakness and face the rest of the night alone. He could do it. But the idea of spending one more second alone, brought a fresh pang of hurt to his heart and really, he couldn't bear it. Before his thought process could spiral out of control, the calm voice repeated itself.
"Um, yeah. I-, I need someone to-" He cut himself off because really, how was he going to phrase this?
Chuckling softly, the man on the other line interjected. "Sir, do you need someone to cuddle you?"
Shit, it was now or never. "Yeah. I-uh, I do." His voice came out so small, and he really hoped the man on the other side wouldn't pick up on how desperate he was.
~~~
Calum gets the opportunity to live out his dreams in New York City but it proves too much for him, and on a lonely night he ends up calling the professional cuddle service he swore he'd never call.
those are the only three completed fics over 50k that I personally can vouch for, but here are a few more longer ones I’ve read and I’ll link some over 50k that have gotten good reviews from my friends after those.
Destination: Perth by onlythevoid: 34k lashton
The stranger swung into the seat next to him and sighed contentedly. Luke stole a glance from under his hat. It was a boy with light-brown messy hair, reminiscent of surfers Luke saw on the beach in Brisbane - he had a t-shirt on and black jeans, and fade-tint round-frame sunglasses propped on his straight nose.
The stranger caught Luke’s eyes.
“Hey?” The stranger asked. Shouldn’t have looked at him, Luke thought. Too late.
The stranger had set his sunglasses on his head and was peering below Luke’s cap. “Dude. You look terrible. Are you okay?”
Oh, so the stranger was one of those guys. Too friendly and ever-inquisitive. Yes, Luke looked like shit; he’d been crying for an hour at a time, every few hours, and all he’d had to eat in the past two days was some wet broccoli at the hospital and a bag of chips he’d bought that morning in Brisbane, and there were bruises all up and down his right arm from a car crash he wished he’d died in.
Luke didn’t say any of that. He prayed his voice would be steady and said, “Yes. Thanks.”
The messy-haired boy did not seem convinced. After a pause, he offered, “My name’s Ashton, by the way.”
hello, hello by @clumsyclifford: 30k lashton
For one long, blinking minute, Luke stares at Ashton and wonders if he’s hallucinating. Because that’s definitely Ashton. That’s Ashton Irwin, his former best friend from Sunny Days, the show they co-starred on as children.
But it’s also definitely Ashton Fletcher, professional film actor worth many millions, possibly hundreds of millions, of dollars, standing on his doorstep, wind ruffling his hair.
Now for the fics that I haven’t read but can confidently say are good through a rigorous peer review system (aka I have friends who read them/I have read and enjoyed other works by these people)
home is wherever you are tonight by @lifewasradical: 72k lashton. this one is on my tbr, I have only heard good things, and I’ve read other things by Amanda and trust her as a writer
Life has become so mundane in the past few years that there’s very little that sends a thrill up Luke’s spine anymore. It’s that idea that had him saying yes to the idea of moving out here for a few weeks anyways: the knowledge that this was a completely new place where no one knew his name. He could be anyone he wanted to be here, within reason. He wouldn’t be seeing any of these people again after May, so what’s the harm in becoming a new person for a bit? Someone not so bogged down by the shit in their head that they can’t get out of bed some mornings. Maybe this is a step in the direction of the person Luke wants to be in the future anyways.
Or, Luke inherits a beach house on a tiny costal island that needs some work. He didn't plan on falling in love with the guy at the hardware store.
world war series by prettyluke: 58k lashton historical au. Megs really likes this one and I trust her judgement
Even after months of seeing bodies ripped apart by bullets and bombs, Ashton still isn't prepared to be ripped apart by the fragile German soldier who has seen far more than any child should.
and
Luke shows up in Britain after 25 years right in time for World War Two to start, and Ashton has been waiting for someone to yank him from his melancholy since Christmas of 1914.
i’ll keep on fighting (just to make you believe) by @squishmichael: 33k muke I have heard good things about this one, have read other works by Taylor and trust them as a writer, and also I did skim this one when it first came out and it’s good I just need to sit down and fully read while paying attention
“Hi, Mike,” Luke says softly.
Michael might have cried from hearing his voice so clearly, not through a phone line, but instead his smile just gets bigger and bigger until his cheeks hurt.
“Hey, Luke,” he replies before throwing himself at Luke, arms looping around his neck and holding tight.
“Easy there, tiger,” Luke says with a chuckle, but he hugs Michael back.
It feels so different, all the shapes and sizes wrong, yet Michael has never felt so at home, melting right into the hug. Luke still fits so perfectly against him despite everything. Because it’s them, and they’re meant to be, and Michael never wants to let go.
*
In which Luke is finally coming home to Australia for the summer after two years, and everything should be perfect. Michael quickly realizes nothing is.
Under the High Low Lights I See You There by @pixiegrl: 33k lashton 90s bar au. I have heard a lot of good things and I have read and enjoyed Emily’s writing
Luke moves onto cleaning the glasses, sneaking glances over at him, admiring the open blue flannel he’s wearing with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his chest in the white tank top he’s wearing and the pull of it over his muscles, the acid wash denim pants straining over his thighs. He’s attractive and Luke knows he shouldn’t be looking, shouldn’t be so obvious in his stares, but he can’t help it. The man was made to be admired.
Or: It’s the summer of 1996 in New York City when Luke meets Ashton at his bar. Things aren’t always as they seem.
He Did Ballet by @kaleidoscopeminds: 34k cake. people love this one and meg is a great writer
Like the way he danced, everything in Luke's life was perfectly placed, an allegro exercise all on beat, an enchainment with no mistakes. The last thing he needed was a distraction, something to pull his attention away and make him stumble, like losing your spot during a series of fouettés. He glances back towards the bar and sees Calum still looking in his direction. Luke catches his eye again by mistake for just a second too long and Calum smiles slowly and winks at him. Luke shivers slightly and already feels slightly unbalanced. Calum is definitely not a good idea.
Luke's life is perfectly on track. He is about to get everything he's ever wanted, to become a Principal dancer for the Royal Ballet. He's focused, determined and nothing will get in his way. Then he meets Calum, a smooth-tongued barman with dangerous eyes, and suddenly not everything's so simple.
The Sun Is Burning Down Los Angeles by @burstingsunrise: 40k cake. have heard good things and Molly is a good writer
Calum probably signed a form saying he wouldn’t fall in love with the lead singer of the band. And he really doesn’t want to. What a cliché. It’s just…people get famous for a reason. This guy got famous for all the reasons.
***
Calum moves to LA to work for 5SOS.
#fic rec#there really are not that many (good quality) smutless works over 50k#like less than I thought lol#and i think that the over 50k is key here#because i've seen other fic recs with like. 20k fics on them but that's not a TRUE longfic yknow#like none of my fics should be considered a longfic I don't think. unmute will eventually but that's not finished#anyway feel free to add any smutless fics over 50k that y'all know of that i missed!
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