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juneberrie · 10 months

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DRIVEWAY ₊ ⊹ ── ✶ ˙ ̟ DEUCE GORGON

dumb jock ! deuce falls for his tutor

deuce flipped his most recent dead languages test over, quickly flipped it back over, and slumped in his seat, squeezing his eyes shut behind his glasses.

"yo, man." clawd tapped him on the shoulder. "what'd you get?"

"nothing good, dude," deuce mumbled.

"it can't be as bad as heath."

heath broke into a laugh and replied, "yeah, i got a 40! it's not like you could've gotten any worse than m—"

"i got a ten," deuce relented. he didn't need to open his eyes to see their widened eyes and gaping mouths. "yeah, i know."

"oh man. you think coach'll let you play next weekend?" clawd asked, tone worried. next weekend was the big casketball game, and coach had a strict c-average rule for his players. deuce was already straddling the line between a c and a d, but that test was going to drop him down to an f at least.

"definitely not," deuce said. "it's whatever, you guys'll do fine without me playing." he cracked an eye open to see clawd and heath exchange skeptical looks, but they dropped the topic for the rest of class.

at the end of the hour, just as deuce was gathering up his books, mr. rotter called him up to the front of the class. shooting a pleading glance at his friends, who shrugged apologetically, he shuffled down the steps to his teacher.

"'sup, mr. rotter?" deuce greeted. his teacher looked him up and down and scoffed.

"mr. gorgon, are you aware that you failed the test we just took last class?"

deuce looked down and scuffed his sneaker on the wooden floor. "yeah," he mumbled.

mr. rotter sighed and rubbed his temple. "you won't be able to play this weekend."

deuce nodded.

"coach igor's not gonna like that . . . but if you get your grades up in time for next week's quiz, you could be on track to play at the next game."

the next game was only two weeks out, and it was against their biggest rivals

"okay, sweet. how do i do that?" he asked.

"well, i could assign you a tutor."

deuce's head snapped up and some of his snakes hissed. "mr. r, man, you've gotta be kidding. a tutor? can't i do like, extra credit or something?"

"there are no more extra credit assignments for the rest of the semester," mr. rotter deadpanned. "you either don't play until you get your grades up by yourself or you can meet with the tutor. it's one or the other, mr. gorgon."

deuce groaned. "alright, alright. what's the tutor's name?"

"y/n."

he shrugged. "dunno 'em."

he wished he knew them sooner. the two weeks had gone by incredibely fast and mr. rotter's quiz was the next day. y/n was sitting across the small library table holding a stack of flashcards.

deuce kept getting every other question wrong because he kept looking at their eyes.

they sighed. "deuce. focus. the quiz is tommorow!" they sighed, putting the flashcards down between them and dropping their head into their hands. "oh my ghoul, the quiz is tommorow!"

"yeah, it is," deuce rubbed his neck sheepishly. "do you wanna...?" he gestured to the cards. his tutor, his crush, sighed again and looked up. they looked exhausted.

"yeah, sure," they said. they started to reach for the flashcards but deuce got an idea and put his hands over the cards. their fingers bumped into each other and y/n quickly pulled their hand back, eyes wide.

"wait. why don't we take a break?" he offered.

"a break? deuce we—"

"just like, thirty minutes," he protested. "we can go get a soda or a milkshake. anything to get out of this musty library."

their face transformed from a stressed, exasparated grimace into a bright smile. "milkshakes?"

"yeah!" deuce loved their smile.

"like..." their smile turned hesitant. "like a date?" they cocked their head to the side.

deuce's face flushed, and his snakes hissed. "i mean... if you want it to be a date," he replied, trying to act nonchalant.

". . . sure," they smiled.

"wait, really?" he asked, taken aback by their answer.

"yeah, i wanna get outta here too," they joked. "plus, you're like. . . really cute." they turned their face down to the table.

"then let's go!" deuce pushed his chair back and grabbed their hand. "c'mon."

they laughed all the way down the halls and into the parking lot, where they slid into the passenger seat of deuce's car.

a few minutes later, they were sipping on milkshakes, sitting on the hood of his car and watching the sun dip behind the horizon.

"y'know, this is way more fun than studying for rotter's stupid quiz," deuce said.

"definitely," y/n agreed. they took a long slurp of their milkshake, pulling out their phone to check the time. "oh, shit man. i've gotta get home. curfew, y'know?" they slid off the hood.

deuce looked down at them, disappointed, before his face lit up with another idea. "i can drive you home," he offered.

they looked up at him. he could feel a hot flush creeping up his neck and into his cheeks.

"that'd be nice."

y/n pushed open the passenger side door and got out. they waved goodbye and thanked deuce for the milkshake. "good luck tomorrow," they grinned. "you're gonna do great either way, cause, y'know." they pointed at themselves. "i'm your tutor."

deuce laughed and watched as they walked up their driveway.

"wait!" he called out. he quickly got out of his car and ran to meet them in the middle of their drive. "uh . . ."

one of his snakes hissed in his ear, berating him for being nervous. he shook his head and took a deep breath.

"do you wanna, uh. . . do this again soon?" he asked. y/n looked confused.

"the— the tutoring?" they questioned.

"no," deuce chuckled. "like, the milkshakes. the. . . the date."

"oh. oh! yeah, no totally sure!!!" y/n rambled. i'd rather see that twinkle in their eye rather than look at the stars, deuce thought. "that'd— that'd be nice. actually, that'd be great," they smiled.

"sweet."

"cool."

they both stood there, in the middle of the driveway, staring at each other like middle school crushes. then, y/n leaned forward and pressed a kiss to deuce's cheek.

they pulled back with wide eyes. "bye! see you later— tomorrow! uh—" they scrambled back towards the steps of their porch. "g'night, deuce!"

they shut the door behind them, and through the silhouette in the window, deuce saw them jump in the air, pumping their fist up.

he laughed and raised a hand to the cheek they kissed. "g'night, y/n."

#dude but romantically (liz's version)#liz’s writing ♡#deuce gorgon x reader #deuce gorgon #mh deuce #monster high deuce #monster high #mh #monster high x reader #mh x reader

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hockeylovee12 · 1 month

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Crossing Enemy Lines

Chapter One

Luke Hughes x Original Character

Summary: When Luke Hughes got drafted by the New Jersey Devils he knew he was entering one of the most intense rivalries in professional hockey. But what he didn't bargain for was falling in love with a Rangers player's sister during his first year in the show.

OR Luke Hughes meets the right girl with the wrong last name.

Warnings: Cussing

November 10th, 2023

Inside a dimly lit bar tucked away in Jersey City, Luke occupies a corner seat surrounded by some of his teammates. His shoulders hunch inside the navy jacket he wears, while a grim scowl tugs at the corner of his mouth.

Around him the sounds of clinking glasses, rhythmic thuds of billiard balls, and lively chatter echo off the walls, creating a cacophony of noise as he tries to drown out the bitter feeling of defeat.

John, slides into the empty seat beside him, nudging his shoulder lightly, "Come on Lukey, Just shake it off, it's not the end of the world" he urges, allowing a smile that doesn't quite reach his warm brown eyes to cross his lips.

Luke turns towards John, his scowl unwavering.

If Luke was a Swiftie, he could point out the irony of John quoting Taylor Swift after they lost to the New York Rangers. But he's not so instead he settles for a half-hearted shrug.

"Seriously, man, you can't let one loss get to you like this," Jack cuts in, placing a hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Just forget about it. It's one game. We still got three more against those assholes" He adds with the same persuasive tone he used less than an hour ago to convince Luke to come to the bar in the first place.

A heavy sigh escapes Luke's lips as his shoulders slump further.

He can't just forget about it. They lost 1-7 to the New York fucking Rangers, their literal Rivals. The same team they managed to kick out of the playoffs last season, the same team they beat several times in preseason, and the same team they couldn't fucking score against.

It was a complete shit show from start to finish.

A stupid hooking call cost them the game's first goal. Then a series of shitty defense decisions, put them in a hole they couldn't climb out of. And then there was Igor fucking Shesterkin, standing on his head and making 23 saves out of 24 shots like he was some kind of brick wall. The one goal they managed to squeeze past him was a lucky bounce that barely counted.

It was infuriating to watch Panarin and Zibanejad dance circles around their defense, while they couldn't even get a decent scoring chance on the other side.

Luke is momentarily pulled away from his bitter recounter of the game, as the loud laughter of his teammates, Nate and Dawson echoes throughout the space, as they return to their table with a fresh round of drinks.

"What's with the long face, Rusty?" Dawson asks, as he sets down the glasses, with a clink, and claps Luke on the shoulder.

"Don't tell me you're still moping about tonight's loss" Nate jokes, his tone light and teasing, as he sticks to his well-known game philosophy of 'play and move on'.

A sentiment clearly not shared by every member of the Devils.

"Shut it, Bass" Luke mumbles, shooting him an irritated glare.

A small chuckle rumbles from Dawson's chest, "Come on man. Don't be like that" he says as Luke's lips return to a scowl.

"Alright fine, if you're gonna pout about the game at least do it well drinking so you're not a buzzkill" Dawson boasts as he slides a fresh beer across the table to Luke, which would otherwise be inaccessible to him seeing as how he's still got 10 months till he can order one for himself-at least legally.

Luke accepts the beer with a resigned sigh, his hazel eyes somewhat softening for the first time tonight, as the crisp, tangy scent wafts towards him "Easy for you to say, you weren't the one getting ragdolled by fucking Trouba every damn shift."

"Tell me about it," Nate shakes his head in dismay. "Did you see the way he drove Jonas into the boards in the third? Could've broken some ribs with that bullshit cheapshot."

"Jacob Trouba's a fucking punk, can't believe he wears the C" Jack adds

"They're all fucking punks" Luke mutters

"At least our rookies' loyalties lie with the right team" Nate jokes, as he reaches across the table to ruffle Luke's hair, much to his annoyance.

"Their dirty fucking players" Luke adds, taking a sip of his beer

"Ok true, but we can't let them get in our heads" John states with conviction. "They can play as dirty as they want, alright we just gotta focus on our game"

"Mr. Harvard's right" Nate says confidently, raising his now half-full beer "Next game, we return the favor and shut up those loudmouths"

"That's not-"

"Alright guys enough dwelling on that shit show," Dawson states, "We're supposed to be blowing off steam tonight, not sitting around feeling sorry for ourselves."

Jack nods in agreement "Daws is right, we won't seem em for a while anyway, so let's stop talking about the Rangers"

The group mutters in agreement before falling into silence, waiting for a new topic to arise.

"Did you guys see Haula's reaction to the prank Nate and I pulled on him yesterday?" Dawson asks

"That was you guys, Damn he was pissed" John says

"Hey payback bitch he shouldn't have put shaving cream in our skates. Piece of shit" Nate claims, his voice wavering with some degree of platonic affection for one of their older teammates.

Most of the group chuckles at Nate's anecdote, except for Luke, who's still stuck in his own head.

"Remember that time, we triple knotted every pair of Quinn's shoes" Jack asks, gently nudging Luke's arm.

A faint smile tugs at the corner of Luke's mouth as the memory surfaces "Ya, he tried to shove his big ass feet into my Vans"

"And then he spent the next week trying to get us back" Jack adds, grinning "And failed miserably every time."

Luke let's out a soft chuckle, it's not his usual boisterous laugh, but hey it's a start.

*****

As the night wears on, the lively conversation and laughter enveloping their table slowly eases the weight of the loss from Luke's shoulders.

Then in the midst of a lively discussion about fantasy football with Dawson, Jack and John, his attention absentmindedly drifts towards the door, and his gaze suddenly locks onto the captivating sight of a stunning girl with cascading locks of dark-chocolate colored hair, and a warm smile, gracefully stepping into the bar.

"Hey, where did Nate disappear to?" John's question floats through the air momentarily anchoring Luke back to the table strewn with empty glasses.

Their eyes wander around the bar, until the spot Nate weaving his way through a small crowd an impish grin plastered on his face.

"Big news boys! Guess who's got a date tomorrow!" he boasts, wavering around a paper napkin that seemingly has a phone number written on it-whether it was actually the girls or a random one made up on the spot, we may never know-prompting a chorus of laughter to ripple across the table.

Luke cracks a smile too, but it's not one that reaches his eyes. They've wandered off already, tracking the girl he spotted moments ago, who now leans casually against the bar counter, her fingers drumming a silent rhythm on its surface as she waits for her drink.

"Luke?" Jack's voice cuts through his thoughts, sharp enough to draw attention, yet laced with a hint of concern "You okay, man?"

"Uh, yeah" Luke stammers, trying to mask how his focus had strayed. He forces himself to lock eyes with Jack hoping to convey a sense of normalcy.

But Jack knows him too well, reads him too easily and one look at Luke's face tells him where his brother's mind had wandered off to.

Luke's eyes quickly shift towards the girl again, who's retrieving her drink from the bar, and takes a small sip.

"Earth to Luke," John teases.

All heads subtly turn to acknowledge the object of Luke's distraction, watching as she walks towards the vacant pool table.

"Looks like someone caught your eye" Dawson says with a wry smile, elbowing Luke playfully.

"Looks like your type too," Jack adds, a sly grin crossing his lips. "Why don't you go say hi?"

"Come on, man" John's encouragement is gentle, persuasive "Take your mind off things for a bit"

"Go ahead rook" Nate prods "Show us what you've got"

Luke hesitates for a moment, allowing the suggestion to linger in the air.

Before a not so subtle shove to the shoulder by Jack, causes him to push his chair back and stand up.

"Alright wish me luck" He mutters

"Attaboy!" Nate exclaims, clapping his shoulder.

The cool air circulating inside the bar brushes against the small amounts of exposed skin, as he crosses the short distance to the pool table.

"Hey," he says, flashing a quick grin that hopefully looks more charming than nervous.

"Hi," the girl replies, her voice a melodic hint of intrigue. She looks up, a smile teasing at the corners of her lips. "I'm Jordan"

"Luke" he offers back, a tentative smile of his own forming.

"Want to play?" she asks, gesturing to the table with a cue stick.

"Sure," Luke responds, retrieving a cue from the rack on the wall.

"So are you any good?" Jordan teases, as she lines up for her shot.

"Depends on the day," Luke admits, watching as she sinks a solid ball into a corner pocket.

"Looks like today might be my day then" she quips, with a soft smile on her face as she steps to the side.

Luke chuckles as he takes his shot, cleanly sinking a striped ball into a corner pocket. "Guess we'll see about that."

*****

As the game plays out, the rhythmic clack of pool balls blends nicely with their voices, providing a backdrop as they learn more about one another.

"So, Jordan," he asks curiosity gleaming in his eyes, "what brings you here tonight?"

Jordan leans against her cue, "Just wanted to explore a little"

Luke lets out a soft laugh as he lines up his shot, expertly guiding the striped ball into the middle pocket "You from around here?" he asks

Jordan leans forward, cue in hand and takes her shot. The satisfying click of the pool balls echoing in the bar, signaling another point for her.

She straightens up and glances at Luke with a smirk, "New York City" she replies

"Let me guess, you're a secret pool shark, got bored of the games up there?" he asks, his tone laced with a sense of humor, as he takes his shot and the ball ricochets off the side and misses sinking into the pocket by an inch.

"Close I'm a student at NYU" she answers

"NYU, wow that's really impressive. What's you studying?" Luke questions watching as she sinks another ball

Jordan shrugs, a modest smile on her lips "I just started up a few weeks ago, but I'm majoring in English Lit" she replies

"English Lit, huh, you a big reader?" Luke asks

"Yeah, there's just something about getting lost in a good book, you know?"

"Yeah I do" Luke agrees "Although I probably don't read as much as I should. Maybe you can recommend something for me?"

"I'd love to," Jordan says, her eyes sparkling. "But only if you promise me you'll actually read it."

"Cross my heart," Luke grins, making an exaggerated gesture.

Their eyes meet, a spark of connection passing between them as they share a smile.

Jordan leans against the pool table, studying Luke for a moment before asking, "So, what about you? What's your story?"

Luke hesitates, his mind racing as he considers how to respond. His eyes briefly flicker to his teammates, still laughing and joking at their table.

He's seen it before, seen it a handful of times over the past few months since he's become an NHL player, hell he saw it before too, with both his brothers being in the show.

The way people's perceptions change when they learn of his profession, or his last name, the way their eyes widen with awe or narrow with skepticism, or the way the conversation shifts completely and suddenly their no longer talking to him, their either talking at him telling him their thoughts and opinions about him, or they throw questions at him like a round of rapid fire, wanting to know what life in the NHL is really like.

And so, in this moment, with Jordan's eyes on him, warm and inviting. Luke decides tonight he's not a hockey player, he's not Hughes, he's just a guy enjoying a night out and connecting with a beautiful girl over a game of pool.

"Well, uh-I'm originally from New Hampshire" he begins, the half-truth rolling off his tongue "But I moved out here for school. Studying sports business"

He sinks another ball, the satisfying clack echoing in the bar.

He was born in New Hampshire, even if he hasn't lived there since he was 3, and technically, he's doing something with sports business, just not studying it, so it's not completely a lie or at least that's what he tells himself.

"What made you interested in sports business?" Jordan remarks, her eyes sparkling with genuine interest.

"I've always been pretty active, played a lot of sports growing up," Luke explains, watching as Jordan takes her turn, expertly maneuvering the cue ball. "I guess I just wanted to find a way to stay involved, even if I'm not playing, you know?"

Jordan nods, understanding in her eyes. "That makes sense."

As they continue to talk, the game progresses, with Jordan maintaining a slight lead. She sinks her last solid ball, leaving only the 8-ball and one striped ball remaining.

"You're pretty good at this," Luke says, lining up his shot.

"Ya well growing up with an older brother has its perks, taught me how to handle my own" Jordan replies, brushing a strand of brown hair from her face.

"Sounds like a good guy" Luke says just before hitting his last striped ball into a middle pocket

"Most of the time," she admits

A small smile tugs at Luke's lips as he watches Jordan ready herself for the final shot, "Your form could use some work, though" Luke teases

"Is that so?" Jordan smirks, glancing up at him.

"Maybe just a little" Luke grins, with a playful glint in his eyes "Care to prove me wrong?"

Jordan leans in, focusing on the shot. With a smooth, confident motion, she strikes the cue ball, sending the 8-ball rolling towards the corner pocket. It teeters on the edge for a brief moment before dropping in with a satisfying thud.

"Looks like I just did," Jordan grins, straightening up and facing Luke.

Luke chuckles, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "I guess I stand corrected. Clearly, you've got this game figured out."

They share a smile, the air between them charged with a flirtatious energy. Jordan takes a step closer, her eyes locked on Luke's.

"Well, maybe I just got lucky," she murmurs, her voice low and playful.

"Or maybe you're just that good," Luke counters, his gaze drifting to her lips for a fleeting moment.

The tension between them is palpable, the rest of the bar fading into the background as they stand mere inches apart. Jordan's hand brushes against Luke's, sending a jolt of electricity through his body.

"I guess we'll have to play again sometime," Jordan suggests, her tone laced with promise. "Give you a chance to redeem yourself."

"I'd like that," Luke replies, his voice soft and sincere.

Jordan smiles, a genuine, warm expression that makes Luke's heart skip a beat, as she reaches for her phone. "Here, put your number in, and I'll text you."

Jordan smiles before adding "Maybe next time, I'll even let you win."

Luke laughs, shaking his head. "Oh, you're on. But I won't need you to let me win. I can do that all on my own." he says as he takes the phone, his fingers brushing against hers as he types in his number.

There's a spark, a jolt of electricity that passes between them, and for a moment, the rest of the world falls away.

"I don't doubt it for a second," Jordan grins, the admiration clear in her eyes.

When he hands the phone back, their eyes meet once more, a silent acknowledgment of the connection they both feel.

"I should probably get going," Jordan says reluctantly, glancing at the time. "Early class tomorrow."

"Of course," Luke nods, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment in his chest.

Luke nods, trying to ignore the twinge of disappointment in his chest. "It was nice to meet you Jordan"

"It was nice to meet you too Luke"

Luke grins, watching as she gathers her things and heads for the door.

Luke stands there for a moment, watching as Jordan's silhouette fades into the night, a grin plastered across his face. The cool evening breeze rustles his hair, but he barely notices, his mind still replaying the events of the past few hours.

With a final glance at the door, Luke turns and makes his way back to the table where his teammates await. As he approaches, he can see their faces light up with a mix of curiosity and good-natured mischief.

*****

"Well, well, well," Nate drawls, leaning back in his chair with a smirk. "Look who decided to grace us with his presence again."

"Shut it Nate" Luke replies, but there's no heat behind his words. He slides into his seat, grabbing his half-finished beer and taking a swig.

"So..." John says, a smile tugging at his lips.

"So?" Luke questions taking another sip

Dawson and John exchange a look, "Give us details?!" Dawson encourages

Luke rests his elbow on the table, and locks eyes with his teammates before letting out a simple "No"

Dawson, John and Nate's mouths dramatically drop, as if Luke just informed them that he's the notorious Zodiac Killer.

"Luke!' Dawson exclaims

"Aw, come on!" John protests, a good-natured grin on his face. "You can't leave us hanging like that. Did you get her number? Are you gonna see her again?"

"Maybe," Luke replies, a hint of mystery in his voice.

Nate leans forward, a mischievous glint in his eye. "So, what's her name? Come on, you gotta give us something, man."

Luke takes a sip of his beer, a small smile playing on his lips. "Her name's Jordan, and that's all you're getting out of me tonight."

"Jordan, huh?" Dawson repeats, waggling his eyebrows. "And what does this mystery girl do? Is she a student? A model? A secret agent?"

Luke chuckles, shaking his head. "She's a student, but that's all I'm saying. You guys are worse than a bunch of gossiping old ladies."

"Hey, we're just looking out for our boy," John defends, holding his hands up in mock surrender. "We gotta make sure she's good enough for our rookie."

"Trust me, she's more than good enough," Luke assures them, a hint of admiration in his voice.

"Ooh, sounds like someone's smitten!" Nate teases, reaching over to ruffle Luke's hair.

Luke swats his hand away, laughing. "Shut up, I am not. It was one game of pool and I had a good time, that's all."

"One game of pool that lasted, what, two hours?" Dawson teases, giving Luke a playful shove. "Face it, Hughesy, you're smitten."

Luke rolls his eyes, but before he can retort, Jack stands up and stretches. "Alright, boys, as much as I'd love to sit here and watch you interrogate my little brother all night, we should probably head out."

A chorus of groans rises from the table, but the guys begrudgingly agree. They settle their tab and say their goodbyes, each one giving Luke a final nudge or wink before heading out into the night.

As Jack and Luke step outside, the cool night air hits them, a refreshing change from the stuffy bar. They walk side by side, hands shoved in their pockets, the silence between them comfortable and familiar.

After a few moments, Jack glances over at his brother, a small smile on his face. "So, this Jordan girl," he begins, his tone casual. "She seems to have made quite an impression on you."

Luke ducks his head, feeling a flush creep up his neck. "Yeah, I guess she did," he admits, kicking a pebble along the sidewalk. "I don't know, man, there's just something about her. It's like... like we just clicked, you know?"

Jack nods, a look of understanding on his face. "I get it," he says, a note of wistfulness in his voice. "When you meet someone special, it's like everything just falls into place."

They walk in silence for a few more blocks, each lost in their own thoughts. As they approach their apartment building, Jack turns to Luke, a serious expression on his face.

"Just be careful, okay?" he says, his tone gentle but firm. "I know you're excited about this girl, and I'm happy for you, I really am. But don't forget who you are, and what you're here to do."

Luke meets his brother's gaze, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. "I know," he sighs, running a hand through his hair. "It's just... it's nice to feel normal for once, you know? To just be Luke, not Luke Hughes, the hockey player."

Jack puts a hand on his brother's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "I get it," he says, a hint of a smile on his face. "And you deserve that, Luke. You deserve to be happy, both on and off the ice. Just don't lose sight of what's important, okay?"

Luke nods, feeling a surge of gratitude for his brother's support and understanding. "Thanks, Jack," he says, bumping his shoulder against his brother's as they enter the building.

As they ride the elevator up to their floor, Luke can't help but feel a sense of excitement bubbling up inside him.

Meanwhile, across the Hudson River, Jordan steps out of her Uber, the upscale apartment building looming before her. She thanks the driver and makes her way through the lobby, the click of her shoes echoing off the polished floors, as she makes her way to an apartment door.

As she enters she's greeted by the sight of hockey memorabilia adorning the walls, a New York Rangers jersey bearing her brother's name and number taking center stage.

Careful not to wake Jacob and his wife, Jordan tiptoes to her room, a soft smile playing on her lips as she replays the evening's events in her mind. She goes through her nightly routine, the familiarity of it soothing after the excitement of the night.

Settling into bed, Jordan reaches for her phone, the screen illuminating her face in the darkened room. She opens her messages and starts a new conversation with Luke, her fingers dancing across the keyboard.

Hey, it's Jordan. I had a great time tonight. We should do it again sometime :)

With a satisfied grin, she hits send and places her phone on the nightstand, letting the promise of future adventures lull her to sleep.

#luke hughes #nj devils #jack hughes #hughes brothers #quinn hughes #original story #crossing enemy lines #ny rangers #jacob trouba

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fa-headhoncho · 1 year

Text

Unlike The Rest: Gits

(Eventual) George Weasley x Malfoy!Reader

Prompt: The announcement of the Tri-Wizard tournament creates drama.

Word Count: 1894

Reader: Female

Warning: None

Author’s Note: Where are all the George Weasley fanfics? I'm back in my HP phase and I've already read all of them. AO3 too. This was written before I fell off the face of the Earth too so no promises my skills are up to par.

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

=====

You let out a chuckle as you watch the boys become mesmerized. The ladies of Beauxbatons let out sighs and dreamy looks as they parade down the center of the Great Hall. They were indeed angel-like creatures but the reaction was a bit overdramatic. The boys are drooling, hooting, and standing. It was quite entertaining, honestly. You take a glance over at the Gryffindor table, the look on Ron’s face sends you into fits of giggles.

Next, the boys of Durmstrang come through the doors. Well, men of Durmstrang. Whatever is in their water in the north, you need it here. The men are doing flips, twisting their staffs and it’s very entrancing. This time, the girls are the ones drooling. They were, indeed, very attractive. What catches you off guard, though, is the last two people who enter.

Viktor Krum and Igor Karkaroff.

Your mouth opens slightly, staring at the two. Viktor Krum was a legend himself, just recently coming out of the Quidditch World Cup. You honestly didn’t realize how young he was. There are whispers and gasps echoing throughout the room. But, you’re not focused on him.

Igor Kararoff was known for all the wrong reasons. You’ve heard his name whisper throughout your household for a few months now. Doing some research during the first few months back at school, you’ve learned his history. He was a Death Eater, being one of the ones who were sent to Azkaban. He was only pardoned because he gave up the names of his fellow Death Eaters. Maybe he was a changed man, but with the attack that just happened, you were still a bit nervous that he was here.

“Oi, looks like (Y/N) has her eye on someone.” Alfred points out causing the guys around you to sound off while the girls go straight to whispering. Cedric just laughs and shakes his head at his friends, the idea humoring him. “Malfoy and Krum, an interesting pair that would be.” He continues, you roll your eyes at their assumptions.

Switching your focus from the performance, you look past them to the Gryffindor table once again. Ron had a starstruck expression on her face while Hermione had a glare, you were glad to see she recognized the former Deatheater as well. Scanning further, a particular redhead duo catches your eye.

The twins were in deep conversation, Fred gesturing adamantly as George hung his head in defeat. You furrow your eyebrows, wondering what they were talking about to make George so uncharacteristically shy. He then raises his chin slightly, making eye contact with you and panicking. He quickly hits his brother on the shoulder before gesturing towards you. Fred turns and smirks, saying something to him before sending you a goofy wave and forcing George to send one too. It causing you to let out a giggle before smiling back at them.

Cedric watches the whole thing, noticing the small blush that comes onto your face when you made eye contact with the taller ginger. He shakes his head fondly at you, “I’m sure you already have eyes on someone particular.” He slyly comments and nods his head toward the said person.

A small smile appears on your face as you shake your head at him. Cedric knew of your crush on George and loved to tease you about it. He was the first to figure it out and the first to point out anything remotely flirtatious that went on between the two of you. He was a cheerleader for the complicated relationship you had with the ginger, supporting your continuous breakdowns about him over the years.

And, oh, were there many.

Without realizing it, you were absently staring right at George as you thought about the time you realized you had a crush on him. It was back in fourth year, Fred and Lee had disappeared in the crowd on the way to Hogsmeade so it left the two of you alone. You spent the whole day together, laughing and having fun. You didn’t even remember your two friends who abandoned you in the first place.

When you came back tothe dorms, you found Cedric sitting in the common room with a muggle book in his lap. He chuckled as you nervously blurted out your newly discovered feelings about the ginger, relieved that you finally figured it out.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips, looking back on the fond memory. George turns his head and makes eye contact with you once again. You share a dumb smile before he sends a wink your way. Cedric lets out a booming laugh when you start getting flustered. Your face flames up and you turn away, mumbling stuff under your breath about how unfair it was to be that attractive.

Cedric sets a gentle hand on your shoulder, patting it comfortingly. You let out an exasperated sigh and fall into his chest, “He’s going to be the death of me, Cedi.”

“I’m sure you’ll die happy then.”

=====

The castle already felt overcrowded with the extra bodies and they haven’t even been there for twelve hours; the rush back to the dorms after the announcement last night was ridiculous. You almost got trampled over three different Durmstrang hoards. You weren’t as lucky as Collin Creevey, poor boy got crushed by a sea of Beauxbeatons girls.

The great hall was surprisingly empty for having the additional schools being there. Most people were either showing their new friends around, sleeping in, or waiting around the cup to see who has the bravery to put their name in. It was nice to have a break from the chaos that occurred in such a short amount of time.

The twins immediately spot you once you walk through the doors of the Great Hall as if they’ve been waiting for you all morning. They wave you over, the mischievous smiles on their faces make you want to turn around and pretend you never came down here.

The boys separate and make room for you on the bench, allowing you to sit in your unspoken designated spot between the two. “Good morning, boys.” You mumble a greeting before reaching for a pancake.

“Mornin’.”

“Well, don’t you look rather ravishing today?” Fred compliments once you're settled with a plate full of food. “Doesn’t she, George?”

“I’ve never been graced with anyone more beautiful in my presence.” He dreamily says, gently pushing a piece of hair out of your face. You freeze in confusion, the dry pancake hanging out of your mouth as their words process in your tired brain. Ravishing? You were still in your pajama pants and sweatshirt that you were certain was your brother’s. Beautiful? Your hair was in disarray, more strands were out of your ponytail than in it by this point.

This wasn’t out of character for George, but Fred? You couldn’t recall the last time he complimented a sweater you wore. Realization washes over you when you put the two together...

“What do you two gits want?” You spit out and going back to your food. Fred lets out his infamous offended scoff, pressing a hand to his chest which makes you roll your eyes. You stab at the breakfast at your plate as you wait for them to answer. They silently communicate over your head, sending each other looks and mouthing words. “Just let it out, will ya.”

“So, we’ve been thinking--”

“--That’s never good--” You immediately quip while looking over the rim of your cup, hiding the smile that appears when Fred rolls his eyes.

“We, the brave and daring Gryffindors we are, would like to enter the Triwizard tournament.” The older ginger announces and you to choke on the pumpkin juice. “So, we are trying to make an age potion. We have the base of the potion but we are having trouble with the rest.” He pulls out a muggle notebook and a pencil, a list of the ingredients and directions ripped out of a book taped to it. “So, we need your expertise.”

“Are you guys mental?” You immediately scold, an onslaught of worrying thoughts flooding your brain. “There is no reason for the two of you to put your name in that cup. You would be risking your lives for what? Get your name out there? People already know the people behind the outrageous pranks.”

Fred opens his mouth to defend himself but is cut off by you continuing your ranting. You were absolutely fuming at them. How could they put themselves in danger like this? People knew who they were and they shouldn’t risk their lives for a dumb prize. “You guys aren’t even old enough to put your name in the cup, why do you think you could win it if you even got in the damn thing?”

“And Cedric can?” Fred dares to challenge you. The grip on your cup tightens at the mention of Cedric planning to put his name in the cup. You honestly didn’t want him to but you knew if he got picked he would kick ass. He’s excelled at all his classes and he has shown how talented he can be. Cedric wanted to volunteer for the challenge, not the rewards.

“Cedric has been at the top of our class since first year. He’s proven himself worthy on many occasions and has the mental capacity to handle the challenges they put him through. You two are not Cedric.” You simply state, voice scarily steady. It’s not that you didn’t think they had the skill to survive, it’s just that you were scared to lose them. Yea, you were scared to lose Cedric as well, but you knew his passion would perceive above all. “What do you guys even want to be in it for?”

“The money.” Fred instantly answers, you let out a scoff. You knew their dreams of opening a joke shop but risking their lives when there was an easier way to do that was not the way to go.

“You guys are so stupid.” You shake your head and get up out of your seat. You couldn’t stand to be in the same room in fear that you would snap and say something you would regret later. “I can’t believe you two would risk your lives for a little bit of cash.”

“We don’t have money as you do, Malfoy, so I don’t even want to hear it.” Fred has the audacity to continue the argument as George stares down at his food. “Some of us have to work harder to afford what we want.”

You physically flinch at his direct insult to your family. It takes you back to the time your first year when the feud between the three of you was at its peak. It made your blood boil, “Well, Weasley, don’t come crying back to me when you’re on your deathbed because you use the last two of your combined brain cells to enter yourself in the most dangerous competition in Wizarding history.” And with that, you turn on your heel and storm down the aisle. A few people’s heads turn your way but you don’t pay mind to them. It was a matter of life or death when it came to the Tri-Wizard tournament and those two numb skulls didn’t see the severity of it.

#cedric diggory platonic #cedric diggory #george weasley x you #george weasley imagines #george weasley imagine #george weasley #george weasley x reader #hp #hp imagine #hp imagines #draco malfoy x sister!reader #george wealsey x malfoy!reader #harry potter fanfic

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scarletteye · 4 months

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Who's Crazier, Scara or Childe?

As I'm writing and editing the final chapters of "Ornament of Heart" I realized I can't tell which of the two Harbingers is crazier. Here are little bits from both my Childe fic and Scara fic where they are just absolutely unhinged, so you go ahead and tell me which one is crazier and why. I lowkey want to say Childe, even though Scara is far more prone to hurting people. Childe is just a bit... how do I say this... he needs meds

And yes I call Childe by his real name. Ajax is just mmm you know?

Ornament of Heart, chapter 20

“Stay away from me.”

Your boots sank into the snow. Each step was difficult to make, but you kept backing away, nonetheless.

“Don’t you dare run.”

A shiver traveled down your spine; Ajax’s tone was far from kind. That was a full blown threat. You took another step back, putting your hands up as a shield.

His mouth opened by a little. He didn’t expect you to flat out ignore his threat. Head tilting, and lips twitching up, he looked at you as if you were a wild animal that he caught in the garden. He eyed you with pure fascination, daring you to move again. “Mila. If you run, I will chase after you. And I won’t be gentle.”

You were trembling. You pushed your arms further out. “Stop. Stop doing that, Ajax. This isn’t funny. You’re not helping your case. I’ll go back inside, okay? Just let me go there alone.”

“I’m being serious.” His body turned, following your direction with each step you took. You slowly circled him, until your back was facing the mansion. “Stop moving.”

There were two good meters between you, but you knew you couldn’t outrun him even if you tried. This was the last thing you expected. The last thing you wanted.

“Do you even hear yourself?” you shivered out.

His eyes immediately pressed shut. He realized how scary he sounded after your warning. His voice immediately turned sweeter, but the quick change only filled you with dread. “Mila. I just want to know who filled your head with such idiotic ideas.”

“You’re threatening me,” you hissed out. “Are you even listening to yourself?”

“Please stop avoiding my questions,” he still tried to force a sweet tone. “It’s not difficult to answer.”

“And then what, huh? What do you plan on doing to them?”

He shut up. He glared at you across the garden. Something told you that you didn’t actually want to know the answer. “I just want to know.”

Goosebumps filled your arms. “Ajax.” There was no way in hell you were going to tell him. About any maid or any Harbinger that warned you about him. “Are you threatening to kill that person?”

“Why does it matter? Why would you care?”

Your eyes cracked wider. “You would not.”

He tilted his head curiously, watching your expression freeze with shock. Your heartbeat raised to your throat. You knew he was unstable. You knew he was dangerous. But you always gave him the benefit of the doubt because you trusted him. That trust was gone now. You didn’t believe his excuses anymore. Who knows what actually happened to Igor. Ajax never said that he fired him. He said that he was gone. And now he was threatening to kill the person who supposedly exposed his secrets to you…

Both panic and nausea filled your stomach, turning you completely petrified in front of the Harbinger who you used to call your best friend. Oh God. He killed Igor. He didn’t fire him.

“There is no person. I figured it out myself,” you tried, your voice breaking as realization forced heat to your eyes. “Do you think I’m too dumb to do that? Is that what you think of me, Ajax? It really isn’t difficult to see through your bullshit.”

“My bullshit?” he raised his voice, pointing at himself and ultimately making you wince as he stepped forward. You wanted to run so badly, but you believed with every fiber of your being that he would chase you. And then what happens? What the hell would he do to you? The other Harbingers believed he is capable of hurting you. Hell. He said he wouldn’t be gentle with you.

“All of your fucking lies and schemes,” you hissed out.

“There are no lies or schemes involved. You know that.”

“No, I don’t.”

His eyes cracked wider. “Mila. Do you think I would do anything to you to hurt you? To trap you? To ruin you? Do you think I would hurt you? Is that what you think of me?”

You never said any of that. But he was well aware.

“You grabbed me a second ago.”

He hit chest with both of his hands. “Me?! You think I would hurt you? Mila. Me?”

“Yes you!” You snapped back, ignoring the fear that rose within you as she shouted. “Do you even realize how horrible you are to me!? Grabbing me and shouting at me and threatening me and interrogating me and forbidding me to have friends,” your breath hitched. “All of the Harbingers looked surprised to see that I’m still alive.”

“I told you not to trust a word that comes out of their mouths. They are liars, comrade. It wounds me to know that you trust them and not me. Your husband.”

“But you’re not my real husband. You don’t even love me. You know damn well what I am to you.”

“I’m not your real husband?” he growled, stepping close to you again. Your heart lurched, and you fought back the urge to run. He sounded completely out of breath. Both hurt and wrath present in his voice as he interrogated you.

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

Blossom of the Divine, chapter 15

“I don’t remember giving you permission to speak.”

It was the first time he said something like this to you. You’ve heard him give the same order to his agents before, but you never imagined him giving it to you. It was too formal. Too distant. As if you were strangers. You already knew that he was mad at you, but this only solidified your suspicions. You were no longer under his care.

“Please,” you quietly tried. “Let’s just talk it out.”

His hand raised to your chin. It gently landed on your skin, putting your head in his grasp. His thumb slipped to your lip. Your stomach sunk as you saw his expression shift to something much darker. “You never truly listen, do you? I just said that you don’t have permission to speak. Should I gag you instead?”

A shiver left your mouth. “What-?”

His thumb slipped into your mouth. Your eyes blew wide. As the fabric of the blindfold met your teeth, you jerked away from him. Your back crashed against the locked door. You slid to the ground, coughing, and pushing your tongue against the fabric until you ejected it out of your mouth.

Scaramouche’s knees appeared in your vision. Cold sweat coated your body. He stood right above you, glaring down at you with the same emotionless and tired eyes.

“Hey,” you peeped out. Your voice came out fragile – threading between a cry and between begging. “Please don’t. There’s no need. Right? Let’s just talk.”

He tilted his head. “You’re still not listening to my orders.”

Your breath got caught in your throat. He stared at you so coldly and harshly, that you feared even blinking at his direction.

“I know you’re desperate to explain yourself,” he said. “I know you have apologies upon apologies prepared for me. But I’ll be very honest with you, darling, I don’t want to hear any of them.”

All you could do was gaze up at him. You nearly had to break your neck to be able to look him in the eyes. Scaramouche loomed above you. You were practically trapped between his knees; cornered against the wall and the floor. There was nowhere for you to move. Nowhere for you to run. You were sure he could see your terror. You were sure he was doing this on purpose.

“Truth is, you tried to leave me in the middle of the night. You tried to run away from me, right after claiming that you care about me… No matter what you try to use an excuse, that fact won’t change.”

A bead of sweat slid down your temple.

“You are a liar,” he whispered. “My dear. That also won’t change, no matter how many apologies you sputter out. So save your words. There is nothing you can say to me. Nothing you can do, to change my mind.”

You couldn’t stand looking at his expression anymore. The darkness in his eyes made your heart beat with a manic rhythm. You were trembling like a wild animal in a cage. You averted your gaze, staring at his legs instead, and hoping you’ll eventually recollect yourself if you don’t see look at his face.

“Yet despite all of that…” his tone dropped. “I still can’t bring myself to kill you.”

Your eyes grew wider, but you didn’t dare break eye contact with the pale skin of his legs.

“So… there is really only one thing that I can do with you.”

His voice sent shivers down your spine.

He crouched down, getting his face to the same level as yours. You leaned as far back against the wall as possible. You couldn’t avoid looking at his face anymore. His smudged make-up emphasized the inferno in his eyes. They were full of something dark. Something twisted. Something that wished you harm.

“I’ll just keep you by my side until you die,” he said. “Luckily, you humans tend to do that often, right? Or maybe…”

His hand gently enveloped your face. You trembled under his touch. You forgot how cold his hands were and how weirdly soft they were. The softness with which he touched you meant nothing at that moment. He was promising you harm.

Seeing your terror, his lips twisted into a feeble smirk. “Maybe I’ll just ask the Doctor to make you immortal like me and then I’ll force you to stay by my side for all eternity.”

Your mouth fell open. Your heartbeat was louder than your breaths. It drummed against your skull.

“What would pain you more, I wonder?” he whispered. “I’m inclined to do the option that is the most unpleasurable for you.”

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

But hey Scara got his redemption arc after that, all though it took some time, so maybe there is hope for Childe too. Maybe...

Both fics are on ao3 in case you are interested!

#ao3 writer #genshin fanfic #ao3 author #genshin impact #scara x reader #scaramouche #childe x reader #childe tartagalia #yandere childe #scaramouche x reader

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minetteskvareninova · 8 months

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How Would I Put This For My Non-Slovak Mutuals

Slovakia is going to have elections (premature, I should note, because Matovič is an idiot, see bellow) and by God I am stressed. Our options are as follows:

Progresívne Slovensko (Progressive Slovakia) - They are the, well, progressive party of the Slovak political spectrum. Which means they are the only fucking party that supports the LGBT movement with any consistency. Most of their other proposals are also relatively reasonable; they are interested in protecting the environment, want to improve the sorry state of Slovak healthcare, fight the corruption and so on. Their only two issues are the fact that their leader, Martin Šimečka, is a fucking nerd with the charisma of a wet noodle, and the fact that everyone, and I mean absolutely everyone, even people who theoretically should be on their side on account of not being bigoted Putin-loving dipshits, hates them for absolutely no reason. Well, except for their large preferences, probably. They are the most successful party, or second most successful (depends on how the elections pan out) after...

SMER - Sociálna demokracia (DIRECTION - Social Democracy; yes I know SMER is also short for something but I'm too lazy to look it up right now) - Hoo boy. These guys. How would I even start to explain the sheer amount of baggage these guys carry...? SMER has been in power in 2008-2012 and 2012-2020. And it was a fucking shitshow. Between massive corruption and widespread mismanagement of public resources, you can't help but wonder how the fuck did these people last one term, let alone three?! Don't let the Social Democracy thing in their name fool you, these people aren't really social democrats, they have no ideology beyond getting more votes and avoiding jail. Their leader is Róbert Fico, a literal antichrist whose corruption scandals would make for an exceptionally thick encyclopedia. This man is able to sell his soul to the devil for money and power, but since the devil seems kinda unavailable, he figured Putin is the next best (worst?) thing. His latest strategy for gaining more support is leaning into the fanatical Putin-loving, EU and human rights hating crowd, which in our country is depressingly large. Another memorable personality is Ľuboš Blaha, a tankie extraordinaire whose favourite meal is the sole of Volodya's boot and a steady diet of bathit conspiracies. Remember when Blaha engaged in casual atrocity denial around Bucha, because Pepperidge Farm and Minette's blog remember. https://www.tumblr.com/minetteskvareninova/680859499810177024/this-war-is-horrible-and-itself-would-be-enough

Hlas-SD (Voice-SD) - Most progressives in Slovakia have high hopes for these people. I don't. They are an offshoot of SMER, whose leader Peter Pellegrini has mostly held the line with Fico, but at least seems spineless enough to betray him if it happens to be advantageous enough. They don't really have any kind of concrete politics (most of their program is a vague "we'll make things better" kind of stuff), but at least they don't actively spread hate, so in that way they are able to climb over the low bar that is their mother party. Still, how are these people in the third place of every pre-election survey I will never know. I guess Pelle is just that sexy or whatever.

Obyčajní ľudia a nezávislé osobnosti (Ordinary People And Independent Personalities) - They have been the ruling party since 2020 and much like with SMER, it was kind of a shitshow, just in a different way. Their leader Igor Matovič is less corrupt (mind you, not NOT corrupt) than Fico, but more than makes up for it by being kinda stupid and also a horrendous drama queen whose antics prematurely ended two cabinets, his and Heger's. Tenderly nicknamed "Matelko", he became known for his "atom bombs" of ideas, such as giving out prizes in a lottery that people join by getting vaccinated. Y'know, to increase vaccination rates during the height of COVID-19 pandemic. That's why this whole thing had to be televised, complete with "call to collect your prize" type of deal. For what it's worth, he at least made attempts to fight the corruption of the previous regime; he did it badly, as is his way, but nonetheless. "Independent personalities" here means a bunch of small parties that joined them in this election, because they would have no chance otherwise. They are a pretty diverse bunch, meaning their ranks include, among others, an infamous bigot and fanatical anti-abortion activist Anna Záborská, but they also made my bae Jaroslav Naď a defence minister, so that kinda balances it out. I wouldn't hate it if they managed to get into parliament, I'll tell you that much.

Slododa a Solidarita (Freedom and Solidarity) - Considering Matelko profiles himself as an anti-corruption crusader, you'd think Róbert Fico is his nemesis. You'd be wrong. Fico unfortunately loses that prestigious title to one Richard Sulík, leader of SaS, who is... Eh? Like, he's competent in the questions of economy and in general not in the worst tier of Slovak politicians, but also, he's as much of a libertarian as is possible in our part of the world (which si to say, he's not as bad as an average American libertarian, but still engages in, for example, casual climate change denial) and constantly feuds with Matelko. Again, I don't hate him, but we could do a lot better.

Kresťanskodemokratické hnutie (Christian-Democratic Movement) - They are surprisingly not as bigoted as their name would suggest, but that's because here in Slovakia we are used to levels of homophobia and transphobia that would boggle the mind of an average non-fundie American. They come off as relatively reasonable, but only because one can't help but compare them to Putin kissasses like SMER, SNS and Republika. Which brings us to...

Slovenská národná strana (Slovak National Party) - You know, Stupidest Slovak Politician is a tough contest, so my respect to anyone who is able to win it as decisively as Andrej Danko. This man is like Róbert Fico, if his spirit animal was a sheep instead of a fox (and I say it as someone who has experience with sheep, those motherfuckers are ungodly stupid). He simped for Putin before it was cool, when that particular fanclub was just him and Blaha. He doesn't seem to be able to speak his mother tongue and his constant malaproper speech is the source of many a meme. Which, yes, means that him getting into parliament would be pretty funny. On the other hand, all that fun would probably be somewhat spoiled by the fact that he's ALSO super corrupt, not to mention, y'know, conspiracy-spreading Putin simp and bigot. He also cites Viktor Orbán as his actual, honest-to-God role model. So, an all-around cool dude that I am very happy might be in the next parliament (if Fico wins the election, because naturally these two get on like a house on fire). /s

Republika (The Republic) - I can't believe SMER legit isn't the worst mainstream Slovak party, but I mean, at least they aren't actual neonazis? I mean, Republika does its best to hide their affiliations, but because their leader, Milan Uhrík, is in competition for the second stupidest Slovak politician (the first place, as stated, firmly belonging to Danko), they don't do a particularly good job of that. I mean, Republika is the product of a schism within ĽSNS, who were already infamous for their idiocy (besides, you know, barely disguised fascism), so figures. Milan Uhrík in particular is the man whose most important contributions to Slovak culture were sitting in the European Parliament doing fuck all (did I mention that like most bigots, he also shits on EU constantly?) and the "I am not a historian" meme. Basically, because of the blatant fascist sympathies of his party, including worshipping Jozef Tiso, he was asked to condemn the crimes of the First Slovak Republic (which was basically a Nazi puppet - yeah, Ukrainians aren't the only nation in this region with a shady past, go figure; not that it prevents some people, including Uhrík himself, from spreading the "denazification" bullshit). Uhrík's answer? "I am not a historian". Since then, he has been given several options to revise this opinion. He never took any of them. His agenda is also truly something to behold, like I've never read something as profoundly dumb as the pamphlets where they present it. They don't seem to be as successful as ĽSNS, but that's unfortunately because their schtick was stolen by SMER with the good chunk of their electorate. Still, SMER might actually take them into their coalition, because like goes with the like even if the "like" is bigotry, and lest we forget, there is no God.

Sme rodina (We Are Family) - *sigh* Do I have to? Okay. Sme rodina is yet another conservative party, completely unlike EVERY OTHER PARTY THAT EVER GAINED ANY TRACTION IN THIS COUNTRY PLEASE GET ME OUT OF HERE. Ahem. Its leader Boris Kollár is a businessman who gained something of a memetic status in Slovak showbusiness by being a massive whore and having a fuckton of illegitimate children (the current count is I think 12?). Something of a Slovak Herschel Walker. And just like Herschel Walker, he, the avowed conservative that he is, has been accused of paying for abortions of one of his ex-girlfriends. Which is just a reflection of this guy's general moral consistency. To put it simply, Boris is the biggest Slovak whore. If Fico asked him to join his coalition, you bet your ass he would. He also has associated with people involved in organized crime (just like Fico) and sexted a fifteen year old drug addict. Because, as their billboards state, Sme rodina "protects children". Needless to say, I can't fucking stand this dude just as a person; since he seems to want to be an Isekai hero, I hope he gets hit by a truck.

Demokrati (The Democrats) - They're fine. Their leader is our former short-term prime minister Eduard Heger, whose only flaws were being hopelessly naive and letting Matelko get away with shit he should not have gotten away with. Any people that might be OK with them already vote for Progresívne Slovensko, but maybe they will get enough votes to be eligible for parliament? Maybe??? Their chances aren't high to be honest, but what do you know, miracles do happen.

#slovakia #politics #minette complains #complete and utter despair

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morallyinept · 6 months

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Shoot: Solar Magazine, November 2017, Issue 3

Photographer: Stefan Ruiz

Interviewer: Igor Ramírez-García Peralta

Grooming: Unconfirmed

Full interview, behind the scenes, outtakes & shoot photographs below. 👇🏻

Jett's Pedro's Shoots Masterlist

• Cover shots and original images used in the magazine, including outtakes

• Close ups

• Full interview

Bad Hombre Pedro Pascal

Pedro Pascal belongs to a refreshing type of Hollywood stars, who is well educated while remains unpretentious and free from any level of insufferable diva attitude. He understands very well going against his nature will drift him away from his goals.

Success came relatively late, at 38, with his breakthrough role by polysexual Oberyn Martell, in the fourth season of 'Game of Thrones.'

Between his overseas filming, photo sessions and visiting his family in Chile, a mutual friend put us in touch. One of the countless voice messages that we exchanged to coordinate the interview, breakfast, photo shoot, dinner and drink contest between Colombia, London and Manhattan he said: “Welcome to … [dramatic pause] Colombia”.

I arrived at the Narcos set in downtown Bogotá on Thanksgiving Day. His two American colleagues (Eric Lange and Brett Cullen) were desperate with the elasticity of the South American minutes in a day that seemed to have no end, while a DEA agent - a real one - was waiting for them at home with a lot of turkey, whiskey, American football - a good portion of testosterone.

Meanwhile, Lucas - Pedro’s younger brother, who will have a small role in the next installment of the series - and I amused ourselves by breaking the mythical folding chairs with the protagonists’ name of the series.

Interviewing and photographing Pedro has been a luxury that rarely occurs in journalism. A process of months, but continuous, in different contexts and in stages that has allowed me to know him much more than I can normally know who we put onto our covers. At the whims of fate, in addition to Lucas, I also met his sister, in Miami, and it turns out that Francisco Celhay, the other Chilean actor we include in this issue, is his first cousin.

From what escapes from the talk that we transcribe below, I can add that Pedro does not have any food allergies, but that, since he was 20 years old, he knows that he is allergic to cocaine; that his animal spirit is Tigger, the companion of Winnie the Pooh; that he claims not to be handsome - someone told him that he looked like Orlando Bloom after being slapped in the face - and that, from time to time, he remembers a dog, with a bitten ear, that usually visits the set in Cali, and stands outside his trailer. Pedro: we beg you, adopt it.

Narcos adds salt to wounds that are still very open in Colombia. The history of Escobar and the cartels of Medellín and Cali is very recent. How do you digest this and what has it meant for your role?Did you imagine that you would stay until season three?

Honestly, no. I knew I was going to participate in two seasons, regardless of the success of the first. They had a script for Escobar that lasted two seasons and my role, Agent Peña, was part of both. After the success of the first, I knew that the series was going to continue. After all, the plot was never intended to focus exclusively on Escobar, but also on the history, politics, and reality of drug trafficking.

But what I didn’t know, and I really didn’t expect, was that I was going to be in the third season. Out of the characters around Escobar, I thought he would be the last person to be invited back.

Netflix has changed the way television series are produced, distributed and consumed. What do you think about it?

It’s amazing, the whole industry changed in five years. Okay, actually in one. They started with the success of House of Cards, which was not even the first series - it was another that nobody knows called Lilyhammer. The year that we started Narcos, they are going to do, I think, twelve original productions. Now I have lost count… And I confess that I am a victim of what they do, because I see everything.

I know it sounds absurd but, compared to what is happening in the politics of the western world right now, where everything is so bleak, disappointing and alarmingly retrograde, television is progressing in terms of themes, culture, representation of diversity and the risks that are assumed with the stories that are narrated.

Do you prefer to work in cinema, television or theater?

For me, the ideal is to work in the three media, as all my colleagues do. I moved to New York when I was 18 to study, and I swear, I almost gave up trying to get roles in off-Broadway productions. My friends were actors who mainly did theater, but also television and cinema, some with more success than others, obviously, but in our community we understood that it was time to do everything. I think television is the most arduous medium because of schedules.

A colleague who worked with Holly Hunter on her first television series, after a very successful career in film and theater, told me that she had said to him, “Television isn’t for pussies”. It is curious that she has affirmed that, after having split her back all her life working as an actress, but it is true. The hours are very intense, the days are endless … In this sense, Narcos is a peculiar challenge, because, in a way, it is invented as we go along. It depends a lot on the locations - and these are unpredictable - but, at the same time, we have a script that must be respected.

To summarize, I would say that I do not prefer a specific medium. Television is the heaviest; Theater is the most familiar experience for me, and cinema supposes, in a certain way, the dismantling of a children’s fantasy, because it is truly the least glamorous experience you can have. At least in what I have had to live. You are in a 150 million dollar production, but sitting in the mud, in an absolute plague and surrounded by flies.

You work a lot in locations: China, Colombia, Croatia … And for very long seasons. What about your private life?

What about my private life? Simple answer: I do not have one. My life is work and tourism. It's strange to have this type of adventure being an adult. As a child I fantasized about working in the cinema and after surviving the inevitable broken heart that comes with maturity, being alive and, above all, wanting to be an actor, it is still ironic and funny to achieve your childhood dream at 40.

You miss your house, your bed, your friends, your comforts and the routine, but it is interesting that all of that is interrupted, and more at this age, because I think I can absorb the experience with much more perspective and maturity.

How was your experience in China filming The Great Wall?

I loved it. I had never set foot in China until I stood there for five months to work with one of my favorite directors [Zhang Yimou], whom I never even imagined crossing paths with. And next to fucking Matt Damon and Willem Dafoe! Matt, frankly, is one of the best people I’ve ever met; not from the best famous people I’ve ever met, but from the best people and that’s it. He was there with his family, with his wife - who is even better than him - and his children. On the other hand, I have seen all the Dafoe films since I was a child, so it was a privilege that they served me him on a silver platter, although, at the same time, very hard work, because it is a complicated film, also shot in multiple locations.

The concept of the previous issue of Solar was “Respect your idols!”, a kind of vote in favor of not losing emotion when meeting them and remembering what they have meant to you; Don’t let the fan die inside of you, regardless of how close your childhood idols can become as you enter the industry. How has this been for you?

It’s funny that you ask, because I’m still a big fan. I think this characterizes me as much as my work. In addition to being an actor, I am a spectator. I associate it with being a Chilean immigrant in the United States, with how young my parents were and how unstable their life was when I was born and how pop-culture, film and cable television socialized us and, in a way, they educated my sister and me. Later it turned out that a fantasy became a hobby that, in turn, became my profession.

Come on, I don't hide being a fan. Kingsman was a particularly interesting experience, because it was a fucking circus with fabulous movie stars: Halle Berry, Jeff Bridges, Julianne Moore, Colin Firth, Channing Tatum and Taron Egerton, who, despite being new to the industry, is a fucking love. It’s all a bit overwhelming and scary, but I think the little fan inside me is so dominant that I managed to overcome the fear of working with them.

I have to say that I managed to contain myself, until we finished filming. As soon as they released Halle Berry, I tearfully told her that I had seen Jungle Fever, that it fascinates me, that her character in Monster’s Ball killed me and that I cried when she won the Oscar. I did the same to Julianne Moore and everyone else, until they got fed up.

I know you are a good boy. I feel it, I see it in you, in your family and in how you relate to the people around you. Have you always been like this?

I can’t even imagine what my parents had to go through when they escaped from Chile and that has left me an inheritance of guilt that, perhaps, has determined the way in which my brothers and I navigated the world. We’ve also had very tragic losses in my family, and that helps you focus on what’s really important and how you should treat people. I don’t know what I believe in. I am completely agnostic and the idea of a god seems silly to me. I do not mean that spirituality is alien to me, but I have not developed any link with that concept either, but I do know that the most valuable thing is to be a good person.

Deep down, I think that’s a lot more important than being famous, powerful or such. I can’t take all that shit to my grave. But I have not always been like this. When I was 12 years old, we were already enjoying a very privileged situation and, compared to others, I was quite a spoiled boy. Then all that was over, and I had to learn the hard way in New York. Maybe if things had continued to be as easy as when I was in high school, I would be a douche now. Maybe the combination of genes, the education my parents gave us, and the fact that I broke my ass for more than fifteen years in New York that shapes you and also teaches you how you should behave.

You spent almost twenty years auditioning. What motivated you to continue, and not to give up?

I didn’t know how to do anything else. There really does come a time, especially when you are a movie and theater nerd, where it becomes part of your identity. In the end, training, practicing and fighting ends up becoming an everyday thing and stop feeling like the big challenge. In fact, changing was what scared me. I think I definitely accepted the possibility of being the typical actor who is always fighting, until the day he could no longer go upstairs to audition, because, as I said, I did not know how to do anything else, and was too lazy to learn. And well, I also had the unfounded hope that I could do it.

And luck, I’m very lucky. As screwed up as the times were, there was always something: a job, a theater play, an experience, a royalty check for an episode of Buffy, vampire slayer - which paid half of the rent - or a play outside of Boston. Every time it seemed like I wasn’t going to make it through the month financially or emotionally, something came up at the last minute that kept me afloat and allowed me to keep going.

Jett's Pedro's Shoots Masterlist

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