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Hobbit Soulmate Pt 31

Two flights later and you were flinching up from the spare bed in your grandparents’ apartment building in St Petersburg always having been designated as yours. From the spare mattress on the floor they allowed Richard to stay on as you shared with your dad to allow you time together while enforcing a try to limit when great grand babies would show up a low grumble came followed by an arm with hand to pat your foot near the end of the bed. “Didn’t we just go to sleep?”

“It’s a conspiracy.” You muttered reaching out to grab and glare at the vibrating chiming alarm clock to groan, “Why is this going off now?! We have four hours!” The doors opened letting in golden streams of light from the hall drawing grumbles from your dad who pulled your pillow over to cover his face. Hiding from the team of people to open the blinds revealing the grey predawn sky while another came over to you with a facial mask to help you get started on the pre breakfast pampering section of your morning leading up to the stop in on the top morning show in the country.

Seated upright on your knees you simply held the hair band holding back your curls as another woman wound your curls back in a clip. Though your legs were brought forward for the walk to the bath where you were sat up in Richard’s wide eyed process of his own mask being applied to the sound of your dad huffing and relenting to his own to just get this over with. A nap friendly exfoliating scrub was followed by a rinse job and lotion to follow with heated towels for hands and feet before you were allowed to head down for what seemed to be a twelve course cleansing and filling breakfast to ready you all for the day ahead.

Smiling with one side of your curls pinned back leaving the half with your side swept bangs down to linger around the shoulders of your long sleeved forest green velvet dress reaching your knees. The scrub and lotions purpose shown as your legs were bared even at your insistence of using tights when your grandmother had put her foot down insisting this was the best way to show off your legs. Entirely in Russian the interview went and almost to your shock it was a great deal more light hearted than you had expected as you shared your history of dance and how you loved working with the Bolshoi Dancers chosen for this film once again. Still leaving a bit to mystery a film clip played you had edited and a smirk lingered on your lips at the ominous tone of it that just drew you in so you would learn the answers of what the film was about other than your alluring self goading people in with violin in hand through an en point dance to the big show to a song fading for the ominous words of ‘The Bard’ who is out to devour the Beasts of the world. Of course wrapped up with a fierce plotting gaze from the inspector out to capture the Bard at any cost, even possibly your life in the process.

The film would be out here first as they were the easiest to negotiate release dates with Paris to follow the next week as you would be premiering there next. You weren’t certain how the film in English would go over out here but you hoped it might go well at least for the fact that by your family roots people seemed thrilled the Russian lead role had been given to an actual Russian.

The weight was there all the more as with the pride of your heritage came the number of hats you wore for the film scoring for it as well replacing the Italian they had chosen before with all seemingly eager to see what one of their own could do. Even in the youth and seemingly experience free rank you saw yourself. The weight kept rising and if you didn’t know you were on a sound stage you were certain you were up to your neck in water at that moment. Finding it a bit harder to breathe as the day wore on through a second brief press stop for a paper and magazine interview before the final change and touch up post meal for the cliff you were being led to on the farce of a premier.

For the premier at least you got your tights. Though they went unseen underneath your long sleeved velvet bright red dress to the floor with lace sections in diamonds on your ribs to your hips in black flashing the tiniest glimpses of skin in this frigid day when you would pass over the fur shawl your grandmother loaned you for the carpet for the brief section for pictures. Richard along with the other men beside your dad will manage in their stylish outer jackets over their suits sure to be photographed at the after party.

Outside your room however while you sat trembling on the end of your bed post primping session from the make up team your father stopped your grandparents from entering. “Three minutes.”

“The limo is outside.”

“Three minutes, she’s had the weight of the world all day, just imagine her zipper is stuck.” Your grandmother huffed at least until she caught sight of your doubled over self with elbows pressed into your knees and trembling hands trying not to tap your forehead to disturb the faintest bit of powder there. On her feet she shifted with lips parted listening as your dad squatted in front of you lacing his large hands around yours. Rumbling lowly, “Can’t believe we have to go and watch this film about this artichoke family.” That had your eyes up and on him seeing his faint grin and kind gaze locked on yours, “Dad and daughter, last names of vegetables. Just insane right?”

Half heartedly you forced out a meager breath in a try to chuckle that failed making him double down. “Limo is outside, and even though we lost this bet with your cousins and have to dress up to head to the one pony theater for this artichoke film we most certainly are not in just think of it this way. If we hate it we get to spend the whole ride back trashing it mercilessly.” That had a half a giggle and a pained grin from you. And his hands tightened doubling your fight not to cry right now to keep from spoiling all your makeup. “We are not in this movie, come on,”

“We are not in this movie.” You whispered back and his smile crept wider.

“There’s my Pumpkin. So strong. I want you to just breathe, because it’s just you and me, your teddy bear, and the grandparents out to deal with this unhinged group of guys who have been wreaking havoc on this city taking pictures of people just out and about their business.” Making you giggle again warming the hearts of your concerned grandparents and Richard watching from the closet with tie in hand. “Just an odd little film we most certainly aren’t in dressed way too fancy then we get to come back to eat buckets of food and ice cream then hibernate.”

“Sounds like a plan,” you said with a smile feeling the crest of your panic subsided and nerves easing backed by his hold of your hands revealing your trembling had subsided.

To the side his head ticked and he said, “Now, how about you help that teddy bear of yours with that tie of his.”

You nodded and stood up as he did releasing your hands smiling in walking to the hall where as you smiled reaching Rich there who hummed lowly, “Better Love?”

You nodded accepting the tie, “Peachy, Richy Rich.” You said adjusting is tie around his neck to fashion the black bow he had fumbled terribly on his first try in his distraction seeing you so upset. Simply properly beside himself on how to help you out uncertain of the best way to do so.

Lowly your grandmother asked, “What-, is she alright?”

After a sigh Joe replied, “There was a guy out in Oxford when she did her interview studying there who said the general consensus is that since her first lead role in Broadway landed her with a Tony she should be Oscar worthy in her first lead film role or her studying in Oxford and Julliard was a waste.” That dropped their jaws and he said, “They didn’t tell her, but that’s what people have said, and she knows the prestige of those schools, and how hard she worked to afford it and me working on an oil rig, on which I almost died, which devastated her. All of that would be worthless if her role didn’t win her a statue, that she didn’t deserve her spot in those schools.

She wants to be perfect to make us proud, her flawless scores reflected that to have deserved her spot and she is phenomenal, but she never wants there to be any doubt. There’s always going to be another film, another role, but you put your name on the line to help her get this role and you’re more than on the board to Bolshoi to her. Even without baking cookies or knitting sweaters you’re her grandparents and she cares what you think and how she reflects upon you. She doesn’t need to be the pride of Russia on her shoulders too. At the end of the day she’s a 21 year old kid who filmed a role in a movie that she got asked to do some music for it.

Tonight has to be family, she’s gotta go to Paris and talk about it and then watch it again with some famous friends and then go to England where most her famous friends are coming and talk about it and watch it then go to the US and talk about it and watch it again with more famous friends. It’s just really heavy for a kid on her first big role on that screen, and we were there the full time she is every bit of what everyone is saying that she is beyond words, we just have to give her a bit of courage. Not that you haven’t been with all this help and letting us all stay with her all night. She’s stronger than she realizes sometimes and other times it all just stuns her a bit what all she took on.”

Your grandfather nodded and said, “We have brownies we bought for tonight afterwards, double fudge, would that help?”

Your dad smiled wider, “Yes. Brownies always help. You’re doing well, don’t worry you’ve pushed, just been months of hearing how high others expect her to attain. She’ll be better when she sees if they messed something up in editing or if they left it how she handed it over to them when scoring was completed.”

Your grandfather chuckled, “Ah, well no wonder on that front we know for a fact they wouldn’t spoil her work knowing who they had to do the scoring.”

Nice and warm, at least in your own mind, you stood with fur shawl resting in the bends of your arms smiling at the side of the Director in the forefront of the first of the cast pictures. Never past five feet away Richard remained close through the climaxing of his own anxiety on being so close to what could be his biggest role yet as far as exposure goes. Not that hefty on the lines for him outside of scenes with you he mainly lingered, though for him it held a weight of his own as outside of the theater all he could think of were those nights together with you working on that soundtrack.

Sweet words of adoration and devotion he meant every syllable of in and out of this role were shared and etched into ink and page brought to life in this same film always holding evidence for eternity. He wanted this to be perfect, to be every bit as masterful as he saw you leave it as the chosen composer. Justifying all the sleep sacrificed and stress involved with pulling this film together. He wanted this film to show every bit of that and to mesmerize everyone else just as he had been to the near to final product he saw over your shoulder and dared to imagine more so with the two and a half hour marvel he was itching to see. The final image seen outside the theater doors was the one on the poster with the Inspector scowling your way opposite the shadowed figure of your father as the Bard, up front slightly sideways en point you stood with ankles crossed and Richard behind you in caped tux and top hat. His gloved hands easing your Selkie coat over your shoulders eyes fixed on your mournfully distant staring self with palms full of silver coins.

Snug in the assigned seats with you between him and your father both of your hands were taken for the opening speech. One shaky breath later and the lights went down. Soft and slow your Russian lullaby began swelling through the camera being escorted through the lamppost lit cobbled town with violin growing stronger. Names and titles etched into buildings and street and building signs with posters of the shadowy villain wafting on the breeze fallen free from those pasted to walls and fences.

‘There you are, I see you there.’ Low and guttural the Bard growled out a letter scrawled to the police the yet to be seen Inspector is reading. ‘Lost and misused this town has grown weary from Beasts like you. Keep scratching and clawing at the meek and weary, then you will hear me. Keep about your days and savor the moments yet only for so long, once in my clutches your breath ends with my song.’

Another corner turned and following a wisp of silk cloth from within a mist and shadows of milling crowds your body appeared on one foot with violin in hand playing through an en point dance. Enchanting the crowd closer to you and the trio of male dancers taking turns in aiding your flips and lifts, including a split across two dancer’s shoulders while playing. That ended in a drop backwards caught by another dancer hunched forward to support you before his swivel away leaving you in a string of pirouettes stepping back for an exaggerated arch and smirk filled dance. In that once the crowd had grown fled up the steps into the theater with an eager race following your group to the sound of the Inspector growling about the missing citizens and bodies located that had something to do with the traveling troupe now in town. Mid spin a hand off of the violin and bow your skirt tore free rippling out a longer flowing dress for the opening number of the packed show including the freshly arrived Richard who stepped off the freshly arrived carriage who lingered against the back wall at the lack of chairs.

Haunting and alluring through the background the music swelled between the dazzling musical show numbers to glimpses of murders in black and white pictures tacked on a board in the police station and missing person flyers. Steadily while the story of how you were captured by the Ringmaster came with Richard lurking more even in the less crowded theater days scouring for this hiding of your coat. Assuming his own explanation for the murders succubus was misdiagnosed by the avid monster hunting Inspector growing angrier by the day as more and more men shown to attack or prey on others were literally torn out of the screen by a large hand and arm.

Rich did more and more to subtly manage you out of the line of the Inspector who was up to inciting panic and unrest in the already fragile town while sharing more about his own past and painful injury sidelining his dance aspirations. Those few sentimental moments shared between the pair of you gave glimmers of hope in the city drenched with nearing frenzy to the rising death count. The music lifted to crescendo through a fight causing a fire in the pub causing just enough reason to send you on a different path avoiding it. From behind a handful of your hair spun you around through a heart clenching gasp to the crescendo of the panic. Breathless the crowd help their breath as the hand clenched around your throat slamming you carelessly into the wall behind you sending a trio of buttons flying and loosening the hair comb once managing your curls seeping out to freedom. Wide eyes full of tears clenched shut at the hard blow sending blood splattering across your cheek and now bared neck causing the Inspector to go flying.

Around your waist to the lull of the Bard’s song hands folded lowering your trembling self to your feet, “Breathe,” he growled out to a hand freeing his own spare clasp on his cloak used to secure the tear in your blouse over your neck with calloused fingers to brush the droplets away. Open eyes again saw clearly the face the camera had yet to see with nearly half of you in his shadow for just a moment in the camera panning back to view his turn away saying, “Go child, walk and leave this beast to me.” Inhaling shakily you turned wetting your lips to the Inspector’s knee top shout to stop ending at the hand gripping his hair and back of his neck dragging him away with great ease while your stroll gained confidence in the rise of your hands to fix your curls back into the comb. In the Bard’s walk away the faintest flicker of purple eyes and raven curls under the brim of his hat seen passing reflected stream from a lantern gave a nod to why he might have been trailing your traveling troupe.

Silence in the crowd seemed to set in at Richard’s frantic discovery of you while the Ringmaster screamed for his fleeing creatures to return. All your things were packed and with him and refusing to stay having heard his heart wrenching plea side by side you sped to catch the final train. Upon which the duet with you and him ‘Down Below, My Bedfellow’ began to play tightening Richard’s hand in yours through the sea of muted misty eyed viewers at the night view of the lit city the train was speeding from to his hummed answer to your whisper of where you would go from here. “To the sea,” around your shoulders the formerly unnoticed Selkie coat that was stolen from you years prior was smoothed over by his hands.

A quiver of your lips came with evident instant grateful tears in your eyes, hands lifted to clench the ends of that coat shimmering in its melt around your torso drawing it to a close in a sliding shot shifting to follow him. One of the cars containing a bathed and properly dressed Bard given away by the braided back curls and purple eyes reading a book following his path to your car. Past the main hall to your shared car he went finding a pitcher of water making him hastily close the door and tug at his cravat. Loosening that and his collar to his lustful gaze at the pitcher gills easing open on his neck left him groaning fighting his same urge he felt each time near liquids through the film he always refused or avoided. A couple outside the door had his hand easing his collar tighter and free hand tugging one of your scarves down to coat the pitcher that wafted to fold over it in his plop onto his bench seat. There he retied his cravat in time for you to be seen outside the car door you eased open to slip inside and shut behind you again. Across from him you sat with eyes locked on his to the swell of the song in the pitch black of a tunnel flickering to an image of a secluded shack by the sea on a small island your eyes scoured over blind to his adoring gaze fixed on you.

From inside a cottage the pile of bags were seen along with the pair of you walking to the shore through the window with the well dressed Bard following at a distance. Once barely at the water fear crept into your eyes looking between him and the sea until his silent tug on the cravat he let float away on the breeze to fold back his collar exposing the gills open at his feet covered in the lapping waves. Up you sprung with arms fixed around his neck spreading his smile in the moment of foreheads touching, his arms fixed around your back to a silent chuckle in his turn lifting your legs to his side walking you deeper into the water down to his chest where the sunrise caught the silhouette of a chaste kiss. Broken by the cut to bubbly navy blue background of the credits an animated seal and fish monster swimming through the seas and surfacing as they pleased to share that cottage and possibly raise a family was the makeshift epilogue to the couple’s future with glimmers of a second larger seal seen to mingle on the edges.

Silence was what was killing you through the finale of the song before to the confirmed twenty second mark of the next scored song free of lyrics when cheers and applause exploded out with the breaths you and Richard had been holding.

Somehow you made it onto your feet and in the walls of white light mingled with snow beginning to fall again you crossed the path holding both Richard’s hand and your father’s arm as he had a better view of the planet above the flashes. Subtly warning you both to each step and barrier to avoid and into some sort of bench seat you were settled still blind and blinking through the dark blobs. Straight out of a 70’s night club the location for the after dinner seemed perfectly set up for Sinatra to come strolling out to take the stage across from the rounded cushioned booths behind the tables up front with the big executives filling that area for easier access to the stage. Hushedly chatting with Richard and your relatives you sat eating the meal served to you all listening to the speeches and shared stories from the filming of the movie.

Press meanwhile mingled through the crowd and translating for Richard the evening went with ease. And to the break for music you giggled accepting Richard’s offer to twirl you around the small dance floor among the other cast members for a few dances trading off with your father granting even more pictures to be splattered across newspapers and tabloids all week. Sleep however didn’t come right away as waiting for you at the house was a Russian magazine here to do your spread for them.

Reluctantly Richard left you to change for bed while you changed into the clothes brought for you to be photographed in a series of pre-decided rooms and sat for their interview. Among that was stolen picture to be added to the spread in the section you discuss your family was of you cuddled against your father’s side sipping on the cocoa he brought you while the next room was being set up for lighting.

The full spread being one of your favorites so far with the ample shots of fire lit rooms with a backdrop of gentle snow and scattered glimmers of stars through the walls of windows in those rooms. Cheerful and polite to the highest degree you could manage through the tips from your grandparents on the best way to handle the Russian Press to your advantage against how exhausted you were until they left and were able to slink upstairs. A grumbled love you came from Richard to your peck in his cheek in crawling over him to get to your bed so you could plop down next to your already snoring father who drowsily snuggled around your chilly self warming you almost instantly easing the drop to sleep.

‘Centered in a world where Beauty is a Beast of its own we find ourselves traversing these mist walled streets of tension and unspoken lingering dread on the heels of a murderer masked and beyond the chances of being caught. In a cast of talent beyond measure this tale is centered upon a wrongly accused young maiden with a plight of her own tailed by the one charged with hunting the murderer.

From the youngest extra all the way to the talented G acting as the Inspector tailing them ultimate praise must be paid to the lead actress, young Jaqi Pear. Who from the first instant of gracing the screen eyes cannot help but be drawn to her no matter how minuscule the moment of passing through several of the scenes between those delving interactions displaying the depths of despair to pure elation willing us along unknowingly, just as she should alluring suspicion and intrigue. Not a damsel by any means this young woman bearing the brunt of focus and bile from the talented G’s character bears it with class and resolve infinite enduring all surrounding her. Always a hint to the young lead the film continues to spiral into chaos as this bloody tale unfolds with her growing ever closer to the crosshairs of the one wrongly hunting her.

And even when not on screen also mastering the scoring and song composition for the entire film this tear stained critic cannot fathom praise to be a strong enough word for her contribution to what otherwise might have been another obscure project cast into oblivion and obscurity. Alongside her father Joe Pear and Mate Richard Armitage has masterminded a film and niche all their own in this masterpiece. Right next to the film again this young phenom reminiscent of screen Queens of old is well worth her weight in gold.’

“That’s a bit of a back handed compliment on the film. Obscure into oblivion.” You muttered and Richard smirked around his mouthful of food as your father swallowed to answer your clear deflecting answer away from the resounding compliment you didn’t expect.

“It wouldn’t be in oblivion, but I can’t think of another actor who could play your role, even half as good. Dancer to that skill while also knowing how to play or at least fake the violin, and singing on top of the acting.”

Your grandfather set down his paper proudly saying, “This one says you aren’t a triple threat but a threat ten times over, my Little Bubble.”

That had you bashfully smile looking to your plate as your grandparents got back to reading the larger portions of the articles sharing a suggestion to those on the fence about seeing this film to go and see it. One including an interview with the Director on his having left the original take of your opening dance with your violin where one of the strings broke and his adoration of the perfect tick of your brow at the pesky string that hindered a flawless performance through the alluring gaze drawing the crowd in to the rest of the show. That among other unique traits and ticks he added allowing you to flesh out the role even more so to a three dimensional being outside of the basic script you had first been given to audition with.

Another magazine was planned to meet you in Paris at their apartment building there and you didn’t have long but at least you felt a bit more relaxed at this morning’s wake up alert over the one from the day prior where you could adjust to being conscious and get yourself gathered up to get ready after this meal to head for the private plane they had hired for this trip. Though at least the private flight would get you there early for your three day stop granting you plenty of time to explore the beautiful city of Paris with your family, Richard and your friends eager to show you the best stops they had found in their break there.

Sleep came easily and one long day of flying later and you landed in the dark chilly night with crisp air biting at your cheeks as your hands folded into the baggy sleeves of your sweater under your coat used to hold the rail on the steps off the plane. The car below opened when you reached it and sat warm and ready for you with Driver there ready to help load up your things. Though you didn’t end up staying long at the white stone building where you were settled in the room on the end of the second floor with your father in the next between yours and Richard’s. Another ploy to keep you celibate through this trip highly unnecessary as you were far too tired to care to sneak around with all the travel. Though this trip was when you would part, after this they would be back to Russia as your trio would be off to England again for the next premier.

Left with just another dress in the same style to wear for later. Here however instead of the long sleeved gown you had worn to the prior premier you had a pale blue silk gown with golden panels on your hips feeding from decorative seams to accent your figure on the chunky strapped design again you would borrow that same fur shawl for. The difference here however was that the carpet would be handled inside this venue to keep you warmer than in Russia and England where those were planned for outdoor strips for the press. Main reason being the snow as it kept growing underfoot on your stroll through the streets to the designated restaurant where you spotted your friends. Viggo along with Bernard Hill, Karl and Miranda stood among Hugo Weaving, Martin Csokas and Craig Parker all smiling when you came into view and melted to hug you and Richard with greetings for your grandparents and father in between. Inside you went and at the reserved table settled for a nice meal sharing all that had occurred between the New Zealand Two Towers premier and now.

Craig, “I want to hear how it went. With the press and all I know it’s been in the papers but I can’t speak Russian. Saw one with five stars on it so that’s good, right?”

“Oh ya, it’s done good.”

Richard chortled at their eyes hovering over your bashful self claiming your drink for a long sip making him say, “They praised her performance and role in composing the score and songs. ‘Worth her weight in gold’ was from one of them I recall. Also something about without her the film would have been cast into obscure oblivion merely adjusting to such deserved unexpected praise.” The last bit he added with a pointed gaze your way making you blush peeking over at him in setting your glass down. Then he looked to the chuckling others, “Film was spectacular luckily they didn’t touch the scoring or edit beyond a few microscopic things so the work on composition wasn’t damaged.”

Hugo Weaving, “You do grow accommodated to the praise.”

Bernard Hill smirked saying, “I don’t recall you ever being bashful about performing before.”

“I was in a body suit behind pounds of prosthetics. My face was on a billboard. For half the film I’m flitting across the background.”

Richard, “The film is centered around you even off screen.”

Joe nodded as your grandmother said, “You will see when your friends enjoy the film it was a perfect fit. No one else could have taken the role.”

Your grandfather smiled saying, “Can’t find many ballet dancing violinists around.”

Karl, “At the same time? You play and dance?” Smirking as he looked to your now grinning self.

“It was an idea the writer wanted and back in school when you have three hours to warm up your violin and your body to dance you have to utilize time. So I said if it wasn’t too extravagant I could work that into the routine. Then he added a whole bunch of ideas warping standard ballet moves into more modern styles hearing I was a gymnast and am good off center through dances.”

Richard, “Thankfully he wasn’t too adventurous with my steps.”

Miranda, “You dance in it?”

Richard, “Mainly anchoring for Jaqi, but a bit, used to dance so it took a little while for my body to warm back up to it.”

With a smirk you said bumping his arm with yours, “Wouldn’t know it but he can get his feet up over his head, almost put my standing splits to shame.”

Miranda whispered, “Wow,” then said louder to his blushing self, “And you don’t do dance films often?”

“No,” he answered and cleared his throat, “I try to avoid it when I can. Maybe a slow dance at the most but I spent a good chunk of my early twenties in musical theater. Prefer to focus on dramas now, but for a role with Jaqi I couldn’t refuse his one. You really will love it.”

Martin Csokas, “Oh I know I will. Bit of a fanatic on murder mysteries and horror fantasies rarely get a good blend these days. Mainly all end up being Dracula rip offs.”

Viggo looked your way and you said in a sigh, “It’s just, I’m so damn proud of this odd little script and it just turns to where I’m composing on top of acting, singing, playing and dancing in it and Ian and Christopher and Peter and even Howard will be there. And they go and actually posted in one of the papers ‘the student has become the master’ on my composing.” That had the others chuckling as you squeaked out, “What if he reads that?!”

Martin Csokas, “He will love the film. We all will and you know it. You are impossibly talented we all sat in on some of those choir sessions.”

Bernard Hill nodded, “Just remember if they bring it up if you still feel bad to credit him as the one to give you your training.”

Karl, “You aren’t the first person the press has fluffed up for a film minimizing others they learned from to seem a prodigy. Howard’s been in the business a long time he won’t take it personally especially since you didn’t say it they did.”

Hugo Weaving, “This is what? A 25 million budget film?” You shook your head and he asked, “More?”

“I think it was 15, if that. It’s an Independent film.”

Hugo Weaving, “Even better, a firm role to sink your teeth into and get a splash for people to see you out of an extra role. It will go marvelously. Most people can’t resist a good thriller.”

Karl, “I do, loved mine and yours, when is the other one coming out again? Pretty soon right?”

“Not far off end of January. 25th I think. No, should be fun it looked pretty cool for the bits I did see out of the hospital scenes I was in. Till then gotta find some couches and stuff.”

Richard, “For our rental in Canada, didn’t have time to furnish it yet.”

“Bound to be some sales somewhere on top of that second hand shop I went to with Lee for his loungers and folding tables.”

You dad smirked saying, “You better pick more than that to live off of.”

“Obviously we need dishes,” you teased back and giggled at his playful glance your way before the waiter arrived with your drinks and took your order for supper.

Your eyes traveled to your grandmother who stepped away from the table to answer a phone call then back to the waiter to give your order wondering what could have called her away, literally, as she rarely left her phone on at meals wishing to not be disturbed.

“Twelve million,” she said in her return leaving you frozen a moment in confusion.

Your father however asked, “12 million what?” Making Richard glance at you curious of what he was missing.

Her smile widened switching to English for your friends and Mate, “In tickets so far, Eastern Europe and Asia, surely only to be matched in Europe and the States when it is released there.”

Miranda, “Oh Jaqi that’s wonderful! It’s on the news already?”

Your grandmother nodded, “Yes, one of our fellow board members back home is monitoring it for us, Director is busy no doubt for his own interviews, opens in France day after tomorrow, and England after the premiere there, States after.”

Bernard, “Well done. Faring well in reviews?”

“Should have those in a couple days, Director should share that but sales are good, not matching Two Towers but a good haul all the same.”

Hugo smirked, “Especially after the 15 mil budget.”

After dinner in their split to head to their various hotels you and Viggo at least had the same destination, a late night show that you had to head back to change and primp to be ready for. Unlike in Russia you and Richard both were to appear and with your hair down you adjusted the leather jacket you had to go over your pink pencil dress to go with your comfy black wedges while he stuck to his trusty charcoal suit you helped to fix the collar on the shirt he chose not to add a tie to. Viggo had his own suit and was glad to have the communal couch you all would end up on after he plugged both the Two Towers and his next film he was to start shooting soon, Hildalgo teaming him up with her another fabulous horse he no doubt would adopt as well to add to his family.

He would hold the majority of the interview while you and Richard answered questions for a few minutes. Tired of talking however you let Richard take the lead in this interview, a fact the host gladly jumped on to get some information on your still proclaimed ‘boy toy’ out in England. What relationship you had off screen seemed to matter little with focus on what he was willing to share on his role in the film and how that process went about hoping for some secrets to spill before it was out. And when Viggo came out and you both scooted down it was him to bring your giggly self out for some attention sharing on how eager he was to see the film the following night knowing how hard you worked on the trilogy enabling him to guess how spectacular it could be.

Pt 32

Hobbit – Soulmate - @evyiione, @deepestfirefun, @rhaenaatargaryen, @anastasialovers

X all Rich. A - @abiwim, @deepestfirefun, @thestorybookmistress

X Lee P - @tigereyesf

All –

@himoverflowers, @theincaprincess, @aspiringtranslator, @thegreyberet, @patanghill17, @jesgisborne, @curvestrology, @alishlieb, @jogregor, @armitageadoration, @fizzyxcustard, @lilith15000, @marvels-ghost, @catthefearless, @imjusthereforthereads, @c-s-stars, @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore, @mariannetora, @shes-a-killer-kween, @ggbbhehe4455

#Premiers #Friends #Family #Russia #France #Interviews #Nerves Exploding #Richard Armitage x Reader OC

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fatandnerdy30 · 5 years

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Little Orphan Spider 13(FINAL)

Tony was pacing in the living room, Pepper watching him go back and forth until she got dizzy. "Tony, you need to calm down. Peter won't be home until at least three-thirty. What are you going to pace until then?"

The man nodded, putting a hand to his mouth. "Yup, that's just what I'm gonna do. What if he doesn't want to stay here? What if he secretly hates us? What if he secretly hates me?" The man made a face at that. Pepper laughed. "It's been three weeks. I'm sure that if he hated you, you would have been the first to know. Trust me, Peter's not the kind to kiss your ass." She shook her head, getting up to take her nervous fiancee into her arms. "Just calm down. I'm sure he'll be so excited when you ask him. Let's just watch a movie, okay?" She pulled the man onto the couch and settled him next to her. "Friday play a movie, please." "Any preferences?" the Irish AI asked. "No, just something to keep our minds busy." Soon some action film was playing on the large screen TV, but it was obvious Tony wasn't paying attention. Every few minutes he would glance at his phone, checking the time, his leg bouncing. Why wasn't it three-thirty yet? He glanced at the woman next to him, who watched the movie with a somber face, but her lip twitched, telling the man she was nervous as well. That made him feel a little better, at least. They played movie after movie just to pass the time, but it was just going too slow for Tony. Finally, he shot up, startling Pepper, who fell over when her human pillow moved. "Tony?" she asked. "I can't wait anymore. I'm going with Happy to pick Peter up. You coming?" The woman smiled and stood, running to her room to get her shoes on and followed Tony out to where Happy had just turned on a car and Tony whistled. "Hey! Wait, wait, we're coming!" They jogged over to the car, getting in the back as the driver watched with a confused look. "Everything okay, boss?" he asked. "Yeah, yeah, everything's fine. You can go now," the billionaire told his guard, motioning for him to go. The man sent Tony a look, but backed out of the underground garage anyway. The last bell rang and students filed out of the building, Peter following the rush with his friends by his side. He was laughing at something MJ commented on and checked the area for any cameras. When nothing was in view, he stepped out of the building. Ever since that day they'd been chased, he was nervous to be seen. He spotted the black car parked in the pickup zone. "Hey, there's my ride, I'll see you guys tomorrow, okay?" He started him and Ned's handshake, giving MJ a low five when it was done and ran towards the car. "Hey Happy!" he called, throwing his bag inside and stopped when he heard an 'ouch' and peeked in the car. Sitting comfortably side by side were Mr. Stark and Pepper, who was smiling at him while the billionaire moved his bag with a groan. "What the hell do you have in there, bricks?" the man complained, checking his face. "Wh-what are you doing here?" Peter asked, still standing outside the car. "First, get in here," Tony reached over and pulled the teen into the car, his body falling over both their laps. Pepper laughed as she tried to set the teen right side up. "Second, we're going out. Yes, you can come too, Happy," he told the guard, who rolled his eyes. "Out?" Peter was finally sitting like a person, grabbing his bag to pull it next to him. "Out where?" "Well, we're going home first, but I wanted to come and get you, and Pepper just played follow the leader." The blonde smacked Tony's arm. "Ouch. So, what did you learn today?" The trio talked and laughed all the way home that when Happy pulled in, his face was red from laughter, glad Friday could drive the car for him at some points. "Okay, kid. Suit, tie, fancy stuff," Tony told Peter as they got out of the car. "Where are we going, Buckingham Palace?" said teen asked, brow quirked in a clearly Tony way. "Just go," the billionaire kicked Peter's butt playfully, grinning as the boy laughed and ran out of the room. "You're so good with him. I'm glad we're doing this," Pepper slid her arms around his front, pressing a kiss into his neck. "Seeing you like this makes me want to 'practice' a little before we leave." Tony's brows lifted and he turned in the woman's arms, bringing her face closer. "I think we'll have enough practice for ten kids," he growled. "Peter, Ned has been trying to get in touch with you," Karen's voice rang out as soon as the boy entered his room. "Why didn't he call me?" The teen pulled out his phone. "Because your cell is out of power," Friday input, almost sounding a little jealous. "Oh shit, it is. Okay, Karen, call him please. Ms. Friday, can you help me out, please? I need help tying a tie." He blushed at that and looked down. "Certainly, Peter." "Peter! Peter, are you there?" Ned's voice sounded from the ceiling, which was weird to Peter. "Yeah, I'm here. What's up?" He picked out what he thought he'd seen Mr. Stark wear once, and the tie to match, then turned to the television to see the AI with a video on pause. "There's another drug bust near you this time, and I've heard a few comments about those alien weapons again." Ned sounded like he was panicking and also having a geek-gasm at the same time. "Oh shit...I'm going out with Mr. Stark and Ms. Pepper tonight...I'll wear my suit under my...suit." Ned gasped. "I need pictures of you in a suit or it didn't happen!" Peter laughed as he stepped into the Spider-Man suit. "Okay, okay. I promise. I'll have my ear piece in, which has my new AI implanted in it. Say hello, Karen." "Hello Peter's friend," the woman's voice spoke. "Whoa! Peter you're like...a mini Tony Stark!" Peter smiled to himself. "Yeah., kinda." He then started getting dressed, playing the video to tie his tie, but still messing up big time. "I suck at this," he said. Maybe he'd ask Tony to help. "Just be careful, spider," Ned called in a concerned voice. "Of course, yeah. Oh, and Black Widow and and Hawk-Eye know who I am...Ms. Romanoff figured it out, and Clint followed us to our training session last weekend." "WHAT? Dude, what happened?" "Well, Natasha heard me call Mr. Martin by his name....you know that was the guy on the roof that day, right?" Ned was quiet for a moment. "Yeah, I knew. I didn't want to bring it up, though.." Peter smiled at his friend's thoughtfulness. "Thanks. I haven't heard from him while I've been here though, and nothing on the news. Have you heard anything through the web?" "Umm...lemme check..." keys clicking could be heard, then Ned's whispered 'oh shit', which made Peter pause. "What? What's wrong?" "Don't get upset, but I just pulled up a police report and there's a missing person report for Martin Li." Peter fell silent. Mr. Li... "Okay," he whispered. "I'm coming." He ripped off his suit and pulled on his mask. "Friday! It's time for teenage rebellion!" "Of course, Peter." The window flung open and Peter jumped out, flinging a web out and swinging towards Ned's. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Hey, Peter, do you need help with-" Pepper gasped as she saw the window just closing and Peter's suit on the floor. She ran out to where Tony was standing, checking his phone with an annoyed look. "What's going on with the...Pepper, what's wrong?" The woman couldn't speak, tears in her eyes as she pointed to Peter's room. Tony ran and slid into the boy's room. "Friday!" he bellowed, seeing the boy's clothes on the floor. "What happened here?" "Peter had a desire for teenage rebellion," the AI answered. "What does that even mean!?" the man raged. "It means Peter threw himself out the window." Tony's face went white and he called Happy and all the Avengers, calling a Peter alert. Oddly, Natasha and Clint were the first to show up, worried look on their faces. "What happened?" "We need to go," was all Tony said, fear in his voice. Peter was alive, that was all he could tell himself, even though he knew it was impossible for the boy to survive a fall like that. Peter rushed to Ned's, ripping the mask off his face as soon as he got in. "What have you found out?" His voice was watery, as if he'd been crying. "Nothing yet, except what I've told you. I've been looking, but can't find anything more. But, on the drug bust, there's some talk that all the crates belong to a...Mr. Negative. Who's that?" Ned looked at his friend's face which was white. "That's Mr. Martin...or at least I think it is. He looked exactly like him. I could recognize him anywhere, and I'm positive that was Mr. Martin!" Peter started pacing, his fingers twitching. "Where was the drug bust?" "Near fifty-eighth street." Peter nodded and threw his mask on. "Keep me informed," he shouted as he shot a web and swung out the window. The wind was in Peter's face, but he didn't care. "Karen! Call uncle Clint or Auntie Tasha!" "Calling Mr. Barton." ~~~~~~~~~~~~ "Peter!" Clint shouted, catching everyone's attention in the elevator. "Peter!?" Tony shouted, grabbing for Clint's phone. "Where are you!? Do you know how worried we were when Friday told us you threw yourself out the window!?" The man had never been so upset. "Tell me where you are young man!" Peter had tears in his eyes as he heard Mr. Stark yell at him. "I'm okay," was all he said. "Bullshit! Tell me where you are!" "I-I'm heading toward fifty-eight street," he mumbled. "But don't come here! It's dangerous!" "Fine. So you know what, I will come there to tell you in person that this isn't working out, if you're going to be running off like this, keeping secrets and the like." He ignored Pepper's sobbing gasp. Peter almost fell from his web, but caught himself on a building. "No...no, Mr. Stark, please...I would explain if I could, but...I can't." "Which is exactly why this isn't working out. Stay where you are, I'll give you a lift to the group home tonight. We'll send your things in the morning." "Okay....but, I have something to do first. Uncle Clint!" he yelled. "I need you and Auntie Tasha!!" then he hung up. Tony fixed enraged eyes on what he thought were his two friends. "Tony, it's not what you think..." Natasha sighed. She shouldn't be telling the man Peter's secret, but after what he said during their last training session got to her. "Peter thinks of you two as his parents. He loves you so much, even though he's only been here for a small amount of time. And, yes, Peter has a secret..." Tony was getting angrier and angrier with each word from the red head, but he allowed her to keep speaking. "Tell me. Now." "Peter's Spider-Man," Clint blurted. All eyes went to him and he shrugged. "He was about to have an aneurysm, so I figured I'd say it." The billionaire was shocked to silence, looking between the two assassins. "I'm sorry," he finally stuttered. "He's what?" "Peter is Spider-Man. That boy has been the one you've been shooting your photon blasters at and sending all of us after." Natasha's eyes were narrowed. "Peter is the Spider-Man you almost killed in the park that night." Suddenly, Pepper was backing Tony against the wall in the elevator, her face filled with anger as she pointed her finger at the man's face. "You shot our son!?" she screamed. "W-well, I didn't know it was Peter...and wait, did you just say our son?" "Don't try and use sweet talk to get out of this. You go and you help our boy, or so help me, I will never sleep with you again, Anthony Stark, do you hear me?" Tony's eyes widened and he nodded. "Yes dear." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Peter made it to his destination in record time, his emotions spurring him on. Tears had been burning his eyes the entire trip, but he knew he couldn't let them fall. He couldn't think that he was a failure and was being sent back. He had a job to do before he could think of that, then he could break down. He would go and check it out, then leave before Mr. Stark could get there. Seeing the man would cause tears to come, and that could get him killed. He arrived at the warehouse and landed silently by the window, peeking in. It was a drug ring, and there were the weapons, but there was no sign of Mr. Negative. Taking a deep breath, Peter went in, sticking to the roof. He saw a bunch of guys moving boxes, but no one was leading them. "This is so weird," he whispered to himself. He wished he'd been able to make Karen more better now. Dropping to a beam, he studied the men, but there was no one he knew. Well, at least he knew they all needed to go to jail. He stayed in the darkness, until suddenly a bright flash caught Peter off guard, followed by a hard punch that sent the boy flying. "I saw you!" a man cried laughing. Peter should have tried to darken his suit, like Ms. Romanoff said. "Welcome, Spider-Man." Mr. Negative seemed to melt from the shadows, hands behind his back, staring at Peter with contempt. "I was hoping you would show up, given I put that fake report out on the police scanner." He smiled, showing his strange white teeth. "And just like a moth to a flame, you came running to me." "Moths don't run," Peter said. "What?" "Moths. They don't run, they fly. How stupid can you get?" The boy shot to his feet. "Learn the animal kingdom, man." Mr. Negative's face was filled with fury. "Attack!" the white haired man yelled. Thugs began pouring from the shadows surrounding them, all headed towards the teen. "Oh shit!" Peter began shooting web after web at the men barreling towards him. "Here, hold this!" he told a thug who came too close, shooting a web up to the ceiling and attaching said thread to the man's chest and letting go. "Who's next?" he asked, then a second later he was punched in the face. "Ok, that was a cheap shot!" Peter saw a group coming at him, all with weapons in their hands. He shot a web and started running around them, while shooting webbing with his other hand at other incoming guys. "Duck...duck...duck....GOOSE!" Peter yelled, laughing as he strung the thugs he'd been wrapping up from the ceiling. "Wow, that really is a good web mixture! Uh-oh!" His senses told him to duck, which the boy did, suddenly sweeping his leg out and sticking the thug who attacked him to the floor. "Not nice!" "I am surrounded by idiots!" Mr. Negative yelled. "Shocker! Kill the spider!" Shocker smiled and started his arm gun up, sparks flying from it. "With pleasure." Peter crossed his arms over his arms, looking at Mr. Martin. "You know, you should learn to clean up your own messes, man." He saw the light before he ducked, trying the leg sweep, but the man was ready for it and slammed down on Peter's knee with a closed fist. The teen cried out, falling and holding his knee. "Too bad you tried that earlier. I would say learn some new moves, but I'm gonna kill you, so.." Herman brought his arm up, about to bring it down on Spider-Man's head, when suddenly the vigilante quickly snapped a web around the man's legs and was able to drag himself away from him. Peter was shaking from fear. Never had he faced a man he was ever scared of. He had to shake it off and face down this thug, but Mr. Stark's words kept getting to him. Tears blurred his vision, but he didn't know if it was from the memory of how much those words hurt, or the fear, or if it was both. "Come out, Little Spider!" Herman called, shooting boxes away with a laugh as they broke under his electric fist. "I just want to kill you!" Peter glanced from behind the box he was hiding behind. Shocker was just hitting random boxes, destroying them. He leaned back and put his head against the box. It was then he saw something flash on the ceiling and smiled. He had an idea. As quickly as he could, Peter crawled up the side of the warehouse, trying to blend in with the shadows, but the laughing man wasn't even paying attention, which suited Peter just fine. He crawled along a beam and sat above one of the sprinklers. "Hey! Stupid! Up here!" he taunted. Shocker's head tipped up and he smiled. "Bad move, Spider-Man," he laughed. Using the boxes as leverage, the man climbed until he was close enough to deliver a shock wave. "Say good-bye." "Good-bye!" Peter chirped and jumped as soon as the man let loose his attack, hitting the sprinkler system. "Really? What's that supposed to do?" he asked as the system was turned on. "You were never good at science, huh? Shocker, electricity and water don't mix, even little kids know that!" No sooner did Peter say that, suddenly the man screamed, his arm set on fire. "Ohh..that burns," the boy said. "Now, onto that other guy." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tony had never flown faster in his life, pushing his suit harder than he ever had. He tracked the others behind him, but his thoughts were on Peter. Brave, brave Peter. His heart ached from the words he'd said to the boy over the phone, now knowing he was diving head first into trouble. How could he have not seen it? "Tony, I got a sprinkler alarm trip at a warehouse on fifty-eigth street," Rhodey said said, letting Tony see the file. "Got it. Let's book it!" The man turned his suit, not caring anymore if the others were following. But, when he heard the Quinjet, he felt a feeling of relief. The whole team had fallen in love with the kid and were willing to protect him no matter what. That's why Peter belonged with them. He didn't care how much money it took, he was going to make the boy an honorary Stark. Finally the warehouse was in sight, smoke coming from the roof. "Going down," was all the man said before he aimed for the roof, breaking through in seconds. "Peter!?" he screamed through the smoke. His heart tensed when he heard someone screaming and ran in the direction of the sound, stopping when he saw a man trying to put his arm out, the flames quickly licking at the rest of his body and the boxes around him. Tony put out the flames, watching the smoking man collapse with relief, before his eyes went wide at who was staring at him. "Where is my son?" Tony growled, the suit's eyes going red. "I-I don't know!" the thug screamed. "Little fucker just set me on fire and ran off! I didn't see wh-UGH!" Tony stopped his blabber with a punch to the stomach, the thug passing out. "Never talk about my son like that," he said and stood. "Split up, look for Peter!" Tony said, worried eyes checking his HUD for any sign of life. He was seeing nothing, until something flashed on the roof and he took off. "What is Peter doing here?" Sam asked, his fear getting to him for the small teen. "It's too dangerous!" "Peter is Spider-Man," Natasha said before running after Tony, leaving the rest of the group in shock. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Peter skulked in the shadows, searching for his only father figure, before Tony, that is. His heart hurt, but he shook it off. He couldn't let Mr. Martin get hurt, no matter what the man did. "Mr. Martin!" he screamed, his eyes darting everywhere. "Answer me!" The smoke was getting worse. That shocker guy must have set fire to something, making Peter feel bad about leaving him on fire. "Mr. Martin!" Peter started hacking, covering his mouth with a gloved hand. Suddenly something moved to his right, and that's when the high pitched noise made Peter cry out, holding his head. It was worse this time for some reason. "K-Karen," the teen struggled. "Noise....cancel..." Instantly, the sound stopped, but so did all other sounds. When the boy sighed in relief , what he didn't hear was Mr. Negative running up to him with his black glowing knife brandished. It was only the feeling of something burning his side that got the teen's attention and he cried out, tears running down his face when the man tugged the knife from Peter's body. He glanced at the grinning black and white man. "Mr. Martin...why?" Peter held his hand to the deep wound, feeling hot liquid run down his hands. Mr Negative was saying something, but Peter couldn't hear him. "Karen, cancel off." "-and now you die, Spider-Man!" Mr. Martin's whole body began glowing a dark color, and Peter instantly put the noise cancellation on. But, he couldn't keep it on if he wanted to know when and where the man was coming from. "Karen, turn it off." The minute he said the words, his head started splitting. The boy wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball, but he had to stop Mr. Martin. Peter crawled as quickly as he could across the beam he'd jumped to, when suddenly Mr. Negative was in front of him, giving him a pitying look. "Poor little Spider-Man....you look so lost....I am here to guide you!" The man pulled a sword from his belt-how had Peter missed that? He charged the blade, making Peter's head hurt more, and he cried out, trying not to hold his head. "Good-bye, Spider-Man!!" Peter watched as the man bring the black blade back and raised his hand, and when Mr. Negative swung, Peter let loose a a web, catching the man in the face. "Agh!" The man cried out, but it didn't do Peter any good, because the blade still hit its mark, sliding through Peter's chest like butter. Dark energy surrounded the boy's body, making him start seizing, and fall. Tony watched as Peter fell to the ground, the black and white man he'd been fighting wasn't far behind him, the only damage to him was a mess of webbing on his face. Peter though, had a sword through his chest. "Peter!" Tony cried, feeling a rush of fear as he caught the boy seconds before he hit the ground, pulling out the blade, his mask disappearing and he pulled off Peter's mask. "Pete, hey kid...come on..." He gently slapped Peter's face until the boy;s eyelids fluttered. Peter smiled up at him, a bit of blood leaking from his lips. "Hey...Dad..." he whispered, in too much pain to even censor his thoughts. The billionaire sobbed once. "Hey, son." "I'm..sorry I kept this from you...but...I'm Spider-Man..." Peter rasped, and coughed. "I think I lost..." Tony shook his head. "No, I'm sorry, kid...I shouldn't have said those things." He smiled. "You won, don't worry. But, you're gonna make it and we're gonna celebrate. There's something I wanted to ask you tonight at dinner, too." He took a watery breath. "Peter, will you become me and Pepper's kid?" Happiness spread over the teen's weak face and he nodded. "I'd love to....but, I don't think I'm gonna make the party." Already his eyes were closing. "No, no Pete, you stay awake, do you hear me?" Tony held the boy tight. "You hold on!" Mr. Negative finally cleared his face, wiping at the remaining webbing angrily, his eyes searching for Spider-Man. His eyes landed on Iron-Man crouching on the ground, holding a body. The man smiled. He'd killed Spider-Man! He silently walked around the two, wanting to see his handy work. But, as soon as he looked at Spider-Man's maskless face, he felt something fighting within him. His host was fighting to gain control. "No!" Martin cried, tears falling from his eyes. "No! Peter!" Black energy took over the man and he wiped his face with disgust. "You're weak, Li! You can never take me over by force!" He laughed and noticed Iron-Man staring at him with hate filled eyes. "I'll kill you," Tony said darkly, getting up, his blasters coming out in full. "You hurt my boy." Mr. Negative braced himself, when suddenly his head started splitting, and he cried out, grabbing his hair. "No! Li! I will not...allow...you! You can't have it anymore! I will win! I'm stronger than you!" The black light was struggling to stay lit over the man's body, but it was slowly receding until Mr. Li stood on shaking legs, panting and staring at Stark. "I...can help him..." he breathed, looking at the barely breathing teen. "Please....let me...help him...let me help...my son..." Tony scowled at that. "How do I know you won't hurt him more?" Martin smiled, struggling to stand up. "I can't keep the other me back for long..but I will go along with anything you want...please, bind me after I'm done healing Peter." The pleading look Martin gave him made Tony look back at the bleeding boy, who's breathing had started making a gurgling sound. "Save him," Stark said, lowering his guns. "Save my son...please." Martin nodded and made his way over to the boy, who looked at him with dazed eyes. "Mr. Martin," Peter said, blood on his teeth. "I'm so glad I found you..." "Hush now, Peter....just relax.." Martin winced when he felt his head ripping apart, his other self fighting for control. He had to hurry. The man placed his hands on the boy's chest, over the wound. It was a severe gash, and the blood pouring from it said he'd cut into an artery. "Please work," he whispered. He felt the black energy filling his hands, but this time it didn't feel menacing. It felt peaceful and warm. He brought the energy out and pushed it into Peter's body. Under his hands he felt the reparations being done, but they were going quicker than he'd expected. Already the skin was closing under his hands and he sat back, panting, feeling drained, which was not good. He couldn't be allowed to go on in this world with that other person inside him. "Mr. Stark, I know I don't deserve to ask anything of you, but please do me a favor....Please look after Peter for me." He smiled up at the man and grabbed the sword. "Take him into your family, love him like a son....be there for him. Please, do this for me?" Tony could only stare and nod. "I will...but you'll be able to see him," he said. "We have a doctor who has almost the same problem as you..he's still human..." The Asian man smiled dreamily. "I know, Bruce Banner, the incredible Hulk...I wish I were as strong as he is to go on, but I can't allow the other me, the Negative side of me, loose on the world." He felt the tingles in his legs, and knew he had to hurry. "Tell Peter I said good-bye, and I loved him..." The man closed his eyes and brought the sword up to his head. Tony tried to stop Martin, but it was too late. The man fell to the floor the second he made a move, the long blade sticking out of his head. The black energy that had been crawling up his legs slowly disappeared, the man's face kept changing from white to black, until Martin lay there. Tony lowered his head in respect, the other Avengers surrounding him slowly. "Holy shit, I thought you guys were lying," Sam whispered as he looked at Peter, unconscious on the ground. Tony didn't answer, he just reached down to pick the boy up, happy to hear him breathing. "I'm taking you home," he whispered. "Can you guys wait for the police? I've gotta take him to Bruce." The team nodded, Natasha running a hand down the teen's cheek. "Welcome to the family," she whispered before she helped move the dead man outside, the other thug was gone when they went to search for him. One out of two was fine, right? ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Tony rushed flew into Bruce's lab after ordering Friday to open the window. "Bruce!" he yelled, the nano-suit disappearing. "BRUCE!!" "I'm here, I'm here, what's-Oh my god..." His face was alight with shock. "What-when-huh?" "Peter is Spider-Man apparently," Tony said, panic taking over the sarcasm. "But he got stabbed. I need you to look at him. I don't trust what Martin did..." He laid the boy on the table and stepped back, looking at the limp teen with worry. The clacking of heels got his attention and Tony turned just in time to catch Pepper as she ran to him, a gasp coming from her when she spotted Peter. "Oh my baby," she whispered. "Is he okay? Is he alive?" Bruce had been listening to his chest and pulled back. "He was stabbed?" he asked Tony, who nodded. "All I see is a scar, that's all." He pointed out the shiny skin under the hole in the blue and red suit. There was blood around the scar, but that was all the proof that Bruce had. "I'll keep him overnight, watch him, do some tests." Bruce excused himself from the room, feeling odd being there. Pepper bent down and kissed the teen on the forehead. "Why didn't you tell us, you silly boy?" she whispered, sobbing a laugh. "We would have done anything for you, you know that?" She carded her hand through the boy's dirty curls. "I think he's going to find that out. In the morning I'm filing the paperwork to make him ours." He put an arm around his fiancee. "And here I thought we'd be married before we had our first kid. Hm. Amazing how things work out, huh?" Pepper laughed and pushed him away. "I'm still mad at you for trying to kill Peter...but I guess I can forgive you if you promise to help me plan the wedding." Tony groaned. "I'd rather have you pissed at me. OOF!" he rubbed his stomach where his fiancee had just elbowed. "Okay, okay, I promise." Pepper smiled, knowing in all reality he would forget and spend all his time in his lab, but it was the thought that counted. She turned her head when Bruce came back in, tubes and needles in his hands. "If you don't mind, Bruce, can I spend the night with him? I want to be here when he wakes up." Bruce smiled and nodded. "Oh, yeah, sure. If you agree to a bed yourself. In your condition, you shouldn't be sitting in an uncomfortable chair all night." "Wait, what?" Tony looked between the two, confused. "What's wrong with Pepper?" "Oh nothing...except she's pregnant." Bruce smirked at the billionaire's shocked face which turned to a look of happiness. "I get to name it!" he cried. "You talked me into getting Peter, I get to name our second kid." Pepper smiled and laid on the bed Bruce had brought in. "Yes, dear," she said with a pleasant smile. "I mean it. I get to name the kid." "Whatever you say, honey." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Peter was nervous. It had been three months since he'd last worn a suit, and he was almost killed. He stood in front of Tony, copying the man's movements as they tied their ties, cinching it up when it was done. "Good job, bud," Tony ruffled the kid's hair, smiling at the noise he made. "But, I make it look better." He smirked when Peter glared at him. "What? Truth." They walked out into the compound's living room to see everyone waiting, all dressed up. "Ready?" Tony asked, looking at his phone. "We have an hour to get there. Let's go." The team all agreed and they walked towards the elevator, before the billionaire remembered something. Or, someone, as a matter of fact. "You guys go along without me! Gotta get Pepper!" He left the elevator and noticed someone walking next to him. "And where do you think you're going?" he asked the teen, his brow quirked. "To go get mom," Peter answered with a knowing smile. After he'd woken up, he asked if he could start calling them mom and dad. Of course Pepper was all for it, tears rolling down her face. Tony acted like it bothered him, but deep down, Peter could tell it made him happy. "It's about time!" a woman's voice called from a bedroom. "I thought you forgot me." "You? Never." Stark said with a guilty face. "That's why I am personally here." "I'm here too," Peter said from the door. "And he did forget you." He smirked at the look Tony gave him promising retribution. "Well, I hope you don't forget I'm as big as a house and need a little help getting my shoes on. I hate flats." Pepper frowned at the shoes on the floor. "Just a few more months, and our new kid will be here annoying Peter with all her crying when he gets up to do all the changing in the middle of the night." Peter balked. "Why not you? I have school!" He pushed the shoes towards his mom's feet, helping her balance as she put them on. "And? You're young, you'll bounce back," Tony teased, leaning in to kiss his wife. "Enough you two. Tony, do you have the papers?" She made a face as the man made a face. "What would you do without me, I swear?" she opened a drawer and got her copy out. This is why she asked the judge for two copies. "Okay, kid. If you're ready, let's go make you an official Stark," Tony said with a clap, rubbing his hands together as he did when he was excited. Peter's smile said it all as he was wrapped in a hug by his mom and dad. It was good to be Peter Stark, A.K.A. the neighborhood Spider-Man.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~THE END~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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#iron man tony stark #IronDad #spiderman peter parker #SpiderSon #MamaPepperPotts #ProtectiveAvengers #Marvel #LittleOrphanSpider

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darklydisturbed · 5 years

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So if anyone is actually reading this blog you will have figured out by now that with the exception of the last post, this is essentially a blog for me to bitch about my life when things aren’t going my way. Well guess what? It happened again.

I love my new life and the freedoms I have to pursue my own interests and relationships. I love that I see my kids every weekend. I truly believe that I get the best of both worlds. But while pursuing those relationships and interests, I have stumbled into a situation. My Ex is still being her natural self. Without most of the limitations or restrictions from before. This is something different.

I have 3 friends. They are 2 old friends and one new, but I’m fairly sure that I haven’t mentioned any of them before. A lady named D, a man named J and another lady named S. D and J are married and have kids. Do you think you know where this is going? You’re wrong. Don’t feel bad, I was wrong too.

I became aware of the situation after spending time with them socially as a threesome and in individual pairings, D and J, J and S. It seemed to me that the relationship between J and S was something more than simply good friends but I could not quite identify what my brain was nagging at. To the point that J even said to me one day “You know that I’m not cheating on D with S right?” To which I replied “No, I know.” I believed what I said. Cheating wasn’t the right phrasing and have enough respect for the man to give him that doubt. So my mind continued to worry away at the discrepancy. It was only a week or so after, that J came round and explained the situation in all its detail to me. I have since had multiple conversations with J and D on the subject, with only sparing words from S on her take.

D confessed to J that she would enjoy seeing him with other women. Enter S. From what I can tell, this was a very fluid situation where all three parties were engaged in physical acts with each other. Everything seemed to be going great! Happy days, right? Of course not. D began to feel that more was going on between J and S than the agreement allowed for. D became paranoid and angry at the situation, not least because she felt mostly responsible for the situation. If she hadn’t confessed her desires, her marriage to D would have continued as normal, leaving her fantasies as just that.

The situation has reached the point that D has expressed to J that she wants to go back to being just a married couple. J has responded by saying that if that is what she wants, he will comply. But it can not be instant as S has had bad breakups before and he wants to let her down gently. In D’s opinion, he is letting S down far to gently. She feels strung along and marginalized by her husband. To the point that having D, J, and S in the same proximatly is extremely uncomfortable. For everyone who knows or cares to look.

I spend a lot of time with these people and I am a keen student of human nature. The situation has become very tense for all the parties involved. To this, I must now add myself. I have long had feelings for D beyond friendship. Actually going back to High School. And I find that the more time I spend with S, the more I like her, to the point where my feelings have turned romantic. I want to stress that I had reached this conclusion long before the events of this week. I do not want people (the imaginary people who are reading this blog because nobody does) to think that the amount of time since my last female interaction is coloring my feelings.

So to this week. J, S and I have a regular movie night (it’s once a week but the day changes depending on commitments.) Originally it was for horror films but the lack of decent ones have opened the theme up to anything entertaining. The normal protocol is food, film, chat, goodbyes home by 11pm ish. Usually, it takes place at S’s house due to her being a single parent. J has D to look after his kids and mine are with my Ex during the week.

I went round to S’s house at around the agreed time. She had already had half a bottle of red wine and insisted that I should drink the other half. I had already agreed to have a drink but I don’t drink very often. When J arrived, he had forgotten to get more wine so he went back out for more. I chatted with S while she cooked and when J got back, ( with 3 more bottles of red) we sat in the living room eating, drinking and being merry. We started a horror movie but it was quickly evident that the alcohol had left us feeling more garrulous than usual. We began to have frank discussions about affections, kinks, likes and dislikes in the opposite sex and in sex itself. I confessed to having a thing for ladies underarms, to which S replied by taking off her dress, leaving her in only panties. Her pierced nipples on display. J had obviously seen it all before and much more besides. S confessed to me (J already being fully aware) that he is a sub like likes to be told what to do. I said that I was too and an interesting chain of command revealed itself. J told S what to do and S told me. She did what she was told and so did I. I ended up spending quite sometime kissing S during the evening, mostly after S had received instruction from J. This also lead to S placing my hands on her breast during one protracted kissing session. By the time I left, I had helped consume 4 bottles of red wine (around 1.5 bottles being mine alone) and had 2 bottles of mixed fruit cider. I was more drunk than I have been in 12 years. I said goodbye to S with a long and passionate kiss while my hands found her hair, back, breasts and ass. It was around 1.30am by the time I got home, J walked me but was heading back to S’s to stay the night (with D’s knowledge) as is the tradition after a movie night.

After speaking to J and S separately and together, S says that she does not remember much of what happened but apologized if I was offended at all. It was 2 days later that I was next in the company of S. It was a bit awkward to begin with but we soon fell back into a familiar groove and have been back to normal ever since.

I am not a schoolboy who is prone to romantic flights of fancy. I have my crushes but I know that is all they are. I definitely have feelings for S and I retain my longheld feelings for D. I still respect J but find myself doubting him. I know that what happened between S and me was due to the alcohol and the situation on that night and will most likely never be repeated. That is the problem. I want her more and more each time I see her. She is way out of my league (I know people say that out of false sense of modesty but if you saw the two of us, you’d get it) and she has very strong feelings for J. Even if he manages to tactfully reduce their relationship to that of plutonomy, I still do that see that my relationship with S will get anything but worse.

If not for the kissing and such, I could have continued this as a fantasy. But after kissing her, feeling her close to me, I’m not sure if I can continue to see S and J together, while both D and I sit on the sidelines, waiting to see where the situation goes and how we are affected.

More on this story as it develops. Or not. Can’t be sure. Maybe there will be another blog post. Maybe not.

DarklyDisturbed.

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lonelypond · 5 years

Text

Can’t Get Started

Love Live, NicoMaki, 3.5K, 1/2

Nishikino Maki is trying to make in the piranha fishbowl of movies, music, and Hollywood. Yazawa Nico already has. And they keep crashing into each other.

Can’t Get Started

No matter how many luxury, fancy, five star, $$$$$ hotels Nishikino Maki would spend time in, she would never get used to the powder room lounges, with interior design as fancy and challenging as the living areas of the ‘finest’ homes. This one had a wood and platinum motif, with large low sofas scattered over a space the size of her moderately luxurious apartment. There were pitchers with cucumber water and a thick book full of very unclothed photography, which actually interested Maki, as a photographer herself, but here, where women came in and out every few minutes, she felt too exposed to pick it up, have a look, and see who had made that particular editor’s cut. So no lingering after the deed is done. In a room seemingly designed for lingering. And one fidgety blur of movement in a corner Maki made certain to only catch out of the corner of her eye. No staring. Time to move on, no matter how tempting the couches seemed compared to the roomful of noisy chatter and chummy elbows.

Maki was back to continue her decor appreciation jam session after only ten minutes because of a small accident with the soup. Award shows should be like the Oscars, someone else in your seat when you needed air, not occasions where you not only had to juggle nerves but also food. Maki shook her head at herself, looked at the curry down the front of her dress and wondered if water would make it better or worse.

She stopped. There was the blur, now in the center of the ‘lounge,’ a tiny dark haired woman, pacing and muttering, hands flying back and forth, making shapes in the air, leaning into a couch, patting an imaginary cheek, turning to one side, smiling and waving, unusually...red eyes wide and friendly. And then they spotted Maki, and narrowed.

“Sorry…” Maki coughed and ducked her head, pointing to her dress, “spilled soup. Just…” Maki smiled shyly, “thought I saw you in here ten minutes ago. Are you okay? I get nervous too.” A flip of her finger across the still damp soup stain to demonstrate empathy.

Now there was staring. The eyes were red, almost rubies, with that same illusion of faceted depth that the best jewelers carve into their efforts, bringing out magical warmth from mineral cold. Then an incandescent smile happened that knocked Maki back, “Nico is fine. Nico is just rehearsing her acceptance speech so fans like you,” a broad, broad wink, “aren’t disappointed.”

Nico. Yazawa Nico. Maki took a better look, this woman was so tiny, but yes, the eyes should have been a giveaway, set deep over a nose that was much sharper than Maki had even seen in any of the movies where Yazawa had bled out all of her emotions for an audience eager for stories of romance, tragedy, and triumph with an actress unafraid to be as unapologetically gay on screen as off. From superhero to Empress, Nico had swept the international cinema scene, scoring box office hits in both small indie films and action blockbusters. Maki had been impressed by the actress’s range, cried and laughed over her performances, and maybe had a slightly illicit dream or two. Like every other gay and bi woman on the planet.

“Hello?” Yazawa’s hand was waving in front of Maki’s nose, “Nico can help you with the spill. I have a stain stick in my purse, It’ll keep it from setting.”

Maki nodded. That sounded sensible. Like a plan. And Nico’s dress was silver slashed with black fringe, that went with the silver slashes across sharp cheekbones above lips that could really only be described as a sensuous dark plum.

The actress was waiting for some kind of verbal reply, but Maki had half turned and was just staring at a pattern on the couch and running a hand through her hair, as adjectives and screenshots kept flashing on her internal movie screen. Then Yazawa’s hands were on her shoulders and she was being shoved into a chair, “But first you listen to Nico’s speech…” Yazawa paused.

“Um…” Maki realized her elevation had changed and she glanced up, Nico watching her critically.

“Name?” Nico urged.

“Maki.” Easy question.

Nico nodded and the tension eased. “Okay, Maki, hi I’m Nico, I have a big presentation in…” Yazawa glanced at a delicate twist of a silver watch, “20 minutes, so it’s kinda urgent, can I run something by you? So I don’t sound like an idiot.”

“Yeah, I always sound like an idiot too.” Maki blurted.

“Well,” Nico stepped back, “thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Sorry, Ms. Yazawa...” Maki bit her lip, “you’re always so polished on screen….”

“It’s Nico. And I never write my own dialogue. On set improv is lame.” Nico stepped back, her eyes focusing somewhere else, hands seeming to measure out where the stage and microphone were, “Writers work as hard as Nico does so they deserve respect.”

Maki thought Umi would be pleased and surprised to hear that from a celebrity she had occasionally doubted the work ethic of. Maki, as a composer, was usually immune from actors altering her artistic choices but it was a near daily struggle for Umi. Maki wondered if Nico would be interested in reading their latest, an intimate musical…

Nico’s hand again, fingers snapping this time under Maki’s nose this time. She jumped as Nico began to sound testy again, “If Nico can keep your interest, she can keep anyone’s…”

“Not, that’s not...I just...my friend Umi is a writer and always complains about actors who want to improv.”

“Posers.”

Maki grinned, “Exactly what she says.”

Nico patted Maki encouragingly on the shoulder, amused, “Introduce Nico later. Now you listen. We only have 15 minutes before...” Nico flung her arms wide, nodding to each side, gathering in imaginary shouts and whistles.

“Okay.” Maki stood, stretched her arms out in front of her, sat, leaned forward, slammed her hands into her knees, the picture of alert attention, and winked at Nico, “Go.”

Nico laughed, stepped behind her imaginary podium, whispered, “clap” so Maki did while Nico’s hand gestures called for more. Then the flip of the hand for quiet.

“Thank you. Tonight is very important to Nico…”

###

Sundance...party...one pissed off caterer...Maki had no idea what she did to annoy the woman...oh wait, yeah that...but Umi was going to be SEVERELY disappointed when their party, intended to impress award winning designer Minami Kotori turned out to be Maki smiling awkwardly and handing around a bag of stale chips and a growler. It was a weeknight, the Thursday before the second weekend, and Maki had had hopes of catching the ska documentary she’d connected a musician friend with. But no, here she was frantically searching for...a pizza place, maybe? Fewer crowds than last year, when they’d come the first weekend, but still enough people bustling that Maki felt like she was elbowing people awkwardly in the halls of high school again. And then her heel hit a patch of black ice and she sssssssslllllliiiiiiiiiiiiiid down the sidewalk until some obstacle forced her back on her butt. That was going to be sore, Maki thought as she reached a hand behind her, levering herself up was going to be at least a three limb job, both legs and one arm.

“Here let me help you. Are you okay?”

Maki recognized the voice and winced. Yazawa Nico once again catching her in an imperfect moment. “Hi. No, I’m fine.”

Nico snorted. She was in a black snowsuit with cute pink flair, fake fur, and patches scattered all over her arms and legs. She took Maki’s hand and when the redhead nodded, pulled. Maki rose and stumbled forward, suddenly finding herself with A list celebrity arms supporting most of her weight while dreamably delicious, not even mildly chapped lips pinched back what was probably a belly roar of laughter.

“Sorry.” Maki stepped back, hands brushing the snow off her leggings. Why hadn’t she dressed for the weather? Leggings based on samurai armor, an oversized Northwestern hoodie and a Reign ballcap would not have been any stylist’s choice.

“No soup stains?” Nico teased, clapping together pink mittens that looked like Muppet fur. Maki thought there might be eyes on the palms. She wasn’t sure if that was cute or creepy.

“No food at all.” Maki sniffled, feeling the cold soak into what was going to be a sitting bruise, and having no real options as her mind raced through possibilities. Umi and Kotori would be headed back with a small crowd after the premiere of Umi’s latest film and Maki had nothing, “I have to go. Nico to see...I mean nice to see you, Nico.” Maki tried to smile but she knew her face was giving away how many non options she was discarding per second.

“What’s the matter?” Nico asked so casually, so quickly, Maki almost forgot where she was.

“I pissed off the caterer. And Umi…”

“Your writing friend….”

“You remembered…”

Nico tapped her temple, “Nico keeps future industry connections who know cute redheads in the most secure part of her memory.” Nico frowned, “Sorry, Nico meant intelligent and attentive test audiences. Nico’s not a creep.”

“Then why are there eyes on your mittens?” Maki couldn’t help asking.

“Huh...” Nico laughed, raising one of her hands, turning her mitten into a sock puppet, the pitch of her voice dropping, “Hey, friend, let’s make a snowman…”

Maki glanced around, a little frantic, not sure how to react, especially as this new conversation track was her stumble entirely, “Sorry no...there’s not really anywhere...I really...Umi’s going to be so upset…”

“They make my little brother laugh. He’s 13 and I’m trying to keep him silly.” Nico rolled her eyes, “They grow up too fast.”

“Oh.” Maki hated being this confused. And feeling this incapable. But Nico was grinning at her and cute and surely Umi and Honoka could charm Kotori without catering. There was ice cream in the freezer. Probably.

“So what did you do to the caterer…?”

Maki shoved her hands in her kangaroo pocket so she wouldn’t just throw her hat somewhere as she remembered the scene. “Ummmm...ran over the main dish because I was running late and backing out of the condo driveway when they were unloading…”

“Sounds like a movie meet cute.” Nico’s eyes were twinkling while Maki was getting shorter and probably tilting toward the left as her hip contracted from pain and cold. “So is it a private party...why did Nico miss getting her invite?”

“Oh, it’s for anyone who goes to Umi’s premiere.” Maki glanced at her watch. “Which is going to be over soon.”

Nico pulled out her phone. “What’s your address?”

“Why?” There wouldn’t be much of a party, and Honoka would surely just hit Nico with every project her clients might need an actress for.

“Nico knows someone. Is this Umi or who she’s trying to impress allergic to anything?”

“Minami? I’m not sure.”

Nico whistled, “Kotori, the Divine Kotori of Floating Feather Atelier….Nico really needs to come to one of your parties. Nico hears she’s big on cutesy food…” Nico frowned, considering. “I might know a place...”

“Where?” Maki got ready to run.

“You are not touching anything breakable, droppable, or poisonable. Nico will send her assistant.” Nico handed Maki her phone, “Just give me your contact info and Cocoro will take care of it.”

“Okay.” Maki took off a glove and tried typing but nothing registered. She kept punching until Nico took the phone back, shaking her head in disbelief.

“Just talk.”

“Okay.”

Nico typed in the digits as Maki recited them. “All right, Nico will send a rescue party to your wreck. Don’t back over them.”

“I’m walking everywhere from now on. Rogue Salmon spaghetti carbonaras are obviously stalking my car.” “Probably safest. Are you hanging out this weekend? Nico’s chairing a diversity panel. People are going to be talking about it for months.” Nico kept typing, biting her lip as she muttered things Maki couldn’t make out.

“Flying to Tokyo in the morning.” Nico looked disappointed so Maki explained. “Family business. My parents...”

“Oh. Nico will text you a snap of her agenda and her dress so you can see what you missed.”

“Okay.” Maki nodded at Nico, who had finally glanced up from her phone.“Thanks, Nico. I’d better get back.”

As Maki turned, Nico giggled. “Send Nico back a pajama selfie.”

Maki whirled, “What?”

Nico, with a too innocent expression on her face, was watching her mittens out dance each other, “We should go to a party TOGETHER sometime.”

“Stop by tonight. You have the address.”

Nico’s mittens dropped to her sides, her voice apologetic before it dipped back into a teasing edge. “Guest of honor three places. Already late for the first. And Nico has to hurry her assistant because there’s a cute redhead with no food to stain her clothes…”

Maki blushed and bolted. Nico had a very distinctive, short, snorting laugh and Maki feared that further conversation would draw a crowd. Plus, the liquor delivery was probably waiting.

###

Maki’s phone vibrated with a text from an unknown number, “We’re here.”

“Who?”

“Food.”

Maki had changed into jeans and a turtleneck, and was about to put her last layer on. Shoving her arm quickly into the formal jacket, she hopped down to the door.

One young woman, leading three young men with huge insulated bags, stood, impatiently tapping her fingers against the doorframe, “Maki?”

The grim tone made Maki wonder if she should pull out her ID. “Yes.”

The woman turned, “Take everything inside, find the kitchen, set it all up, my sister said not to let her touch anything.”

The staff nodded and shuffled past Maki once she stepped out of the door and onto the porch so they could get through.

The young woman glared at her. “Nico already tipped them.”

“Okay.” Maki was staring. This young woman was almost identical to Nico in coloring, but no amusement had ever lurked in her blood red eyes and her entire expression screamed “Not on my watch, you don’t.”

“You should probably go back inside.” The not Nico pointed.

“Okay.” Could this be over soon, Maki wondered.

“I have to text Nico a picture.” Nope.

“I’ll take you to the kitchen.” Maki had said something right, but it was too late to score any points. The “thank you” in response was perfunctory.

“I’m Maki Nishikino.”

“I know.”

Maki knew Nico had mentioned a name but its memory was as slippery as the Park City pavement.“You are?”

“Ms. Yazawa, Nico’s assistant.” Stated slowly.

“Right. Thank you.”

No reply. Ms. Yazawa racewalked into the living area, and Maki could hear her ordering the three young men around.

Maybe everything would be self serve. And Nico’s...sister? Evil clone? would make a quick exit. Maki wasn’t looking forward to the party and extra scrutiny would make it so much worse.

“Maki!” Honoka Kosaka cheerful trill echoed as the front door banged open, ‘Everyone loved Umi’s script. And they can’t wait to meet you.’ Maki waved at her old friend and agent as the ginger in a kilt and shawl bounced into the living area. The food had arrived just in time. But a smile was more than Maki could muster as the memory of the younger Yazawa’s frigid attitude kept scalding her.

###

The condo was finally quiet. Umi, Honoka, and Kotori had gone off somewhere to continue what Umi called ‘negotiations’ while Honoka had whispered date. Which Maki wasn’t thinking about. Because the condo was finally quiet. And then her ringtone went off. Maki groaned and grabbed her phone, wondering what the new crisis was.

A text from an unknown number: ( ˘▽˘)っ♨ how was the party? My sister said you didn’t spill anything while she was there.

Maki smiled. Nico.

M: （－－；exhausting

N: In bed already? Pajama selfie?

M: Collapsed in chair fully clothed so not terribly exciting.

N: Depends on the chair ପ(⑅ ॣ•͈૦•͈ ॣ)ଓ

Maki shot a quick pic of the fabric pattern.

N: 10/10 would slouch right there with you

M: I’d be terrible company. During party: |_-｡), after party (o_ _)o

N: And yet, here we are...(｡•̀ᴗ-)✧

Maki ran a hand through her hair and sighed. What she really wanted to do was soak in a bath for hours, candles lit, music low, but past experience had taught her that as soon as Honoka came back she’d barge into wherever Maki was with an update.

N: Is the rest of Team 'Slide In Through My Window' there?

M: You know the script title?

N: Nico talks to people. Your friend Umi made quite a splash at the writing panel. Bet actresses are swooning to get a look at the script ヽ/❀o ل͜ o\ﾉ

Maki frowned.

M: Are you?

A pause...Maki could see Nico typing, then the bubble disappeared. Then more typing,

N: (,Ծ_ლ) Honestly? There’s no good way for Nico to answer that.

Maki leaned forward, her fingers flying.

M: Why not?

N: *groans* Because of course, duh...hot new thing and turns out I love the score for the 'Déshabillé and Disaster' short and YOU composed that, but mostly, Nico is swooning over an excuse to keep talking to you.

Nico knew her work. The first thing people mentioned was usually the hit steamy summer bop she’d written with Carly Rae Jepsen last year, not the Le Cristal d'Annecy winning animated short so Nico had either done her homework or was a genuine enthusiast. Either way…Maki found herself typing too quickly to reconsider anything she said.

M: You don’t need an excuse.

N: Are you going to be in LA for awards season?

M: Yes.

N: Nico will see you then. Cocoro hasn’t overscheduled me yet…So let’s crash a party together.

M: Can it be a small, quiet party? *yawns pathetically*

N: Get some sleep. And don’t forget to send Nico a pajama selfie when you get to Tokyo. Or at least a chair pic. Nico needs to know your furniture preferences.

And Nico had attached a selfie where she had the most serious of faces, one eyebrow quirked to its sharpest, most questioning extreme.

Maki couldn’t help it. The guffaw just rolled out; there was no other word for it. This was flirting. This was nice. No one staring and making her feel uncomfortable. A minute to think. Maki relaxed into the chair, legs pulled up, remembering Nico’s grin. This was flirting. A nudge. A wink. A dare. Maki took a risk.

M: Not too well padded.

N: (╯‵□′)╯︵┴─┴ Rude. Nico’s furniture is padded perfectly. ಠ‿↼

Guffaw followed by giggle. Maki was feeling better. Maybe she could actually sleep before leaving for her flight. IF she taped a huge DO NOT DISTURB ME, HONOKA to her door.

M: Thanks for your help, Nico. You saved me. Although I don’t think your sister likes me.

N: She’s not the deciding vote in the Yazawa family. Chat up Cotaro, he likes donuts, you might be able to swing a majority. Nico will put in a good word for you.

M: You’re probably exhausting in person.

N: All the to die for parties are ♥(ˆ⌣ˆԅ)

M: *collapses further into chair, CRUSHED under weight of brush with celebrity*

N: Nico is not fatal, Ms.OVERdramatic, just friendly.

M: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

N: Sleep it off, recluse ❤⃛ヾ(๑❛ ▿ ◠๑ )

M: (b~_^)b

N: Cute. See you in LA.

See Nico in LA. It was now a plan. And Nico would be in one of those dresses designed to show off every perfectly padded curve. Maki felt herself redden and then panic jumped to her memories of red carpets and last year. The crowds. The cameras. And how everyone sweeping by, svelte and confident, had brought out every clumsy twitch in her body. But Nice was certainly not the watch the red carpet on a laptop with takeout and TWIG commentary type. Maki sat up, maybe if she started with a dress. Could Umi and Honoka talk Minami Kotori into coming back to the condo for some fashion talk? Maki could use a little divine design intervention.

A/N: Enjoy this first half. I started this while finishing up Jingle Bell Jazz when I heard Nancy Wilson's version of "I Can't Get Started." Juggling a few storylines so I'm not sure what'll be next after this as summer and Shakespeare and crimes against humanity by the government of my country continue.Thanks for reading. Take care!

#NicoMaki #Nishikino Maki #Yazawa Nico #Red carpets #Hollywood #Yazawa Family #etc

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the1975hqs · 7 years

Text

Matty’s Interview with The Sunday Times Style

I wish I had a teenage daughter. Why? Because here I am with Matt Healy, the frontman of the 1975, who has just offered to take his shirt off in order to give me a tattoo tour. There’s the one dedicated to his nana; his mum, Denise “Loose Women” Welch, is on his foot; his dad, Tim “Auf Wiedersehen, Pet” Healy, is on his arm; and his brother, Louis, on the back of a calf; there’s the one dedicated to William Burroughs, the author of his favourite ever book, Queer; then there’s the one on the inside of his left wrist… of his passport number. “I got bored of being constantly woken up by a woman offering me a landing card while my tour manager, who always carries my passport, is conked out somewhere behind me. I thought it would be useful. It’s really all I need on a plane.”

Welcome to the world of the 1975, whose second album, I Like It When You Sleep, for You Are So Beautiful yet So Unaware of It (yes, really), went straight to No 1 in both America and the UK last year, and who won the best band award at the Brits in February. They have just announced that their third album, Music for Cars, will be out next year, and when we meet they are about to go on tour, kicking off in Mexico and ending in July at Latitude Festival in Suffolk, where they will headline alongside Fleet Foxes and Mumford & Sons. If you’re not familiar with their music — think Pete Doherty mixed with One Direction, maybe — it’s probably because, like me, you’re too old. That said, Mick Jagger, whom the band supported when the Stones played Hyde Park in 2013, is a huge fan — so fond of their hit single Chocolate, he has been known to put it on after dinner for guests.

“Yeah, I remember that gig,” says the 28-year-old Healy, with a faint Northern accent. “It was before I had my eyes lasered and I wasn’t wearing my glasses. Pointless. There were 50,000 people there and I could only see about four of them, but out of the corner of my eye I could just make out this gyrating figure and it was Jagger dancing to Chocolate. Mick Jagger — can you f****** believe it?”

Dressed this afternoon in a billowing silk shirt and tartan drummer-boy trews (“Not sure where they’re from, we rent a lot of stuff from the costume-hire department at the National Theatre”), Healy cuts the perfect figure of postmodern pop star: a kind of hybrid of Adam Ant and Robert Smith of the Cure, but sexier somehow, with those pouchy eyes and chiselled curls. Sprinkled across his fingers are an assortment of knuckle-dusters by Gucci, at his feet a women’s saddle bag, also by Gucci, all part of the vague Louis XV look, as he calls it, that the band are currently channelling. Gucci, McQueen, Loewe — these are some of his favourite labels at the moment. “Although if you are talking a label for life, it’s probably Dries [Van Noten]. He’s my Sir Alex Ferguson of fashion — beaten once or twice in his career, but always the best.” Then there’s his “mate” Erdem, with whom he likes to discuss “Fellini, contemporary dance and the concept of elegance”. Oh yes, Healy likes his fashion, although he admits he’s not mad about going to the actual shows. “They make me realise I’m more famous than I think I am. It’s like, ‘Don’t take pics of me, I’m here to look at the bloody clothes!’ But I’m not sure how you’re going to write that without making me sound like a dickhead.”

The pair of us are sitting in the spotlessly tidy, pine-surfaced kitchen of Healy’s east London townhouse, which he shares with the artist and creative director Sam Burgess-Johnson and Allen Ginsberg, his beloved year-old bull mastiff. Like Healy himself — a sylphy 5ft 8in and 10st who can fit into his girlfriend’s vintage clothes — the house is small and perfectly formed, and it is filled with well-tended spider plants, candles and stuffed birds. The only blot on this exemplary tableau of millennial domesticity is the unmistakable smell. (If you saw the grainy film that emerged the day after the Brits, of him and fellow band member George Daniel sharing a, um, “cigarette” under their table, you will know what I mean.)

“Like the inside of Bob Marley’s sock, right?’ he sighs apologetically. “Yeah, I know I’ve got to be careful here, haven’t I? But, yes, if I’m honest, I do like to smoke.”

Brought up on a farm in Northumberland, before moving to Cheshire at the age of 10, Healy likes to describe his upbringing as middle-class suburban, but obviously that’s not quite accurate. Regular visitors to the family home included his dad’s mates Rick Wakeman, Jeff Lynne of ELO and Mark Knopfler, and there was never any question that Healy, who got his first drum kit when he was only five, was going to do anything other than perform. When his mother was struggling with a dependence on cocaine and alcohol, he wrote a song about it (he proudly tells me that she and her third husband, the painter Lincoln Townley, have been clean and sober for six years; his parents divorced in 2012). Healy has referred to his own struggles with addiction when the band first rose to fame. “But I don’t drink any more, or at least I don’t drink at home. And although I still smoke weed, I consider it a lesser of many evils.”

Healy is a master provocateur: during the band’s Brits performance, lines from the some of their worst reviews flashed up on screen — “Pretentious”, “shallow”, “punch-your-TV obnoxious” and so on — causing some of the audience to think they had been hacked. That’s his role, as the Mick of the band, but not everything he says, and goodness does he have a lot to say, is merely for effect.

In the two hours plus I’m at his house, he treats our interview a little like a therapy session, talking about how he struggles with his “carnal impulses — a beautiful woman, that’s the closest I’ve ever come to divinity”, and how he is all too aware of his messianic influence over a certain demographic, girls between the ages of 13 and 17. Upstairs he has a suitcase full of the gifts he has been showered with on tour: artwork, books, knickers, you name it. One of his most treasured is a rare signed copy of Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood that was pressed into his hands after a gig in Sheffield.

“I wouldn’t accept it until she brought her dad backstage to say it was OK,” he says. “I’m not sure she realised what a find it was. But then look at Mary Shelley, who wrote Frankenstein when she was only 18. The desires of a teenage girl can be as sophisticated as mine, and when they are looking to me as a source of information, that’s a big responsibility. You can see where impostor syndrome sets in.”

Self-aware, in other words, doesn’t describe the half of it. But then, like Stormzy with his depression and Zayn with his anxiety and even Riz Ahmed with his views on Islamophobia, public emoting is part of Healy’s schtick. As he shared in his acceptance speech at the Brits: “In pop music … they tell you to stay in your lane when it comes to talking about social issues — but if you have a platform, don’t do that, please don’t do that.”

“Well, that whole ‘I don’t give a shit’ thing has never really gone far with me,” he says. “It’s why indie is my most hated [music] scene — a scene where you pretend you don’t care in order to not get judged on how bad you are as a musician. But times have moved on. I’m a privileged middle-class kid from Macclesfield. I can’t pretend to be what I’m not.”

Back, please, to his love life. He was rumoured to have dated Taylor Swift, but I can confirm they never even kissed, they “only fancied each other”. At the Brits there was a Lily-Rose Depp lookalike in a silver dress sitting next to him — Gabriella Brooks, an Australian who, yes, is a model, “but not a model model. She’s a chilled-out surfer chick who has never once asked to go out to an event, which is just amazing because I hate those big red-carpet events.” So, is this the future Mrs Matt Healy? Might he, at the tender age of 28, be settling down?

“Oh, bless. I’ve put her through the mill, brought her closer, pushed her away, brought her closer. See, although I know now I don’t need my equal on the intensity spectrum, I enjoy fantasising. What if someone like, say, Rihanna wanted to marry me? Am I shutting myself off from the opportunity of marrying someone like Rihanna?

“Oh, I don’t know,” he says suddenly looking terribly young.“I’m still trying to figure it all out.”

#matty healy #the 1975 #interview

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lettersforyoulettersforme · 6 years

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Part 1

Dear Future Myers,

Do you remember when you thought that you’d never be able to find someone to build a home with? That all seems so far away now, almost like a shitty dream, a bad poem, a play on a rooftop.

Do you remember when you thought that you might be a singer? Like a real life singer? Was that ever more than something the Holts wanted for you? It’s hard to see past the blurred lines of who you used to be before Joe and who you were after breaking up with him?

Do you remember how Joe used to text you “goodnight” every night before you shut your eyes? Do you remember kissing Hayley and Josh and Donald? Do you remember being Christiana’s roommate? Do you remember that Halloween where you stayed in Boston to avoid the snow store in the city? You stayed with Joe and went to a Halloween party and Haley Jakobson was there. You were as in intrigued by her now as you were then. Like a dream, you were drunk on vodka orange juice in her apartment and maybe Joe’s future/ current girlfriend was there too. It’s hard to remember when you’re not good at holding your liquor.

Do you remember all the different boys and all of their different bedrooms? The gross smells, peaking through medicine cabinets, eyes swiveling through half broken drawers, devouring bookcases, uncovering the mysteries of a stranger’s fridge. And Kevin’s apartment. All crusty carpet and beach chairs in front of a massive TV. He bought eggs in 6s instead of by the dozen. I’ll always think that was wrong, mainly in an economic sense. A lot of things were wrong back then, Myers. Most things were not what they were supposed to be. You were underwater, you can only hold your breath for 45 seconds.

But what a time those 45 seconds were.

Do you remember pizza with your roommates? And Elsa before it was akin to “Frozen”? Do you remember going on a date at Elsa with John Honey- Fitzgerald there? He bought everything- correction, his mother’s credit card bought everything. I was so amused by the prospect of being a girl in an acting class full of models. I loved his studio apartment, exposed brick and Steinbeck and vintage movie posters. Vintage movie posters is code word for “older movies, but I don’t remember. Who exactly is Marlon Brando again?” I think that he was the nicest person to me that summer. He let me cry and watched me have my breakdowns in acting class. I miss Meisner technique. I miss that summer. Of working at J. Crew and going to acting class 3 times a week and working with a teacher named Charlie. It’s great to learn lines when you don’t know what to say. Do you remember not knowing what to say about Joe? You had been dating for so long and then it was all over and you were just YOU, not Myers and Joe. You never looked back.

Do you remember Greece? Not quite what we thought it would be. Emailing everyone constantly, so lonely as Christiana slipped away. All of the make up in the drawers, the endless beach towels, lamb and tomatoes and cucumbers. The video rental store. Foto and the weird European showers. That place with bagels and going to a fancy 7-11 type place to get wifi so that you could Facebook message Dylan. You’re shaking your head now, but you missed him. You really did like him. You’re sad now that he turned out to be not as awesome as Donald.

Do you remember deciding that you were moving to DC? Do you remembering being afraid to tell Hayley because you knew she wouldn’t be happy about it? But you were more scared of being IN NYC than you were scared of telling Hayley. Fear drove so many of my decisions at the time. I think also the fear of not being near Dylan was a factor. I think that I can over intellectualize for days, but he was important to my move. I loved my life in NY, but I didn’t want it anymore. That was the second time that you loved something but you didn’t want it anymore.

Do you remember the endless Craigslist ads? The fraught desperation to find an apartment? Flying to NYC for a few days, doing all of your favorite things, eating all of your favorite food before realizing that it was time to go. 4 years were up and your body couldn’t last another day. So you said goodbye to McNalley Jackson, you walked past Dorian Gray, you don’t even remember if Kevin was there, but Penny was. You walked into your old apartment, you sat in Matt’s room and you smiled. You couldn’t even go in your old room. There was a stranger living in there now, which would be the metaphor.

And DC. You were here and you were here to stay. Founding Farmers and Cyrus and Mana and the Republican named John and not thinking about money or the future. Just the feeling that you moving here had been good enough. You felt good enough and happy and sad to not have friends, but you made a choice and you were committed to honoring that choice. You found new coffee shops and new restaurants. You went to the Dupont Farmers’ Market and your eyes were so wide because flowers, scones, apples, greens, there were people and you didn’t feel alone.

Dylan got back from Iceland. You ditched the Republican like we knew you could. He sent flowers and knocked on your door and you felt disgusted by men in a way that you hadn’t in a long, long time. You had said “no” and he didn’t accept that. It was odd to be sitting in the driver’s seat, but you were driving this new self and your road map was taking you to the left. To the left, through Logan Circle and down into Shaw where Dylan lived in an old, restored fire house. We saw a movie, a series of short films actually. I only remember one. A foreign film about a little boy who wanted to be on the synchronized swimming team. He was the only boy and he had a girlfriend on the team. They did water ballet and he wore nose plugs. I really felt this child’s humanity and it felt for a minute that Dylan and I were breathing the same air, drinking the same wine, smoking the same weed. As opposed to me borrowing some of his wine, his weed, his air. I was the passenger for this ride, but it felt impossible to take any other seat.

So we drove for months. He kept trying to pull the emergency break, but I wouldn’t let that happen. After all, I was here, in the flesh, why couldn’t we make great sex and limited things in common work? He made us tuna steaks one night and we watched 30 Rock. That was back when the series was still on Netflix. We slunk back to his room and we just fell asleep. I remember thinking it was weird how quickly he bolted up when his alarm when off, how quickly he showered, how suddenly the lights were on, he was dressed and he was ready to go. We would walk to the Metro. The morning light could have been beautiful had we not felt misplaced. I heard the same story every morning, something happened to him at Howard Theater. I never really heard him because I wanted to know if he’d kiss me once we arrived at the metro. I knew that he would, but I knew that a kiss isn’t a seat belt, that no sense of safety lingered on those lips, that we were still on a back road instead of driving proudly down Main Street. Or whatever that means.

So, like others, it came to a rickety stop. A crash if we’re continuing with this metaphor.

Do you remember Karen? The therapist with a cane who assumed everything about your love life? And asked you to wear condoms more than is ever fucking appropriate? Do you remember the way that she helped you and shamed you? She saw what you didn’t see; she helped when you needed her. That Saturday night after it ended, you called her and you cried. It felt like she was your mom and she comforted you, didn’t even charge for the session. That’s probably why you stuck around with her for another 6 months. It’s hard to let people go, especially when you have so few at the time.

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3one3 · 6 years

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The Sequel - 890

Halloween Romance

André Schürrle, Juan Mata, other Chelsea/BVB players, and random awesome OC’s (okay they’re less random now but they’re still pretty awesome)

original epic tale

all chapters of The Sequel

“You have to hold it still for me, sweetheart. It’s not going to look like a pumpkin if I mess up the icing.”

“You could finish them a lot faster if you just put the cupcake on the counter.”

“Yeah but he wants to help.”

“His help makes everything harder.”

“Do you not want to hang with us today? Would you like to go home? Is there somewhere else you prefer to be?”

“No- I- Sorry. I was just trying to be helpful. We’re really late.”

Christina glanced up from the chocolate cupcake Lukas was holding for her to assess whether Espen’s apology was heartfelt or self-preserving. She took the afternoon off on Halloween to be a mom. Lukas helped her make the cupcakes, with chocolate chip cookie dough stuffed inside, and then recruited her assistance in decorating his trick-or-treating bag with all sorts of craft goodies, like googly eyes and pipe cleaners. Espen was on duty and supposed to attend the party at Marco’s too, mostly to be an extra set of adult hands and eyes. Her employer didn’t really need her for Lukas, though she did need her to keep an eye on him while she got into her Daenerys costume- a lengthy and involved process. They worked together to get the little boy and his dogs into their costumes, and then it was time to swirl the homemade orange icing onto the cooled cupcakes and add the candy pieces to make them look like jack-o-lanterns. The hardest part wasn’t actually Lukas’ inability to hold the cupcakes still while the very bad cake decorator tried to finish them- it was keeping the long blonde and braided wig out of the icing. Regardless, Christina thought her nanny out of line in both tone and attitude. Her expression looked sincere enough though following her apology.

“Just because you’re dressed as the Red Witch doesn’t mean you have to be all mean about innocent kids,” she teased her after returning her gaze to the cupcake.

“I was being practical. You said you didn’t want to be late,” Espen stressed.

“Are you nervous about seeing Marco or something? Or seeing Marco while Zoe is there?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course! I haven’t talked to him in...I’m not sure how long. A long time!”

“Mkay. Give that to Espen,” Christina told Lukas. Espen was in charge of fitting the completed cupcakes into a fancy plastic tray designed specifically for cupcakes. It came with a tall lid to protect the icing creations. She was in charge of putting the finishing touches on them too.

Christina was pretty clumsy with the icing bag but she and the baby dragon managed to complete the last three cupcakes without wearing the orange stuff or messing up the aesthetic appeal of the treats too badly. There was a short photo session with the pumpkins outside the front door to make sure there would be lasting evidence of the greatness of the costumes, and then everyone was packed into the Range Rover for the short trip over to Marco’s neighborhood, which was partially overrun by ghosts, Paw Patrol characters, superheroes, very small football players, witches, ballerinas, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, princesses, pirates, Disney characters, and little animals. The houses weren’t very close together, and many were gated, with long drives. It wasn’t a great street for trick-or-treating, so the proactive families in the community set up a maze of tents around the cul-de-sac at the end, each one decorated for the occasion and manned by someone with candy. Some people went all out. They had spooky music, dry ice to make smoke, huge jack-o-lanterns, animatronic mummies, and actual people in scary costumes. There was a circle of straw bales in someone’s yard for scary storytelling around a fire. A couple of families teamed up to offer hot chocolate, warm cider from a cauldron, and some grilled food. One of the houses right off the circle was close enough to the road that its garage door made for a perfect surface on which to project classic Halloween films. Marco’s driveway was the last one accessible by car, before the road was blocked. He let Christina in to park there, and then walked her crew and her cupcakes up to Zoe’s tent. He didn’t have a costume but his face was painted Mexican “Dia de los Muertos” style. The very, very well done black and white paint made it hard to tell if he had any feelings about seeing Espen, and that situation was a sideshow. Christina really wanted to show Lukas a good time. It was important to her to do Halloween right for her son, because she felt Halloween an incredibly meaningful thing for a kid. It felt like a magical occasion to her as a child, and one she always looked forward to, like Christmas.

“Lukas!” Zoe, dressed as Harley Quinn, smiled to welcome him into her graveyard-themed EZ-Up tent. As she explained to his mom, she took advantage of her design skills and the knowledge of construction she picked up in school as part of her design studies to build aged-looking headstones, crosses, spooky trees, a “steel” fence, and even a mini Gothic church. She used cheap Astroturf-like carpeting for the ground, and had a very real looking coffin at the back, full of platters of treats and bowls of candy. Any kid brave enough to stroll through her graveyard would be nicely rewarded. There was a stand in the coffin with an empty plate waiting for Christina’s cupcakes. “What are you?”

“Dragon,” Lukas replied absently, distracted by his over-stimulating surroundings. There were kids of all ages everywhere, and lots of dogs, and music.

“How scary! Did you breathe fire to cook these fantastic cupcakes?” Zoe questioned after Christina presented the plastic tray. The girls winked at each other at the same time.

“No...Mommy, is that Daddy?” The little winged dragon pointed at a grown up wearing a yellow Lakers uniform. He thought everyone in all yellow was André.

“That’s Lukasz, actually,” Marco laughed. “You know him. Come on- I’ll take you over there. Your friends are there.”

“Mommy?” Lukas was a bit intimidated by everything. His mom knelt down to give him a kiss and assure him that Uncle Marco would deliver him to his friends- the other BVB kids he knew quite well from playdates, matchdays, and birthdays. Noah ran over from the tent the BVB right-back was standing in front of in the basketball costume. He was a little fighter pilot with aviators and everything, and he was a more trustworthy escort for Lukas than his dad. The two kids skipped off with their candy bags, Marco in tow.

“I’ll go with them,” Espen volunteered. She had Spencer and Lucky too. They were even more overwhelmed than their human brother, but far more excited. There was candy and chocolate poison everywhere. The other two girls nodded. Of course you will, the rider smirked to herself. Follow Marco away from his girlfriend? Sure. Why not?

“Where did you get this jacket?” Zoe interjected into her friend’s musing. “Did you like buy it from the HBO costume department? It looks so real.”

“Ebay. It looks good on the outside but it’s totally unfinished inside. These are my own shoes, too. But I’m obsessed with this wig,” Christina bragged while trying to figure out if she could help move the cupcakes onto the plate without knocking over or damaging some part of the decorations. The passageways in the tent were child-size. It was a squeeze for grown-ups, and her jacket was really long and fairly rigid. She couldn’t figure out why Zoe insisted on approaching the coffin from the front when she could walk outside the tent, hold up the black sheeting she had hanging down back there, and access her full-size coffin full of sugar from behind. “Did you do Marco’s face? It looks amazing. So does your makeup, come to think of it.” Girl Protocol dictates that I have to compliment her, Christina reminded herself. In addition to worrying that she didn’t know how to socialize with all the parents she’d encounter at the Halloween block party, she actually put thought into how to behave with Zoe, whom she heard thought it was really, really weird that she helped Marco pick out lingerie for her.

“Marco’s face took forever,” the interior expert laughed, moving out of the way of a kid dressed as a cowboy. The kids moving from tent to tent seemed to care very little about the adults, unless they were popping out of somewhere to scare them. “He can’t sit still. No is better behaved.”

“Did you use Kool-Aid or something for your hair? How did you do the pink and blue? You’re so lucky to have hair the same color as this wig. You can do fun colors all the time.”

“I ordered some temporary dye online. I hope it washes out soon! You should have blonde hair permanently. It suits you. And the braids are kind of sexy,” she giggled. The two friends picked their way through the headstones to get out of the way of other incoming kids. The smell of all the candy was kind of nauseating to Christina, but she wanted to eat one of her own cupcakes and regretted walking away without one.

“I should just wear the wig now and then, like for parties and stuff. The braids can come out. It’s really just a high-quality long blonde wig that someone Daenerys’d.”

“I used to love wigs. I had a whole bunch of them that I wore for fun nights out and things. I still have a black one that I looooove. It’s very...Uma Thurman in Pulp Fiction. Marco hates it. I wore it to dinner once, and he made me take it off before bed. He was like, “I can’t sleep with you with that- I feel like I can’t touch your hair”.”

“That’s what Juan said about this,” Christina laughed. “He was like, “I’m never fu-“ Shit. She made eye contact with the girl with cotton candy hair to see if her mistake registered at all. What she saw was two green eyes peering skeptically back. Is she making that face at me because I just stopped talking mid-word, or because she wants to know why Juan said anything to me at all about sleeping together? I have to finish the sentence or it’s even more awkward, eh? “He was like, “I’d never fuck you with a Game of Thrones wig...””

“Weird.” The skeptical gaze was unyielding. Christina tried to laugh it away.

“Yeah. So who else is here that I know?” She turned 45* to survey the busy scene and hopefully segue away from her misstep.

“Everyone. That red tent over there that looks like a surgical theatre? The coolers on the table are full of boozy punch, not organs. Three down from there has a trash bin full of dry ice and also bottled beer. Someone is passing out marijuana cigarettes too. And they have Jell-O shots in the haunted sweet shop. Oh, did you want to get something to eat before you hit the drinks?”

I guess she’s gonna move on, the Olympian concluded before explaining her disinterest in alcohol. She didn’t actually want to spend the waning hours of sunlight sneaking booze and gabbing with the other Dortmund wives in attendance. As such, she let Zoe take her on a quick loop of the tents to greet people she knew and introduce her to other neighbors, and then she grabbed a cheeseburger and a box of popcorn to share with Lukas.

He was very much the quiet one in the group of players’ kids. His mom found them fishing for floating plastic pumpkins with tiny toys inside with poles consisting of a twig, some string, and a magnet on the end to attract the magnet glued to the top of each plastic pumpkin. They were floating in a kiddie pool. Lukas was watching some bigger kids try, at Noah’s side. He didn’t have any candy in his bag yet. Espen and Marco were watching too, but Espen was like Lukas- not talking to anyone, and Marco was like Noah- laughing with friends. The baby dragon was glad to spot his mom, even if it took him a second to remember that it was her in the wig and the long, pointy-shouldered getup. He was even happier to see that she had food. They took the dogs so that Espen could get something to eat too if she wanted, and picked a straw bale near an inflatable spider to sit on. Lukas’ tail was kind of in the way. He didn’t like sitting on it in the car either. Christina picked him up and slid him back so that it could hang down behind the bale.

“Better?” she asked. He nodded with a mouth full of burger. The dogs were surprisingly stationary on the ends of their leashes. Their human thought they were inhibited by their Avengers costumes, the way some of her horses hated to walk with shipping wraps or boots on. She gave them a couple pieces of popcorn. “So what do you think of all this? Fun, right? Do you like hanging out with the other kids?”

“It’s okay,” Lukas shrugged. His head was on permanent swivel, taking everything in.

“I’ll walk around with you to get candy when you finish that.” He’s not old enough to be embarrassed by his mom, right? You don’t care if your friends see you with your mom at two and a half, right? I wish we could get like one other kid to go with us though. What if he grows up hating kids and always wanting to hang out with the adults, like me? “Which of your friends are here?” Christina inquired. Her little dragon was too distracted to respond, so she started rattling off the names of André’s teammates’ kids that she could remember. He nodded yes or no to some, and ignored others. “Who do you like to play with best? Who’s most fun?”

“Gala.”

“Who?”

“Gala.”

I don’t know who that is. What kind of name does that sound like? We have...Polish, Spanish, German obviously, Greek, Turkish... What if he’s not saying it right?

“Is Gala here?” Mom questioned. Lukas nodded affirmatively. “Where?” He pointed at a bunch of kids walking around with Espen and Nuri’s wife. “Which costu- Err- What is he wearing?”

“Dress. Blue? Blue. There.”

“Oh! Marc and Melissa’s daughter. Ohhhh.”

“She’s nice.”

“Do you want to ask her to walk with us? To find some lollipops and chocolates and stuff? You have to say “trick or treat”, remember?”

“With us?”

“Yeah. Do you want her to come with us?” A very excited Mother of Dragons smiled with anticipation at her beloved dragon, and he blushed before he nodded and wiped his nose. Awwwwwwwwww-I’m-gonna-melt, the rider gushed inside. She immediately wedged the carton of popcorn between her knees and fished around in her crossbody bag for her phone so that she could text André and tell him Lukas had a crush on a princess. Seeing his cheeks turn red and his eyes sparkle a little instead of being glazed over from the overwhelming atmosphere was by far the best part of her day- better than checking herself out in the mirror and feeling awesome in her Daenerys outfit, better than completing the best of the pumpkin designs on a cupcake, and better than realizing Zoe wasn’t going to ask her anything about Juan.

“Lulu Schü has a crush on Marc’s daughter. She’s one of the princesses from Frozen. We’re gonna go ask her out.”

Christina had napkins in her little bag, as usual, and used one to wipe some cheese off her son’s face and make sure he looked his cutest when he was finished eating. Then she shoved the leashes up her wrist, stuffed the popcorn into the bag and zipped it enough to keep the carton upright, grabbed Lukas’ hand, and marched confidently toward a little girl in an Elsa costume with a plastic pumpkin bucket. She started to panic as they got close. Do I ask him to introduce me to her and then I invite her to walk with us? Do I tell him to ask her? Do I find her mom? Is it gonna totally salt his game if I even talk to her? Does she understand English? How does this-

“Gala!” Lukas called, breaking away from Mom to kind of jog the last meter to his friend. The brunette girl with messy pigtail braids turned to see who was looking for her, and smiled and waved when she spotted him. She asked to see in his bag and then showed him that she had some candy in her bucket. Lukas pointed at Christina, so Christina bent down to say hello. Her son introduced her. “This is Mommy.”

“Hi, Gala. I like your outfit!” the queen said to the princess. The princess didn’t seem to understand. “Uhhh...me gusta tu vestido?”

“Gracias!” Gala lit up and actually grabbed Lukas’ arm to tug and lean on it. Then she got distracted by canine Captain America and canine Ironman, who also wanted to know what she had in her bucket. Lukas, the perfect gentleman, introduced them to her too, and pushed them away from her stash. “Gala...quieres caminar con nosotros? Para los dulces?”

Both children seemed alarmed about the questions. One had no idea what Christina was saying, and the other seemed anxious. That one kept looking around for something. Christina deduced that she, like most kids, had been told by her parents not to go off with strangers. The situation was easily rectified, though not without a great deal of personal embarrassment. The rider left Lukas with the group and took the dogs to go find Melissa. She decided to just laugh it up and be cheesy and admit that her son was interested in trick-or-treating with her daughter and ask if it was okay, and if she could go tell her it was okay so that she wouldn’t think her friend’s mother was trying to kidnap her. Melissa was very friendly about it, and laughed along too. She thought it was cute, and joked that it was up to Gala.

It all worked out very well. The kids got bite-sized chocolate bars, tiny boxes of sugary hard candies, suckers, bubble gum, bat cookies, eyeball truffles, Harry Potter wands, cheap scary masks, and hot apple cider. Lukas and Gala took turns leading each other around, holding hands, from candy stop to candy stop and game to game, or little haunted scene to scary tent. They played with some friends as they ran into them too. Christina followed along behind them, and Lukas showed her things he wanted her to see. He got scared by an “It” clown at one point and literally ran for Mommy, but not without making sure his friend got to the safety of the Behind Mommy Region too. She was absolutely in love with being Mommy that evening, and in love with Lukas’ burgeoning personality.

He was a good kid. He didn’t run around screaming. He didn’t pick on anyone, or steal candy. As far as she could tell, he and Gala didn’t even talk to one another, but they managed to communicate and have fun together through sharing and exploring. One saw something scary or exciting and immediately summoned the other to see it. One found a particularly desirable type of sweet and got an extra piece to put in the other’s bag or bucket. When one was unsure about a decoration or sound effect, he or she reached for the other’s hand or arm and they checked it out together. It was all adorable, and impressive. Christina had no idea kids that age could be so smart or resourceful. She had no idea kids at that age had figured out the concept of sharing experiences to make them better, or safer.

André got a lot of pictures, and a video of the two kids bobbing for crabapples. He said falling for princesses ran in the family, and that he was showing the photos to Marc. It all went well until the kids plopped in front of the garage door to watch a Halloween cartoon with their friends and two lap dogs and Christina left them under Espen’s supervision and went back to Zoe’s haunted cemetery. She had Lukas’ bag of candy so that he couldn’t eat it all while he watched the movie, and grabbed a folding chair next to Marco with the intention of going through the haul to pick out what she wanted from it. Not 30 seconds after she sat down and started talking to her old friend, his girlfriend appeared and told him to go find Noah and see if he needed a potty break. He didn’t want to go. She angry-faced him into obeying, and slotted right into his chair as soon as he got up. After a couple of words about how cute Lukas and Gala were together, she got down to business.

“How is the wig holding up? Is it comfortable to wear all night?” she asked harmlessly. The other girl touched her head to verify that her nearly white wig was still in place. It hadn’t moved. Espen was weirdly adept at placing and securing costume hair. Her Red Witch wig, while not as nice and natural looking to begin with, still looked great and stayed in place.

“I forgot about it after a while,” Christina shrugged.

“You know before when you said Juan wouldn’t let you wear it in bed? You meant André, right?”

“Uhh- Yeah.” Why is she asking me this? How awkward. Go away. The rider blushed harder than her little boy did over his friend.

“I’m just calling your attention to it because I don’t want you to slip up and accidentally call André Juan to his face or something,” Zoe explained in a tone and with a demeanor that said whatever she was up to was definitely not for Christina’s benefit. “That’s so awkward, and it can lead to fights, like the one I had with Marco just now when he asked me for a cup for water and called me Espen.”

“Weird.” Christina didn’t know how to respond to that any more than Zoe knew how to respond to her earlier slip up. She did, however, look across the cul de sac to find Espen, as if staring at her would help the situation. Is he not allowed to talk to nannies? Does Zoe know they hooked up? Am I supposed to be responsible for my nanny’s behavior?

“Yeah, it was weird. You have to be around someone a lot, or talk to her a lot, to have her name on your tongue,” the decorator continued. “Especially with a unique name like Espen.”

“You think? Sometimes I go home after a lesson and immediately call Luke “Kyle”, because I was literally just yelling at Kyle.”

“I don’t know. He never returns home from the training and calls No “Mario”.”

Christina just nodded because she didn’t know what else to do. She took her phone out to give herself an excuse to avoid further conversation. Espen has been tetchy as fuck lately, faux-Khaleesi reflected. It’s almost like the filter she normally applies to silence the stuff I’m sure she’s always thought but knew better than to blurt out loud is malfunctioning. Is it because she’s all up in Marco’s DM’s again or something? I can’t picture him cheating. I can’t picture him cheating with my nanny, above all. She’s not his type. And what’s with Zoe? She goes 0-100 like I don’t even know. Have some chill, girl. Does she think I know of some affair between them and I’m not telling her? This is why I like hanging out with animals and my kid. He’s way cooler than Zoe.

After the Halloween block party, and after assuring Lukas that his candy would be in the kitchen waiting for him in the morning so that he could go to sleep, Christina and her Toy Fox Terriers settled into the beanbag in the basement to watch Chelsea play Roma at the Stadio Olimpico. Human had bowl of steamed veggies and grilled chicken. Dogs had new chewy pig tails. Chelsea had a shocker.

“I don’t get why everyone in front of the ball is just standing around. It’s so static. It’s like you only know how to play on the break. No one is making runs,” Christina explained to her personal Blue, Juan, from the comfort of her bed while he rode a bus to the airport. “What the fuck is the point of Alvi if not to make runs? Why do they have you on the ball in midfield instead of up there making runs? Why don’t you have Schü? That’s what he was good at for Chelsea. Or- You know what? Why not play Marcos on the wing but as an actual winger? Let Rudiger play behind him. Four-four-two. Azpi, Gaz, David, Rudiger; Pedro, you, Baka, Marcos; Eden, Alvi.”

“I’ll pass that along to the manager.”

“Please do.”

“He’s in a great mood,” Juan told her sarcastically. He sounded tired and a little frustrated, but not yet angry. His girlfriend knew the anger would come eventually. His club dropped to second in the group. Atletico de Madrid was looking a whole lot worse and failed to beat minnows Qarabag for the second time, so he needn’t worry too much just yet about getting out of the group stage. Point situation aside, the performance, however, was pretty concerning. It was terrible at both ends, fraught with carelessness, individual errors, and even a lack of fight. It was a perfect storm of failures and deficiencies that could unite players, the manager, and the fans in one unique post-match feeling: disappointment in the players.

“You looked really good in black,” the rider offered as meek consolation.

“We wore the white kit.”

“No I know. I mean in the sweatshirt you had on before the match. I caught the build-up because Lukas passed out as soon as I got him into bed, no story. He had his first date tonight.”

“With who?”

“Marc Bartra’s daughter.”

“Attraction to Spaniards runs in the family, hm?” Juan asked without much inflection.

“Guess so. Am I supposed to be talking a lot and distracting you, telling you it wasn’t so bad and I love you anyway, or some other option I haven’t thought of? ‘Cause it kind of sounds like you don’t want to be on the phone, but you called me...” I swear, being with a footballer should come with a psychology handbook or something, Christina fretted to herself, feeling helpless. It was rare that all of the players close to her were suffering the same football strife. They were divided into just two teams then instead of four, and so the odds on them all going through tough days were shortened when Mario and André joined Borussia Dortmund. She was used to at least one of them enjoying a good run of personal and team form.

“I don’t know what I want, but I always call you on the way home. It’s part of the routine. What are you doing?”

“I’m going to sleep after this. I’m in bed. I was waiting for you.”

“Go to sleep, I guess. I’ll-“

“Juanin-“

“It’s okay. I’m going to sleep on the plane too.”

“Call me when you get up. I’ll send you Halloween pictures.”

“Okay.”

“Love you.”

“You too.”

I wonder who the guys think he’s talking to. He calls his dad after matches too a lot, and his friends can probably deduce that. Surely they speak Spanish. But who is sitting next to him on the bus and who does that person think he just called? Juanin says “you too” instead of any form of “I love you” when he’s not alone. He didn’t call me cariña a single time on that call, so does that mean he’s sitting next to someone who knows he calls me that? Like Azpi? Or was it just a coincidence that he didn’t say it?

Christina had exposure on her mind. The more she thought about it, the less likely Zoe’s line about calling her out about saying Juan instead of André being for her benefit was true. Sure, Marco’s girlfriend had her own agenda in even bringing it up, but it was still curious. Christina worried that she would bring it up to Marco, who would then start asking André questions, which would irritate him and add further hassle to the arrangement for him. She’d leaked vague information about that arrangement to numerous friends, through necessity when they’d already sort of put it together, or to correct a wrong impression, and André didn’t tell anyone. His wife didn’t know he conceded the existence of the triangle to their agent, and he was keeping it from his best friends and his family. Juan’s family knew. Juan’s best friend knew. It was another imbalance and unfairness.

André was already asleep in his hotel room. She didn’t mention anything about Zoe’s comment to him, of course. They spoke before he went to bed, entirely about Lukas’ Halloween experience. It made him happy. It was nice to have something in his life that almost had nothing to do with him but could still make him feel as good as something he did himself. He didn’t have to score goals or win games or get big husband points to glean happiness from his son’s life. And it wasn’t just Lukas’ fun night and his little “date” that made the player feel good inside. He was really fulfilled by Christina’s takeaway. He loved hearing that she had a great mom experience. She sounded so excited and so thrilled about it. It had become quite rare to hear her so positively animated about something other than horses. Her reaction was also kind of adorable. She wasn’t the kind of mother who obsesses over her child every minute of the day, or does everything with him, or shows him off to everyone. Her response to Lukas’ cuteness was sweet, and reminded André why he loved her so much. He loved her heart, and the things that melted it to mush.

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itsiotrecords-blog · 7 years

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They have the whole package– money, fame, and beauty. They seem unapproachable and distant because they seemingly belong to another universe to which we are not granted access. The celebrities sell not only their professional skills, but also their own image. How many times did stars do something just for publicity’s sake? As long as the people from the magazines, TV screens and the YouTube videos are representing them positively, the sale is going well; and even if the feature is negative, any news is good news (it’s when they stop talking about you that you have a problem). That’s why everything that can tarnish the luster of their glamor is kept strictly confidential (same as any of us would do in all honesty). We think celebrities are flying above the social norms and trivialities. However, human as they are, nothing human is alien to them and now and then their dirty little secrets are made public. From secret love affairs and weird sexual fantasies to addiction problems and unusual obsessions, fears and personal hygienic habits– our beloved stars have them all. The famous folks might have thought their secrets would follow them to their graves, but forgot that eventually the truth has to come out. And we have it right here.

#1 Shaquille O’Neal’s Thirst For Blood Having a fetish is not something one should be ashamed of– after all, if consented and not harmful, no practice in the bedroom should be considered vulgar or inappropriate; to each his own, right? Yet, Shaq’s fetish makes him the last person you’ll be willing to share your drink with because the guy uses his mouth for the strangest thing. Some years ago, his former wife, Vanessa Lopez, filed a suit against him claiming “invasion of privacy and intentional infliction of emotional distress”. During the trial sessions, Lopez revealed some disturbing intimate facts about the legendary basketball player. When asked if Shaq had any sexual hang-ups, she said that he’d often perform oral on her while she was on her period. Actually, this is a clinical condition which is called menophilia and is characterized by getting sexually aroused by menstrual blood. The fetish-lovers brotherhood, however, don’t care for the Latin name and call Shaq’s drive simply “bloodhounding”.

#2 Russell Brand’s Secret Box Of DVDs If you thought Shaq’s fetish was weird, check out what Russell Brand does for fun when he is alone at home. The eccentric Brit’s looks and reckless behavior would suggest that he is into kinky stuff. After his break-up with Katy Perry, she went to his place to collect some of her belongings and found a box full of unlabeled DVDs. Katy couldn’t resist the temptation and played some of them. What she saw made her eyes pop out of her head. On the home-made videos, Russell was doing what is called “air sex”– fully clothed, he was heavily pounding an invisible partner. This might seem quite an improbable way of satisfying oneself, but it’s actually a thing, which originated and was first documented in Japan. All in all, it’s like playing an air guitar, only with more moaning and more wriggling involved.

#3 Denise Richards’ Girl-On-Girl Experience Most people are used to thinking that lesbianism is monopolized by robust, masculinized ladies who dress in baggy jeans and know how to use a jigsaw and change a tire. Stereotypes, however, are not what they used to be. Especially the ones linked to naughty preferences and practices! Just look at this drop dead gorgeous beauty, Denise Richards! It’s true that her divorce with Charlie Sheen in 2006 attracted more attention and inspired more headlines than her film roles, but although ten years have passed since then, she keeps on surprising us with curious facts about her intimate life. If you have read her memoir The Real Girl Next Door (which became a New York Times Best Seller!), then it shouldn’t come as a surprise to you that she has had a homoerotic experience. It was during an interview with the infamous radio host Howard Stern that she kind of came out, confessing that “a long time ago” she met this woman through friends, and she felt… curious. They were both curious, in fact. She was reluctant to reveal the name of the person, but what is known is that she is also pretty famous and is, in Richards’ own words, “a beautiful girly girl.”

#4 Sandra Bullock’s Foul Face Care Treatment When it comes to maintaining their seemingly ageless beauty, many Hollywood female stars subject themselves to all sorts of absurdly alternative beautifying procedures. Some of them are very expensive, yet effective if we judge by the appearance of the Desperate Housewives star Teri Hatcher. She regularly takes… wine baths. Others are weird, mildly put, like Demi Moore’s method of detoxing– she lets leeches suck her blood. But what Sandra Bullock does beats them all. Miss Congeniality applies hemorrhoid cream on her face because she believes it makes her skin glow. The other effect of the product is that, when applied under the eyes, it decreases inflammation. In other words, the cream, which is in fact a vasoconstrictor, is supposed to reduce puffiness. Actually, it makes a lot of sense, since hemorrhoids are… well… puffy.

#5 Martha Stewart’s Naughty Texting… And Other Things What can be more shocking than catching a whole nation’s, 71-year old domestic goddess in “inappropriate for her age and social status” conduct? Probably only Kim Kardashian becoming a nun. But, of course, there’s nothing inappropriate about a woman, no matter her age or occupation, participating in some Internet dating, as Martha Stewart confessed some time ago. But, if checking hot guys’ profiles still sounds too innocent to be on this list, how about imagining this hugely successful business woman engaging herself in a threesome and sexting with strangers? She must have been really bored living in that 35,000-square-foot residence on Mount Desert Island to take on alternative forms of entertainment. We don’t know how much of the rumors about her romantic life are true, but she herself has reluctantly disclosed that her intensive sexting once led to an actual one-night stand. Good for you, Martha! You give hope to all women who fear there is no fun time after menopause!

#6 Brad Pitt’s Bad Odor Routine His fellow actors and his closest friends always know, without a shade of a doubt, when Brad Pitt was somewhere before them. The stank he leaves behind is so unbearable that the guy’s armpits should be declared weapons of mass distraction. Reliable sources claim that one of the most desirable men on the planet completely stopped using deodorant and soap years ago. Some blame it on the fact that Brad Pitt has become all green, so instead of all those cosmetic products that damage the environment, he uses a natural portion of lemon, water and apple cider vinegar to get rid of the repelling smell of perspiration off his body. It obviously doesn’t work effectively, as many complain about the smell coming from him. Not long ago, his Inglourious Basterds co-star Eli Roth shared some inside the set info, “When he was sweating and didn’t have time to shower, he’d just take a baby wipe and rub his armpits with it.” Our advice: Do it more often, Brad! A wipe now and then won’t harm a forest!

#7 Scarlett Johansson’s Back Seat Fantasy This classy hotness surely appears in millions of men’s dreams. Now, her male fans from around the world have been given another incentive to further improve the quality of their dreams featuring the 32-year-old actress and model. Johansson has recently disclosed that her greatest turn-on is doing it in the back seat of a car. “To me, having sex in a car is sexy, and if I have to think of doing something kinky and crazy, I’ll definitely go for the back seat.” That’s it, people, the mystery’s revealed, and if you get lucky to be around Scarlett one day, do not try to seduce her with expensive jewelry, or fancy meals and wines. Just offer to give her a ride in your car! And who knows? You may get lucky.

#8 Keith Richards’ Weird Act Of Remembrance To His Dad Nobody who started their career in the music business in the 1960s, and I mean nobody, has remained untouched by the glorious days of sex, drugs and rock n’ roll. This is especially valid for the musicians of the legendary rock bands, most of whom have admitted to having consumed all kinds of substances in their time. But none of those are as bizarre as the one Keith Richards of The Rolling Stones is said to have sampled. In 2007, NME magazine revealed that the 72-year-old guitarist once mixed his father’s ashes with cocaine and snorted… him. The veteran of drug marathons is convinced that his father wouldn’t have objected at all, and adds that “he went down pretty well.” Years later, Richards now realizes that being still alive after decades of drug and alcohol abuse is pure luck, and he advises others not to follow in his steps. And definitely to abstain from snorting their parents!

#9 Matthew McConaughey’s Food Fetish Food can be hot not only smeared all over the body of your naked girlfriend who is waiting for you to eat her up. The 47-year-old Oscar winning actor sometimes has to stop eating because he enjoys food so much that he literally becomes aroused. If you wonder how he maintains this super fit slender body of his given that he likes eating that much, the answer is simple– the guy prefers to go hungry than to get turned on. Just imagine how embarrassing it must feel being in a fancy restaurant and get a huge boner over a dish of lobster tails with garlic and chili butter! The actor himself once said to Britain’s InStyle Magazine that when he savors something that feels good on his palate, he gets tingles down his spine which can be so forceful that he needs to stop eating if he doesn’t want to lose himself in blissful ecstasy. Another fetish the star admits to have is the smell of suntan lotion; the one with coconut fragrance draws him the most. “That smell brings back the sweetest memories of women in bikinis,” McConaughey says.

#10 Megan Fox’s Dysfunctional Toilet Habit You look at this girl and you say to yourself, “Wow, she is so perfect that I doubt she is really human!” Well, the devastating truth is that the 30-year old actress and model is not only of flesh and blood, but she is also one of those people you’ll probably find disgusting to live with. She might be a global heartthrob, but as regards her hygienic habits, there’s room for improvement— a lot of it. The Transformers babe very often forgets to flush the toilet. And not only in her own home, but also in other people’s houses! She must realize how repulsive this is because not once or twice has she admitted in interviews that she is horrible to live with. Besides being negligent about her going-to-toilet routine, she is also very messy. “My clothes end up wherever I take them off.” Well, Megan, sweetheart, although you kill in a bikini, we must say, being that untidy is definitely far from sexy!

#11 Robert Pattinson’s Bad Hair Day Every Day It came as a surprise to those who know of Robert Pattinson‘s problematic personal hygiene when he became the face of Dior Homme Eau. Was it a joke? After all, the star from the Twilight series is famous for not being a big fan of showering. He once didn’t wash his hair for six weeks in a row! “I don’t really see the point,” he says. “If you don’t care if your hair’s clean or not, then why would you wash it?” Solid logic, but still, it remains a mystery how he manages to look so awesome and well-groomed. His sex appeal is something the crew members working with him on a set in Vancouver obviously don’t care about as they can’t stop criticizing him. As one of the anonymous insiders put it, “He stinks. I mean, it’s awful. He never showers, and it drives people on the set crazy.” So much for the cool vampire appeal!

#12 Harry Styles’ Double Trouble Harry Styles from One Direction has four nipples! Of course, it’s not particularly a dirty secret one needs to hide, but to some it may sound like something you wouldn’t exactly brag about either. However, girls thought the two extra nipples looked just great on Harry’s tanned torso when in 2012 paparazzi caught him sunbathing on the board of a luxury boat in Australia. Despite his genetic defect, the 22-year-old English singer doesn’t seem embarrassed at all. Actually, whenever asked about it, he likes to joke that the extra nipples might have belonged to a twin brother, who didn’t make it to the world but left him his nipples as a form of legacy. Probably because Harry finds stripping so liberating (as he claims), his fans think he is dreamy– four nipples or not.

#13 Thora Birch’s Family History In “Showbiz” Nobody can choose their parents and, one way or another, we all have a past we cannot just erase and pretend didn’t happen. Thora Birch‘s professional path was pretty much mapped out from before she was born, as both her parents were kind of in the show business. Indeed, she started acting as a child and even won an award for Best Young Actress Under Nine Years of Age, but her breakthrough role came with the Oscar winning film American Beauty, in which her performance was applauded both by the critics and the audience. Her parents must be very proud of their daughter’s achievements, although the movie in which they both appeared in 1972 is no less unforgettable and covered in more glory than American Beauty. That movie is none other than the adult film classic Deep Throat, and Jack Birch and Carol Conners, Thora’s mom and dad, are former stars of the industry.

#14 50 Cent’s Shameful Bankruptcy It must be really humiliating for someone who has built one’s career on the classical attributes of rap music (i.e. money, bitches, furs, and fast cars) to go bankrupt. And be forced to hide it! In 2015, the former hottest rapper out there filed a statement of his financials in Connecticut bankruptcy court. From the statement, it became clear that Curtis Jackson drained a $25 million fortune just in a few years’ time. The rapper claimed his bankruptcy was a result of some bad business investments (and following lawsuits), but the truth cannot be concealed– back in his best days of fame and glamor, the man kept throwing money around like a maharaja. Although he owned money to creditors and lost a scandalous lawsuit, which stripped him of another couple of millions, 50 Cent kept posting pictures of himself buried in piles of money. When the court asked him to explain this unexpected wealth, he responded it was all fake money. Yeah, as if!

#15 Daniel Radcliffe’s Booze Addiction How time flies! Year after year, we have been so engulfed in following Daniel bringing the magical character of Harry Potter to life that we somehow failed to notice when the child star grew up. And the fact would have continued to escape us if it hadn’t been for his confession that he had a drinking problem, which, however, he beat in 2010. The actor revealed that he’d sometimes show up on the set of Harry Potter still drunk from the night before. In an interview for The Guardian, he said he turned to alcohol to cope with the pressure of fame and potential failure. Although it sounds like a big cliché, it’s actually a common practice among child stars to embrace bad habits. The examples are quite numerous– Lindsay Lohan, Drew Barrymore, Mary-Kate Olsen, Macaulay Culkin… This is how Radcliffe explains the inclination of the young celebrities towards alcohol and drugs, “It’s the pressure of living with the thought, ‘Oh, what if all these people are saying I’m not going to have a career? What if they all are going to be laughing and I will be consigned to a bunch of “Where are they now?” lists?”

Source: TheRichest

#IoTRecords

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laureviewer · 7 years

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My Year in Pictures: 2016

Having realised I posted so little last year, it’s time to get back into it with a lovely little memory post - my year in pictures, once more!

So in January we had just got back from travelling and had Christmas back in England, so really very little happened as we were very tired and broke and searching for jobs. But we saw our lovely friends who we’d missed loads over the last four months - I will always be grateful for those who stick around for us to come back to.

Gacy? Storge?

In February, we did what we do every year - make sure we don’t go out on Valentine’s Day because of the ridiculous prices and busy-ness, and went out for dinner for an anti-Valentine’s instead. 2 for 1 cocktails are fun when one of you has to drive ;)

George, Stacey, James and I (AKA Universally Challenged) lost at the pub quiz in the Comrades Club, though we really won as coming dead last means you get FOOD.

Tash, Beth and I also met up for Beth’s birthday, when we went to Soton for the ultimate student night in Jester’s - that student club where you have to wear old shoes because God knows what crap you’re going to get from the sticky floors in there.

In March, I took THE PLUNGE. One I had been wanting to take for years. I got a tattoo!! My little Mantine is on my left thigh, happily swimming around like the manta rays we swim with in Fiji on our round-the-world trip (though he is a little smaller than the ones we met). It was sore but not as bad as I thought… though doing it on your ribs like I thought I wanted originally might be a different story. This is a photo of it on the day:

And how could George, Stacey, James and I pass up a Misugo’s and Creams?

God knows what we did in April, other than watching Eurovision with Alec… where a face swap meant that a celebrity turned up out of the blue!

In fact, April (or really March 30th) saw me start my new job with the Haulfryn Group as a Marketing Executive, where I still am today.

In May, Beth came up to see me, and we took a lovely summery walk around Virginia Water Lake.

Then James and I made sure we went to Comicon in London, where we finally got to meet our idols, the Yogscast & Hat Films! They really were lovely, especially their man man Lewis, who made sure to talk to us for ages despite the hours-long queue behind us!

In June, Stef and I showed our mutual love/obsession with sushi by having a sushi-making session (though I may have got a bit tipsy and got impatient with all the fiddly rolling!).

For those of you who remember (or care) the Queen turned 90 in June, so at work we had a ‘dress like a royal’ day. I won and my fellow Marketer/graphic designer Hannah (AKA Kate Middleton) came second!

July marks the second half of the year, and also when my year started to pick up. That always seems to be the case with me - I do so much more exciting things in the second half! Though nothing could top my 4 months travelling, I’m sure.

James and I took advantage of my company being the owner of holiday parks throughout the UK and took a trip down to Paignton, Devon, to stay in a luxury lodge, relax, and see his lovely cousins who live down there. We even had a hot tub!!

We also finally met his cousins’ hairless kitties, who are actually gorgeous and not weird like so many people think about hairless cats. They were so friendly, though it is a bit weird stroking something without any fur! The female with a little bit of fur is named Lumi, and the completely bald male is Kuro (photo credit to Elise Preston for the latter).

Those eyes though.

James and I also took advantage of the lovely scenery around us and the hot Summery days to play Pokemon Go, as it had only just come out then!

I was also reunited with my uni girls again in Shoredich (2 out of 3 of them) and we had a lovely time, eating delicious street food and catching up (dat oversized bag wow)!

My nephew also turned 1 on the 16th of July, so my sister had a birthday party for him.

In August I saw the girls (and Freddy!) again at a Hong Kong Drinking Team gig in London; perfect location for all of us to meet up!

I also took time off work to spend time with my little sister Harriet at the beach…

…had more sushi and plum wine with Stef at Mikado’s…

…and saw the girls (all of them this time) again in London!)

Also in August, James and I took a day trip into London to take advantage of Harriet’s Merlin pass!

We had crocodile and ostrich burgers at Shaka Zulu (a cocktail, burger and chips for £10 in the middle of London, whaaaat?) and then went onto Maddam Toussards - somewhere I’d never been, but had wanted to ever since seeing loads of them dotted around countries you’d never even think they’d have them on our travelling adventures.

We met loads of celebrities there too #blessed.

With that chaotic month over, September didn’t slow down that much, with our friends Rosie and Josh having a leaving party before they jetted off to South America to do some travelling.

See my Facebook timeline for an amazing video of Josh’s dancing!

My sisters and I also took my dad out for a late Father’s Day trip into London to again take advantage of Harriet’s Merlin passes - we went to the London Dungeons and the Aquarium! The Dungeons were brilliant, having not been there for ages, - of course my dad pointed out every inaccuracy, and Amelia being pregnant meant she couldn’t go on the little rides they had in there, haha!

Beth also came down to go to one of James’ gigs…

…and I was sad to have to move offices in September, as my commute would be slightly longer and I’d miss reading by the beautiful Thames on my lunch breaks.

October saw Stef turn 23, and we had a big house party over her’s, which was great fun! Sam debated heavily with her mum, we took some great photos, and I saw Laura again for the first time in nearly 2 years. ^-^

We also went back down to Devon to see James’ cousins again…

…went to MCM again and met Tomska, another of our Youtube heroes…

…and finally I went down to Soton to go with the girls to Oceana for Halloween! We had such a good time at predrinks together in our posh little hotel rooms.

Sadly, James’ gran passed away at the end of September. However, she very lovingly left her home to James, and so we had spent the whole of October and November doing it up, so that we could finally live together after 7 whole years of being together. It took weeks of painting and sorting and carpets and quite a bit of our savings, but it was totally, completely worth it, just to be finally living together after so long.

In November, our lovely neighbour, Joe, installed our shower for us and put up the beautiful splashboards that we picked in a stunning slate colour.

November marked our 7 year anniversary - can you believe it?!

So, at the end of the month we went to the Ice Bar and Winter Wonderland, both of which we’d never been to before, so it was lovely and a completely new experience, going around one of the biggest Christmas markets in the UK.

And what anniversary would be complete without sushi…

Weirdly, PM Theresa May came to our work on Friday to open our new Maidenhead offices, being the constituent for Maidenhead. She had her funky shoes on and looks suitably confused. This may be when one of our managers asked “Is Brexit actually going to happen?”

December was SUCH a busy month. Not least because James and I FINALLY MOVED IN TOGETHER!! My cats tried to sabotage our efforts however by camping in my last pile of dirty laundry…

We moved in on the 2nd of December, and due to our efforts of the previous couple of months, it very quickly felt homely and cosy. We bought 2 sofas from the charity shop, put up the Christmas decorations, and - most importantly - made sure both our computers fit in the living room for optimal gaming time!

Despite being pretty ill the first week, it was great.

Our good friend Lynne even made us this lovely moving in present!

After all that excitement, I had a very early birthday party on the 10th of December, seeing all my friends in the local pub, The Squirrels.

I also made sure to see the girls from uni one last time this year in London for dinner and drinks.

In the middle of December, Haulfryn had a Christmas party, which I could take James along to. It was really fun - it was a masquerade mall in Reading, with a three-course meal and wine, as well as acrobats and other acts to keep as all entertained, and a casino for James to try his luck! Having been at Haulfryn for almost a year now, it’s nice to be able to go to a big event like this.

For my birthday this year, James really went all out. I had no idea what he had planned - only that we were going to London, and I had to wear my Pokemon dress! So I donned it and off we went.

First he took me to Sticks ‘n’ Sushi in Covent Garden for a late lunch - and as all I seem to eat is sushi you’ll know how incredible that must have been!

Mmmm big decanter of sake.

Then afterwards we got on the tube to Hammersmith, where the London Philharmonic Orchestra were playing… and what were they playing? Pokemon!

It was incredible - they played music from all of the games, telling the stories of the games throughout, and showing a lot of the game footage on their screen. It was incredibly nostalgic, amazingly well done, and even if you aren’t a fan of Pokemon, the Philharmonic are obviously incredible, and so the music was flawless.

I couldn’t have asked for a better (or geekier) birthday. Thank you James.

On the 23rd, Hong Kong Drinking Team had been asked to headline the ‘best of the year’ show in the Facebar, and so I went along - and they didn’t disappoint. While most of the acts were heavy, James and his band dressed up as Christmas characters (James: Santa; Jack: Jesus; Dave: sexy Christmas pudding,#; Luke: Bongle the Bear from Rainbow (he thought it was a reindeer in the fancy dress shop); and Charlie: sexy elf). And boy, was Charlie a sexy elf. They did Santa Baby and Charlie was especially camp. My favourite gig of theirs for the whole year!

Christmas was incredibly special this year, as for the first time James and I didn’t have to balance our days - we were just together. As cheesy as it sounds, it was magical!

For Christmas Eve, we went to a onesie party up a the Squirrels to see in the big day.

Christmas Day saw us opening our stockings together, and then going to the Squirrels for Christmas drinks.

Afterwards we had a lovely Christmas dinner with the Skinners and a chilled out evening.

On Boxing Day, after seeing my Mum and Amelia, James and I had my dad and Harriet over, as my dad hasn’t had a family Christmas in a few years. It was great - we played Cards Against Humanity (which my dad loved!), I cooked, and James’ parents came over late afternoon.

The last few days of the year were just as exciting. On the 30th, it was the Squirrels’ landlady’s birthday, and so we had an 80s night up the pub!

James also met Jess’ South African boyfriend Adrian, and now I’m worried about us staying together… they have a proper bromance going on!

Seeing in the New Year was just as great, with karaoke, dancing, and lots of booze.

And lastly, as I put on a bit of weight travelling and got out of my fitness regime, I took up running this year rather than paying for the gym. It’s amazing how much more you want to exercise when you don’t have to travel as well! I smashed my distance goal for the year, and running has now become part of my lifestyle as well as an easy way to keep healthy.

Thank you 2016, it’s been an incredible year. Here’s to the next - the first one of me being a ‘proper’ adult, responsible for a home. Gulp.

#2016 #icebar #love #moving #yearinpictures #year in review #friends #life #personal post

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