#i love how she already has a fan art of herself wearing this sweater as her insta profile pic

[portraitdelajeunefilleenfeu]

jodie.. honey... this is gay af

#jodie comer #villanelle #it’s been a minute since i posted about her but... #i love how she already has a fan art of herself wearing this sweater as her insta profile pic #seriously #gay #she’s almost melting me and getting me to like her again #1013

[creativeashproductions]

When Fate Intervenes // Luke Patterson

IN WHICH: Fate intervenes with a trio of musicians on the night that was supposed to be legendary. Fate puts the reader with a special ability that may or may not be able to save them. Fate puts a clairvoyant, an accidentally upsized pizza and thirteen year old oddly obsessed with a rock band.

Warnings: Swearing, food poison, death, and fluff

Words: 2.8k

A/N: Time to get rid of some fic ideas from my TOO LONG of a list. It’s Julie fault, she keeps encouraging each fic idea I tell her.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX/ASK PLEASE!

Masterlist

The Orpheum, 1995

The line up comprised of countless girls wearing homemade band shirts for the new band performing. Your little sister, at thirteen years old, had pleaded for weeks if not three months to go watch it. It was odd since she was more in the pop scene than the rock music. Your parents would never let her go to the rock show at night, so it was you or no show. It took a promise of doing your chores for an entire month and her dessert for two months. That was why you stood beside Harper among the fangirls while you clicked through the camera you’d saved up for years.

“I’m so excited.” Harper buzzed dancing on your feet as the time on her watch dwindled down more and more.

Your eyes flitted from the screen to the ball of energy you called your little sister, “I can tell. Which one do you have a crush on?”

“Reggie. He’s the bassist and so fucking-sorry freaking cool.” Harper gushed, “A good portion of the fans are obsessed with the lead singer Luke. Bobby is the rhythm guitarist, and he’s a ladies man, but he’s sweet about it.”

“And you’d know that how?” You questioned letting go of the camera around your neck. Your e/c eyes meeting her matching pair of irises; well yours were a bit more vibrant.

“I just know.” Harper retorted before beaming as she roughly poked the pin she’d made herself, “This represents all of them. Red for Reggie’s plaid shirt he always has, orange for Bobby’s love of oranges, yellow for Luke’s energy and pink for Alex because he loves the colour!”

The pin had their band design with Sunset Curve on it with the words outlined with a sunset made up of red, orange, yellow and pink just as Harper had pointed out. By far, it was her best work, but that was expected from an art student at Los Feliz High School. An art school for artists and performers. You attended for photography and creative writing just as Harper attended for art.

“That might be your best work Harps.” You complimented your little sister who shivered in the cool night breeze. You didn’t even think about tugging off your warm jacket to place on her shoulders.

You’d rather be cold than your little sister no matter how much you fought with each other, the Y/L/N siblings had each other’s backs no matter what.

“Thanks.” Harper murmured, leaning closer, “So do I meet Reggie?”

Your eyes widened slightly at her subtle goading to a part of your life was cinematic. It was a piece of you that very few people knew about, only your parents and Harper. Like most of the women in your paternal lineage, you carried the ability to foresee events in the future. A clairvoyant.

“Harper!” You scolded the young teenager who blatantly was just over-excited to see the band she’d been talking about constantly.

Harper’s cheeks turned a cherry blossom pink under the crappy lighting from the marquee sign. Even in the light, you noticed the changes in her face as she matured into a young woman, her cheeks while still full didn’t have that baby cheek look now. You saw a stubborn zit that you could see under the makeup that didn’t entirely match her skin tone. It caused an ache in your heart to know that soon she’d have the experience of heartbreak.

“Sorry!”

“You told me these guys are my age. Need I remind you that you are thirteen? If anyone older than thirteen makes an advance I’ll put my softball skills to the test.” You sternly informed the shorter girl with the pout that screamed rebellion, “Just be a kid Harps.”

“Like you said Y/N, I’m thirteen. I’m not a kid anymore.” Harper dropped the attitude to adopt a more mature soft tone. You could see the tinge of sadness in her eyes at losing the part of life where it was easy.

“I know. I can wish you’ll stay that annoying little kindergartener that stole my clothing.” You chuckled, “You’ll always be the Stephanie to my DJ.”

The two Y/L/N siblings momentarily glanced around before hugging as quickly as possible, they still had reputations to uphold. Had you been actually paying attention, you and Harper would have noticed the commotion from the people behind you.

As you and Harper had the sweet moment, the very band performing had raced out the alley into the street. What brought you back to the surroundings was the pizza boy delivering the pizza box to you. 

“Wait, we ordered a small!” You exclaimed finding the boy holding an extra-large pizza. You only received a shrug in response with the right change given back. 

Two things happened with this food mistake, you didn’t have to pay more than what you actually ordered, and you still got the larger pizza. However, the Orpheum didn’t allow outside food, meaning you’d have to force-feed yourself all the pizza or trash more than half. 

“We could shar-” Harper was cut off as a blinding white light became your focal point. Harper knew what was happening by the specific groan coming from your lips.

A nauseating scent of cheap meat, gas and chemicals flooded your sense of smell in the dingy alleyway. It was nighttime with a few people in the general vicinity with a dilapidated table and mismatched chairs on the walls’ edge. A poorly made sign with Sam & Ella’s and going by the vendor selling the hot dogs the name fit. Sam & Ella sounded like salmonella.

From a distance, you couldn’t quite hear the conversation between three male teens, but you had a bad feeling. They all migrated to a ratty couch that had been better days, a rat wouldn’t even crawl on it you swore.

The first boy had slicked back hair with rosy cheeks you dubbed innocent and cute that juxtapositioned his rocker attire. He had polished black leather shoes, pleather if his choice of food was an indication, a leather jacket and a red plaid shirt around his waist. His attention focused on the two guys beside him. In the middle, the boy had the blue hood of his sweater pulled over his messy brown hair as if hiding. Nothing stood out about him, and it seemed like that was intentional. On the other side, the last one was the tallest with his blonde hair hidden by the backwards black hat. A distressed dark grey jean jacket open to proudly display his pink hoodie. Each one wearing black pants and adorning rings.

“This is awesome, you guys. We’re playing the Orpheum!” The middle boy joyfully spoke head in the clouds instead of the questionable surroundings. He arguably had the loveliest smile you had ever seen, and his friends had nice smiles at that as well.

Yet even if this hadn’t taken place, however, it still felt like you were intruding on something incredibly private, “Why am I being shown this?”

Your question went unsurprisingly unanswered.

“I can’t even count how many bands have played here! And then ended up being huge!” He happily sunk into the back of the couch, thinking of all the bands he had CDs to in his room, “We’re gonna be legends!”

“Oh.” You breathed as you caught a whiff from the boys that quickly gave you the understanding of why you saw this. You could only smell what you had dubbed as death, the scent unchanging from the first time you’d encountered it.

The death stench accompanied a clairvoyant vision if the object of your vision was sick or about to die. The first time you encountered, it was a vision of two cars colliding, the sound of shattering glass and crunching metal, the scent of burning flesh overpowering the milder stench. The next morning school was cancelled after a teacher died in a car accident on the way to work.

“Eat up, boys. ’Cause after tonight, everything changes.” The only vocal one continued with his two friends silently listening. The trio toasted their food together.

“No!” You exclaimed as each boy took a bite. You held your breath, hoping that the inevitable in the vision wouldn’t occur.

Unfortunately, it was right away the warning appeared. The blonde one the most affected, “That’s a new flavour.”

“Chill, man. Street dogs haven’t killed us yet.” The leather jacket guy proudly spoke, the least one concerned. 

Even the guy in the middle was concerned but ultimately continued eating.

“Stop it!” You shouted, but it was no use. As with every vision, you had the potential to stop it from coming true, but while in the vision, you couldn’t interact with the people or surrounding. No matter how much you wanted to slam the food out of their hands.

But one thing sends shivers down your spine. The one in the middle made direct eye contact with you. Something that had never happened before nor to any previous clairvoyants. He kept eye contact as he slowly grew sicker and sicker.

The three boys had no chance as the ambulance rushed to the alleyway to save them. The paramedics weren’t as quick as the vendors who’d already packed and fled to protect their own hides.

You watched as the paramedics did everything in their power to save the young teenagers with everything possible. Just like Luke sang in their last song, the boys felt the darker version of an electric hammer to the heart. The clocks freezing in place as they each took their last breathe in the oddest of deaths. You saw the blonde guy die painfully first before followed by the formerly hooded one, the terrified cries of the last one haunting your phantom ears.

How did three healthy teenagers die on the same night of the exact nature within minutes of each other without one surviving? Maybe it had something to do with the hot dogs chilling in the liquid that was a cesspool of bacteria compounded with tained condiments from battery acid.

You roughly came out of the vision shaking and pale-faced frantically scanning the surroundings. Harper had a grip on the extra large pizza box while the other tightly held yours to ground you in the present.

“Are you okay?” Harper softly questioned with the panic hidden inside her body. Harper knew that this vision had been one of the bad ones. The haunted look in your eyes hinting towards death in the near future.

“We need to go.” You frantically replied, grabbing the pizza that would hopefully have a hand in saving three hopeful teens.

Your gym teacher would be proud of the distance diminished and speed you kept towards the area that would further shatter you. Foreseeing death and sometimes unable to stop it always had a nasty impact on you. 

“Where are we going?” Harper yelled, “We’ll miss the doors opening!”

“We’ll miss them if we don’t hurry up!” You shouted back at the disgruntled little sister but at the moment that didn’t matter. 

What mattered was three hungry teenagers about to gorge themselves on death dogs if you didn’t make it in time. It appeared for the first time you’d actually manage to stop the deaths, unlike the previous three times. 

“-tonight. Everything changes.” The chill-inducing rasp helped navigate you to the disgusting couch. Your cold hand slammed the hotdog from the blonde’s hand, the shocked reaction halting the other two.

“Don’t...eat...it.” You heaved bending over at the waist to catch your breath. Wheezing sounded from your little sister as the running and seeing her favourite band up close settled.

“Excuse me! I paid for that hotdog!”

“You’d be buying yourself death literally. Your dreams of playing the Orpheum would be extinct.” You sighed, chugging the water from the pocket of Harper’s backpack for a few seconds before the owner took it back.

“Okay, look I don’t know how you found us but-”

“You don’t have to believe me ’cause I sure as hell wouldn’t have but don’t jeopardize your dreams. Look my little sister wanted to see your show so I brought her and we ordered a pizza. They fucked up the order by giving us an extra-large pizza. We’ll barely eat a quarter of it, and the venue is strict on the rules.” You rambled using tour hands to elaborate the story before Harper roughly elbowed your ribs, “Ow!”

“Oops.” Harper faked a sugar-sweet smile for your benefit as the interaction with the three musicians slowly dove into embarrassment.

“-sorry. You’d be doing us a favour by not wasting our money and food. What do you say?” You hesitantly asked the trio who didn’t speak vocally; their eyes meeting in a silent conversation.

Reggie sighed as he begrudgingly dropped his hotdog in the bin near the couch, “Pizza outranks street dogs even if the dogs are heaven and to die for.”

“Literally.” You grumbled forcefully pushing the obscenely large pizza box into the middle one’s stomach, “I’m Y/N, this is my little sister Harper.”

“Hi.” Harper shyly waved with cheeks turning a dust pink concealed by the dark of the alleyway. The boys’ lips all quirked at the sudden contrast from the confident sister slamming her elbow in you to the bashful teen.

“I’m Luke. This is Reggie and Alex.” The hooded one, Luke, introduced his bandmates as best he could with his hands occupied by the pizza box.

Without the threat of death by the hot dog, you actually took the time to look at Luke with appraising eyes. His eyes were like oceans of blues, greens and even a brown that both exhilarated you; the desire of studying them not surprising. His smile outshone the sun on the hottest day in August.

“Nice to meet you.” You informed the trio with a beaming smile that matched your starstruck little sister. The interaction gave you the opportunity for immense and untiring future teasing on the teen that daydreamed of the bassist. 

You had to admit the trio were incredibly attractive.

“Come back to the dressing room. We can eat there out of the cold.” Alex courteously invited the two formerly strangers. His blues sharing his pure intentions to repay you for saving their lives and offering pizza. 

“Of course.” Harper nodded her head with her eyes barely meeting the ones of the boys. The shell was broken when Reggie piped up.

“That’s a really cool pin! Where’d you find it?”

Gated Community, Los Angeles, 2002

An off-tune humming filled the modestly sized home in the suburbs of Los Angeles, California with the sound of water splashing. Doing the dishes was a mindless chore that typically didn’t bother you, but the pain in your lower back protested. You’d have used the dishwasher, but the thing was perpetually breaking down. Didn’t seen essential to replace when washing dishes by hand was just as productive.

Or it was when you didn’t have the extra weight in your midsection, a symbol of your love with your husband. In fact, you would have avoided doing dishes if you hadn’t just used the last clean plate and glass at breakfast plus Luke hadn’t been home in the previous week.

Sunset Curve had gone on a press tour for the upcoming album and tour planned for next year.

“Oof.” You moaned as the little rascal once more hit your bladder, “Are you breaking electric guitars in there?”

“Not a soccer player?”

“With you as their father? Not likely.” You snorted as the sudden appearance of Luke became clear. You hadn’t been expecting him, “I missed you. We missed you.”

As had it since you first told him Luke’s warm hand came to rest on the front of your swollen belly. In a short month, you’d be cradling the newest member of the Patterson family with Luke singing the lullaby he solely made for baby P.

“Still haven’t given in?” The lead guitarist teased you with a beaming smile splitting his face, “Go sit down. I’ll finish the dishes.”

You didn’t need to be asked twice. 

“I’m not abusing my clairvoyance to foresee our child’s gender, name and appearance.” You pointed one finger in his direction, “I refused Bobby’s pleading to see which models he would bed. The only time I did something like that was to reassure Alex that he would fall in love with a lovely guy.”

Luke’s heart burst with sheer adoration at how easily you had sunk into the friendship with the band after that one night. A night that had given birth to a friendship that slowly evolved into a romance and marriage. To this day, the group got together as much as possible.

“I love you.” Luke chuckled, “Even-”

“-if I came into your life like a completely crazy person?”

“We’re all a little crazy.”

Your house surely would be when a little tornado with Luke’s energy took over the home you’d made with Luke. The very home you would have more children and grow old together until soon you held your grandkids on your laps.

Tag List (PLEASE SEND AN INBOX TO BE ADDED! I CANNOT GUARANTEE YOU WILL BE ON THE LIST VIA POST COMMENTS!)

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#luke patterson imagines #luke patterson x reader #julie and the phantoms imagines #luke patterson x y/n #julie and the phantoms #luke patterson #charlie gillespie imagines #sunset curve #jatp luke #jatp fanfic #luke jatp #caitsy and ash productions

[my-intrests-are-yours]

Confessions After A Coffee Date

Hey @fan-art-ic, I participated in the @ducktalessecretsanta2020 event and got you! I wrote a Drakepad winter date just for you, I hope you like it. 

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. We made it through the year and I’m happy to give you this gift. 

Drake hated the winter season. It makes crime-fighting all a bit harder and makes not crime-fighting even worse. Drake hates the cold and if this was any other day he’d be hiding under his blankets seething at every degree drop. 

On any normal day, Drake would be, what Gosalyn likes to call, a hermit, but it isn’t any other day. 

Launchpad is spending the holidays with us and he wanted to meet up at a quaint little coffee shop downtown. Drake knows Launchpad has a family, two, in fact, so he’s quite confused why he’s not with any of them. Not that he minds, of course, Drake is always grateful for anytime the pilot could spare for the two of them. 

He tries not to think too hard about why that is. 

A gust of winter wind sent a shiver down Drake’s spine. People are hustling and bustling on the sidewalk beside him. Cars are honking and everywhere he could hear ten different Christmas songs blasting. 

Drake’s not a miser but he never really got the hype around the holidays. That was until Gosalyn came into his life. Losing her Grandpa this year had dampened her holiday spirit a bit. It wasn’t until Launchpad came stumbling through the Lair entrance with an armful of gifts and holiday decorations that her mood brightened just a little. 

Drake is amazed at that man. Never as he met someone so wonderful as Launchpad. 

“Drake, Drake, I’m here.” 

The unmistakable voice of his favorite pilot shakes Drake away from his thoughts. 

“Hey, LP,” Drake greeted his buddy. Launchpad stopped for a minute, giving the superhero an odd look. His cheeks are slightly flushed. It must’ve been the weather. 

Launchpad sat down right next to Drake. The pilot’s knee gently brushing on his. The superhero thinks he might’ve caught a virus or something because it got suddenly hotter. 

The pilot calls over the waitress and they put in their orders. Launchpad ordered a cheeseburger with fries and Drake ordered the same. The masked marauder was too busy looking at his friend to even realize what he said. 

Launchpad is not wearing his usual get-up, the mallard notices. He doesn’t have his hat on for once. Has his hair always been that smooth? He’s still wearing his iconic bomber jacket, but he’s wearing a blue sweater beneath it. A purple scarf wraps around his neck. Drake’s not sure why but something about that scarf just fits him perfectly. 

Once the food arrived they started up a conversation. 

“Sorry about the wait. I know you don’t like the cold.” Launchpad apologizes. “I had to go back to Duckburg for something.”

“Don’t worry about it LP.” It warms Drake’s heart that someone knows him this well enough. “I got here pretty early. Gosalyn practically threw me out of the house this morning.” 

“That right?” The pilot was smiling. He’s always smiling when they talk about Gosalyn. Shoot, Drake is smiling too. The little thief had really squirmed herself into their hearts. 

“Yeah, she was all fired up about our lunch.” 

Drake and Launchpad continued for a couple of hours. The food was already gone but the two of them still kept talking. About work, adventures, Gosalyn, and of course Darkwing. It was easy. It was nice. Drake and Launchpad practically see each other every day, but they never seem to run out of conversation. 

Before the two of them knew it, three hours had already passed and the two of them had to get home. Drake had promised Gosalyn he would cook a nice dinner for them.

After paying Drake and Launchpad started making their way back to the lair. He doesn’t really know why, Drake hates the cold, but he insisted that he and Launchpad walk back to the lair. 

“You know,” Launchpad starts drawing Drake’s attention, “I really like talking to you, DW.” 

Drake blushes. 

“I talk a lot with a lot of people. The conversation’s pretty easy for me, but when it's us talking it's way easier than anything I’ve ever done before. The last date I went on was incredibly awkward. We’re friends now, but something just didn’t click.” 

Drake’s whole face is already red. If it was possible it would be redder. Date!? Was this a date? Oh my gosh, this was a date? What am I wearing?! If this was a date I should’ve worn date clothes. Launchpad deserves Date clothes. 

“It’s not like that with you though. We get started talking and we just keep talking. I've been feeling things since Gosalyn came into our lives. And every day I’m out there with you, fighting crime, living the dream, those feelings just grow more and more. When we had lunch, it just confirmed what I already knew.” 

Lunch. He let Launchpad pay for Lunch. He should’ve paid for lunch. Launchpad comes here in the cold dressed up all nice. Takes him out on a wonderful date and he couldn’t have even bothered to pay for lunch!

“Drake,” Launchpad calls out, “I can hear you thinking.” 

Having his name called out like that stops the mounting panic attack in Drake. Launchpad is looking at him so deeply. His smile is kinda happy and slightly scared like Drake could ever hurt him. It melts the Mallard’s heart. 

Drake takes the initiative for once this whole “date” and takes the pilot’s hands on his own.

“LP, I’ve never met anyone as wonderful, as amazing, as kind as you. The day you came into my life was the day everything seemed to turn up brighter. These past few weeks have been amazing and when you came into our home carrying gifts and talking about spending the holidays with us instead of your other families it made me so happy for reasons I didn’t even realize. But… this whole day has been amazing. Lunch has been amazing. Some detective I am because I didn’t even realize how obvious my feelings were.”

Drake is crying a bit, Launchpad is too. He takes a breath. 

“I love you” 

Launchpad couldn’t take it anymore, he was full-on sobbing. He brings Drake into a tight hug. They are gripping each other so tight. It took a while before the pilot could properly form a word. 

With Drake in his arms, he whispers something to his partner’s ear. “I love you, too.” And goes in for a kiss. They don’t know how long they’ve stood there, a few minutes, felt like hours. But once the tears subsided, the two of them walked hand in hand to cook dinner for their ward.

Drake still hates the cold. Never was a fan and never will be a fan. But when Launchpad is on left and Gosalyn saddled up right beside him, the winter chill stands no chance to the warmth his family provides him. 

#ducktales #drakepad #drake mallard #launchpad mcquack #secret santa 2020 #ducktales secret santa #it got a little cheesy but hey what's a little cheese to this mess of a year

[aggresivelyfriendly]

Hello babes!!! OMG, today has been a long week! A wonderful, dream big come true week! HARRY IS SOLO ON THE COVER OF VOGUE! Also, I have a new installment of Tryst for you all based on this 👆photo! Without further ado, I give you...

Scotland!

It's the pose that does it.

She's been so,  mon dieu she hates the moral judgment of the word. But it remains the right one here, in any language. Soo good, since she decided he couldn't give her what she needed, or maybe wasn't ready to, or didn't see her like that. Nothing more than a flying fuck when he got itchy on the road and she was available to scratch.

But here she was, with his encompassing form around her back and his arm causally slung across her collarbone and she could barely keep her lip from between her teeth to smile.

Smile for the camera, Helene. He'd whispered in her ear and she was thankful for their blustery setting the clothing covering her chill bumps.

All day, She'd been trying to keep dry and get some candid shots to go into the vault. Sometimes she wondered why they paid her to take so many images, most of them, a greater preportion than usual, just lived in her computer or Jeff's computer never to be used.

Would they ever release them? To the utter delight and meltdowns of this man's rabid fans.

She gets it, Helene does. What they see in him, she sees it herself often. And she sees more, his dick has made her soul smile on more than one occasion. It didn't start with these libidinous thoughts, it wasn't one of those moments where he was a living lighthouse or hedonism personified. It's the first scene with the imaginary fish and he's having a bit or trouble. He's also cold and wet. Which are two sensations he doesn't love, but seems to include in every damn piece of art he makes. He's throwing the little bean bag onto the rock and it's not meant to be gentle exactly, but he seems irritated, not concerned as you would be for a suicidal fish when you yourself are suicidal. His character at least. Thank god. But his physical discomfort is intruding on his ability to act right now; he's barely holding on. He loses his balance while frustrated and falls into the water, cursing.

Helene will not laugh.

She hides her giggles while they change him. He got his Gucci denim outfit uncomfortably wet. Why would you chose that outfit to go to a watery death? She is overthinking. As always.

He's ready to go again, fresh Gucci down to his drawers, and by the 10th take, he's in the swing.

When Harry nails it, He gives the director and Helene the biggest grin and she's charmed. The lights have turned on and the fog has lifted. He shines.

He is finished with this set up and Helene has just put her gear away. Harry brushes past her to get around a rock and presses an affectionate kiss to the easily accessible top of her head.

"Thanks for coming, Tiny. Know it's cold."

Helene smiles at him, and somebody else with a camera, someone not her, clicks their picture.

It's always weird when she is the subject. She's pretty sure she has more photos with Harry, selfies at least than with any boyfriend she has had, in her life, which flashes before her eyes, with a highlight reel of her beneath Harry, while he turns her around towards the camera.

The arm that was across her scapula, turns her like a top and her stomach flutters with the motion. His motion. His arm has come across her clavicle, like it did in LA, and she comes together like the place in between those bones, a shallow place where her heartbeat is thumping visibly.

She's thrumming.

Not that there is a damn thing she can do about it. He can do about it. Anybody can, they have so much work to do.

The quiver in her chest and bones and betwixt her legs stays with her all day. Through lunch with all the people she's missed on their break, around the lunch Harry's had cooked for them, with all the little flourishes he likes. All the different food needs accommodated, hospitality on show. It's a wonderful midday after a bitter morning, the sun's even peaked through. The whole group brims with happinesss. Helene and her table included, she laughs and kisses Molly's cheek, she's so cute.

She stays away from Harry though, through at least theee set ups, one not involving him where she could see his intention to hover and smell her pent scent. So, she puts distance, physically between them all day, especially when they move on to the shoot at the docks.

She's taking far away shots. It was easier to control the pulse at her center when he was in the loose jumpsuit. Now in the tight sweater vest, where he looks like some movie star from a bygone era, she's struggling.

It's sending her. Fly her to the moon.

So she keeps her distance and captures him from afar. She'd been doing so well.

Still is! She reminds herself.

The day is long because of her longing, but Helene makes it through.

"You coming to the pub." She jumps a bit at his breath near her ear, her hair is stirred by its breeze. She's surprised, she can usually feel his approach 10 paces off.

"No, need my bed." She begs off. She's begging he doesn't press, with those puppy dog eyes and dimples he knows how to wield.

"Really?" He pouts. "Need your company." He insists.

Oh, he's reached for the big ammunition, he's used everything in his arsenal, he's even touching her arm. He turns her again and she knows she going to say yes before he bites his lip and says, "please."

"Qui." She exhales. She'd like to qualify the sigh as resigned, but it's full of breath and melodic.

"Yes!" He presses a kiss to her forehead and squeezes her before he wanders off to gather troops.

So much for distance.

The pub is lovely, if their wine selection a bit limited. She can see why Harry picked this for his fictional island. He has excellent taste and this is so picturesque and any number of stories, real and imagined, could be contained in its Walls.

He tastes excellent.

He's across the room holding court. He's a little drunk, and he's just thrown his head back and she can remember the shape of his Adam's Apple on her tongue, and the taste. God the taste of his skin, especially after a show. Her lips would be raw from the salt afterwards, and dual thirsts would greet her in the morning light. Water with something more mineral from his skin.

Helene gulps her wine and tries to tune back in to the English around her. The mix of accents and the still difficult language is enough for her to have to get her mind out of the gutter intentionally to follow along.

Not the gutter, Harry's room.

She's squinting and translating something someone has said in her head and wondering how many times somebody has refilled her glass when another intoxicant fills her senses.

Harry's hand is on top of her head and then sliding down the back of her hair. It's exactly like he does when his dick is in her mouth. But he's usually not grinning like that.

"Tiny!" He's  so jovial when drunk. "This seat taken?"

There is no seat. It's the end of the booth, there is a small amount of brown leather, and Harry wedges himself onto it and picks up her legs, uncrosses them and lays them over his own to make space. He's solved his own problem and worsened hers.

She quirks a brow at him and he just kisses it like it's totally normal she's basically on his lap among all their colleagues. Only in this group he's made close as family would this not look risqué. Only with him. She's thinks only Sarah and Mitch know about them. Know that the 'know' each other. And they aren't on this shoot.

Nobody is looking at them funny, so she had better stop staring at him.

She tears her eyes away, like the wrapper of a condom, and goes back to translating.

It's useless when he starts running his nails along her thighs. She puts her hand on his to stop him, but he just grips her thigh instead.

It is not a step in the right direction. It's only leads one direction for her thoughts. To the way his huge hands look on her tiny body. The way his palm can cover her whole stomach and his fingers reach her honey pot still. She has photographic evidence. Between that thought and the wine, she needs to leave.

"Where are you going?" He looks very sweet, except the glint in his eye. She narrows hers at him.

"My room."

"Already?" He pouts.

"Qui."

"I can't really leave yet."

"I didn't ask you to."

He tilts his chin. "Maybe not out loud." He whispers just under her breath.

She exhales.

"Will you wait up for me?" He looks up through his lashes.

She can't even answer but her head moves up and down like a teabag into hot water in the morning.

She's boiling.

He grins. And leans up to kiss her cheek. "What room?" He murmurs. She knows he could find out if he wanted, but it would also alert the front desk, which might make it to the media, or worse, a fan with Twitter.

"24" she whispers through the veil of her hair. Pulls away from his tractor beam eyes and smiles at the table. Gives a few hugs and a big wave.

The inn is small, quaint. She's on the second floor, which is the top floor, waiting. Helene's kept her clothes on. The same outfit she has had on all day. Jeans, loose, and a t shirt, her dad trainers. Should she change? She tries to remember what Harry had on at the pub. He had changed a fair few times throughout the day.

She think he was wearing a hoodie, his name emobossed on the breast in some language or another, Gaelic?, and loose light jeans. Dirty vans adorning his feet.

She hopes she ends the night in his jumper, or wakes up and slipes it over her shoulders.

The hours slip away and her eyes have kettlebells attached to them. She's just about to take care of single girl tasks, washing her face and putting on the extra lock when the knock comes.

"I was about to go to bed without you." She leans against the door jamb. She's not purposely jutting her hip.  She's not!

"Ahh," he teases, touches the smudges below her droopy eyes and pulls her blonde hair. "You tired."

"Qui, it's been a long day." She breathes.

"What?" He laughs and pushes her into the room with his hips, "your call time was hours after mine!" He flashes his big green eyes.

"Maybe, but I don't have your stamina." She counters. Harry the athlete raises a brow at her statement.

"I've never had a problem with your endurance."

He let's that lie there, and she can tell both of their mind's are roving over memories of late nights turned into early morning mapping flesh.

"No, I suppose you are right." She goes easy when he pulls her forward and his mouth slides against her like a skeleton key into a waiting lock. She expects the kiss to escalate, but maybe they are both a little tired, exhausted from a long day, while longing for an extended night. His kiss remains deep, full of tingling tongue touches, but doesn't get faster, her back doesn't hit the wall, and there are no stops where she is pressed against or onto furniture.

He has some embedded geography of hotel rooms, because he navigates the suite like the globetrotter he is. They are both fully dressed, and the squeezes and rubs over the fabric are exciting, reminiscent of juvenile contained eagerness. When her knees hit the back of the mattress, Helene decides the adults need to take over and hikes the tucked in button down up and over his head, forgoing the buttons.

The black ink on his golden skin is a trail familiar to her fingers tips and she follows it down, down to the leaves framing his joyful path. She can feel the pressure of his erection on the slide mechanism of his trousers and against the strained teeth tethered together on his zipper. If it wasnt metal, it would unzip itself against the force. She sighs when she pulls him out. His dick makes her so proud every time. She can't imagine what it's like to carry it around.

No wonder he is so self confident, the word cocksure occurs to her and she giggles.

"Are you laughing at me?" He looks down and she's charmed, for all his assuredness, he's still vulnerable. It's why he is so endearing.

"Non," she's got him naked and guides him back to the head aboard. He looks more tired than her suddenly, he had a bigger day, job. She'll keep up the inversion of the evening, she can recall no other time together where she had clothes on while he was naked. "I was just think how much I appreciate your dick."

"And it made you laugh?" Oh he's still a little offended.

Helene will have to make it up to him. She ruts against his lap and takes stock.

He's half mast. Which is a rare state for him, in her experience. She nuzzles into his lap and laps from his base to tip. She can feel the plumping under her tongue and decides that's not quite adequate.

She can fit him all the way like this. It won't last, so she takes advantage and mentally pats herself on the back as she seems to expand her capacity as he swells. Once she can't muzzle her nose into his patch of hair anymore she pulls off with a gasp and looks up to his panting face.

"I wasn't laughing at you," she nods towards his bobbing shafts. "In my head, I thought how I'm proud of your dick, and decided it was the wrong word. But the right feeling." Helene put him back in her mouth with her tongue extended out, and stroked him from her throat to the squirming tip.

He's chuckling now and she smiles with her eyes at him. "You're proud of my dick?" His dimples are the size of salad plates.

"Qui, aren't you?" She flashes her brows while She straddles his lap. She's not sure she's satisfied her mouth hunger for him, but they have all night.

"Well...." He blushes, which makes her giggle. She's fully naked on his bare dick and he's blushing.

"Know you are." She whispers in his ear. "You have every reason to be."

"Mmmhmmm." He could be responding to her statement or her rocking over his lap. If one of them tilted just so....

"You've been cocky!" She emphasizes that by moving her hips to an almost position. "Enough before."

He looks just a touch frustrated.

"Should I show you how proud I am?" She slips the tip in, just the tip. Not quite to the popping point. It's a tantalizing suspension, just rocking while his eyelashes flutter. "Show you why you deserve to be cocky?"

"Mmmmm," he hums, vision now between their legs, mesmerized. "Please." He breathes and looks at her.

"Do we need a condom?" She's not sure how active he's been.

"Not for me." He grabs her hips and tries to push her down, as tantalizing as the pop of a champagne bottle, the moment of jubilant anticipation.

"Better safe than sorry!" she dismounts and grabs a skin. He breathes a breath like he is frustrated.

"Oh, Cherie, ne t'inquiète pas!" She teases and strokes firmly, guiding his foreskin over the sensitive tip. "We're only beginning." He helps her roll it down and lifts her thighs to press against the headboard on either side of him. She's glad it's padded. Harry's done waiting, or being gentle and shy. She can't even acknowledge the pop of their joining she loves, she's too busy catching up to the rough thrust of his pelvis up and into her own. "Merde!"

"Mmmmhmmmm." He hums and catches her lips with his own, a net to butterflies. It's soft, slow and sensual, in opposition to the bruising hold he has on her hips. He can handle her with one of his big hands. The other has found its place on her sensitive nipples. This escalated so fast she thinks the ending will follow the beginning with no middle to enjoy. She was hoping to fuck him slow.

Her hands slide down the headboard, it's coarse beneath her hands in comparison to the hair that fills her hands in the next moment. She pulls his neck back a little roughly. "Wait."

"For?" He keeps working her over his dick and it's compelling, and she loves it, but he's showing her why her makes her proud, and that wasn't tonight's lesson.

"I want to come."

"Good, that's what I want to." He hits her spot unerringly. And she's nearly convinced.

"No, non, on your tongue." She has to forcibly take herself off him. She lifts her knees and places her hands on his shoulders to hoist herself up. It's a favorable arrangement, her legs as long as his torso. "Allez." She suggests and his answer is a smile and the extension of his tongue right up her slit.

Helene has to grab the headboard to stay upright. She knew she was on the way. But how close she was to her journey is even clearer when his hands draw her ass cheeks apart and he's spreading her wetness over both holes while manipulating her clit with his tongue.

When he fits his mouth over her hood, creates suction and licks while fitting two fingers inside her separated by just inches of skin accessing both holes, she clenches without prologue. "Fuck." She rides his face until her orgasm has ridden out its welcome and he pulls his fragrant hand out to aid its twin in holding her steady until she's clutching the headboard and coming against his tongue again. Her wriggling at the over sensitivity only aiding his quest for number two.

She slides down his body slow and she's done, until she remembers her intention when his dripping shaft, wet with her and leaking a few drops for himself, prods her ass. She was gonna run this show, swing her hips like a pendulum so he'd enter a trance like state while inside her, the suspended animation of ecstasy. Helene needed to come so she would be calm enough to do it. To hypnotize him, slow and sweet.

She just needs to control the tempo, bang out a rhythmic unhurried beat on his hips.

It only takes a minor shift in alignment to throw them off their orbit. Send his mercury into retrograde with her pussy. She slides over the tip with ease, she's wet enough that she doesn't even have to work him in like normal. Though it still prickles her nerves with that familiar addictive burn she's only had with him and a few others. Those that pushed her boundaries. She's a globetrotter when she fucks Harry though. Her exhale would be loud if his groan wasn't louder.

"Fuck, Helene!" He looks down again and she decides now that she has given him dinner, he needs a show. Time to mesmerize him.She flexes her pelvis, rounding back and holds the headboard hard to find her beat. It's a slow jam, all the flavor of a samba. She's got a circle like a Ferris wheel and he's stuttering her name like he's afraid of heights but loving the ride.

"Again." Helene demands, her head against his forehead.

"What?" Harry's staring at her motion hard, distracted. Helene stops, she wants his attention, his eyes, his mouth, his dick, every inch of him focused on her, including those inside her. She rides the circle to the top, just his tip inside, and hovers. No other passengers are getting on, she just wants him to admire the view. She clenches and knows he can see it when he shivers.

Helene uses her nose to nudge his gaze up. He looks up, down, up, again. She pulls out enough to nearly unseat him and his fingers dig into her hips. "What?"  He repeats.

"My ñame." She looks him in the eye and presses her panting mouth to his while she slides all the way down, his pubic hair against her swollen clit. "Say my name."

He breathes it out, like a prayer, "Helene!" While she takes them to the top again. "Helene!" He shouts in exhalations when she slams down to his pelvis harder. "Helene!" She swings back up slow, and drops like they've found themselves on a rollercoaster.

By now her name is a chant, "Helene, Helene, helene, fuck Helene!" He's squeezing and staring and licking her lips sloppily and she can tell he doesn't know if he should stop her, try to help her along so they can get off together, or just cum.

He looks desperate to finish.

So she stops, and he looks frantic. "Baby, please!"

Helene shrugs, kisses him and grinds herself against him inside on her spot and outside on begging pleasure zone until she's almost there. She squeezes him rhythmically to keep him ready.

She's almost there. They can hop off this ride together now. So she starts the ascent to the top again, slow circles until he's panting and chanting again, and then it's a free fall ride for them both.

Helene loses her stomach and screams his name in harmony with his chorus of hers.

Their sweaty foreheads rest together, until he is chuckling.

"Quoi?" She catches her breath enough to ask.

"I was just thinking, I definitely won't need a photo to remember this one!"

She feels proud, but she knows there is an image he's forgetting, one that will remind her of this Scottish adventure forever.

Months later, they've found themselves together, like together together, when she comes across it. She posts it, with a longing thank you.

When Harry gets home from set, he's smiling like a Cheshire Cat. "You trying to tell me something?" He shoves his phone at her with the open Instagram.

Helene shrugs. She's feeling proud, even prouder than she felt a year ago.

And she wants to show him.

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #tryst #Scotland #Harry styles smut

[tmnt-mags]

Raphael x Fem!Reader

Reader is April's little sister and meets the turtles through her. I changed the ages and timeline a bit just because I don't feel entirely comfortable writing the turtles as 15 year old kids. SO the turtles are 18 the reader is 17 nearing 18 and april is 27.

Warnings: some mention of parent death, but nothing else!

Part 1/ ??

Im still pretty new at writing fanfic and have only done a few and this is my very first tmnt one. Constructive criticism and nice things only please!

I didn't remember my dad. My mother gave birth to me a month before his death. I didn’t remember him but my big sister April did. She told me everything she could about him, all kinds of stories and old home videos. It's almost like I know him but I don’t. Sometimes it's sad and I wish for nothing more than to have some memories with him, but I’ve had a good life and have a great family. I’ve lived with my sister since our mom passed 2 years ago from cancer. I miss her a lot, but I like living with April and I love our apartment.

We both have a deep love for media. She is a reporter with Channel 6 and I started making youtube videos right around the time mom died. It was like a video diary back then and has since turned into something completely different, though there are the occasional personal diary type videos.

I was wearing my favorite oversized sweater. It was a deep forest green and nearly reached my knees. It was worn and a bit tattered in some places, but it was the coziest thing ever.. I was barefoot in the kitchen listening to April talking about the latest Foot Clan activity and thinking about the questions she was planning for some guy who worked on the docks. She had convinced her camera guy Vern to take her over there before they shot her morning segment.

“You’re gonna be late!” I called into the living room while putting some breakfastt in a container for her to take on the road.

“Thank you shorty,” She rushed in and gave me a kiss on the cheek as she grabbed her breakfast and rushed out of the kitchen again to grab her bag “I’ll either be back for dinner or late!”

“That's really specific April,” I mutter as a lean in the kitchen doorway and watch her check her purse. “Do you have your touchup bag and your toothbrush?”

April let out a small gasp and rushed back to the bathroom. She came back out with a bag, gathered her things and blew a kiss as she ran out the door. I let out a laugh and went to eat my own food.

I spent the day editing a new video. I just hit 700k last week so I was making a special video to celebrate. It had some songs that I had covered laid over a video of me painting a portrait of my mother and father. It was taken a year before he had died and they had gone on a weekend getaway in the Appalachian mountains.

I didn't look up until April burst through the door. It was already dark out and I hadn’t even noticed.

“I just witnessed a Foot Clan attack!” she called as she walked through the apartment.

“What? Oh my god! Are you okay?” I practically jumped up and followed her as she began pacing around the living room. “April? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine! There I was at the docks trying to get some answers and then BAM! They were there!” She went on about the attack and then started about some kind of vigilante that fought them off.

“Vigilante? Are you serious?” She didn't answer, she just went into her room. I sat back down on the couch and tried to process what she had said. In the end I shook it off and went get some dinner ready.

Over the next few days April was hard to find. She seemed to be constantly on the move and didn't answer her phone. She came home talking about dad's old experiments and giant turtles, and over the next 2 days seemed to just be gone. The spire on the Sacks building fell and The Shredder, who was the leader of the Foot Clan, was arrested and Eric Sacks was revealed to have been working alongside him the whole time. It was a wild time for New York, and April was suddenly quiet about the vigilantes.

Time began to move on and April started talking about these 4 new friends she had that were brothers. They seemed like a fun nice group, and the stories she shared were great.

“So,” I started as we sat together on the couch, “when do I get to meet the brothers?”

April choked on her glass of white wine. “What? Meet them?”

“Yeah, You talk about them all the time! I would like to meet them. They’re all you’ve been talking about for like 3 weeks.” I said as I pushed her with my foot.

“Ummm,” April stopped to think and had a vague look of concern on her face, “I'm not sure actually. They’re pretty busy guys.”

I narrowed my eyes at her. “Uh-huh. If you don't want me to meet them just say so. I was just curious.” I turn my face away from her.

“No it's not that, It's just they’re kinda shy. They don’t really like meeting people.” April's face said that she was telling a lie.

“Okay.” I left it at that clearly something is bugging her about me meeting her friends.

April-

April went to spend some time with the boys, but couldn’t stop thinking about them meeting her little sister. How would she react? She thought to herself, ‘I fainted when I met them, and there are still times when it kinda freaks me out a bit. I don’t want my baby sister to get scared and I don’t want the boys to get hurt because of it.’ They had tried to act like April’s reaction didn’t hurt them, but she knew it did. ‘I just want everyone to be happy.’ She was sitting in the lair watching the boys fight and Mikey brought up their Christmas pop album again. She smiled, (y/n) loved music and often performed covers on YouTube. She was really good at it. She had even written her own songs but at this point refused to release or talk about them on her channel.

“April, is something troubling you?” The brunette turned, surprised to see Master Splinter.

“Oh it’s nothing really.” She paused, “Actually could we talk? I am having some trouble.” Splinter nodded and gestured for her to follow. Not answering the questioning looks of the brothers, they went into Hashi.

“The boys avoid this room as much as possible,” Splinter said with a chuckle, “they will not listen in in here.”

“Makes sense,” April laughed and sat down on a mat with Splinter while looking at the odd structures in the room, “I’m having some trouble with my sister.”

“Oh yes, little (y/n) she had only just been born. I believe your father brought her down to the lab twice in those last weeks.” He thought back fondly on the small soft baby that looked so tiny in the arms of her father but so big compared to him then. “ what is it that is wrong?”

“She wants to meet the brothers. She doesn’t know that they are turtles, but she knows I have new friends.” April said looking down, “ we are very open. We’re the only family we have left so we always know each other's friends. It’s a safety thing I guess.”

Master Splinter hummed and looked at April, who continued.

“She wants to meet them and honestly I want her to too! I think they would all get along so well and I think the boys would adore her. It would also be nice to know that there are 4 ninjas who would look out for her.” April sighed and looked up at the ceiling.

“I just don’t want the boys to get hurt. What if she is afraid of them? What if she screams and calls them monsters or freaks? What if she passes out or cries. It would hurt them so much, and I don’t want to see my sister frightened anyway.” April’s shoulders slumped and she lowered her face to look across at Splinter.

“You know your sister well? Do you think she will react this way?” The rat questioned.

“I don’t know. This isn’t exactly a situation that has ever come up before or one I ever thought I would be in.” She played with her fingers in her lap and she watched him stroke his beard.

“I think you know your sister well and know what would be the best course of action.” He smiled, “I think the trouble now will be convincing the boys to risk meeting her. I have no doubt that it will be a split crowd.”

April nodded and gave a kind of exasperated smile. She knew exactly what he was talking about. Mikey and Ralph would agree, Donnie was iffy, but Leo would say no.

“Thank you Splinter. That does actually help. Do you mind if I stay in here a bit longer?” She asked.

“Go ahead child. Take your time.” Splinter got up and left the Hashi.

April sat and thought about what he had said. She thought back to everything she knew about her sister and what she knew of the boys. If her sister could be accepting she knew that they could have a great friendship. The boys were half a year older than her and they didn't know anyone their age. It would be nice for them to have that she thought. She knew Mikey would be super friendly right away, maybe even too friendly. Donnie would be polite but wary at first and a bit excited. Raph would be happy just to meet another person, but Leo would be cold. She feared that he would be distant and unapproachable and she knew her sister well enough to know she wouldn't be able to handle that.

She took her time and eventually rejoined the brothers. She brushed off their questions with a simple: “I needed advice.” She sat down with them as they all talked and joked around. Finally Donnie brought up the perfect opportunity.

“April you're lucky you don't have brothers.” He said as Mikey bombarded him with insane ideas for gadgets.

“Well I don't have any brothers but I do have a baby sister.” The turtles all turned towards her clearly shocked by this news. “She's actually about 4 months from turning 18.”

“Woah Angelcakes, We didn't know you had a lil’ sis. Is she as beautiful as you?” Mikey said while batting his eyes at her.

“I think she is absolutely gorgeous, and she sings and does art. She’s about to be a senior in high school.” April said while leaning closer to mikey. “Shes shorter than me and has curves for days. She used to be on the dance team actually.” April laughed and Mikey threw himself back and fanned himself with his hand.

“Why haven't you mentioned her?” Leo asked.

“You never asked if I had any siblings. She was born a few weeks before my dad died.” April smiled sadly at that “She actually asked if she could meet you.”

The boys seemed to freeze at that, and suddenly all eyes were on her.

“You told about us?”. Raph asked.

“Kinda. I might have left out the part about being ninja turtles, but I told her about my new friends and she wants to meet you guys.” Raph scoffed at her answer.

“So you didn't actually tell her about us.” He almost snapped at her.

“Cool it Raph.” leo warned.

“I don't wanna be looked at like a freak. She won't want to meet us when she sees us.” he stood up and walked off. April looked at the others who all looked like they wanted to disagree and agree with Raph at the same time.

“Sorry angelcakes, I'm sure baby angelcakes is great though.” Mikey shrugged.

April sat in disbelief that they all basically said no. The lair was quiet after that and she left after they ate some dinner.

She got home only to remember her sister was spending the night at her friends house. So she had the place all to herself. She let out a sigh and poured herself a tall glass of wine and sat on the couch thinking about the events of the day. She came up with a plan as she finished her cup and decided that by the end of the week they boys will have met her baby sister. She grabbed her phone and invited the boys to come hang out at her place for once this upcoming weekend. They didn't even ask if her sister would be there.

(Y/N)-

April had gone out to pick up some pizza for a late night dinner. I had school, homework, and some video editing to do and forgot to cook. April came home late and said not to worry about it and would grab some pizza. Her new favorite place didn’t offer delivery so she went to go get it. I decided that a nice hot shower sounded good and went in. I got out as I heard the front door open and close. I made my way to my room about to throw on my favorite green sweater only to remember that It had been washed and was in the dryer. So, I wrapped my towel back around me and opened my door to head out into the living room. I walked out and looked up only to meet with 4 pairs of eyes.

“Oh my bad,” I said, turning to go back to my room only to stop and turn right back around. “Ummmm…” I trailed off not sure what to say as I stared at 4 very large, very green, oddly human like turtles, all while in a bath towel that left most of my left hip exposed.

“Oh hi (y/n). I forgot to mention I had friends coming over.” April said walking into the room. “You might wanna put some clothes on though.”

“Yeah…” I said not able to look away from the very large turtle creatures sitting in the living room.

#tmnt #tmnt x reader #tmnt imagine #tmnt 2014

[buck-nialled]

Empty Pages - R. Mendes (2)

NOTE: this story is gonna start out a bit slow but bear with me i just want the plot to carry and flow ok? alright cool. ALSO REPLY OR MESSAGE ME TO BE ADDED TO THE TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY :)

PROLOGUE // PART ONE

Her eyes, while trying to keep focused on the syllabus outlining the first semester, hopelessly wandered to the wrinkled leather adorning his torso. The fluorescent lighting made his devious gaze going as he stared ahead at the whiteboard the teacher had already been occupying with a colorful marker.

Lily would say she is more befuddled than anything by this new persona Raul Mendes was headstrong in appearing as. His curls were applied with a sheen of gel so thick; they would make an unmistakable crunch if her hands were to tangle themselves in the mop. She ponders if, after today, he would enter his home and fling it off like she did her bra and trade it for one of the long-sleeved cotton shirts she recalls him wearing the years prior. Enamored by Raul, well, that is something she had always felt.

According to the stack of diaries hiding in the corner of her bookcase, the romantic feelings traced back to first-grade art class. Her failed attempt at a flower earned her one compliment amidst an ocean of giggles and taunts, but the boy’s high voice and the sincere smile never seemed to slip from her memory. In her first diary, toward the beginning pages, you could still find her loosely scribbled recount of the day and a worn, folded sheet presenting the artwork Raul Mendes claimed to ‘like’.

Staring at his profile in the present moment, he did not seem like the type of person who liked anything except chaos and the color black. After knowing him almost her whole life, the sight was one to behold, to say the least. It makes the girl wonder if she had morphed just as much once jettisoning the metal straining her teeth for two years and cutting her hair shorter. But she took notice of the desk she occupied seconds upon entering the classroom, and the fact that there were nowhere near as many eyes on her, compared to the looks Raul had captured. It felt like a repeat of fourth grade where he landed a clean fist into the side of Connor’s face, but the Raul seated beside her now seems as though he would not be sorry for doing it. Has anything really changed, she questioned internally?

The professor’s voice enters her ears as she begins discussing the assigned reading required over the summer. “One of the more modern elements Orwell describes in this story, is what?” The class falls silent. “Anybody?” She meets Lily’s eyes, and the girl simply looks down to fiddle with the pencil in her hold.

Peter’s hand—half-hidden by a knitted, gray sweater—shoots upward. “Government.”

“You’re on the right track…it’s something the government does…”

“Like, laws and stuff?” Isabella averts her attention from her fingernails to quirk a brow. Lily holds back a roll of her eyes and looks back to Raul, whose cheek was resting against his large palm.

“Not quite,” The teacher murmurs, sparing the girl a glance of desperation. She knew Lily read the book and was probably the only person in class who spared the time to do so. “Lily, help me out here,”

The girl heaves a sigh. “Propaganda.” Unlike the rest of her classmates, her answer came out like that of a statement. A few pupils turned her direction, but she did not find herself shifting in her seat until Raul’s joined in.

“Yes, bingo! Whether or not we realize it, propaganda is everywhere. They can be small hints, subliminally telling you to buy something, like the advertisements on television. Other times, they can be plain and obvious as to what they are telling you, such as voting campaigns.”

“Your first assignment this quarter will be to make your propaganda. It can be about anything! Just make it school-appropriate, original, and feel free to use the book or internet examples as inspiration. I also want a written list about all of the details and reasons your art features what it does.” Lily was no Picasso, but the sound of drawing sounded much more appealing than a five-page essay. Her ears catch Raul’s scowl at the mention of ‘art’, cueing her eyes to peek up and stare at his profile. Not only was his smirk gone, but the sparkle his golden-brown irises flaunted so gracefully had too, dissipated. Raul catches her wondering stare, burning into his jaw and turns sharply to face her.

“What?” He hisses beneath the teacher’s direction. Lily freezes but shows no other visible reaction before turning her head back forward in the following seconds.

“This is due in three days, so I expect them to be good. Don’t disappoint.” The teacher concludes, before chatting about the rest of the semester’s agenda.

-----------------

“Hey! How was school?” Lily had barely stepped through the door before being bombarded with the same question she had been answering for the past eleven years.

“Just another day in paradise.” She never spared her mother the details, because frankly, they were unexciting and a waste of words. The only days she found worthy of describing to her mother about dated back to the art class in first grade and the occasional field trip.

“Well, I have something to make it better!” Her mother sings. Lily drops her backpack against the floor by the front door and waltzes over to the couch where her mother stood folding laundry. She kicks off her shoes and allows her socked feet to bury in the plush carpeting.

“What?” Lily asks warily, quirking a brow. Her mother grabbed her one of her fair-skinned arms, dotted here and there with freckles, and tugs her to the master bedroom her mother was occupying.

“Sit, sit, sit!” Her mother orders through eager giggles. Lily obeys and sits on the edge of the made bed, staring at her mother’s back while she digs through her closet.

“I’ve been waiting to give this to you for years now. I almost caved and showed you last year, but I wanted to keep the tradition going.” She sighs in accomplishment once landing her hand on the ruffled fabric, and pivots to turn towards Lily. “Have I ever told you the story of how your father and I met?”

Lily shakes her head, now preparing for her mother’s voice to begin wavering and matching green eyes to gloss over. That was how any conversation with her father mentioned begins now.

“It was at my junior homecoming. He was new to the school, but a total hottie,” The woman mutters the second sentence as though it was a secret and wiggles her eyebrows.

“Gross mom,” Lily groans. Her mother only giggles.

“Anyways, every girl in my grade was after him. I mean, they were vicious and clawing at each other just to talk to the guy. Of course, I didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to talk to the guy, but as fate would have it…we were seated next to each other in typing class.” Her mother’s eyes flicked up like the memory was projected above Lily’s head.

“They had a class for typing?” Lily wondered aloud, appalled by the information.

“Well, yeah! You see the internet was new then, and there weren’t many…that’s, not the point!” Lily’s mother waves her hands about, ring glinting from the ceiling fan’s light. “I was the first to finish the lesson; guess I had a real knack for it or whatever and when I looked over, your father was…well, he was hopeless.” At this, Lily joined in her mother’s laughter.

“He kept pecking at each key one by one. Minutes would drag on and he would only have one word written down, I swear. Finally, the teacher walked away, and I offered him my help. That day, we both passed the lesson with A’s.” The woman’s proud smile gleamed as she told the tale.

“Mom! You cheated?” Lily’s mouth dropped as she slapped the mattress beside her.

“I prefer the term ‘aided’.” Her mother comments. “But after that day, we grew…closer. A whole lot closer actually, he was my best friend.” Lily heard her mother’s voice crack and spots a small tear sliding down her cheek. “When homecoming came that year, neither of us had a date and decided to just go with one another as friends. But…that night…something about the slow dance we shared or the twenty-four-hour diner we went to before going…we spilled our guts to each other. He and I admitted to liking each other. A lot. And we were inseparable since that day.” She finishes with a sniffle and reveals the piece of cloth she had been hiding, to Lily.

“This was the dress I wore to my junior homecoming. My mother gave this to me the night of mine and shared a similar story to how she met grandpa. The night of their dance, grandpa told her he wanted to marry her. I want to keep the tradition going, so I’m passing this…” Her mother steps forward, and lays the dress across Lily’s lap, “onto you.”

Lily was speechless the moments following, mouth wavering up and down. “O-oh, mom! I-I don’t know…”

“You don’t have to say anything! I know you’re going to look lovely in this!”

“The school year just started, though. I mean…what if…” She meets her mom’s stare, slowly saddening by her daughter’s apprehensive voice. It made her insides curl up and a guilty lump grows prominent in her throat. Lily never attended a single school dance in her life. She found the dress hideous and felt nauseated by the idea of almost every boy in her grade becoming involved with her. But the rejected, teary-eyed form of her mother was something she found impossible to bear.

“What if you come with me to get my hair and nails done that morning?” Lily offers. Her mother’s eyes brighten instantly, and she pulls the younger girl in for a tight hug, voice joyous.

“I’d love to! This is going to be great!”

“So great,” Lily mumbles through a forced grin, face becoming smothered by her mother’s shoulder.

THE NEXT DAY

"Great, just great. What am I gonna tell her?" Lily folds her arms across her chest, throwing her head back as she leans her back against the plastic desk chair.

"The truth?" Mrs. Hasel suggests in a questioning manner as she munches on her salad. "There's nothing else you can tell her."

"I could pretend to be sick. I could lie." Lily refutes, attempting to make her tone more persuasive than doubtful as she begins to angrily peel the orange sat on the large, wooden desk before her. Mrs. Hasel simply lifts her brows and scoffs.

"Okay, I know my job is to motivate you kids at what you do. But there's a reason you've been taking art class these past three years, not theatre." She replies with the shake of her head. Lily sighs, shaking her own head at the truth bomb her teacher just planted on her lap.

Neither woman notices the tall frame passing the classroom, or the halt in his steps when he catches Lily's voice on his journey back from the restroom. Despite knowing her for his entire academic career, hearing her voice, and at a reasonable volume, was a rarity. His eyes shift along with his feet, to lean towards the doorframe and catch sight of her back, covered by the waterfall that was her dark, black locks. Raul situates himself to lean against the wall, beside the open classroom door and continue listening.

"You're right. I'm hopeless. Maybe I should just drop out."

Mrs. Hasel hums afterward in refusal, swallowing down the rest of her salad. "You are one of my most gifted students! I won't allow you to just quit."

"I don't think paying attention in class and doing my work on time makes me gifted." The girl snorts, picking away at the orange slices.

"It does when the rest of your class sits and twiddles their thumbs. Come on! Everybody at this school sees your knack for art, half of what I hang in the halls are done by you. Your artwork had parents coming up to me at orientation." The teacher laughs in disbelief. Raul's head turns to observe the works hung on the walls outside of the classroom, and takes note that half of the nametags were all the same. When did her brushstrokes become so lush and defined he wonders? How did he miss this progression of hers through the years? Did this girl even like art, to begin with?

"Maybe my next piece should be about breaking tradition," Lily jokes, "that'll send mom a message, huh?" She looks down at her fingernails.

"Well, you have that propaganda project, don't you?" The girl's head flicks up immediately, as does Raul's.

"Yeah, we do. I haven't found any good ideas for one yet, but...that sounds great." Back and forth, Lily and Mrs. Hasel toss ideas to one another for the remainder of lunch. Raul nods to himself the entire time, loving the design and color scheme and idea in general. He too now found a brilliant idea.

TAGLIST; @fanficshawn​ @lonelyreputation​

#shawn mendes #shawn Peter Raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fanfiction #shawn mendes imagine #shawn mendes imagines #shawn mendes blurb #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes fluff #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes angst #shawn mendes au #shawn mendes story #raul mendes #raul mendes imagine #raul mendes imagines #raul mendes fanfiction #raul mendes fluff #raul mendes smut #raul mendes angst #mendes triplets #mendes triplets au

[umbry-fic]

Road Trip!!

Summary: To drive off some post-exam stress, Lloyd, Colette, Sheena and Zelos decide to go on a road trip around the country. What could go wrong?

Fandom: Tales of Symphonia Characters: Lloyd Irving, Colette Brunel, Zelos Wilder, Sheena Fujibayashi Relationships: Colette Brunel/Lloyd Irving, Sheena Fujibayashi & Zelos Wilder, Colette Brunel & Lloyd Irving & Sheena Fujibayashi & Zelos Wilder Rating: G Word Count: 6485 Mirror Link: AO3 Original Post Date: 26/01/2021

Notes: A modern day AU set in Singapore where I send everyone on this itinerary!

Do note that the last part of this fic has been removed as it uses workskins that don't work on Tumblr. If you'd like to access the full fic, do read it on AO3!

@frayed-symphony did an amazing piece of fan-art for this fic!

~~~

“Why is this road called 99 bends if there’s only…” Zelos squinted through the car window at the trees going by, wracking his brain to recall how many turns they had done. It had definitely been less than 99, but how many had there been, exactly? “... 9 turns?”

“I don’t know, idiot. Maybe because we haven’t actually left the road yet? Be a little patient, would you? And don’t talk so loud, you’ll wake Colette up!” Sheena hissed, shooting Zelos a withering glare as she removed her elbow from the cold windowsill to give him a small slap on the arm. Seriously, would it hurt him to shut up for once?

“I don’t see how this is possibly being soft?” Zelos hissed back, covering the rapidly reddening patch of skin on his arm and inching away from his companion in the backseat. Did Sheena not see the irony in her actions? At least Colette didn't seem to have stirred in the front seat; still soundly sleeping with her head lolling to the side, a serene smile on her face. But at this rate, Sheena's less-than-quiet yelling was going to wake her up.

"It's way too early in the morning for this..." Zelos whispered forlornly. He would greatly prefer to not be awake at 7 am. He was a night owl and staying in bed till 11 was the norm for him! It also meant he could avoid Seles for the most part, since she liked leaving at the earliest of hours to go spend the day at the neighbourhood library. But that was just a plus.

It was seriously unfair that Sheena was bright-eyed and alert so early in the morning. He was going to be stuck with her in the small space of a car for the next 7 hours. He had doubts over whether he would still be alive by the end of the first - Sheena was already eyeing him as a cat would her prey. He was going to be ripped to shreds within the hour. Why had he agreed to this again?

“I think it’s just, uh… exaggerated? Is that the right word...?” Lloyd pointed out, adjusting the rearview mirror and looking at his friend’s reflection in it, hoping he had somewhat diffused the argument. Still, Sheena looked like she was about to pounce on Zelos, which was slightly worrying. Lloyd would prefer if everyone stayed in one piece. It wouldn’t be a fun road trip otherwise! And that was the only reason he’d suggested the idea of ferrying everyone around in the first place.

Everyone was stressed after exams and they deserved a chance to let out those pent up emotions. What better way than to tour the nation in a single day? It was the perfect opportunity to have fun with friends!

Lloyd hadn’t considered that murder might happen in the backseat. That might throw a wrench in the plan.

“There’s no way this road could actually have 99 bends. It would be like a really long snake if it did. It would take up too much space.” Lloyd muttered, turning the steering wheel to navigate yet another bend. The road was already difficult to drive on. Add on more turns and it would be hell for a new driver like him. He’d gotten his driver’s license in the first half of year 6 while juggling school and driver’s lessons, and he was not ready for such a difficult challenge.

These roads were already difficult enough to drive on, what with the plentitude of crazy drivers that loved to haphazardly cut lanes and sound their vehicle’s horns way too much. Stressful was the only word that could describe it.

Wait, that was the same word he’d just used to describe the school year. Did that make this whole trip redundant?

“Mm…”

Colette shifted slightly, slowly opening her eyes. The last thing she remembered was Lloyd picking her up at the void deck of her HDB. They had set off to pick up Zelos and then Sheena, but she had no memory of doing any of that. Just little flashes of watching parks and various HDBs passing by...

Her hands, feeling around blindly, grasped something soft and woolly wrapped around her. Blinking fully awake, she recognised the blanket that currently formed a snug cocoon around her.

"See, you woke her up!"

"You were the one who started yelling first! Don't blame me!"

There was the familiar backdrop of Zelos and Sheena arguing. She must have fallen asleep somewhere on the way if they were already in the car.

"You can go back to sleep if you want. This part's not very exciting. I'll wake you up if we're getting out of the car," Lloyd whispered, having heard Colette shifting in her seat despite not diverting his attention away from the road. What a responsible driver!

"It's fine. I’ve slept enough." Colette freed her arms from the blanket, letting it fall such that it only covered her lap. The a/c was switched on (as it always was in Singapore, where it was eternally summer), and you could feel it particularly strongly in the front seat. Looking out the window to figure out their whereabouts, all Colette saw was trees. As expected.

Turning her gaze back towards the blanket, she traced the familiar pattern of green dogs that dotted it. Green wasn't a colour that dogs naturally had, but it did elicit some old memories.

"Isn't this the blanket your mother knitted? She'd wrap us in it every movie night. You used to cover your eyes with it when you got scared." That memory made her giggle, just a little. Lloyd got scared at movies that weren't even supposed to be scary. He'd burrow in the blanket, then, and grab onto her arm so tightly that she'd once thought he would leave permanent marks.

"Of course you'd remember that," Lloyd grumbled, cheeks turning a pale pink at that embarrassing memory. Colette had just blurted that out in front of their other two friends as well. "Mom keeps it in the car in case anyone gets cold. You're always wearing sweaters, so I draped it on you while we were at Zelos' place."

"Thank you."

"Ahem." The sound of Zelos clearing his throat echoed through the car. Colette craned her head to see both Zelos and Sheena resolutely not looking at the two of them. "Sorry to be the third wheel, but can I know where we're going next? You didn't bother sending us the itinerary, Lloyd."

"If you're a third wheel, then what am I? The fourth wheel? That's even worse!" Sheena groaned, resting her forehead against the cold window. If things were going to be like this for the whole trip, maybe she should just open the door and fling herself out of the car before it got too unbearable. Alas, the doors were locked.

"An incorporeal banshee," Zelos muttered, which earned him another smack from an irate Sheena.

"I have no idea why you two are going on about wheels. This is a perfectly fine vehicle with four perfectly functional wheels!"

Zelos groaned, dragging his hands down his face. He'd unknowingly agreed to a torture session, hadn't he? Why had he thought this was a good idea?

Well, he was going to be stuck here for the foreseeable future, so he might as well continue working on the plan. It was the one thing he knew Sheena would willingly work with him on, so it was the perfect solution to prevent his death. Zelos would rather not have to dig his grave today.

"Yeah!" Colette chirped in, eager to defend Lloyd. "Besides, Lloyd did send the itinerary to the group chat! You two just buried it under your argument about cheese!"

“Cheese…?” Zelos echoed. He had zero memory of this ever happening.

“Oh god, I remember this. It’s another one of those midnight conversations that I wish never happened.” Sheena leaned back, letting her head fall over the back of her seat so she was peering into the trunk of the car. Huh. There were some weird things in the trunk.

Oh, Zelos thought. One of those inane conversations fuelled by a blend of coffee, tiredness and the spirit of craziness.

“I mentioned mozzarella and you started arguing blue cheese was better! Not all of us can afford that, you know!”

“Stop yelling at me! I am not responsible for your inferior taste in cheese!”

Colette giggled, turning back to face the road. Zelos and Sheena were as energetic as always. This looked like a fun road trip already!

~~~

“And you said you did your research?” Zelos asked, raising one eyebrow as he pointed at the sign next to the securely closed gate.

“Closed on… Tuesdays…” Colette read out slowly, realisation slowly dawning on her as to why they were currently stalling at the end of a one-way road. “Oh no, Lloyd, it’s Tuesday!”

Lloyd put the car in reverse, praying that no one would drive into this road at this inopportune moment. Then again, the road had been empty and silent for a reason. Everyone had known the goat farm was closed. Everyone except, well, them.

“The article didn’t say anything!” Lloyd grumbled. “How was I supposed to know?”

“Maybe through the power of Google? Don't you remember the importance of primary research?" Zelos drawled, only to get slapped by Sheena again.

"That's not what primary research means, dumbass."

"I think the main problem is how we're supposed to get out of here…? I'm sure we're all hungry," Colette pointed out. They had already gone to a few other places and taken some cool photos! It had been a fun time all around, but it was time for lunch and the goat farm was meant to be the lunch spot. She had rather fond memories of coming here with Lloyd on a primary school learning journey - they had fed the goats and eaten some delicious food. It was a shame that it was closed today.

"The first step would be getting out of this road." Lloyd scanned their surroundings with a nervous eye. This was a dead-end, so there was no way to drive back to the main road without turning around. And the road was scarily narrow...

"Lloyd, I can take over from here," Zelos said, unbuckling his seat belt and bending over the front seat to tap Lloyd on the shoulder. Ignoring, of course, Sheena's violent protests at how dangerous this was. "You need to do a three-point turn. And no offence, but I don't trust a newbie to do one without scratching the car or ending up on the side of the road. Especially on such a narrow road."

Lloyd paled, remembering the promise (it had been worded more like a threat, really) that his father had made him before agreeing to let him use the car. Not a single scratch on it or Lloyd would never see the light of day again.

After a quick switch in seats, Zelos manoeuvred the car out of its perilous position with ease and they were on their way again.

"You make it look so easy," Lloyd mumbled, slightly jealous. Zelos was driving with confidence that he would like to emulate. Not that it was surprising. Zelos had been driving for the past two years.

"He's only so good at it because he's old. That's the only reason he has years of experience over you," Sheena snickered. She wouldn't give up any opportunity to make fun of her oldest friend.

"Who're you calling old? You're only one year younger than me!" Zelos grumbled.

"You're still the oldest," Colette pointed out. "You're older than me and Lloyd by... 2 years, right?"

"I get it! I'm old! This is the cruel fate I suffered for not being born here!" Zelos said mournfully. Really, he would rather have not lost two years of his life to being held back in the school system.

“It’s kinda sad that we’re at the same point as you two despite being older, huh?" Sheena muttered. "At least you won't need to lose another two years to National Service, Zelos. Thank your lucky stars for that."

“Don’t mention that. Not now.” Lloyd desperately tried to push all thoughts of National Service out of his head. Nope. This was meant to be a fun trip! No depressing thoughts! No! “Do you want me to switch back, Zelos?”

“Nah, it’s fine!” Zelos called back, turning back out onto the main road to begin the game of weaving between lanes like a madman. “You’ve been driving all morning. Anyone mind if I take us to Sembawang food centre for lunch? It’s pretty close if I’m remembering correctly.”

“Oh! I want carrot cake!” Colette cheered, mind already drifting to the delectable cubes of radish. It was one of her favourite foods...

“Black or white, though?” Sheena pondered. The black one had a tad too much sweet sauce for her taste, but she was mostly neutral. Maybe she'd get something else entirely. Fishball noodles, perhaps...?

“Black, obviously. How could you ever think white was the superior choice?” Lloyd replied, horrified.

“No objections, then,” Zelos said cheerily, flicking on the signal and moving the car onto the turning lane. Sheena, meanwhile, set the route on her phone without any prompting from Zelos. “Sembawang food centre it is! But Lloyd, am I allowed to floor the gas on the expressway?”

“NO!”

~~~

“Mmmmm.” Colette stirred her glass of ice milo with a straw before sipping from it contentedly, resting her chin on her hand. A plate, emptied of carrot cake, sat next to her elbow on the table. “This is bliss…”

“Nothing beats ice milo,” Lloyd agreed, shovelling the remainder of his plate of black carrot cake into his mouth. The chewiness of the radish cubes, the sweetness of the sauce, combined with the cold, sweet taste of milo… It all added up to perfection.

“Cretins,” Sheena muttered distastefully. "Ice milo is not the peak of drinks."

“No need to act so smug just because you drink brown rice green tea every day, Sheena. I know you drink packet milo at home," Zelos rebutted, nursing his cup of black coffee. He was glad that there was something to raise his energy levels. Colette and Lloyd could wake anyone up in their boundless energy, but even they could not overcome - well, a night staying up surfing social media and not sleeping.

“Shush, you!”

Colette giggled, staring at her two friends argue with each other. She knew it wasn’t anything malicious, but simply how they showed their friendship towards each other. They had been like this for as long as she’d known them, which had been… “I can’t believe we’ve been friends for six years already!”

Sheena paused in her act of strangling Zelos, sitting down to consider Colette’s statement. Zelos hung his head, sighing in relief. Another attempt at his life that he had avoided.

“Has it really been that long since you crashed into Zelos at the school canteen?” Sheena asked, resting her elbows on the table and leaning across, grinning. She hadn’t relived that memory in a long time, and she excelled in any opportunity to embarrass him. “Don’t you remember, Zelos? Colette -”

“She crashed into me at rush hour in the school canteen while I was holding a tray full of food,” Zelos replied in a deadpan tone. He loved Colette as a friend, but that was a disastrous memory -

“Ha! I remember. Zelos had seaweed soup down his front for the rest of the day,” Lloyd snickered. He didn’t often think back to so long ago, but this was a perfect opportunity to reminisce! “He smelled like teriyaki chicken in class for the whole day. Our teacher was staring at him the whole time.”

“Please stop,” Zelos mumbled pitifully, burying his face in his arms. “I have done my very best to bury that memory forever. And that was your lunch, Sheena! You held partial blame!”

“Yeah, no,” Sheena retorted cheerily. “You required a little humbling then, anyway, Mr High and Mighty.”

“I hate you,” Zelos replied gloomily. “Why am I still friends with you?”

“We PRs need to stick together.” Sheena punched Zelos in the arm in the same playfully gentle way she always did. “And I, uh…” She turned away, muttering something under her breath.

Colette looked on in curiosity, observing the bright pink spots that were beginning to form on Sheena’s cheeks. Zelos smirked, raising his head to antagonise Sheena again. “What was that you were saying? I couldn’t hear you.”

“Yeah, Sheena. I couldn’t hear you either,” Lloyd interjected, busy trying to scoop ice cubes out of his glass with his straw and failing horribly. “Could you repeat that?”

“I said I value your company, alright?” Sheena snapped, refusing to make eye contact with Zelos. Why had she brought this upon herself? “There, did you catch it this time?”

“Noted,” Zelos said smugly. One point for him, finally!

“I really am sorry for the time I crashed into you. I do that way too much,” Colette said guiltily, fiddling with her utensils. It was true, though. The number of times she had crashed into people just this week was more than she could count with her fingers. The amount of inconvenience she had caused was staggering.

“Hey, it’s fine! Don’t put yourself down. Besides, if it wasn’t for that, we would never have met!” Lloyd retorted, waving a fork threateningly in her direction.

“Ah, right. I forgot that you two have known each other for basically forever,” Sheena said, sarcasm dripping from every syllable. Somehow, Lloyd and Colette still didn’t pick up on it. “You two have been childhood friends for, what, 14 years?”

“More or less!” Colette replied. The math checked out. At least she was pretty sure that was right? They met when they were 5 or 6… And they were 19, now…?

“We met when Colette crashed into me at the playground and nearly knocked me off the climbing towers,” Lloyd said absentmindedly, returning to his quest to retrieve an ice cube. "I remember that we were pretty high up, so it was kinda scary."

“That’s why I’m banned from the monkey bars for life…” Colette said sheepishly.

“That’s… interesting.” Zelos stared with wide eyes, speechless for once in his life. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard this story. It was certainly an unorthodox way to meet your childhood friend, by nearly causing bodily harm.

Now if the two of them would realise what was so incredibly obvious, maybe he could stop having actual headaches over plotting harebrained schemes.

But that... was way too much to hope for.

~~~

Lloyd watched with a tiny smile as Colette’s head perked up the moment the next song on the radio begun to play. He’d switched the radio over to this particular station earlier that morning, knowing that Colette loved it.

Colette hummed under her breath, swaying to the music. She loved Chinese songs, especially listening to them on the radio. They were perfect to close your eyes and relax to.

They also brought back some of her earliest and most cherished memories.

Sitting in the backseat of this same car back when she had still been the same height as Lloyd, head resting on his shoulder, listening to the radio and the sound of Lloyd’s father humming along while she was still half-asleep. They had stayed in the same HDB and experienced all the advantages: being able to visit each other whenever they wanted, going to the same primary school, and commuting to school together. They had spent almost every second together. Playing catching around the school field, puzzling through their homework together, lazily spending afternoons at each other’s houses and playing video games…

Waiting for Lloyd at the gate of their secondary school, every morning without fail. She would break out into a smile whenever he showed up, and they would walk to the canteen together, hand-in-hand. The moments before assembly were spent in bliss, a rare sanctuary from the constant stress of school. They would talk about anything and everything while they shared a single pair of earphones, listening to her latest favourite song.

When finally, they were separated by attending different tertiary institutes, she would spend hours every week (not that she didn’t already) texting him over the phone. Every time a message from him lit up her phone screen, her heart would swell with happiness and she would scramble to unlock her phone screen. The silly little pictures and comments he sent her never failed to brighten her day. Her favourite part of the week became talking to Lloyd over the phone on weekends, letting the sound of his voice drift into her ears just like her favourite music. And still, she would send newly released songs that she liked to Lloyd to see what he thought. During the rare weekends that they were both free, they would meet up with Zelos and Sheena for ice-skating and karaoke. Lloyd always let her pick the songs.

She liked this song quite a lot as well. It was sweet.

The sound of Aska’s voice coming over the radio grew steadily louder as Zelos rotated the volume knob. “I know you like this song, Angel. So why don’t you sing along?”

“Won’t I be annoying everyone else? I don’t want that…”

“It’s all right,” Sheena waved her worries away, grinning back at Colette from the front seat. “Zelos and I had our fun screaming English songs earlier. It's only fair you get to do the same, so sing your heart out!”

“It’s really OK?” Colette muttered, shyly lowering her head. “I don’t know…”

“I like your singing! So go ahead!” Lloyd proclaimed, grabbing her hand from across the backseat. Colette stared with wide eyes, flushing immediately.

“Well, you can sing along too,” Colette replied, looking away to hide her blush. “It’ll be more fun that way.”

“I - well, I don’t know! My singing is way worse than yours!”

“I’ve heard you sing at karaoke before, Lloyd. You sound just fine! Come on, let’s do a duet!”

“OK, OK!” Lloyd laughed, shifting closer in his seat, of course without escaping his seatbelt. “Let’s do this, I guess!”

“My god, they are dense,” Sheena muttered.

“They are, quite literally, singing a song about how deep one's love is,” Zelos agreed. “Can they get any dumber?”

“I mean, Lloyd’s Chinese isn’t… great…”

“It can’t be this bad. I refuse to believe that. I know he barely passed his O level Higher Chinese, but surely he can still get the basic gist!”

I wonder what they’re arguing about? Colette thought, before discarding that thought entirely, too engrossed in singing along with Lloyd by her side.

~~~

“Don’t you two want to join in too?” Colette asked, confused as to why Zelos and Sheena didn’t want to partake in a photo before the famous Casuarina tree in Upper Seletar Reservoir. They had taken the time to drive here, they should at least commemorate it!

“No, it’s fine! We’ll take a photo after you two.” Sheena waved away Colette’s concerns, staring with a furrowed brow at the tree. Honestly, it didn't look too impressive to her. What to do now…? The place looked romantic enough for her and Zelos’ purposes, but the problem lay in how to initiate the conversation on the other two’s side. Remembering what she and Zelos had read about the Casuarina tree, an idea formed in her head.

Making eye contact with Zelos, Sheena made a little heart shape with her hands, hoping he would be on the same wavelength as her. Thankfully, Zelos seemed to understand, because he nodded with a slowly growing smirk. “Hey, Bud! Did you know that newly-weds take their wedding photos here?”

“Really? That’s nice!” Colette exclaimed. “The atmosphere of this place is very romantic. We can take some nice photos here. You two sure you don’t want to join in?”

Sheena resisted the urge to scream and dig a hole for herself in the dirt to hide in for the rest of eternity. She loved her friends, but having to face them staring lovey-dovey at each other every second of every day without realising they were doing it had been driving her insane for the past year.

Zelos’ smile was twitching at the corners now. He had to be as exasperated as her by this point. “Yeah, we’re sure. How about you two do a pose? Like a heart shape?”

“A heart shape?” Colette thought about it for a moment before breaking out into a giant smile. “That’s cute! Do you mind, Lloyd?”

“Sounds great!”

Sheena grabbed Zelos’ hand and begun tugging with all of her might. They needed to talk. Like, now. Zelos, thank god, put up absolutely no resistance and let himself be pulled along like a rag doll.

“Where are they going? We need another person to take the photo!” Colette asked, staring in the direction that Sheena and Zelos had run off in utter confusion. Zelos and Sheena tended to run off at random times. To do what, she didn't know. She would really like to find out.

“Don’t mind them. We can just take a selfie!”

“OK, we are now… ” Zelos craned his head to scan his surroundings. “Directly overlooking Seletar Reservoir. We should be far enough to discuss things now, right?”

“Yes,” Sheena got out through gritted teeth. “I am completely and utterly done. Nothing we do has worked! Do you remember that one time we all bought tickets to a romance movie and then bailed on the two of them? It was on Chinese New Year, so I couldn't even pay student price! AND I STILL HAVEN’T GOTTEN MY THIRTEEN DOLLARS BACK YET!”

Zelos groaned. “You tell me. Remember that time we did the same thing with a karaoke session? I had to tell them it was a treat, which means I haven’t gotten my twenty-six dollars back.”

“You’re rich, though.” Sheena replied. “You live in like… landed property.”

“But I’m still stingy.”

Sheena looked back at Colette and Lloyd, who had resorted to some funny positions to take selfies while still doing a pose. They were adorable, but there had still been no progress made. At all. It was infuriating.

“What do we do now?” She muttered, putting her weight against the railing so she could lean out over the sparkling blue water and enjoy the slowly building breeze.

“I don’t think we can do anything,” Zelos replied, shrugging hopelessly. “At this point, I don���t think they would notice if an asteroid struck the Earth. They’re too busy spending time with each other. I propose we give up and just let nature take its course. They’re happy enough as it is.”

“But god, it’s frustrating,” Sheena groaned, leaning out further so her entire upper half was hanging free of the railing. Zelos was inching closer in case she really did fall, but that was unlikely to happen given her excellent sense of balance that he had witnessed firsthand. Still, did she really have to do such dangerous things all the time?

“It is, but that’s how they’ve always been.”

Sheena sighed, deciding to simply enjoy the serenity and let go of any thoughts concerning her other two friends. A quiet moment with her oldest friend was rather rare to come by, given how bombastic he usually was. “We were talking about how all four of us met at lunch… Honestly, it was pure coincidence that the two of us met in primary school.”

“I like to think that it’s fate!” Zelos proclaimed, winking at her. Under the noontime sun, high in the sky, his hair seemed even redder than usual. He had undergone quite a transformation since the end of Junior College last November. Zelos had sported short hair in line with the ever-present school rules from the moment she’d met him, but the lifting of those restrictions had finally given him the chance to grow it out. The shoulder-length curly red hair, being lifted in the wind… Honestly, she thought it fit him.

“Yeah, sure,” Sheena snorted. “It’s just like you to proclaim it’s - EEK!” The first cold raindrop hit the back of her bare neck, startling her so much that she nearly lost her balance and toppled into the reservoir. Only Zelos’ hand, secure on her shoulder, kept her from dipping head-first.

“Geez, Sheena. Don’t give me a heart attack, would you?”

“Sorry, old man. But thanks.”

“Wow, you seldom thank me,” Zelos replied, raising one eyebrow in surprise. “And I’m not that old! I’m turning 21 this year! That’s still pretty young, right? RIGHT?”

Sheena looked up into the sky, which had rapidly turned from blue to grey. The storm cloud in the far distance that she had noticed in the corner of her eye some time ago had made its merry way over. Following the trend of the previous week's weather, it would be raining cats and dogs soon.

“You two!” Colette ran over, yelling with one hand held above her head in the vain hope that it would shield her from the rain. “We should hurry back to the car before it gets any heavier!”

“Come on,” Zelos muttered. It was his turn to pull Sheena along as they made the short run back to the car.

By the time everyone was back in the car, they were all utterly drenched and resembled bedraggled rats. Lloyd winced at the amount of water they were dripping on the car seats. Hopefully, no permanent damage was done. They should have brought an umbrella out of the car.

Poor decisions were made.

“Hey Lloyd, did you, by any chance, check the weather forecast?” Zelos asked, accepting the tissue that Colette was offering. Somehow he had ended up in the backseat instead of the front seat. Well, he would gladly let Lloyd drive now.

“Uh… I didn’t,” Lloyd said sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I… sorta forgot to?”

“It’s been raining for the entire month of January and you didn’t think to check the weather forecast?” Sheena asked. Wasn’t that… common sense? Never mind, she was expecting too much of Lloyd.

“It’s so heavy,” Colette said, peering out of the window with her nose pressed to it. The view was completely obscured by the white screen the dense raindrops formed, the patter of the rain against the window drowning out all other sounds. “It’s going to get so cold… We can’t really go on to the next destination like this.”

“We can go to my place,” Lloyd offered. “My parents will be out today until the evening and this trip was supposed to last until 6.”

“Huh. Well, no objections here,” Zelos replied. “Just get us out of this rain.”

“Can we play Smash Brothers again?” Sheena asked. “That was fun the last time we went to your house.”

“Sure,” Lloyd shrugged, turning the key in the ignition and starting the engine. “Smash Brothers it is.”

~~~

“Kirby! I want Kirby!” Colette pouted, clutching the single Joy-Con securely in one hand with a Pikachu plush settled in her lap. The moment they had gotten to Lloyd’s place, she’d tied her hair into a messy ponytail and put on one of the hoodies she’d left there from her various trips. It had little ears on the hood and Totoro’s face emblazoned across the front. It was adorable, but best of all, it was warm and toasty. And she really needed that given how cold it was.

It was comfortable here, tucked between Lloyd and Sheena on the sofa facing the television mounted on the wall. Zelos was lounging on a separate plush back chair that he’d dragged from the dining table, carefully snacking on a pack of Mamee Noodles that he’d pilfered from the pantry. Lloyd had warned Zelos that if he got even a single crumb on the floor, he’d be dead meat.

“I’ll let you have Kirby,” Sheena decided, moving her cursor across the screen. “But I’m getting Sheik. Prepare to lose!”

“Why so competitive?” Zelos wondered, hovering the cursor over the random option. “It’s just a casual game. We’re even playing with items on.”

“It’s the spirit, Zelos! Better get into it, because I’m coming after you first!”

“Wha - Sheena, that’s not fair! Don’t pick on me!”

The four of them proceeded to play a few rounds where, more often than not, Sheena and Zelos would get engrossed in defeating each other while Colette and Lloyd simply goofed around. It was fun, but of course, they got tired of it after a while.

Colette eventually found herself sitting behind Zelos, gently braiding his hair. There wasn’t much to work with, but there was just enough for a fun little side braid. Sheena was kicking back with a packet of milo, while Lloyd was sitting on the floor sifting through movie DVDs that he'd pulled out of a cabinet.

The Pikachu plush had been abandoned to sit on the floor, alone. If Noishe was still alive, he'd have snatched it off the floor and run off with it already. Lloyd would then have proceeded to chase Noishe all around the apartment. Colette missed Noishe. A lot.

“Are you planning to grow this out any longer?” Colette asked, gently threading one bunch of hair through the other. She didn’t want to pull too hard and risk hurting Zelos. “I think it would look good on you.”

“Maybe,” Zelos replied, glancing down at his phone, which he was busy scrolling through. “It used to be this long when I was still in Germany. At least I won't need to chop off all my hair in February, unlike a certain someone."

“Gah, bald Lloyd is something I do not want to think about.” Sheena blanched, taking the straw out of her mouth. “That image is straight out of my nightmares.”

“I don’t like thinking about it either,” Lloyd muttered, pulling out the DVD for Tangled. Did his family’s blu-ray player even still work? It had been a pretty long time since they’d played a DVD instead of just using Netflix. “Can we just stop talking about this altogether? Please?”

“I'm not gonna stop talking about my hair! It’s fabulous -” Zelos froze, staring down at his phone screen in abject horror. “Colette, what time is it?”

“Huh?” Colette stopped mid-threading, confused, one hand still holding a bunch of red hair. She craned her head to consult the clock hung on the wall (which, to Lloyd’s eternal chagrin, still displayed his baby pictures from the first year of his life). “It’s four in the afternoon.”

“Crap, I need to go,” Zelos cursed, stuffing his phone back into his jeans and scrambling to his feet. “I have an online interview at 4.30.”

Sheena’s mouth fell open as she stared at Zelos in astonishment. “The interview for the scholarship is today, and you didn’t think to say anything until now?”

“Yeah, Zelos. We could have just rescheduled this trip or something. Why didn't you tell us? Are you going to make it home in time?" Lloyd piped up in concern.

“He stays close enough that he should be fine if he doesn’t miss the bus,” Colette said, mournfully watching the braid she had done unravel before her very eyes. “You remember where the bus stop is, right?”

“Of course I do! I’ve come here enough times to know that much!” Zelos called back, busy packing his stuff back into his backpack. He haphazardly zipped it up, his water bottle still hanging out the side precariously, before slinging it over one shoulder. “I’ll just be on my way, then!”

“I’m going with you, idiot,” Sheena grumbled, picking up her bag as well. “I leave you alone for a month and this happens.”

“You can’t leave me alone with them,” Sheena hissed under her breath at Zelos as they left the apartment and walked into the lift lobby. “I will die.”

“Well, we’re the only two here now.” Colette swung her feet up onto the sofa, pushing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie. “What do we do now?”

“We can still watch Disney movies!” Lloyd raised the Tangled DVD, grinning. “You up for it?”

“Sure! I love Disney movies!” No objections from her side.

Lloyd inserted the DVD into the Blu-ray player, bundling the blanket into his arms and heading over to the sofa to seat himself next to Colette. Gingerly, he tucked the blanket around the two of them. The wind from the rain was still howling outside the apartment, and the air was still rather chilly.

“This is nostalgic,” Colette whispered, resting her head on Lloyd’s shoulder and taking his hand as the movie started.

“It’s like nothing ever changed.” Like she had never moved away from this HDB, like they were still little children attending the same primary school, like they had no responsibilities resting on their shoulders…

The fatigue from the morning that had been chased away by the cheer and enthusiasm of her friends slowly sneaked up on her, here with a blanket keeping the warmth around her and the soft, warm colours of the television swimming in front of her eyes. Not to mention Lloyd’s presence, comforting and familiar. It was enough for her to close her eyes…

~~~

And that was the position Kratos and Anna found Lloyd and Colette in when they got home: Colette still soundly sleeping and Lloyd sitting ramrod straight in his attempt to not awaken Colette.

~~~

Full fic

#fanfiction #one shot #tales of symphonia #colloyd #colette brunel #lloyd irving #sheena fujibayashi #zelos wilder #preview

[wolfofwinchester]

💘 / I'm getting to ours but I'd like to see what you have in mind uvu!

send me 💘 + A SHIP and i’ll tell you—

where they first met and how

When Lord Phantomhive brought home his bastard, a few key villainous nobles were present to meet her a few days after her arrival. The Undertaker was among them, although he was hidden away and out of her eyesight so she never really seen him outside of flashes of silver and a flow of black. Inevitably, it turned into The Hunt of her trying to find out who this mysterious “Aristocrat” was.  

how long their ‘flirting’ phase was before feelings got involved

I could see playful flirtations being part of their aesthetic. It fits, I think! Never serious before and they knew it, they were just messing around with winks and flirtatious comments, sometimes getting a rise out of the other, other times pretending to be one another’s significant other for reasons of their own (let it be getting a free meal for Valentine’s Day or for a cover-up where they’re both in disguise). As such, I think the playfulness went on for a gooooood while, some years of cozy play before things got r e a l.

who fell for who first ( if applicable )

To even their writers, I feel this is meant to be ambiguous. 🙊 They’re That Kind of Couple.

where their first date was and what it was like

I think they both thought it more comfortable if it was a private affair; nothing so public as a dinner at a restaurant, and nothing so closed-in as the manor. I think their first date was something of a very elegant and rich picnic somewhere in the countryisde, lost from civilzation and farm buildings. A little peace of solitude where they got to enjoy one another’s company while Lilac chased the hounds around the rolling fields of green. 

A picnic and just wiling away the hours talking, huddled up side-by-side and safe from blinding light beneath an enormous willow tree. After that, I think they went back to Azrael’s Funeral Parlor and spent the rest of the evening there just having laughs and wine. Just a really long, and really good day that ended with both of them snoozing in Azrael’s coffin. It’s not made for two people, so Claudia slept on top of him and he held her the whole night through. They woke to find Lilac sleeping on top of her and a floor flooded with hound dogs + Gelert. 

who asks who out and how ( with a sign? spelled out on a cake? just a simple ‘will you go out with me’? )

Azrael steals first proclamation of love and kiss, but Claudia steals these moments. She made the first step after their confessions, asking with a sly grin if he’d like to have dinner with her. It was done very smoothly while they were still in the afterglow of requited feelings, when they were both basking and feeling that glowing mirth. An hour or so after that, I believe. 

who proposes first

Claudia, absolutely. Marriage is never a concern of Azrael’s, he’s fine with things as they are! It’s never a required step in his mind. He goes with his lover’s flow.

if they keep / kept their relationship secret or let everyone know right away

Claudia’s rebellion in the Watchdog role succeeded into her relationship. Azrael’s vigilant and he wants them to stay a secret for Claudia’s own good in her public image, but Claudia’s ambitious nature to not let this life control her gently tussles with that. As such, the public sees them as a very odd pair, not there’s no confirmation of their relationship. They’re a forbidden romance waltzing in plain sight who have rumors spark up that end up hushed immediately.

“We’ll be discovered,” He whispers into her lips, earning a sharp-toothed grin that nips his bottom lip. “And so what? I’m already goin’ down in history as the most notorious Bastard of Phantomhive. ♪”

where the proposal happens and how ( kiss cam at a baseball game? on a hillside surrounded by ducks? at a disney park? )

It wasn’t precisely the ideal or dreamy, romantic proposal Claudia wanted it to be. For over a year, she’d been secretly working on the perfect ring for Azrael in her workshop, and it’s led to many rejects she felt were never perfect. The frustration of an artist led to art block, and that clashed direly with her desire to propose to the man! Lots of ring rejects! Despite them all being quite lovely, she never felt they were correct. There were strings of rings around her workshop at this point that she turned to for inspiration.

Finally, she had the perfect ring. Polished, and just right. The hyper glory of having perfected the ring after this long led the very tired, frazzled and disheveled woodworker zipping on horseback into London to that old Funeral Parlor, throwing open the door, finding a VERY befuddled Azrael who hadn’t seen her in days, and proceeding to capture his wedding hand.

For a solid minute, Azrael swore he seen his unlife flash before his eyes with how fast she approached him! He thought he did something wrong, or was falsely accused! You’d never seen a more bewildered man be proposed to by a very exhausted but very passionate woman. From an outsider’s point of view, it was hilarious before it became very tender and quiet. ???? WHAT’D I D- oooh?

It wasn’t scenic, but it was full of heart. Claudia apologized for storming in, but she had to do this right away because she couldn’t hold herself back another minute. She told him how important he was to her, and how important he’s been to her. He’s been her sole companion who didn’t need to be by her side, but he chose to be, despite how dangerous her life is and how loony of a woman she is. He’s been her trusted companion, and in this life, he’d come to be her best friend over so many years of them knowing each other. 

It went from flighty to quiet and emotional. She asked him to marry her, and whattaya know, he accepted.

if they adopt any pets together

They’re pretty happy with their fuzzy family already, but I think Azrael’s tendency to take in strays leads to them having a few kits down the road. Any cat of his at this point is extended to being auto-adopted by Claudia.

who’s more dominant

They’re.. both dominant. Unless Claudia’s having a low energy day where she gives Azrael the full reins (which he loves), she’s right there tussling for control and they’re both playfully wrestling and nipping! They both get their time on top before someone gets coherent enough to flip, and the cycle continues.

where their first kiss was and what it was like

It was very cute. Like the rascals they are, they were chasing one another in the forest behind Phantomhive Manor, a fox chasing a wolf. It was Autumn, and the sun was creeping across the sky. There was a chill in the air enough to see one’s breath. Azrael caught up to Claudia and towered over her after she’d hid behind a tree, and they shared a laugh.

The Fall light was hitting her so sweetly, though. The way the orange light danced across her sapphire eyes and skin as she beamed up to him so slyly. He had to kiss her, and it stunned her entirely in the best way.

if they have any matching couples stuff ( mugs? sweaters? pillowcases? )

“If lost, return to [x]” shirts for the modern age, definitely. For a more time appropriate thing, they have matching hand mirrors that they’ve poured their hearts and soul into enchanting. It’s an imperfect enchantment, but it lets them see the other so they can check on one another throughout the day. 

They’re mirrors bound with their love. When Claudia died, all other hand mirrors they’ve ever used to communicate their secret messages through shattered, but Azrael’s enchanted hand mirror, and Claudia’s, survived. 

On a more casual level, they both have matching sleep shirts. Black poet styled shirts that are very big and drape on their persons so they can effortlessly wear one another’s without issue!

how into pda they are

They’ve always been a connected duo, so it’s not out of the park to see the with joined arms or holding hands. They’re constantly cuddled up, although Azrael becomes very aware of how affectionate they’re being time-to-time, only to be consoled back into comfort by Claudia. 

They’re very PDA, but Azrael is sometimes wary when things like kissing begins. They oft hide behind Claudia’s fan for things like that. He’s a lot more eased into the intimate affections when Claudia’s under a glamour or heavily disguised. 

who holds the umbrella when it rains

Azrael’s taller. He tends to ask for Claudia’s parasol and holds it for them both, which leads to her ribbing him gently and grinning. “Such a gent!”

where their usual ‘date spot’ is ( if applicable )

In one of their old threads, Claudia brought up an inconspicuous B&B that was in the more rural setting outside of London. Way out of the way of city limits and seeing only light traffic. I think this would be a neat “date spot” for them, as well as a safe location for exchanging information. No one can peep on them, and they both know the owners well enough to know they keep to themselves and give their guests privacy. There’s no reason for either to be nosy about Claudia&Azrael either, they’re just friendly faces who return for a spot of breakfast, lunch or dinner before heading out. 

who’s more protective

You’d expect the Immortal to be more protective, but the fact of the matter is, it’s equal. Azrael is protective over Claudia, and she is the same over him. They’re both very heavily laden with grief and know great loss, something that’s a deep level of understanding with them; grief is part of their character, and that’s made them both very guarding individuals who protect the other with everything they got and a fierceness that will, and has, spilled blood.

how long it is before they sleep together ( can be as in ‘had sex’ or as in ‘shared a bed’ )

Sharing a bed is nothing unusual; platonically, they’ve taken many naps together before and one has flopped on the other when finding them in a moment of rest. They’re not stiff and awkward about it, and it flows pretty easily when they enter an intimate relationship. They are THE HUMAN KNOT. 

Intimacy, however, is not something they immediately leapt into, especially when Claudia mentioned she’d never been with a man before. Although there’s certainly tension, it’s a good while before they actually do anything outside of kisses and frisky touches, which is fine with both of them. When Claudia’s ready, Azrael makes a very comfortable and romantic scene in the upstairs bedroom she’s fixed up so well for him over the years. It’s a very slow and tender first time. 

if they argue about anything

They don’t argue, they have disagreements, even when those disagreements happen to be about something they’re both very passionate about and clashes with their moralities. They don’t escalate into something so careless and uncontrollable as screaming and yelling, accusations and blame. They don’t do that. Claudia’s upbringing and Azrael’s calm stance come into agreement here, and they’ve agreed-to-disagree before, and both agreed to air out the tension by spending a little time away from the other to let the feelings subside. 

They’re very mature about this, which is more than can be said for a lot of relationships. Wild individuals them both, but very conscious and thoughtful ones. They’d never seek to hurt or jab at the other.

who leaves more marks ( lipstick, hickeys, scratchmarks etc. )

Claudia. Without a doubt, it’s Claudia. She loves to mark him up with hickeys and scratch marks, but seldom does anyone see anything due to his cassock riding high in collar. Sometimes, someone might see a mark, or a purple lip stain, peeking from above the white though, if they’re perceptive enough.

Also, she just loves to pelt him with kissy marks. That man oft has to clean his face from mulberry lipstick when he leaves her! 

who steals whose clothes and how often

Claudia’s more curvy than Azrael (lanky boy) so his clothes don’t exactly fit proper, but that doesn’t stop her from slipping on his shirts and leaving a few buttons undone. Azzy, on the other hand, enjoys stealing a plethora of her shirts because they fit him without issue - baggy on him, if anything! They’re very cozy and he enjoys the fabric, from cotton to silk! He has more of her shirts in his dresser than she does of his.

However, they do tend to swap their coats whenever Claudia’s on Watchdog duty and wears her leather duster. His is more flowy and baggy, hers is more protective and thick, but no less stylish with a popped collar. They look really good when they swap. 

how they cuddle ( spooning? facing each other? )

Absolutely mushed and tangled together, preferably laying down because Claudia can throw a spanner into the height gap that way. They’re usually face-to-face, noses nuzzled and forehead crowned together. It’s easier to smooch (and bite) this way! 

what their favourite nonsexual activity is

The world can burn and fall to ruin, and they’ll be sweeping through the flames with their transcendental waltz undeterred. Dancing is, and will always remain, these two’s thing. They’ll dance through Death and they’ll dance through Spring, making Persephone & Hades proud.

If you can get them to stop for two seconds, they also enjoy traveling and seeing what the world has to offer two wicked goblins like them. Wanderlust is something they both share, or perhaps it’s something Claudia’s infected Azrael with! But they do like getting out of the country.

how long they stay mad at each other

Not long at all. They’ve had their moments of clashing before, but the anger doesn’t really last that long at all. They step away from one another to let the other have their space as I said before, to let the feelings subside since they’re both passionate individuals who do not budge at all, but.. they just don’t stay mad at one another. They’ve gone to bed before without meeting up right away due to their lives preoccupying their time, and every morning afterwards they’ve found one another’s company. 

I just. cannot see them as a couple who stay mad at one another for a long time, or carry anger. Individually, they don’t strike me as the personalities that do that with loved ones, and they certainly don’t do it together. Distance makes the heart grow fonder? It makes them a little anxious, to be honest. Just a little. They get a little jittery when life circumstances keep them from coming back together after a disagreement.

Very attached couple. But of course, I could be wrong about this for Azrael! I don’t want to assume. Claudia definitely gets a little jittery for sure.

what their usual coffee / tea orders are

They’re an order you’d prefer not to mix up on the general. Claudia likes three spoonfuls of sugar with a hint of rosemary and no cream in her pine-needle tea, Azrael likes two drops of cream and no sugar. They will notice immediately and kind of swivel their heads like, “Whoa!”. One’s too sweet, and the other’s not nearly sweet or pine-y enough!

if they ever have any children together

They are a happy conjoined family with furbabies, thank you very much! 

if they have any special pet names for each other

Claudia is notorious for pet names. “Mr. Callows” always remains the first affectionate term of endearment that has evolved through the years from platonic to romantic, and she never drops it when addressing him. For Azrael, it’s always a sweet french pet name woven with “wolf”. She thinks that is absolutely precious, by the way. Loves it.

However, for fun, a list of pet names she’s made for him so far

Bonekeeper

Loveweaver

Coffinweaver

Sugarpuss

Lover

if they ever split up and / or get back together

Nope.avi

what their shared living space is like ( messy? clean? what kind of decor? )

Azrael’s cottage out and away from everyone is pretty much the perfect insight to how their living style is mashed together; it’s incredibly rustic and you’d swear you walked straight into a witch’s cabin, which is only half true! Dried herbs hang around the place, acting as passive aromatics mixed with the lovely scent of pine incense, but it’s all very light as they keep the windows open to allow for a nice breeze. There’s wicker baskets filled with mushrooms, berries and other foraging goods, there’s dried & salted meat hung up in the kitchen area, and a cauldron that always seems to be bubbling with something delicious.

There’s chairs Claudia’s made for them both around the Hearth, covered with knitted blankets they’ve made with forest embroidery - foxes and wolves, cats and hounds. Baked apples or some sort of fruit lay beside the fireplace on sticks. Azrael has Lilac’s area primmed and proper here, her own cozy corner with little feather toys the couple made. 

It’s clean, and it’s a cozy clutter of goods. They’re not suffocated, but it’s obvious they have treasures here and lots of stuffed shelves. Outside they have a hammock they both made from scratch. :’)

what their first christmas / hanukkah / etc as a couple was like

Azrael never really knew how to celebrate the Holiday, and never really had reason to in earlier years until Claudia pulled him along for the ride of Yule, and this was long before they were ever an item. She taught him tradition, she’s taken him hunting for the perfect Yule log, they’ve sat side-by-side making wreathes and making feasts with their own two hands in the manor, and they’ve both kept the log burning while hanging bits of evergreen around. Not to mention, the fun of decorating a pine and the tales of how they’d hang treats and food on the branches for spirits to nibble on in good favor. 

However, their first Yule as a couple allowed Claudia to sneak in the cheekier tradition of Kissing Boughs. For the first time, they made little doll versions of Claudia & Azrael to hang in the middle of these boughs, and entwined mistletoe at the bottom as is tradition for making. Every berry on the mistletoe is a kiss promised, and one plucks off a berry for each kiss given. They both had to do their damnedest to not pluck off every berry right away, and it’s become one of their favorite parts of Yule. The purposefully look for mistletoe with the most berries because of this!

what their names are in each other’s phones

On Claudia’s phone: “Mr. Callows ⚰️ 🖤” / “Big Spook 👻” /  “Love Goblin 1 🖤″ On Azrael’s phone: “Ma louve 🐺 💚” / “Little Spook 👻” / “Love Goblin 2 💚“

if they have any ‘couple traditions’ ( buying a new mug for their collection every year? baking every friday evening? )

The escape to Azrael’s cottage is absolutely tradition, and prized at that. Come Hell or High Water, they will have their time where they escape the life as Countess and Informant to be domestic - to live a slice of a normal life together, no matter how short-lived. That time is so precious to the both of them. Normalcy, peace, togetherness, and no one else around to tarnish their Elysium. It’s good for their critters, too. <3

who falls asleep first and who wakes up first

Claudia falls asleep first, but she’s always the first to always wake up, too. Azrael tends to sleep in and has his small wife peppering him awake with kisses and bites, leading to a grouchygami who tries to trap her in bed and snuggle. He can never win against her wake-up calls. v_v

who’s the big spoon / little spoon

It depends! They both are fans of switching. Sometimes Claudia will be found with Azrael curled up as small as can be, tucked away in her frame with his face in her neck, hugging her waist and humming delightfully as she nuzzles into the top of his crown and covers it in kisses, holding him very tight and very protectively (as she loves to do). Other times, you’ll just see Azrael curled up around something because she straight up vanishes beneath all that hair and the long overcoat LMAO. He hides his smol spook very, very well, and she does like that.

who hogs the bathroom

Claudia has to spend quite a while when it comes to fixing her hair in the morning; straightening it and then putting it in a braided bun with all those pearls takes time! Meanwhile, Azrael has a lot of hair maintenance of his own. I think they just make it work in the bathroom, no matter how crammed it is LMAO? Even if the mirror is itty bitty they just. make it work! It’s chaotic when they’re using the tiny bathroom at Azrael’s place, but they do it! With playful nudges and hip bumps, of course. Outta the way, you’re hoggin’ the mirror!

And with showers / baths, I still stick with an old way I answered this question; Without warning, Claudia hops in and joins, especially if she’s in a rush. Azrael’ll be minding his own business when OH HELLO NAKED WIFE FANCY MEETING YOU HERE.

There’s not as much hogging as there is Invasion.

who kills the spiders / takes them outside

It’s a fucking race to who gets it first. Will Azrael eat it first, or will Claudia swipe up the little eight-legged nightmare and whisk it away outside? IT ALL DEPENDS, especially when they both spot it!

#(( these are just my ideas of course! nothing is solid unless you want it to be. :'> I definitely don't want to be #dishonest with Azrael's character #but ye! here's what I got! <3 I had a blast filling this out for them #lemme know what you think! these are just my ideas. :D #sorry it took a hot minute - I like to go into super detail with these memes lol. #and it's way too easy to write about these two.. for hours kdfgk. #which I did #I love them tick. :c #I hope you like it!! )) #casketdweller #【 &ship. 】 ¦ ní féidir le haon uaigh mo chorp a choinneáil síos; fillfidh mé dó. #【 games. 】 ¦ you might even win. #【 asks. 】 ¦ what all that howlin’s for. #long post

[kda-chat]

10 Years Later Headcannon

In this headcannon, the K/DA girls are much older and further along in their careers. Respectively in this headcannon, Akali is 32, Kai'sa is 33, Ahri is 34, and Evelynn is 35 (give or take). This headcannon will mostly focus on K/DA girls (sorry non-Sivir extras).

At this point in the headcannon, K/DA is still present but not as active as before. However, K/DA has not disbanded. The girls have moved out of the K/DA house and are on their own but they are still present in each other's lives as if they never moved out.

XXX

Akali

As the youngest member in her thirties, Akali has shown considerable amount of growth in her art style. She has branched out to different genres of music from ballad, 90s music, rock, classical, and much more. Akali has taken time to travel the world to study music styles from different cultures, appreciating what each community has to offer. When Akali is not working on her music, she is aiding in raising and developing music and art programs for children living in underprivileged areas.

On the side, Akali scouts new and trying artists. When she sees a potential artist, she reaches out to help start their career, using her platform to promote their work. Sometimes the project fails, she's had a few bad apples, but most artists are successful and thriving on their own.

Akali still wears a signature hat but not as often as usual. She constantly has her hair up but also likes to keep her hair down. When she wears her hair down, she usually wears a beanie. She doesn't dye her hair as often, so it's back to her usual shade of black. Being married to Evelynn, Akali's taste in clothing has gotten expensive.

Speaking of marriage, Akali and Evelynn married way before Kai'sa and Sivir. They were quick to tie the knot and gotten backlash from "fans" saying that they were moving too fast. Regardless, Evelynn and Akali are happily married for more than seven years, growing stronger than ever.

As a married woman, Akali learned how to effectively communicate with Evelynn and work with her on equal terms. It took a while for Akali to overcome the inferior complex she had (because she was always raised in a hierarchy system ever since she was little). She constantly saw Evelynn as superior to her, which Evelynn assured her that they were equals. The two of them worked together to establish their equality and that it was okay for Akali to be selfish and self-indulge without Evelynn at times.

Evelynn

The Queen of the Tabloids relinquished her title. She is not in "scandals" or drama as much anymore. Fans notice how mature she has gotten over the past years. While Evelynn loved music, she focused her career in acting and has gotten a massive amount of respect in her work. She has been nominated for various awards and won a fair share of them. The type of movies she has done ranges from drama, action, and romance.

On the side, Evelynn is a business woman. She established her own company where she designs her own clothing, makeup collections, and purses. She often has charity events and sales where the money raised goes to organizations that help LGBTQ youths, women recovering from abuse, and many others.

Evelynn has grown out her hair nice and long, almost similarly to Victoria (my OC/Evelynn's mother). Her style of clothing hasn't changed much. She loves wearing tight fitting, expensive clothing, but being married to Akali, she started to wear more casual/baggy clothing as well (much to the dismay of the male gazes, boo hoo).

As a married women, Evelynn parties/attends parties less often and focuses on working on her and Akali's forever home. She has specifically designed the house they are living in, making sure it had what Akali wanted and what she wanted. A massive mansion with plenty of room for a village, Evelynn is already in the progress of filling it up. She has adopted a number of dogs, which Ahri hates because she doesn't work well with any kind of pets. Ahri is getting use to it when she visits.

Speaking of adoption, Evelynn has expressed her desire for children with Akali. It's a step that they are taking slowly, mostly for Akali's sake because she's nervous about becoming a mother. Evelynn is open to a surrogate (because succubus can't actually birth children like humans, there's a whole succubus/incubus lore about it.) or adoption. [Akali does not want to have the baby herself, which Evelynn won't push her to do.]

Despite Akali's hesitation with having a child, she has been reading up on "Raising Children" books, studying intensely. She does want to have a child with Evelynn after all.

Ahri

The immature and fiesty foxy has grown wiser over the years, shocking. Still dedicated to music, Ahri has released a number of hit singles and has been a judge on popular singing competitions. She continues her FOXY cosmetic business, jokingly saying she's competing with Evelynn's business.

When she's not working on music, Ahri works as an ambassador/executive director for Gumiho Organization, a special nonprofit organization for helping young children born with mythical powers, qualities, and/or characteristics (much like Ahri herself). With Evelynn's help, who supported the project, Ahri started this organization to help orphaned children that were left to figure out their unique abilites/identites/characteristic, find them homes, and provide them with an education that will help them in life.

Ahri keeps her hair short now, almost like how she did her prestige skin. It's just easier for her to manage. Ahri's style of clothing has turned more buisness like, wearing blazers and all. Her tails aren't crystals anymore, she missed her fluffy tails and wanted them back.

Ahri's relationship status is currently single. She has had a couple of partners that lasted for a few months. A year was the longest for Ahri. No permanent partner yet for her, but Ahri is more driven on working on her career than working on her love life. If worse comes to worse, Evelynn will begrudgingly make room in her mansion for Ahri to live with her and Akali.

In all seriousness, Ahri is considering adopting a kit child that she took an interest in. Nine-tailed foxes are rare to come by and this little one is the first one that Ahri seen since herself. Of Japanese origin, so they're called a kitsune, Ahri is seriously considering adopting this pup. The hesitation is because Ahri is worried that she might not be a suitable mother. It'll take Kai'sa and Evelynn's encouragement for Ahri to finalize her decision.

Kai'sa

Dancing is still a huge passion for Kai'sa and she has choreographed numerous of dance routines with major artists. She starred as the lead in a movie about a dancer dealing with mental health and the pressures of the dance competition/community, a story that is greatly inspired by her own life. The movie made a positive impact, especially for other dancers.

With the success of the movie, Kai'sa has managed and organized dance programs across the world, teaching a class when she's on location. Kai'sa has written a book about mental health, as well as making a documentary on how she handles her Void PTSD. In the dance community, she is nicknamed as "Kai'Queen" and she has signature dance moves that are nicknamed the "Kai Kai", "Bokkie Bokkie", and "Kai'sa sa Slide".

Kai'sa doesn't sport her purple hair look anymore. It is back to her usual chocolate brown hair. However, she loves braiding her hair and always has it in some unique style that looks like it has been blessed by the gods. Her clothing style hasn't changed much. She still loves leggings and is always down with a comfortable sweater to top it off.

Kai'sa and Sivir were patient with their marriage. With Sivir's status as the heir of Azir's fortune, it took a long time for Sivir to adjust to her new lifestyle while dealing with the public eye. Many haters claimed Kai'sa was dating Sivir for money, but true fans knew that wasn't true. They married much later than Akalynn, currently hitting their one year anniversary. They had a quiet wedding with close friends and family.

The two of them live together in a lavish home. Marriage has taught Kai'sa to rely on Sivir more, especially when she has bad sleepless nights due to bad dreams and insomnia, and that she isn't alone (she never was, but sometimes she gets in her head).

Kai'sa and Sivir adopted one large Alaskan Malamute and a Maine Coon cat. Ahri is fine with the cat, surprisingly. The dog...not so much.

In regard to children, Kai'sa and Sivir are considering adoption but Kai'sa also expressed a willingness to hold the baby herself. Nothing is final, but both women are anticipating a wonderful addition to the family in the near future.

XXX

Hope you enjoyed this headcannon. I had a lot of ideas for this, I do have more, but maybe I'll save them for next time. Feel free to ask if you want to know more. ❤❤

#kda #kda evelynn #kda akali #kda chat #kda kai'sa #kda ahri #k/da #k/da kai'sa #k/da evelynn #k/da akali #k/da ahri #sivir #pizza girl sivir #pizza delivery sivir #like #follow #reblog #headcannon

[sleeplessdreamer14]

🍁 Autumn Headcanons 🍁

(feat. @wallymcflubberfins’s treasure planet oc Lukas) also Happy Birthday Wally 🥳🍁🍂

as some of you may or may not know, Sophie was actually born one the second day of autumn, so yeah, it’s kinda her season.

neither she nor Jim can find anything not to love about autumn.

The warm and comfy clothes, the perfect weather, the drinks and food, the holidays, the occasional downpour of rain, the gorgeous colors, and it’s the PERFECT time for solar surfing.

Theodosia loves knitting & crocheting comfy clothes for her family.

sweaters

gloves/mittens

scarves

She made one extra long so Sophie and Jim could share it.

and sometimes Sophie will join her mom and they’ll knit together, so it’s a good bonding experience

Sarah loves the foods she gets to cook & bake during fall

tea & scented candles

I love to imagine Sarah, Theodosia, Lukas’ parent, and Admiral/or Mrs. Blake having tea/coffee together and talking about their kids

the only bad thing about the cold weather is the seasonal allergies.

so these kids are all about the fall season (then again who isn’t?)

once September 22nd rolls around, she begins to sport comfy overalls and switches over to brown & red sweaters most of the time.

like, this girl goes full on hobbitcore/cottagecore with a healthy dash of goblincore

this ranges from picking up and pocketing neat looking stones, sticks, and random stuff she finds on the ground

come autumn, her inner bookworm starts to come out more

she and Jim are a two person book club

Sophie going out and collecting brightly colored leaves she finds on the ground and little flowers and stuff and making resin art out of them.

fairy lights in the bedroom.

good vibes

as for Jim, he’s back to sporting his dark jacket more often (but still lets Sophie wear it sometimes)

uses the cold temperatures as an excuse to snuggle up to Sophie for warmth (is not sublet about it at all)

cold coffee in the morning and warm brews in the afternoon.

Jim would also probably manage to get Sophie to try one of those cold lattes in the glass bottles.

might like it, but at the end of the day, will settle for hot chocolate or good old chocky milk.

and now they have two new friends to hang out with in the fall season!

I imagine that Kate prefers autumn more because of the preferable temperatures and pretty colors and is a bit unbiased on the festivities.

but ever since she became friends with Sophie, she’s learned to enjoy what the fall season has to offer

Lukas loves the fall season for similar reasons as his love for the Christmas season; the extra layers, warm food, and chill vibes.

Especially this lil get together his parent hosts every year during the season where a lot of his neighbours get together for like a lil potluck.

he’s also quite fond of the beautiful colors that comes with autumn, them being second to spring colors.

still not a fan of the cold tho

but his favorite thing has to be the meals his parent prepares this time of year, especially the desserts.

Although he doesn’t have much of a range of taste, Lukas has quite the sweet tooth and despite being a godawful cook/baker, he practices making his parent's food a lot so that he'd be able to make them too.

being the sweetheart that she is, Sophie would absolutely take it upon herself to try and help him learn.

So far he's managed to not burn one of his attempts at his parent's pumpkin pie for once so he's got that going for him!

Kate daring Sophie into dying her hair auburn red with a safe temporary dye that lasted about a week or two before she went back to obsidian black.

needless to say, she actually really liked it.

anyway, September is still in its youth yet Sophie’s already started planning.

good holiday prep takes a lot of time, and what with school and work and their personal lives, so best to get a head start.

Sophie introducing Kate to the joy that is leaf piles 🍁

candle making

pumpkin patch trip 🎃

despite how tall he is, I think Lukas would probably get lost in a corn maze and Jim or Kate would probably have to go in and get him.

naps.

all the naps.

napping all day

wake up

get coffee

go back to sleep till 2 pm

BLANKET NEST

Sophie spending some time staring out into the distance while sitting on the roof/ dock/ a hilltop and playing a melancholy tune on her dad’s banjo or her Ocarina

visits her dad’s memorial grave more often

kinda just sits next to the gravestone and will “talk to him” for a few hours about how life’s going, comforted by the hope that he’s listening

crying is inevitable

Jim wondering where Silver might be and how he’s doing

(Silver laying low in some tavern a few planets off with a mug of mead and gazing out the window, wondering how his kids are and hoping they’re doing alright)

taking polaroids when they’re just hanging out

putting them in a scrapbook

decorating the pages with pressed leaves/flowers and everyone’s signatures

Sophie coming home with a basket full of pine cones

she loves the scent

D&D campaigns

how it plays out is extremely dependent on who’s DMing

@fuzzy-cloud-head-queen @thenewnio @catrillion @carlottastudios @friendofcybermen @dangergays @ends-of-the-wayward-storm @i-love-you-by-thunder @snowflake-dreamer @awkwardspacesoda @from-shattered-stars

#sophie iris #sophia moana iris #jim hawkins #james pleiades hawkins #Kate #lukas #kate blake #lukas kruger #Sarah Hawkins #theodosia iris #original character #disney #fav #disney original character #fanfiction #disney fanfiction #treasure planet #treasure planet original character #wallymcflubberfins #disney treasure planet #self insert original character #john silver #long john silver #chasing stars #disney oc #HawkIris #space sisters™

[songtoyou]

Chapter One: Move You

Would You Call That Love

Pairing: Chris Evans x Raina Morrison (OC) Rating: PG-13 (Will be 18+ for some chapters)

Description: There was always one person Chris Evans tended to turn to when he was not in a committed relationship, Raina Morrison. He could confide in her about things going on in his life that he did not feel comfortable talking to his family or close friends about. Chris and Raina were able to establish a way to communicate with one another openly but also being respectful of the other’s time and needs. It was the only constant “relationship” he had, but without all the nonsense of trying to build a life together. A “friends with benefits” situation.However, what happens when Chris starts rethinking his “relationship” with Raina and if either is willing to pursue something more?

Chapter Rating: PG

Warnings: Mention of anxiety

Word Count: 2,530

Note: This is the first fic I have written in ages. Everything about it is fiction. Sadly, I do not know Chris Evans and this is just a fictional take on his life. I do not permit this fic to be reposted on other platforms.  

Thank you to @southerngracela​ and @sullyosully for the support. I also want to give a shout out to @royallyprincesslilly​​ for the text divider. 

*Updated for grammar edits.

June 2019

The early morning sun was peeking out of the sky, and the air became crisper after a night of pouring rain. It was supposed to be a scorcher day in June, according to the weather reports. That was not something Chris Evans was looking forward to since he would have to be on-set partaking in outdoor scenes wearing sweaters, business suits, and heavy coats for most of the day. Despite the uncomfortableness his job could be at times; it was all worth it in the end. Acting was Chris’s passion, and he was fortunate to do it for a living. Chris knew he was lucky to be where he is at in his career. From the ups and downs to disappointing film projects that either went nowhere or were rejected by critics and moviegoers, it all helped steer Chris to become the actor he is today. 

With Captain America’s story arch now complete, Chris understood that it would take a while for audiences and some of his fans not just to see him as Steve Rogers. Taken on Marvel’s top Avenger’s mantle was one of the best decisions he ever made as it took his career to new heights. Yes, Chris had some reservations at first when he was approached for the role. He did not feel confident enough if he could handle the responsibility of playing such an iconic character. Chris was also worried about losing his anonymity. He liked being able to walk down the street with no one recognizing him or asking for a photo and autograph. Now Chris was lucky to make it a few blocks without someone yelling out at him or screaming “Captain America!”, it most definitely did not help ease his anxieties. 

“You got that Marvel money saved up. You can live comfortably while pursuing projects that people would not expect you to take. It’s a win-win situation for you,” said Raina, one of Chris’s best friends, when mentioning the project, Defending Jacob. 

“You sound like my mom when you say that,” Chris replied.

Raina laughed at that and said, “I take that as a compliment, you know.”

“Good. I meant it as one. You both don’t take shit from anyone. And I know you’ll always have my back as she does.” 

Raina and his mom kept telling him to accept the lead role as Andy Barber in Defending Jacob. And how it would not only be beneficial to his career, but also because 1.) the show was filming in Massachusetts so that he would be in his own home every night, and 2.) it was a role he never played before: a father.

Sipping his coffee, Chris stood on the porch of his house as he watched Dodger relieve himself. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you some breakfast,” Chris waved Dodger over to get inside. The pup was happy to oblige his owner and trotted up the steps into the house.

Chris heard his cellphone buzz just as he put down Dodger’s food bowl. Reaching over the counter to retrieve it, Chris smiled when he saw the name pop up.

Raina: Why didn’t anyone tell me that New York is always hot as balls! I can’t take it!

Chris: I warned you about that, but you didn’t listen to me. What are you doing up so early?

Raina: Couldn’t sleep. Nervous about the preview shows for Moulin Rouge. It is coming up quickly. 

Chris: Again, congrats on Moulin Rouge. You got nothing to be nervous about; you are going to be great. 

Raina: I’m just worried if people will like the show. 

Chris: You and the crew wouldn’t have gotten to Broadway if people weren’t interested in seeing it, especially with you as Satine. This is what you were born to do. Scott, Ma, and I will be there on opening night. Carly and Shanna won’t be able to come but plan to see the show on a girls’ trip to New York later in the summer. I know both are proud of you as well. 

Raina: Stop! You are going to make me cry. All of you are so sweet. Seriously, I am forever grateful to you and your amazing family for supporting me all these years.

Chris: Can you believe it has been ten years since we met at that Vanity Fair photoshoot for West Side Story. 

Raina: Oh God! Do not remind of that shoot. I was a ball of nerves that day.

Chris: I thought the paramedics were going to need to be called for you.

Raina: Haha. Seriously though, they probably would have if you didn’t help calm me down.

 January 2009

“Wait, what is this photoshoot about?” Raina asked her manager, Jerry, who sighed in response.

“Raina, I’ve already told you. It is to celebrate the Broadway revival of West Side Story. The photographer is re-creating scenes from the film version,” explained Jerry.

Now it was Raina’s turn to let out a sigh. Despite being in the music industry since she was 16 years old, the whole idea of photoshoots still did not make her comfortable. Plus, the long hours, the bright lights, and the shoots’ craziness left Raina feeling drained. It was now adding other celebrities to the mix brought on a whole new set of anxieties.

“You don’t have anything to worry about,” Jerry assured Raina and added, “Today’s going to be easy. You don’t have to worry about being front and center this time. You’ll be in the background so that you can relax.”

“If you say so,” Raina retorted with a small smile. She trusted Jerry.

When Raina finally arrived at the photoshoot, she was whisked away to hair and makeup and then onward to change her costume. She had already been introduced to her fellow photo mates, such as Ashley Tisdale and Robert Pattinson. Both were very pleasant and nice. 

“I am such a huge fan. I have all of your albums,” Ashley gushed admirably. 

“Thank you. That is very sweet of you to say. I loved your album ‘Headstrong,’ by the way. Such great bops,” Raina complimented, and Ashley’s face lit up like a Christmas tree.

As the two made their way to the set, each shared what project they were currently working on until Ashley stopped dead in her tracks.

“What is it?” Raina asked, concerned.

“Chris Evans,” whispered Ashley and went on, “Chris Evans is over there.”

“Yeah, didn’t you know he’d be here? Oh my God, you guys didn’t use to date, did you?”

“Ha! I wish. He is just so cute,” Ashley said dreamily.

Raina just laughed and shook her head, “Yeah, he isn’t bad looking.”

They filmed the dance scene from the movie where Maria and Tony see each other for the first time. Camilla Belle and Ben Barnes were assigned the lead roles for the shoot. Raina had to admit; both looked the part. The photographer, Mark Seliger, gathered everyone around to discuss how the scene would go. He started placing people in their spots with Jennifer Lopez and Rodrigo Santoro in their positions as lead Shark dancers Anita and Bernardo, with Camilla and Ben on their respective sides. Ashley was assigned as a Jet girl dancing with Chris’s character, the Jets leader, Riff. 

Raina hid her smile when Ashley shook Chris’s hand and introduced herself. Poor thing looked as if she could faint. Settled in the back, Raina was one of the Sharks. She was perfectly content where she was at standing next to Minka Kelly and Jay Hernandez. The three would even make little side chat here and there. 

Overall, the photoshoot was going well. Until the bright lights, the loud music, and the uncomfortable costume started getting to Raina. She felt like she was going to pass out.  However, Raina was determined to pull through in fear of being labeled a “diva” or, worse, “difficult” to work with; that was not the kind of press she needed now. Remembering what her mother told her to do when the first signs of an anxiety attack were coming on was to breathe in and out. She did that a couple of times as she closed her eyes when Mark said they were changing film and wanted a couple more shots. 

Unsurprisingly, someone else was beginning to get restless during the shoot as well. Chris was not a fan of photoshoots. He always felt awkward and never understood what he was supposed to be doing. He would continuously worry if he were coming off stupid or looking like a fool. 

Chris was more cautious of the types of photoshoots he would take part in and made sure to steer clear of the ones wanting him to be viewed as eye-candy merely. He was working hard to make a trajectory in his career from heartthrob to serious actor. However, Chris knew he had more to prove to audiences and critics for them to see past his ‘Not Another Teen Movie’ or ‘Fantastic 4’ roles. 

Nevertheless, when he got word about Vanity Fair’s West Side Story photoshoot, Chris was immediately on board. He was a theater kid, after all, thanks to his mother. Similarly, with other shoots, it all starts the same. The photographer talks about the art direction of the shoot and expectations for the day.  

During the short breaks on set, Chris looked around to see the other actors and performers. While he knew some of the folks on set, he did not honestly know any of them personally. The only person he was more acquainted with was Camilla, and that was because both filmed the movie Push a year ago.

As Chris’s eyes roamed around the room, they landed on Raina, who was fanning herself with her hands. While others were making small talk, he noticed that Raina took deep breaths and her eyes were closed. She stepped down on the chair she was standing on to take a seat and put her head in her hands. 

Chris felt bad. He knew an anxiety attack when he saw one. Slowly making his way over to Raina, he kneeled in front of her.

“Hey, are you okay?” Chris asked in a whisper.

Raina jumped at the sound of his voice. She did not expect anyone to come up to check on how she was doing. She thought she was doing her best to be discreet.

“I don’t know. It’s too hot in here. The lights are hurting my eyes, and it’s hard to breathe,” Raina said, continuing to fan herself.

Instinctively, Chris reached out to hold one of Raina’s shaking hands to help calm her down. 

“Have you ever tried the 4-7-8 breathing technique?”

Raina shook her head no and said, “Never heard of that technique.”

“Trust me; it has helped me out a lot. Okay, so you’re going to breathe in for four seconds, hold it for seven seconds, and exhale for eight seconds. Do you want to try it with me? Breathe in 1, 2, 3, 4. Hold 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7 and exhale 1, 2, 3, 4 ,5, 6, 7, 8. Very good. Let’s do it again,” Chris calmly instructed Raina.

“I’ll get you some water. Just keeping doing the breathing exercises, okay.”

When Chris returned, he again kneeled in front of Raina and handed her the water cup.

“Thank you,” said Raina as she sipped slowly.

“You’re welcome.”

Raina let out a little chuckle, “I can’t believe I had an anxiety attack. I told Jerry I was worried about this happening. Again, thank you. I appreciate you helping me out,” expressed Raina gratefully.

As Raina continued to sip her water, Chris took the time to look at her. She was attractive, and he could tell she was a little bit younger than him. While this was Chris’s first-time meeting Raina, he had seen her before at other Hollywood functions. Neither having their paths cross until now.

“Okay, folks, let’s get back in your positions!” Mark yelled to get everyone’s attention.

“You going to be okay?” asked Chris as he stood up.

“Yes. I’m going to be fine,” answered Raina, standing up as well.

Chris helped her back up on the chair, and he returned to his spot next to Ashley. It was weird. No one else seemed to notice what went on between the two. It was like for those few short moments, Chris and Raina were in their own world. 

Chris kept stealing glances towards Raina for the rest of the shoot. He kept telling himself it was to make sure she was okay, not that he was drawn to her or anything. 

‘Don’t go there, Evans. The last thing you need is to be in a relationship, and she doesn’t look like the type to do hookups,’ Chris scolded himself and added, ‘Most likely won’t ever see her again after this day.’

“I am glad that it didn’t take long for us to meet again after that day. We do have Scott and Shanna to thank for that, by the way,” Chris happily reminded Raina.

He decided to call her that morning after their text exchange. He preferred hearing her voice anyways. 

“Oh yeah, at my concert in Boston. It was fate. We were destined to be friends.”

“Yep. Even though you are a fan of the New York Mets and Giants fan, I still love ya,” teased Chris.

Raina groaned, “Let us not bring up sports, shall we. It can only get ugly from here. Anyways, I’ll let you go. I gotta start heading out for rehearsals. Talk to you later. Bye,” said Raina.

“Bye, sweetheart. Take care,” replied Chris and ended the call. 

He looked over at Dodger, who had finished eating and was now lying in one of his dog beds near the kitchen table. As Chris continued to sip his coffee, he decided to make breakfast and went to the fridge to take some eggs. Once he got everything ready to begin cooking, his mind drifted to Raina. Chris noticed that his mind had been doing that more recently lately. 

For Chris, his relationship with Raina was more than just a friendship. She was someone he could confide in about things he was not comfortable bringing up to his family or close childhood friends. Their friendship evolved when both began a “friends with benefits” type of relationship. This would only occur when both were not in committed relationships with other people. 

Surprisingly, this arrangement only managed to make them closer friends. The boundaries they agreed upon were put in place not to fracture their friendship. He went into the situation not wanting to build some domesticated life with Raina. However, at times, Chris kept thinking if he could turn his friendship with Raina into something more. Something more than friends, more than sex buddies, but as a life partner. A wife and mother to his children.

‘Stop lying to yourself,’ Chris’s inner voice spoke up, ‘You’re in love with Raina. Just admit it!’

Nevertheless, Chris could not admit to himself. He was not ready to deal with those feelings for one of his closest friends. 

Not yet, at least. 

#chris evans #chris evans x ofc #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x original female character #chris evans x oc

[ask-de-writer]

LOST TIME (part 1 of 3) A fantasy of Flocking Bay.

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

LOST TIME

by

De Writer (Glen Ten-Eyck)

5556 words

© 2020 by Glen Ten-Eyck

written 2003

All rights reserved.

Reproduction  in any form, physical, electronic or digital is prohibited without the  express written consent of the author or proper copyright holder.

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Copyright fair use rules for Tumblr users

Users  of Tumblr.com are specifically granted the following rights. They may reblog the story. They may use the characters or original characters in  my settings for fan fiction, fan art works, cosplay, or fan musical   compositions. I will allow those who do commission art works to charge   for their images.

All sorts of Fan Activity, fiction, art, cosplay, music or anything else is ACTIVELY encouraged!

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It stands out even in the dark ... It shouldn’t. It’s just a house. A damned old house. Not even that old really, not for New England. It’s a two story salt-box style with an observation deck under a cupola at the peak. It is probably just the setting. Rusty old iron fence, gnarled elderly trees, unkempt lawn not quite out of control, windows that the neighborhood kids haven’t broken. It should be a witch’s house but it isn’t. It is mine. I just closed on it yesterday.

The kids are going to have a field day this time. I don’t like the daylight... been on night shift as far back as I can remember. That’s a longish way back. But I’m not a witch, nor vampire. Nothing exotic that I know of. I’m just one of those people (you probably know one or two) who don’t show their age. If you envy me, think again. YOU try to explain to a traffic cop why your ID has you pegged for seventy+ and you don’t look over twenty. I carry a copy of my fingerprint record from the military, because they can check that.

Funny part of it is, I really don’t have the slightest idea how old I am. Traumatic amnesia the doctors called it, during the war. The head wound was minor, they said.

That is a matter of opinion. It robbed me of my past, my name, my identity, my loves and hates but left my skills intact. I was an empty shell. I am still trying to find my past.

The name that I use comes from more or less modern myth. Vandervekken. The Flying Dutchman. Wandering Dutchman would be more accurate. He sails the seas off the Cape of Good Hope until Judgment Day. He can’t find his home either. I bought the house because it is the first place that I have seen in over fifty years where I want to stay. You explain it.

The rusty gate opened silently, thanks to the bit of oil that I put on the hinges. Going up the uneven walk, between the looming trees is an experience. The door lock is old-fashioned but still works smoothly. Covered furniture could have made ghosts to haunt the place, if I were superstitious or given to being easily frightened.

As I said, I like the night. I even enjoy things with a bit of a spooky atmosphere. I also like antiques and handcrafted things which is why, if I ever find out who did it, I will cheerfully throttle whatever philistine covered the finely inlaid hardwood parquetry floors with battleship gray paint.

Stripping and refinishing those floors was on my priority job list. Actually, I shouldn’t beef too much. Pointing out the problem got me a price reduction of nearly $2000 on an already underpriced house with all of its furniture as part of the deal. Estates can be wonderful when you are on a tight budget. Too bad that someone else had to die to create my good fortune.

As I pulled the dust covers from the furniture, I saw that my good fortune was been complete. It was all sturdy, hand-carved hardwood with Chinese silk brocade upholstery. The furniture alone was worth what I had paid for the house and contents. The tops of even the smallest hall tables were inlaid with rich veneers, ivory and mother of pearl. You couldn’t buy furniture like this any more. Besides the cost, the ivory in the inlays is no longer legal to obtain. I could get as much from the sale of just one or two pieces as I could from a year of writing if I could bring myself to part with any of this treasure. It just feels like the house would not be complete without it.

Whoever it was that had died and left this for me to have has whatever blessings it is in my power to bestow. The only wonder is that this place stayed on the market long enough for me to find it. Usually, deals like this get snapped up by the real-estate brokers before people like me ever see them.

When I got to the kitchen, I received another little jolt. I knew that it was fairly up to date, but some thoughtful soul had stocked the fridge and set out a bit of a snack for me. Just cookies and a glass for the milk, which was staying cold in the cooler. Thoughtful. I wondered who did it.

While munching on the cookies, I opened a few windows to air the place out a bit. Going out to my car, I saw that the flags of the walk needed leveling because of the weeds that grew up between them. I drove around to the alley behind the place, opened the garage and parked Lilitu, my classic pre-war Packard touring car. She looked right at home in there. Few, even of modern garages were big enough for her. I ferried my few personal goods up to the house. On my last trip, I saw a couple of wide-eyed kids looking over the back fence.

“Told ya, told ya so!” one of them chanted. “There’s somebody sneakin’ inta the ol’ Vekin place!”

“I wouldn’t call it sneaking, to move into your own place,” I answered as civilly as I could manage. “I just bought it. Why do you call it the Vekin place?”

“If ya ain’t sneakin’, why ya goin’ in the back way? An’ after dark, too?” she shot back. I could now see that they were a girl and a boy. She was obviously in charge.

“I like nights. I’m a writer, so I can keep any hours I like. Why is it the Vekin place?” I asked again.

“Dun’no - Crazy guy named Vekin used to live there,” she contradicted herself.

“Lot of folks tried to buy the place since then,” the boy piped in.

“But nobody ever stays,” the girl finished for him firmly.

“So, this is the neighborhood’s haunted house?” I inquired jovially.

“No,” was as far as the boy got.

“Its down the street, on t’other side,” she cut in.

“I looked at that one,” I said thoughtfully. “The old Victorian. Somebody’s broken out all the windows. Not like here. If the Vekin house is so bad, why hasn’t some kid chucked rocks at it?”

“‘Cause we’re not THAT crazy!” exclaimed The boy, getting out a whole thought. The girl gave him a push, and they ran off into the night.

I got up about noon, after the most restful night’s sleep that I’d had since the War. After my breakfast and a quiet tour of the place from attic to basement, I went out. My goal was the local newspaper. THE FLOCKING BAY VOICE was sprawled across the plate glass window in Old English style letters of gold leaf and black. Smaller letters proclaimed Est. 1841. I pushed open the door. My nose was assaulted by the multiple odors of printer’s ink, paper and grease. The VOICE occupied one large room. An elderly web press crouched at the back of the space, behind several rolls of newsprint. Cubicles made offices in the middle of the room. An old oak counter that had once seen duty as a bar had several signs suspended over it on thin chains. They read ‘submissions’, ‘advertisements’, ‘subscriptions’, ‘billing’.

There was a bell on the counter. Some wag had put a sign on it, “Please ring bell, it won’t help but it will give you something to do.” I gave myself something to do, energetically, a few times.

A trim little blond lady answered the bell’s summons. She wore a green eyeshade and a pin on her sweater announced, ‘Lois Martin - cook, bottle washer & EDITOR in CHIEF.’ “What can I do for you, today?” she asked.

“I came to see what I can find out about the Vekin place,” I answered, trying not to stare at her.

“Just a moment, I’ll get the file out of the morgue. I was going to get it anyway. Somebody went and bought the place again.”

“Wait a minute,” I protested. “Someone buys a house and that makes news in Flocking Bay? This town must be even quieter than it looks.”

“Oh,” she retorted, “it can get downright interesting around here when the old Vekin place sells. You’ll see.” She disappeared among the cubicles and I heard her feet clattering down a flight of stairs. I heard a file drawer creak and slide, then slam shut. It wasn’t long before she reappeared, a rather fat file clutched in her hand.

“If you’d like, we can have lunch over at Mike’s Soda Shop,” she proposed. “He makes decent submarine sandwiches and real ice-cream sodas.”

“Well ... ” I pretended to hesitate, “I haven’t been invited out by a beautiful blond in a long time, so, yes.”

“I hope that I haven’t just made a fool of myself,” she remarked, laying aside the eyeshade. “You are Mr. Vandervekken aren’t you? The man who just bought the place?”

“Too true,” I said.

“Then I’ll make it an interview and deduct it from my taxes,” she smiled.

“You make enough to pay taxes?” I asked, looking back as we crossed the street.

“I have hidden assets. The paper is a tax shelter.” She opened the door of Mike’s and ushered me in.

As I was seating her, I just couldn’t help blurting out, “Your assets seem to be pretty obvious.”

She grinned, “Go ahead and stare. I don’t mind. If I did, I wouldn’t wear a snug sweater and put my pin just here.” She pointed, then added, “Looking at it will keep you off your guard while I ask my questions.”

“OK, Ms. Martin, but let me look at the file first. You can order for me. You know the food here,” I said, reaching for the file.

“Lois,” she replied, “call me Lois, everyone else does.” Then she hollered to the man behind the counter, “Oh, Mike! Two butterscotch sodas and a big turkey sub! Divide it in half!”

“How did you know that I liked butterscotch?” I asked. “It’s not that common a preference these days.”

“I just had a hunch, that’s all. You looked like another butterscotch type person.”

I was leafing through the file on the rather beat-up table while we waited. I couldn’t resist snorting with amusement at the name of the house’s builder. Capt. Von Der Vekin. The house had been built in 1894 by the Capt. and his elusive son, Charles. Nobody had ever seen Charles until he came into town, on April 1st, 1900, to report his father’s demise and burial on the property. He ordered a headstone hewn of the local limestone. Charles had returned from WW I with honors and lived quietly, claiming to be a writer, though nobody ever saw any of his work in print. When asked, all that he would say was ‘Pseudonyms are great for privacy’. He was not so lucky when he volunteered to assist the French resistance in 1939. He never came home.

Next==>

Return to the Master Story Index

Return to Flocking Bay

#LOST TIME #Part 1 of 3 #Flocking Bay #Written by De Writer

[madamhatter]

friendlyneighbourhoodscientist inquired:  ✵ + Komui x Sophie~ Send me a ✵ + a ship and i’ll tell you who does what at christmas! | accepting ! | @friendlyneighbourhoodscientist​

Who spends hours putting up lights only to get tangled in them and storm off? Oh, sweet Komui decided upon himself that he would decorate the apartment this year to surprise his partner. He surely doesn’t have any ulterior motives to decorate the house like avoiding completing paperwork and grading papers as a university professor. Not at all! However, the apparent curse of messiness that comes with Komui strikes again as he begins unboxing decorations from last year and it all begins piling up. Towering the living room now are new decorations and the lights are now partially covered by the unhung stockings and other assortments of holiday decor. Let’s just say Komui abandoned ship and was caught by his loving assistant when she came back home. Who accidentally eats a whole box of Christmas chocolates in one sitting? Komui would be guilty of munching away on sweets while working at his desk. Several of the faculty gifted the young professor sweets as a present, hoping it wouldn’t cause a disastrous mess like last time. Additionally, they gifted some to his partner, given how frequently she visits his office and is his “unofficial” T.A. Sophie isn’t a fan of chocolates, so she will graciously offer them to Komui in a hurry, kissing him quick, before she needs to run back to work.  Who insists on watching the cheesy Hallmark Christmas movies? Taking advice from her sisters, and wanting to indulge in domestic life, Sophie would ask her partner on the occasion to sit down and watch some “classic” movies with her. I believe she would try (American) Hallmark Christmas movies before she sinks in the couch, slightly confused by some plots (or how several of them are ripped off from classical books). Komui, kindly, would sit beside his partner and drinking his coffee, keeping himself awake and his partner company. Though, I see that the movies would be changed to actual classic movie films (being Rankin & Bass movies since Sophie adores those). Who insists on playing nothing but Michael Buble in the few days running up to Christmas? Stuck in an office or alcove for most of her life, Sophie wouldn’t want anything more to find herself whisked away in her imagination or any of the daydreams she dreamt up as a kid. While she finds herself compromised, happily dating Komui yet also working still as the company head, Sophie will begin taking new strides. One of them being playing more holiday songs both at Komui’s office and their shared apartment. In both occasions, the 5′4″/162 cm woman would take her 6′4″/193 cm by the hand and guide him into a dance! She doesn’t mind the height difference and she would take the lead, mouthing out the words to cover songs by Michael Buble, showing Komui some proper dance moves~! Who gets their presents wrapped at the mall so the other cant go snooping? Truth be told, I wouldn’t find them resorting to this method. As far as surprises go, the mad scientist and mad hatter tend to live on spontaneity, given how the other inspires the other. I could see them using their schedules instead to wrap their presents at their apartment when the other isn’t there. However, if I had to pick, maybe it would be Komui, especially if it was during finals week before the holidays. Bless that man but this schedule would be BUSY. Who insists on making snow angels? I see this as a toss-up! I could see either suggesting this arrangement, depending on the timeline of the relationship (pre-dating, dating, etc.). I could see Komui suggesting at points since Sophie hesitates and skirts around A LOT when it comes to her own feelings and wants. He’s rather well-read in her body language -- already finding it cute with her over-reactions and quick timing. Sophie would suggest would doing it if there isn’t any person there and it’s early in the morning while walking to the bus stop. Though, she would profusely apologize and blush, realizing how soggy their clothes would end up. 

Who put Christmas outfits on all the pets? The Komulin series 100% count as pets (or children) and it’s a joint effort. Sophie would be more open to messing with the idea of creating matching sweaters (or accessories) for the robots. Komui is interested in the idea, already very affectionate of his works. Even if they’re considered state-of-the-art robots, the older versions still need the same love and maintenance when they can’t perform their particular functions for a while.  Do they go to family’s or have a quiet day in? Forever honor-bound to their families, far too dedicated in their work, Komui and Sophie would spend their holiday with their family (being their sisters and Sophie’s stepmother). I could see them actually inviting their loved ones over and getting ready for a wonderful Christmas dinner. Though I’ll be honest, I could see them going the extra step in inviting their family to stay over for the 25th (or staying for a few days). I could see them wanting a quiet day in, but it could be possible with family too.

Who insists on wearing matching ugly Christmas jumpers? Komui Lee is enamored with the idea of sporting an ugly Christmas sweater and any of Sophie’s creations. It wouldn’t be on Sophie’s lists of considerations to even consider making matching sweaters. But, if Komui mentions it to her, she will definitely take the extra step to make the matching sweaters, which they both would proudly wear around at home. Komui, however, definitely wears it out and happily boasts it.  Who waits up until midnight to give the other their present? Disastrous schedules that these two have, I could see the two of them trying to sleep in on the 24th. However, with enough tossing and turning from Sophie, I could imagine Komui’s snapping from his deep snoring to note her restlessness. It would be from there that Sophie would suggest giving him her present because she just can’t wait to, damn it! Who insists on hand-made presents only one year? Neither! Komui is an expert tinker and Sophie is a mastered hatmaker, making things handmade is already in their systems. I could see Komui considering extra items for Christmas, however, if he wanted to get the right reactions from Sophie.  Who puts mistletoe on every door frame? By no means would Sophie ever attempt doing this. Even in her relationship with Komui, she wouldn’t even attempt or humor the thought of hanging up mistletoes. However, there is certainly a problem when your partner is an entire foot taller than you and could easily place back up all the mistletoes that took you more than an hour to take down. I would say that Komui would be up to these kinds of games, even going as far as hanging a mistletoe above him while Sophie jumps on her feet to get that darn thing! And then he can sneak in a kiss while she’s jumping and :’) my heart Who gets too drunk at the work Christmas party and has to be picked up at 9:15pm? Alcohol and Sophie do not go well together when she has to continue doing her work as a CEO/company head. If she is made to go to an event with numerous associates, affiliates, and partners, she would MOST likely get herself drunk on the basis of ‘social drinking,’ when she’s using it as a terrible form of anxiety coping. Thankfully, with Komui as her plus one, they could easily leave the party together. If it was at Komui’s place of work, however, I would find that the scientist keeps his intake in check -- as opposed to his obsession with coffee.  Who gets angry and almost tells kids that Santa isn’t real? Oh god no? I can’t see them getting so angry to tell ANY child that. However, I do fear the thought of Komui and Sophie getting deep into the conversation about Santa and when they spoke to their sisters about the truth about Santa. It might slip up with any curious ears around. Though, in an odd way, I could see Komui humoring wanting to tell the child early if they’re entirely persistent to prove it’s scientifically possible for Santa to exist and some robotics experts can’t tell them otherwise! But, he would take a step back, encouraging the child to pursue his theory while Sophie is nodding along, keeping her cool.

#( theoretically a maddening bunch ; truthfully a happy ending | komui & sophie ) #( checkbooks inquiries and much ; answered asks ) #friendlyneighbourhoodscientist #[ HEWWO?? KLEE??? MY OLD LADY??? ] #[ God tysm for sending this in! It's been forever but these two..Oh! They rot my teeth out ;w; ]

[love-can-be-as-cold-as-grave]

Chapter 28 - To Hell and Back

[Helsinki Finland, November 17, 2014]

The memory of her eyes, twinkling with tears as she had yelled and cried before him projected onto closed lids. That tragic beauty he could and would never forget. He smiled to himself as his body began to awaken after his mind.

The tears, the screams, that was yesterday, he thought, taking a deep breath, today, today I’ll show her. There’s nothing to fear, she never had anything to fear. I’ve loved her with all of me, I’ve needed her with all of me, she made the nightmares go away too. I need her. And she’s here.

She’s back.

A happy tear slipped from his closed lids as he opened them.

The white glow of a snowy morning shone through his window, a beacon.

He turned, looking for her, but she wasn’t there. His disheveled blanket lay in her place, empty. His eyes searched the room lazily, she wasn’t in the washroom at the other end. Getting up he pulled on a pair of dark plaid pajama bottoms found lying on the ground, and set out to find her, unworried.

He crept over to the studio across the hall, but it was still, stagnant, empty; she wasn’t there either.

[Music Recommendation: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GWnbktgrD-k ]

“Liv!” He called, his deep voice echoing off the stone walls of the tower. Only silence followed.

He dipped back into his room, pulling a black sweater off the floor and pulling it on before making his way up the winding stairs to the roof, where long ago they had sat in the warmth of the sun, enveloped by the harmony of fall acoustics.

All that he found was a layer of undisturbed snow which trickled down through the hatch door, melting on the floor.

Ville’s heart began beating faster, the type of heartbeat you can feel, really feel, as if the rhythm were a jackhammer on your chest. She must just be in the kitchen, or the backyard having a smoke.

He descended the stairs two at a time in a partial rush. Worry beginning to set in.The living room was empty, as was the kitchen. No coffee mug or opened newspaper, no indicators that she had sat or had breakfast. His heart dropped.

“Liv!” He yelled again. His rapid succession of breaths echoing in the empty house was the only reply as panic began to set in.

No.

She didn’t.

He rushed to the sliding door that led to the backyard, a puddle of melted snow in front of it. He slid it open violently, stepping out into the snow with bare feet searching, searching for her.

“Liv!”

Suddenly something sharp cut into the bare sole of his foot, and his eyes sprang down, locking onto the pile of broken glass and frames. He’d thrown them out a long time ago in an angry drunken fit. Tearing the pictures off his wall, violently throwing them down on the kitchen floor, watching with angry delight as the glass shattered. He’d bought them to torture himself with her art, but that night he’d found her letter. Crumpled, taped together, the writing barely legible from being handled too much. He’d thought he’d lost it.

The pile was uncovered by snow, spread out, not as he had left it.

She’d seen.

“Fuck” He yelled, face turning red, arms clenching with frustration.

No, no she didn’t do it. She didn’t do this to me again.

He sucked in short breaths, body shaking with uncontrolled anger, fingertips numbing.

Suddenly in one quick motion his fist collided with the thick glass of the sliding door, cracking a hole into it and slicing open the skin on his knuckles.

Ignoring the glass strewn everywhere, the cut on his foot, the stream of blood flowing from his knuckles, he stormed inside. Finding his cell phone in the kitchen he dialed her number, blood leaking onto the screen.

He pulled off his sweater, wrapping it around his hand as he waited impatiently for her to pick up.

But she didn’t.

The phone rang until it went to voicemail.

“How dare you! How dare you do this to me again! Leave without a word. Did what I said yesterday mean nothing? Don’t you fuckin understand Liv! I love you, despite everything you may dislike about yourself, despite the troubles we’ve had, despite everything, I love you!” He began heaving with sobs as his anger turned to grief. “We aren’t the same! We've learned haven't we? I thought we did but it looks like I was wrong!” He held the phone away from himself  as his body convulsed in tears, no words able to escape. Briefly gathering himself between heaves he continued. “I forgave you once Liv, I forgave you because it was both of our faults, I forgave you cause in spite of it all I don’t want to lose you but I can’t take it anymore! The least you could have done was said goodbye…” His voice died off as he calmed down, silence over the line as he struggled for words. “bye” he whispered before hanging up.

He slid down the counter onto the floor of the kitchen, trembling. Over the past year he'd yearned for some sort of closure, in any form, something, anything to grasp at, to cling on to in the moments he felt like he was falling, but this, he'd never imagined it like this. He brought his knees up to his chest, curling himself in a ball, this relationship, he thought, it died as it had lived, with passion, tears, and anger.

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

[March 1st, 2017, Los Angeles, US]

[Music recommendation:   https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=16ptWIZ36F4  ]

Liv slung her beach bag over her shoulder, hip checked the car door, and strolled towards the boardwalk, camera hanging from her neck.

She closed her eyes enjoying the weak sun warming her face as the wind billowed around her, enveloping her in the aromas of the ocean. The roar of waves and wind in the palm trees creating a background hum as children laughed, families chatted, and rap music blasted from nearby speakers.

It had been a long time since she'd had a day off, a day completely to herself, and so Liv had driven down from her small apartment in LA to Venice Beach to bask in the sensory overload of the bustling spot, enjoying the happy chaos around her for it gave her mind respite from the never-ending stream of work thoughts.

It only took her a few steps before the lens cap slipped into her bag and the camera was held in her hands, documenting the beauty of the urban scenery all around. She drifted along with the crowds, taking shots of the colorful characters before finally kicking off her sandals and making her way through the warm sand towards the ocean.

Finally, Liv sighed as the ocean winds blew her hair around her face. She pulled out a blanket from her beach bag and laid it out on the sand. She flicked the sunglasses from atop her head over her eyes, digging her bare feet in to the beach until she felt the cool wet sand beneath, and tucked her arms beneath her head.

Her wavy black curls created a halo around her head, goosebumps forming beneath the lilac crocheted sweater she wore over a black maxi dress.

What should I wear tonight, I haven't really had a chance to dress up in a while.

I hope Quinton isn't too late.

Where did I put my old jacket with the buttons.

I should call dad, see if he found that part for his motorcycle he was looking for, maybe I can search online for him.

Grandpas birthday is coming up, do I have any old photos of us that I can frame and gift him.

Her thoughts wandered with ease, but it wasn't long before the moment of tranquility was interrupted by the notes of a familiar tune, Wolf Moon. Liv flipped on her stomach, grumbling to herself, should have left this damn thing at home. She answered it, staring towards the boardwalk, admiring the colors of the passersbys.

"Hello?"

"Liv, it's John." Came the familiar gruff voice of her former mentor, she could hear the smile on his lips over the line.

Laughing she sat up, crossing her legs beneath her, "John! How have you been? I didn't recognize the number."

"Calling off of my office phone for once. Honestly this space gets very little use." Liv smiled, she knew the feeling, she herself barely stepped foot in her home office these days. "But anyways I called to ask a bit of a favor."

It has been a while since Liv had actually had the time to work with John. These days it felt like she was being pulled in all directions with work, and she loved it, she loved every second of the frenzied running around because it meant everyday she was fulfilling her dream. A short tour here, a festival there, an interview, an award show. Where the music was, so was she, tucked behind her lens documenting the moments that fans adored and magazines coveted.

She raised her brow, it was odd that John needed a favor from her, as if she could do something he couldn't. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to tame it as the wind picked up, "Go on."

He sighed on the other end, sensing her amused hesitation. "Well, there are rumors going around the office today about a big scoop, and of course there will be a public announcement on all social media but Metal Hammer wants to be the first to touch base with them. They haven't done much press lately, and someone over with them contacted us about an idea, a photoshoot, and you could maybe even conduct the interview since you've got a personal connection with band…"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Liv laughed, already imagining ways to fit whatever John wanted in to her busy schedule, I've got a gallery opening tonight I need to attend, a photoshoot tomorrow, but I've got a few days after that I can clear up. "I can probably make it work, but who exactly are you talking about John, I've made a few personal connections over the years." And it was true, of the more recent, and bigger names she could count as an acquaintance was Chelsea Wolfe, who she was introduced to after a recent show in San Francisco.

"Right, sorry. It's HIM, Ville Valo and the guys. I know you haven't worked with them in a while but I thought you could make an exception, for me if anyone. It would just be a fantastic perspective, you got your career started with them and now they're breaking up and here you are to interview them some four odd years later."

"Wait, I'm sorry what?" It was as if Johns words had been in gibberish, all of them but a single name. Ville Valo, it tumbled through her mind with it’s sharp edges but soft syllables. It would be a lie to say that name hadn't been in her mind, paired with a set of piercing green eyes since the day she had fled his tower, a scared young women too weak to revisit old wounds. Thoughts of memories long past sporadically slipping in to her mind over the years, but the cold sweat, the bottom lip gnawing, the shaking fingertips, and rapid breaths, they no longer accompanied these memories as they once had. Her hand subconsciously moved to her heart to feel the sudden increase in rhythm however. "John, are you saying HIM are breaking up?" That doesn't sound right, she thought, a breakup, that is just too inadequate a phrase.

"I am. I don't know much more than that. And this interview/photoshoot wasn't my idea, I'm just the messenger, but their manager has already had the idea run by him and he's on board."

She had a million questions, what happened, are they alright, why now, what happened to the album Ville had been working on. She opened her mouth to speak but no words seemed to come out. This was a favor to John, this was an homage to the band that started her career, this was a thank you to them and the fans. This was so much, and yet she was hesitant, not to open up old wounds, no, she'd learned to accept those wounds as a part of her, just like her visible scars from that time. I guess, she thought as she hugged her sweater closer, I, I guess… Her thoughts trailed off because there was no conclusion, there was no reason to hesitate, just a sensation in her gut like a worm wriggling out of the dirt, uncomfortable but harmless.

Shit, I haven't said anything in a while, reply Liv. "Uh John, I'm on board, I'm even picturing doing this up in Finland, maybe Lapland, wild career and wild terrain type thing, but I think I need a little time to think. Is that alright?" Her bottom lip slid between her teeth. I'll probably say yes, I just, just need time to think about it. And I thought this would be a relaxing day.

"Of course! I'll need to know by tomorrow though cause we'll need to arrange flights and accommodation and your gear and…"

Liv chuckled, shaking her head with amusement at Johns excitement, he never failed to surprise her with his passion for the business, "I know I know! Don't worry, I'll get back to you as soon as I sort some stuff out." Stuff? What's there to sort out?

"Of course. I'll talk to you tomorrow then. And uh, sorry if I was the one to break the news, you know, of the breakup and sorry to even ask this favour." She could hear the sincerity in his voice. He never really knew why she'd ended up on his doorstep that chilly day in November, but she knew he'd had his suspicions.

She lay back down on her blanket, bringing her knees up, free hand clutching her cardigan closer as the beach began to accelerate even more, bringing with them light gray clouds that threatened to block the beaming winter sun. "John it's really alright, I've been out of the loop, plus this, this gig would be fantastic, it would mean a lot to so many. I'll ring you tomorrow." She ended the call, clutching her phone to her chest as she watched the puffs of gray float by overhead.

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

She flipped open the mirror she had dug out from her small mustard colored purse. Holding it up with one hand she flipped off the cap of her red lipstick with the other, slowly and carefully swiping the rouge across her lips. Liv gave herself a once over, or at least trying to from where she sat in the front seat of her black Beatle. Lipstick, check. Purse and wallet, check. Descently put together outfit, she had put on a blazer dress with silver accenting, braless, her lean legs taking centre stage, check. Shoes, she wore simple black heels with a strap running across the ankle and a chunky heel, check. Hair, she fluffed her dark curls with her fingertips, watching as the strands moved, like a curtain pulling back to show the scar on her temple, check, I guess.

She excitedly stepped out of the car, her heels making that familiar, comforting sound on the asphalt as she locked her car and speed walked towards the small venue. Outside stood a relaxed looking bouncer, checking names on a list and letting people out for smoke breaks.

A smile streaked across Livs face as she spotted Marcus waiting for her. His caramel skin glowing in the light of the streetlamp above, his curly hair grown long at the top and cut short on the sides. He wore a dark gray sport coat over a maroon dress shirt and black pants. Liv almost laughed, it had been a long time since she'd seen him dressed up.

"So handsome!" She giggled as she opened her arms to embrace Marcus in a hug.

He hugged her before pulling back and doing a flamboyant spin, "You really like it? I've been in sweats at home with the kids so long I was afraid I'd forgotten how to dress."

Liv laughed, locking her arm around Marcus's and guiding him towards the bouncer, "How does Hanna like her new job?”

She slid her ID over to the bouncer with painted black nails, slipping it back into her purse as they were waved in to the gallery.

Marcus beamed, “She loves it. She’s worried about leaving me alone at home with the girls all the time but hey, I work from home, it’s the best option, and I would never want to hold her back. I sort of love it actually.” He chuckled, eyes alight with the joy of fatherhood.

The gallery was awash with the low murmur of contemplative patrons as they gazed upon the collection hanging from the shaded walls. Walking around the multi-room gallery were waiters in red vests, carrying glasses of red and white wine.

Marcus grabbed a glass of white and Liv a glass of red as they entered the throng of well dressed people.

“Thanks for taking me out tonight though. I love em all to death but I’v missed your stupid face.” He took a sip before turning to Liv with a toothy, sarcastic grin.

Liv rolled her eyes, “Oh yeah, no problem, I’ve missed your stupid face too.” She gently nudged him as they made their way over to the nearest wall where a single frame hung, the image within depicting an infant skull surrounded by dull roses and menacing spiders, painted with a black background and adorned within a glimmering gold frame. "Also thank Kat, she always seems to know the best openings or shows that I wouldn’t necessarily hear about. I swear, the woman is on a mission to fill me with as much LA culture as she can.”

The exhibition around them was a celebration of American artist Kevin Llewellyn. Although he'd first opened for Kats Wonderland LA gallery, his works had grown and needed more space to be appreciated. Kat had called Liv the previous week, inviting Liv in her place since she was unable to make it, something about a prayer and a date. Living in LA it had been all too easy for Liv and Kat to remain friends, a gallery opening, a new vegan restaurant, a concert, there was always something new in the city that they could enjoy together.

Liv and Marcus began meandering to the next wall, peeking over the close pressed bodies already gazing at the work of art at the heart of the otherwise naked wall. She ran her eyes over the deep shadows and brilliant highlights of the piece, her mind inevitably thinking about Johns call. Can I really just do that? See them again and act as if everything that had happened never really happened? Would I apologize? Do they know I've been asked to do this?

"Is something the matter?" Marcus asked as they began to move to the next work, sipping their wine.

Liv shrugged, "I don't think so, why do you ask?" She took another small sip of the sweet red wine, adjusting her dress so her nipple didn't make a surprise appearance.

Marcus gave a knowing smirk, "Well, you're biting your lip, so that's a dead giveaway that something is up." They turned a corner in the gallery in to a secluded room in low light, miniature charcoal sketches fixed upon each of the four walls.

Liv sighed, I'm not exactly worrying about this, just, mulling it over. She looked over at Marcus, he was waiting for her response. Knowing him he would definitely have an opinion or two. "Well, so, I got a call about a gig. HIM is breaking up and Metal Hammer wants me to do some exclusive piece on the whole thing." She shrugged, "Not sure there's any reason to say no, but I don't know, I feel weird about it." She hid her face behind her glass of wine, watching as Marcus digested what she was telling him.

He opened his mouth to speak but then shut it, as if adjusting what he had planned to say. "Of course you feel weird, you're being asked to work with your ex."

Liv thought about it for a second, fingernail tapping against the empty wine glass in her hand. "You think that's it?" He made it sound, so, so simple, but it also made a lot of sense. Sometimes amidst the memories of passion and loss she really did forget that at its core what she had had was a relationship.

"Yeah, unless you don't want to see him or are afraid of old stuff being brought up." Liv could see the remembrance in his eyes, twinkling in the lowlights of the gallery.

She pursed her lips, tuning in the hum of voices throughout the gallery, welcoming the small distraction. "I don't think that's what it is Marcus, with the uh, old stuff. I can't really explain it, I don't feel scared of him, if that makes sense. Maybe I'm a little embarrassed about how things were when I last saw him but, I don't know, I've moved on enough that I guess you're right, it's just that awkward moment you bump into your ex on the street or something, but instead of the street it's a job opportunity."

"And instead of an ex it's a Finnish sex god." Marcus smirked.

Liv shot him a look of mock annoyance before rolling her eyes. "After all these years and you're still on that eh?" She let out a small chuckle as they left the secluded room and reentered the throng of patrons admiring the larger pieces.

"Hey now, I loved the man way before you ever did, and if I'm being honest I really hope you do this gig, if not for yourself then so you can grab me some tickets for the farewell tour I'm sure they're going to have." He gave her a toothy grin as he took her empty glass from her and gave it to a waiter along with his own.

Liv tucked a loose strand of ebony behind her ear, "Yeah yeah yeah, you'll get your tickets." She eyed the crowds looking for a waiter with food, stomach way too empty for the small glass of wine she had. She didn't drink often these days and the sweet red was already being felt in the form of small tingles in her arms and a slight haze in her head.

Suddenly Marcus nudged her, pointing across the gallery. "Speaking of moving on, here comes Quinton."

Through a small crowd of well dressed attendees emerged a tall man with wavy, ear length, blonde hair. His blue eyes locked on Liv, an enigmatic smile flashing across his handsome face bellow a well groomed mustache. He wore a pair of tight fitting dark gray jeans, tucked in to them was a black, short sleeved button up shirt.

He grabbed Liv around the waste with one hand, cupping her cheek with the other, pulling her into a deep, and a little too aggressive in public, kiss. He pulled back with an audible sound, like the sound one makes on a hot day after drinking a cool glass of water. "Liv honey! I've been looking everywhere for you."

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

The moonlight streamed in through her large, glass balcony doors, casting her bedroom in shadows. She sat, back leaning against the headboard, knees raised up, feet tucked under the covers. She looked over towards the red glow of her alarm clock, 2AM. Have I really been up for that long?

"Liv baby, is something wrong?"

"Hmm?" Tangled in the blankets beside her, bare chest exposed, head leaning on one hand, eyes barely open, lay Quinton.

Her rubbed his eyes in the moonlight, "Something bothering you babe?"

She'd met Quinton a few months ago at a small shoot she'd done for Jim Somers for some new Black Craft releases. Quinton had been one of the models. He was kind, gentle mannered, a little vain, but had overall been pleasant company as they'd dated, and recently begun to see each other more seriously. He was easy, the relationship was easy, it was seamless and linear, and that’s why Liv enjoyed it.

She rubbed his arm, "Just having trouble sleeping, go back to bed." She watched as he blew her a kiss then turned around, nuzzling deeper beneath the covers.

Carefully, so as not to disturb him she got up off the bed, phone in hand, grabbing her black robe where it lay draped across a small chair. She dug through one of her purses on the floor, grabbing a pack of cigarettes and a lighter and crept in the moonlight towards the balcony. The balcony door slid open with a creek, Liv turned, checking Quinton was still asleep before stepping out into the cool night, bathed in the dull night light. She closed the door behind her. She took a seat in the worn wicker chair, tucking her knees up towards her chest and hugging the robe close like a blanket around her.

She stared out at the twinkling lights of the city below then pulled out her phone. She'd been turning the idea around in her head all night and found that it was the only way for her to feel comfortable enough to accept the job offer.

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

Ville sat at the edge of a small park on a bench, bicycle on it's side next to him in the grass. A worn copy of Lord Byron's complete works dangling from his hand, index finger tucked inside, marking his place as he stared off at the breeze dancing in nearby trees, the tune of an unfamiliar song stuck in his throat. The park was completely empty aside from him. He was bundled up in a black jacket and black beanie, red scarf protecting his neck from the icy breeze. The weather in Helsinki had yet to warm as winter slowly ended, but that wouldn’t stop him as he sought mental solace away from home, in the elements.

Suddenly he felt the familiar sensation of his godforsaken phone vibrating in his pocket. "vitun tekniikka (fucking technology)" he whispered under his breath.

He almost dropped the phone as he saw the name displayed on the screen. His heart gave a small tinge of sadness. Should I throw the phone towards the frozen pond or answer it, he mused pessimistically before breaking out in a small, deep chuckle, and I thought this day couldn't get any stranger. He swiped the screen, answering the call, unsure of what he had gotten himself into. "Liv?"

"Hi, Ville?” Her voice sounds exactly as he had remembered, soft, girlish, and a little raspy. “Sorry if I'm bothering you but John, John Mcmurtrie, gave me a call earlier today about working with you guys for a piece on the uh, breakup, career conclusion whole thing."

He almost laughed, her words were coming out in a hurried jumble. He could almost imagine how her face must look on the other end, eyes wide, brows raised, teeth threatening to gnaw down on that lower lip as he’d seen her do so many times. Needless to say, he was amused. "Yes, and have you accepted?"

There was a brief pause on the other end. "Oh, you knew?"

He understood her confusion. He himself was hesitant of the idea at first. Mige had thought of it when the band had last met the previous week to decide the best course of action to announce the end of their time together. At the time he hated the idea, why dredge the pond if you know you'll only pull up a corpse, but as he'd thought about it all more and more, he couldn't deny that Livs time with the band had been special, that her talent was impressive, that she was the perfect person to tell their final story, and that that corpse he imagined wasn't there anymore, like their relationship it had lived, died, and returned to the cosmos; he had nothing to fear, he would see an old friend and colleague once again. "I did yes, it was Mige's notion and the rest of us gave the green light. Although, Liv, I will say I wasn't really expecting a call, I imagined you would get in touch with Seppo to go over ideas and the like." In the distance he heard the low rumble of thunder. He got up, dog earing the book and tossing it in his black backpack, before grabbing his bike and beginning to walk it out of the park, unwilling to bike in the rain.

He could hear the sizzle of a deep, long, drag through the line before she finally spoke, her voice soft and unsure, "I guess the thing is, I just wanted to make sure you were uh, okay with it."

Ville was taken aback. Strange, he thought, I supposed I'd been feeling the exact same way. He hadn't really been able to put his finger on it, after he'd accepted the plain fact that the past was truly the past, and that despite it all he'd missed her company in any capacity, he still had a nagging sensation within him, buried deep within some 9th circle inside of himself. Yet here she was, putting it in simple words, I imagine I'd wondered if she felt the same way, if this was something she would want to do as well. "Dar...Liv, I am if you are. The past is forgiven and forgotten on my end, this project is something I look forward to, but," he hesitated, his words faltering in his mouth, "only if you feel the same way."

Thunder rolled again in the distance, closer now.

“I uh, I do.” She spoke more confidently, more assuredly.

He wasn’t sure what to say now, his amusement from earlier fading. He hadn’t talked to her in over three years. He thought he would be bitter if he ever saw, worked, or talked to her ever again. He thought he’d yell and curse her existence for torturing him in such heartache. He thought about many things, but never had he imagined just a lukewarm reunion of sorts. “Well then I look forward to working with you.” Idiotic way to end the conversation.

The line suddenly cut out as she hung up.

He looked down at the phone in his hand, honestly stunned at the lack of emotion in the conversation between them, not quite sure what to think of the whole thing. There had been so much bubbling rage and passion that night in his tower, the last time they’d seen each other, in the throes of a burning, toxic love. We must be somewhere where that passion no longer exists, where time has done its job, where we can talk now as acquaintances without feeling the festering sting of memories in the exchange of words. He thought back to what he had been reading earlier, Don Juan, to a particular line of the epic poem that had been stuck on the tip of his tongue, the heart will break but broken live on.

#ville valo #ville valo fan fic #fan fiction #HIM #H.I.M. #chapter 28 #heartaches knocking on her door

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/lifestyle/the-chic-octogenarian-behind-barbies-best-looks/

The Chic Octogenarian Behind Barbie’s Best Looks

LOS ANGELES — Carol Spencer, 86, may be the most influential fashion designer you’ve never heard of.

In the mid-1960s, she made a red pencil skirt with a white sleeveless blouse that had red stitching and three red buttons down the front. Short white gloves came with it. Thousands sold.

In the 1970s, well aware that the counterculture’s loosening dress code and mores had made it to the mainstream, Ms. Spencer designed a red bandanna halter maxi-dress and a matching leisure shirt for men. Those designs were popular, too.

In the Nancy Reagan 1980s, Ms. Spencer aimed for high-end appeal, making a one-shouldered ball gown in blue jacquard with an organza flower at the nipped-in waist and a cape. One of Mrs. Reagan’s go-to couturiers personally approved the gown to be sold under his name: “Oscar de la Renta for Barbie.”

Ms. Spencer has made wedding dresses, saris, go-go boots and caftans. All in miniature. From 1963 to 1999, she was Barbie’s fashion designer, a career celebrated in her new book, “Dressing Barbie” (HarperDesign).

Ms. Spencer also made her own clothes, and had an easy time working with the doll’s famously unusual proportions, she said, because they weren’t so far from her own. “I have shrunk but in those days, I was tall and skinny,” she said. “I had a 16-inch waist and something on top, too, I sure did, but Barbie’s legs were better than mine.”

She was sitting in her dining room, wearing a blouse in a shade that can only be described as Barbie pink, with a Barbie brooch and a Barbie digital watch that legions of girls probably begged to get for Christmas in the 1990s.

It was a different body part that was most important for her job, Ms. Spencer said: “I have small hands.” She set down the Barbie teacup filled with lemonade she had been clasping to show her fingers. They are small and jut out at angles from the joint, a disfiguration likely caused by years of grasping little needles and bottles of glue.

In creating a wardrobe for Barbie and the entourage (Skipper, Ken, Midge, Big Jim, Baby Sister Kelly, Cara, Stacey, Christie, P.J., Steffie and Miss America), Ms. Spencer was part of a team that has inspired the work of designers including Bob Mackie, Nicole Miller, Jeremy Scott and Jason Wu, who once said he played with Barbie dolls when he was a child.

For a Moschino fashion show in Milan in 2014, Mr. Scott had a Barbie waiting on front-row chairs and sent models down the runway in blond bouffants and pink skirt suits.

Last month, to celebrate the doll’s 60th birthday, Mattel hosted a profusely pink Barbie bacchanal in New York City with Instagram-friendly Dream House backdrops, intended to draw in a new generation of fans who are too young to know that Barbie was the original influencer.

1. Ms. Spencer designed Ski Party Pink for Barbie in 1982. The sweater had Dolman sleeves and a cowl neck. In her ankle-strap high-heels, she was ready to hit the bars, not the slopes.

2. Released in 1979, this City Sophisticate outfit had a faux-fur-trimmed coat and skirt accented by a yellow soutache braid.

3. A Mattel employee accidentally ordered 2,500 yards of gold-and-white striped fabric, instead of 250 yards. Ms. Spencer’s 1965 Country Club Dance fashions made use of the excess.

4. The 1992 Totally Hair Barbie was one of Mattel’s best sellers. Ms. Spencer designed a Pucci-inspired mini.

5. Ms. Spencer wanted to create an “evening pajama” look for Barbie after Barbra Streisand wore a Scaasi version when accepting an Academy Award in 1969. Ms. Streisand’s outfit was see-through, so Ms. Spencer made Barbie special panties.

Saving the Dune Buggy

Even since her retirement, Ms. Spencer has devoted her time to Barbie. Inducted in 2017 into the Women in Toys, Licensing & Entertainment Hall of Fame, she has spent her golden years attending Barbie collectors events, doing research and amassing artifacts.

For years she has worked on “Dressing Barbie,” which is sized for a coffee table and subtitled “A Celebration of the Clothes That Made America’s Favorite Fashion Doll, and the Incredible Woman Behind Them.” Laurie Brookins, a writer and stylist, helped Ms. Spencer with the project.

The book combines styled vintage fashion photography with memoir. Born in 1932 and raised in Minneapolis, Ms. Spencer rejected the wife-and-mother path that prevailed in the American midcentury and instead made a career for herself. “I truly fell in love with Barbie the first moment I created her clothes and accessories,” she writes in the book.

Barbie has been a go-to emblem of all that has ill-served girls and young women in American culture. Living in a world that is almost exclusively white, the doll has breasts that are disproportionately large compared with her hips, and her feet are contorted into a permanent “floint” (short for flexing your toes back as you point the rest of your foot).

Her hair seems to be bleached blond, never with dark (or gray) roots. At times she dressed the part of a doctor or politician but has seemed unable to hold down a job. And there’s the place in Malibu. Does it come from a trust fund or Ken?

But Ms. Spencer would like to counterpunch the Barbie bashing. She points out the doll’s humble origins, with her proportions modeled after paper dolls cut from newspapers. She also defends Barbie as a healthy alternative to video games; an engine of imagination for girls and boys, who can project onto a Barbie doll whoever they may wish to become.

“It’s wholesome play,” she said, as she pulled from a case one of the many hundreds of dolls in her home. This one was wearing a yellow chiffon-like pleated tunic with see-through pajama pants, inspired by the Arnold Scaasi transparent ensemble Barbra Streisand wore to the 1969 Oscars when she won a best actress award for “Funny Girl.”

Ms. Spencer’s house is filled with books like “Barbie: Her Life and Times” and “Dream Doll: the Ruth Handler Story,” about Ms. Handler, who, with her husband, Elliot, and Harold Matson, founded Mattel in 1945. The Barbie fashion doll was released in 1959.

Over a cluttered desk are posters of Barbie, like one showing the same image of the original 1959 doll, displayed against four different bright backgrounds, à la Warhol. (It was made to celebrate Mattel’s 35th Anniversary Barbie Festival, in 1994.)

Ms. Spencer is a scavenger for treasures in a toss-everything world. One day at the Mattel offices, then located in Hawthorne, Calif., she noticed someone was about to throw away an important piece of Barbie memorabilia.

“It was the prototype for Barbie’s dune buggy,” she said. “They were tossing it, and I said, ‘Would you toss it my way?’”

She learned thrift as a child. “During World War II, things were scarce and I remember the family would get the Sunday paper,” Ms Spencer said. “When they’d get through with it, they’d hand me the comic pages so that I could cut out the paper dolls.”

She began to create paper fashion for these paper dolls. Soon she was making her own clothes. But being a fashion designer didn’t seem like a realistic goal in those days, she recalled. “You could be a teacher, nurse, secretary or clerk,” she said. “But wife and mother were the big ones.”

She was engaged to a medical student but when she realized she was expected to work to help pay for education before quitting to be a “doctor’s wife,” she broke the engagement. Then she enrolled at the Minneapolis College of Art and Design, where she got a bachelor of fine arts with a focus on fashion design.

In May 1955, as she was about to graduate, she received a telegram from New York letting her know that her application for a “guest editor” slot at Mademoiselle magazine had been approved. Instead of sticking around for her commencement ceremony, Ms. Spencer took her first plane trip and moved in to the Barbizon Hotel for Women, for a month.

During her time in New York, she attended a reception at the home of the cosmetics entrepreneur Helena Rubinstein, visited the recently opened United Nations, danced with West Point cadets at the St. Regis hotel and interviewed the designer Pauline Trigère in her studio.

Ms. Spencer was in the same class of Mademoiselle guest editors as Joan Didion. “It was about as far from Minneapolis as you could get,” she writes.

She returned to her hometown to work, designing children’s wear for Wonderalls Company and then moved to Milwaukee to become a “misses” sportswear designer.

In late 1962, Ms. Spencer spotted an advertisement in Women’s Wear Daily. “A national manufacturer who leads its industry with annual sales in excess of $50 million seeks a cost-conscious fashion designer-stylist for its suburban Los Angeles facility.”

She sent a résumé and heard nothing back. Still, sensing this mysterious job was her destiny, she and her aunt packed up their 1959 Ford Fairlane and drove across the country to California.

In April 1963, she saw an ad in the California Apparel News for the same job, and this time her application got a response. It was from Mattel, the toymaker already known for the postwar bombshell: Barbie.

Ms. Spencer went to the company headquarters for an interview and was asked to make a suite of outfits for this creature. She made a halter-top-and-boy-short bikini, a one-piece in the same shade of orange-pink. There was a cover-up and a wrap skirt. She got the job.

Pink Pills Nixed

At that time, Mattel made about 125 different outfits a year for Barbie, and the fashion department, run by Charlotte Johnson, could be cutthroat.

“Charlotte had a theory,” Ms. Spencer said. “If you have four designers, you put them in four corners. And it was always competitive and you were pitching your product. Sometimes the competition was kind of dirty.”

How so? She wouldn’t say. “I’m out of it, I’m retired, I’m enjoying life, I’ll put it that way,” she said, and she took a sip of lemonade from her Barbie teacup.

Some of her early successes, all of which she has cataloged, included Country Club Dance (a white and gold striped gown), From Nine to Five (a midcalf blue dress with an embroidered vest and hair scarf) and Debutante Ball (an aqua satin gown with a fur stole).

Ms. Spencer took her cue from the culture around her. As the Jane Fonda aerobics craze of the 1980s took off, Barbie got a purple leotard and leg warmers. When NASA’s space shuttle exploration was in full tilt, Barbie became an astronaut (albeit one in thigh-high boots and silver capes).

And there was inspiration from her own life as well. When she needed a biopsy on her breast, Ms. Spencer was transfixed by the white coats doctors wore. The biopsy was negative, but the fashion was positive. Guess who became, however briefly, a surgeon?

There were missteps too, like when she gave Dr. Barbie a case of pink pills without knowing that at that time pink pills were known to be methamphetamines. “Let me tell you, that caused quite a stir,” she said. (Her faux pas was caught before Meth-Head Barbie made its way to children’s dollhouses.)

There are hundreds and hundreds of designs that are Carol Spencer originals, with only a small portion bearing her name. Until the mid-1990s, Mattel didn’t put designer names on Barbie’s packaging.

But Ms. Spencer remembers each of her creations, and many of them are in her home, which her sister, Margaret, 88, will be moving into soon. But even though Ms. Spencer gets out less these days, and relies on a walker to take more than a few steps, she said she feels surrounded by good company.

“You’re never alone when you have dinner at my house,” she said. “Barbie is always with you.”

#e news lifestyle #healthy lifestyle news report #lifestyle audit news #lifestyle news feed #lifestyle news ghana #lifestyle news hindi #lifestyles #national lifestyle villages news #odia lifestyle news #the lifestyle newshound instagram

[shireness-says]

Here’s the Thing (or, How Emma Swan Learned to Appreciate Football)

Summary:  Here’s the thing - she didn’t mean to fall asleep on Killian Jones’ shoulder during the Nolan’s Rose Bowl viewing party. ~3.3K. Rated T for language. Also on AO3. 

A/N: Here’s the next thing I’m transferring over for the Fandom Crescendo! It’s a fun little fic definitely not inspired by my own tendency to fall asleep during football games and wake up during the 4th quarter with no idea what the hell is going on. Not at all. Emma is sorta a Vikings fan in this one because I’m from Minnesota, and look, we’re going to be reliving that touchdown for the next two decades of disappointment. Un-beta’d. Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Here’s the thing – Emma Swan doesn’t like football.

It’s not for lack of trying now, when she’s an adult. But football will always remind her of men who smell like beer and cigarettes who are quick to anger, and later boys in letter jackets who try to corner her in empty hallways. Emma, for better or worse, can’t move past that.

But here’s the other thing – David loves football. And Emma loves David like the brother she always wanted but never had. So Emma finds herself watching football a lot more than she ever wanted.

David’s the kind of fan, too, where he doesn’t just follow his beloved Patriots (which is, coincidentally, Emma’s hard line on this football nonsense – she’ll watch the games, attend the tailgates and parties, but she refuses to root for the damn Patriots). No, David’s a fan of the game. So she’s roped into watching all matter of playoffs and qualifiers and whatever the hell else, because it makes him happy when people come to his viewing parties and makes Mary Margaret even happier when people eat the dips she makes. So Emma keeps showing up and eating finger foods and pretending to really care about the Minnesota Vikings because it makes David happy that she has a team (and Minnesota is at least a place that she has a few pleasant memories of).

Today, though, David seems determined to test her patience with this football nonsense. Some people had to work New Year’s Eve and didn’t get home and into bed until seven in the morning, and some people are fucking exhausted. And don’t give a shit about football. Even if he and Mary Margaret insist that everyone come over for the Rose Bowl.

But if Emma doesn’t show up, Mary Margaret is going to get that face, the sad puppy face, and call to find out where she is and why she can’t come, and Emma is way too tired to deal with that. So she shows up in her warmest sweater and comfiest jeans at 3:41 pm (the closest she’ll ever get to “3:30, on the dot!”) with a six-pack and a determination to make it through two games of football, if only so she can go home and get some damn sleep.

Thankfully, it looks like the evening might shape up to be bearable. There’s enough people present and Emma is late enough that Mary Margaret isn’t able to fret over her the way she might usually, so she’s able to make it to the kitchen with relatively little fuss, dropping off her beer offering in the fridge and loading up a plate with all manner of finger food. If she has to be here, at least Mary Margaret made her famous seafood dip. There’s a minor hiccup in finding a seat – Graham and Ruby are already all over each other in her usual, favorite armchair – but there’s still plenty of room on the loveseat and sectional. David’s college roommate, Kristoff, has burrowed in on one side of the larger couch with his girlfriend, and Emma’s coworker Liam looks to be making eyes at the girlfriend’s sister, so Emma picks the loveseat instead. Less chance of flying pheromones. It’s not her chair, but it’s a comfortable enough set-up. It’ll do just fine.

Things go relatively well, albeit somewhat drowsily, until the end of the first quarter, when he shows up. Killian Jones. Liam’s brother. Mr. Tall, Dark and Arrogant. Literature teacher at Storybrooke Academy with Mary Margaret, relocated from England six months prior, who Emma has been avoiding ever since. It’s not exactly anything against him – though he does seem slightly full of himself for Emma’s taste – but when Mary Margaret, damn her, hears the words “new in town”, she apparently thinks that means “open to set-ups”. And Emma is her favorite target. Sure, Mary Margaret’s meddling ways may have paired Ashley Herman up with her now-husband, but they also resulted for Emma in the worst first date ever with Walsh Ozwald. As such, Emma has been attempting to avoid large group gatherings as often as possible since school started and Killian entered M’s radar, in an effort to avoid being roped into anymore dates. They still see each other, but only when she absolutely can’t avoid it without being rude.

Still, Emma suspects Mary Margaret planned this all, because when Killian walks in with a bottle of rum in hand and a grocery bag of chips hanging from his prosthetic, conveniently the only spot left to sit is on the loveseat next to Emma. An entire room with a massive sectional and an armchair in addition to the loveseat, and somehow the only available seat is next to her. Of course. At least he’s polite about it, murmuring a quick “Sorry to intrude, Swan,” in response to her grumbling. And at least he offers to fill up her plate again because Emma is far too burrowed into the cushions to get her own refills.

They’re coexisting. It’s fine. Football is still boring and she still wants to go home, but things could be a lot worse.

------

Here’s the thing – despite her best efforts, she can barely keep her eyes open at halftime. Which is probably just as well, because the halftime show is confusing at best. Next to her, Killian is squinting at the screen like he can force it to make sense.

“What the bloody hell are they supposed to be doing?” he demands, and Emma is apparently far too tired to suppress her snort. “Can anyone actually tell what that shape is supposed to be? I didn’t think marching bands dabbled in modern art for their formations.”

Emma tries to form a sentence to throw back at him, but at this point, she’s too tired to properly enunciate, and it seems unlikely that he actually understood her replied “They don’t.”

She’s not paying attention to the TV very well anyways. Really, would it be that big a deal to close her eyes, just for a few minutes?

------

Here’s the thing – Emma didn’t mean to fall asleep. It’s with no small amount of confusion that she struggles back to consciousness amidst the sound of cheers.

She was asleep. So she should be home in her bed, where it quiet and there’s no cheering. Slowly, the circumstances of her evening come back. David and Mary Margaret’s. Football. Horrible halftime shows and closing her eyes for a moment and –

And oh shit, her head is definitely laying on something a lot more bony than a pillow.

It’s that thought that finally propels her eyelids open to see the players on the screen wearing different colors altogether. Jesus, how long was she out?

All she knows for certain is that she was sleeping with her head on Killian Jones’s shoulder – a man she barely knows, she might add – for God only knows how long. The realization makes her stiffen in panic and embarrassment, only to feel a gentle pressure on her upper arm, and God, is he actually holding her? Could this get any worse?

Apparently, it can, because Jones seems to have mistaken her sudden tensing as the sign of a bad dream, whispering into her hair that “It’s alright, love, you’re fine, shh. You’re at the Nolan’s.”

But despite his comforting words, she’s scooting away down the loveseat as fast as she can, trying to put some distance between their bodies. Unfortunately, that leads to an even more concerned look on his face.

“Swan? Are you alright?”

Somehow, she manages to nod and throw out a hand to keep him on the other side of the loveseat. “Yep, fine. Just startled.” After a moment of quick thinking and plotting proverbial escape routes, her mind finally connects to her mouth as she stands. “I’m just… going to get some water.”

And then she flees. Not her finest moment, but there it is.

Because here’s the thing – for just a moment, before her fight or flight had kicked in, lying there and using him as a pillow – she had liked it.      

------

Here’s the thing – Killian Jones isn’t really that bad. Hasn’t been for a while. It’s just that when Mary Margaret first introduced them Emma knew it was leading to a set-up, and Emma wanted none of that. And then Jones had made some comment about welcoming committees and and how he was sure she’d give him “the warmest of welcomes” while offering her a salacious wiggle of his eyebrows, and that was that. Emma decided that she didn’t like him, wanted nothing to do with him.

Since then, she’s gotten to see a bit more of the man, what he’s really like. Yes, he puts on a cocky front, but she’s also seen the way he scratches behind his ear when he’s bashful or nervous, how his attempt at winking is more like a weird facial spasm, and how he flirts outrageously with Granny because it makes her blush, even as she scolds him and tries to swat at him with a dish towel. He’s not a bad guy. She just doesn’t want or need anyone in her life right now, especially after the disaster that is her past love life, and it’s easier to continue wanting nothing to do with Killian than dealing with anything else he may make her feel.

That’s why the Rose Bowl incident is so disconcerting. She laid there on his shoulder for two hours, let him drape an arm around her shoulders so they would both be more comfortable, let him protect her when she was vulnerable and her guard was down, and she allowed it, even unconsciously. In those two hours, she allowed him to get closer than she ever planned, and Emma isn’t sure how she feels about it.

So Emma does what she does best, and tries to avoid him even more that she did before.

------

Here’s the thing – it’s hard to avoid someone when you’re both invited to a mutual friend’s viewing party for the college national championship game.

If Emma was stronger, she would have just stayed home, declined the invitation, but while Emma considers herself to be very much the badass, Mary Margaret’s cooking is her weakness. Emma is about one step away from setting up a religion centered around Mary Margaret’s shrimp dip, and will not miss it for anything – including for the sake of avoiding Killian Jones.

She is, thankfully, able to snag her armchair at the beginning of the night, choosing to forget Graham and Ruby’s canoodling the week prior. And this week, she’s had the day off – no worries about falling asleep in the middle of the game and making a fool of herself again.

Unfortunately, Killian seems less on board with her plan to avoid him. There’s plenty of people in the Nolan’s living room that he knows, but instead, he singles her out, grinning and coming to sit on the corner of the sectional closest to her chair. “Swan!” he calls, like some sort of excitable puppy. It’s simultaneously adorable and infuriating.

At least her scowl seems to throw him off, shifting in his seat and reaching for his ear, like he’s thinking better of his earlier enthusiasm. His next sentence comes out more like a stammer, much to Emma’s amusement. “Can… can I get you anything? Another beer, more chips, more, more… I don’t know, more dip?”

Her negative response is terse, at best. He knows it, she knows it. Again, not her finest hour. But the idea of acting otherwise, forming some sort of connection with Jones, is slightly terrifying, so she tries to use her words and tone to establish a distance.

Not that it stops him. He’s courteous and attentive the whole game, offering to get her drinks or food and trying to engage her in conversation by asking questions about how the game is played. Despite all his best efforts, though, her replies remain limited to a few words.

It could be nice, she’ll admit, if she allowed herself to enjoy the fact that a man was paying her attentions. But encouraging Killian would lead to more than just an annoyingly smug Mary Margaret – it could lead to affection and attachment and disappointment when he’d inevitably leave and probably break her heart in the process. So she keeps her distance.

She finally leaves at nearly midnight, with no small amount of relief to be out of his presence.

-------

Here’s the thing – Killian Jones is nothing if not persistent.

Emma expects something of an out of sight, out of mind thing to happen – that the only way she’ll see Killian is if she actively seeks him out, and she sure as hell isn’t going to do that. If she just stays away from him long enough, this whole thing will blow over. They’ll all forget about the sleeping incident, and Emma can forget about any… feelings it might have stirred up.

But she starts the whole thing off wrong by running into him at Granny’s on Tuesday morning. He must hear her drink order, because he starts sauntering into the station on his way to school in the mornings with a hot chocolate for her – whipped cream and cinnamon on top. The next week, she walks into the diner to find that her lunch has already been paid for – courtesy of one Killian Jones. Arriving at the station for an evening shift, there’s a daffodil on her desk in a small vase, just like her tattoo. David, Graham, and Liam are all clearly in on this too, if conveniently timed gifts and their refusal to look her in the eye when she asks are anything to go by. After complaining about her back the entirety of a Wednesday, there’s a little vibrating back massager on her desk the next day with another flower – a colorful daisy, this time. She mentions to Liam one afternoon that she’s planning to watch “The Princess Bride” on her day off, and lo and behold, there’s a copy of the book on her desk by the weekend.

In the meantime, he keeps up with his attempts to draw her into conversation over the course of the month, with everything from comments about the weather and his curriculum to questions about her week and the calls she’s had to respond to – the latter of which she’s sure he’s already heard about from Liam. At the beginning, she mostly answers with hums and grunts and one word answers. By the end of the month, she’s willing to give him a little more – better answers about how her week has been, asking how his students are, actually warmly thanking him when he brings her her drink in the morning.

Emma wouldn’t say that she likes him. But she will admit that when he doesn’t show up for three mornings in a row, she worries, even after Liam tells her that Killian is stuck at home with the flu.

Mary Margaret tries to interrogate her on the matter, but all Emma can really do is shrug and tell her, “I don’t know.” Because she doesn’t know. Emma isn’t looking to be in a relationship, but there’s something about Killian Jones and how earnest he is in all his actions towards her.

(She doesn’t notice the blur of blue eyes and black leather at the door to Granny’s while she and Mary Margaret are talking. Maybe her answer would have been different if she had.)

------

Here’s the thing – as much as Emma feels like she’s doing as much to encourage him as she’s comfortable with, she’s noticed him getting progressively more nervous this past week, leading up to the Super Bowl party at the Nolan’s. She probably should have expected some kind of action, but it’s still a surprise when she’s barely set the chips on the kitchen counter before he appears at her side, scratching behind his ear again in that nervous way he has.

“A word, Swan?”

She goes. It would be rude not to, for one, but this nervous and unsure Killian is really off-putting as well, and she’d like to get to the bottom of the matter, or at least let him speak his piece. Emma expects him to beat around the bush a bit once they’re alone on the patio, what with that flowery way it seems he can’t help speaking with, but instead, he jumps right to the point.

“Would you like me to stop?”

It’s a shock. All she can think to do in response is dumbly stare at him, barely able to stutter out a word of surprise. “What?”

“Would you like me to stop?” he repeats. “I’ve been doing all this for weeks and still can’t properly tell whether you’re enjoying my efforts. And I know you were somewhat avoiding me at first and less than enthusiastic, but David and Liam both assured me I should be patient, and I thought you were enjoying my presence a little bit more, but I heard you with Mary Margaret the other day and –” He finally pauses for breath. “Would you like me to stop?”

She could be brave. She should be brave. But instead, she just shrugs again, and hands him another “I don’t know.”

To his credit, he just looks at her in that thoughtful, patient way, like he knows her hesitance isn’t about their interactions the past couple weeks. “What don’t know you about?”

It’s silent for several long moments and she can visibly see him deflating, losing hope that she’ll give him a real answer and let him in if only a little. Finally, she blurts out, “Do you really want this?”

Understandably, Killian just looks confused. It’s a bit of an odd thing to ask, after all the questioning and pacing he’s just done that should say he’s very committed. Emma’s mind finally catches up to her mouth, leaving her to continue. “Do you really want this, or is this just because Mary Margaret and Ruby probably made some comments while I was asleep about how cute we looked together, and pressured you into it?”

He’s already shaking his head. “Oh, Emma, no, of course not –” but she plows right on.

“Because I’m not usually like that. I’m difficult to be with and not a particularly good girlfriend. I’m not big on PDA and I –” but it’s his turn to interrupt, this time with a smile.

“Oh, Emma, of course not. I may have acted like an arrogant ass when we first met but… I liked you. I like you. Not because you fell asleep on my shoulder and the Devious Duo nearly melted – though you were very cute, drooling on me and trying to burrow in further like I was a proper pillow – but because you’re brilliant and absolutely badass and sarcastic and don’t take shit from anyone. Not to mention, you’re the kind of beautiful that makes a man think in poetry.” The ear scratch is back again, but the grin is continuing as well, and that’s what she’s choosing to focus on. At least until he seems to remember how their conversation started, and it slips off his face again. “But I swear, Emma, if I’m irritating you, or you don’t feel the same way, I’ll leave you be and –”

But he never gets a chance to finish his statement, as Emma grabs his collar and hauls him in for a kiss.

That ought to clear things up.

-------

Here’s the thing – Emma Swan still doesn’t like football. It’s long and violent and there’s way too many different ways to get points for her to possibly keep track of them all.

But here’s the other thing – none of that matters quite so much when she gets to spend the Super Bowl curled up in the Nolan’s armchair with her boyfriend of almost a year, making fun of the commercials instead of watching the game.

(And if David or Mary Margaret complain about all the PDA, well, this is their fault anyways.)

#my writing #ouat fandom crescendo #cs ff #here's the thing (or how emma swan learned to appreciate football) #cs modern au #football