#it surprisingly came with a vintage style that i quite like

[needahugfromesme]

It's time for Carlisle and Esme to make their 1950s photos into funny Christmas cards

[eternal-love]

Austin and Me

“Wife to the ‘king’. Icon to the world. Destined for more.”

Summary: At 18 years old, she fell in love with Austin, at 20 years old, she became his wife, by 22, she was his doll. In which Cynthia’s life changed drastically after falling head over heels with a man that promised her the moon and the stars. She takes us down the memory lane of what could’ve been— the perfect marriage.

Inspired by the book: Elvis and Me by Priscilla Presley.

I do not condemn any of the portrayals I decide to do about certain people, it’s just fanfiction. And it would be divided in parts.

English isn’t my first language so I’m trying my best!

All my life I’ve been going back and forth between México and L.A, it’s been my two homes since I can remember. I was born to a new formed family, my mother met my dad when she already had a baby which was my sister, and since then my parents had two more kids.

I’ve always dreamt of being an actress, ever since my father forced me to watch ‘Viva Las Vegas!’ and ‘King Creole’ with him. For two years, my innocent little me actually believed Elvis was still alive and somehow young, so my dream was to act besides him. I cried hours when my older sister told me Elvis had died decades ago.

My parents always told me that acting was a waste of time and that I wouldn’t make it, not because I wasn’t talented but because out there, there were people that were the same or even more talented than me.

But somehow, I was making it, I had my debut when I was 14 years old and since then I was constantly booked— I adored doing any sort of horror movies, I was a scream queen if you know what I mean.

Once I turned 18 years old, my career was stable, I wasn’t no A-Lister but people at least recognized me, that’s when I was invited to a party, which obviously— my parents didn’t want me to go, they were very strict when it came to permissions, specially when those permissions involved other actors.

“You want us to let you go to a party with other actors?” My mom asked rhetorically as we were setting the table for dinner.

“Absolutely not.” My father interrupted firmly, he was quite strict.

“It’s the weekend, why can’t I go? I’ll be with Elle and her sister.” Hollywood was separated from my family life, my parents didn’t like hearing about actors or nothing, just me and my movies.

“Who are those people, we don’t know them. So no.” My mother was harsh whenever she wanted to, and I get now their distress of being adamant to not let me go to that party, I wish I had listened to them.

I was a girl that was sheltered all her life, so with a sigh and pout I walked to my room, mumbling some cuss words as I knew it would be difficult to convince them.

Surprisingly, Elle and Dakota convinced them, Dakota was older, she had been an adult for quite some time and she knew how Hollywood worked. Freaking out I waited for the day and picked up something from my closet, which now seemed to be all wrong in the eyes of an excited me.

Vintage clothing, go-go boots, Mary Jane heels. I chose something I could work with. I chose a 60s baby blue dress, it only reached mid my thighs so I knew it was good, I grabbed some blue heels too and for my hair I went all out as always, I liked the 60s, my fashion icons were women from that era so I teased my hair to the high heavens, creating a bouffant, my makeup was also heavy around the eyes, black eyeliner and two pairs of falsies, I liked it. I smiled once I saw myself in the mirror, this was me.

The party was surprisingly chill, nothing like the parties I heard about so I was comfortable but I stuck out like a sore thumb, I started to regret going all in on my own style until I saw him. Long blond hair, tall, blue eyes, perfect nose and he was wearing black pants and a white tee. I recognized him immediately, not only was he Hudgens’ ex but he was also the guy that was on one of my favorite movies: Sharpay’s Fabulous Adventure.

We stared at each other for some long minutes, until he finally got closer to me.

“Hey— I know ya. You’re the girl from that movie about the psychotic grandparents.” He said playfully, he pushed his hair back.

“I am. Cynthia.” I extended my hand shyly and he accepted it, shaking it and squeezing it a little bit. I was not a fan of the long hair but he looked handsome enough.

Austin knew my age but there’s no problem on asking, once he knew I was legal enough, he hit it off right away. Austin couldn’t help but eye my whole look which made me think he was judging me.

“I like your dress.” Austin laughed. Feeling embarrassed, I snapped at him.

“I don’t even even know why I decided to wear this stupid dress and stupid hair today!” I snapped harshly, which only made him laugh.

“Little girl has some spunk.” He joked which made me feel even more embarrassed after snapping at him.

“Thanks.” I rolled my eyes playfully. He was 7 years older, for some reason he acted as if he was 20 years my senior.

Since that night, we both started seeing each other. He was my first real boyfriend— I think he liked that, he liked the idea of teaching me what love was, he felt that responsibility.

My parents weren’t at all okay with my relationship, for some reason they said that no relationship with an actor could ever turn right. Once again I wish I had listened to them. He trusted me enough to talk about his late mom with me, when we were in his room after an hour of being intimate or whatever we were doing.

“I wish my mom could’ve met you. She would’ve really liked you.” Austin whispered to me in full confidence, he felt like I was the kind of gal his mother always wanted for him, not someone like Vanessa.

“I wish I could’ve met her too.” I whispered back to him softly, I hated seeing him with tears in his eyes while he talked about his mom because I didn’t know how to comfort him.

“She was my whole world… my mama.” Austin rubbed his eyes and sniffed some tears, I tried cuddling closer to him.

Take my advice here: never date a mama’s boy.

“Why you? Why can’t he go back to dating women older than him? You’re only 18.” My mom nagged me, sometimes I felt bad because not only did she have to worry about me but also for my younger sibling, who were barely even teenagers.

“He’s not like you imagine, mami.” I tried excuses for my relationship, they didn’t even know him that well to judge him.

“Oh really? He’s just another damn white actor. Tu crees que tu papá va a dejar que te cases con alguien cómo Austin? (Do you think your father will allow you to marry someone like Austin?)”

I stayed silent, marriage had not been discussed by Austin and I, we were still in the honeymoon phase of the relationship. I was happy— we were happy. Out first Valentine Day’s was amazing and it made things finally official to everyone. Austin gave me this beautiful locket with his picture inside, great gift.

I think he also liked that things were pretty much private between us, I barely posted him on my Instagram since he barely posted me on his, he liked that I wasn’t loud, bitching and moaning about our relationship.

“Should I marry her?” Austin asked his older sister, Ashley, who was engaged herself.

“I don’t know, Aus. She’s not your type.” Ashley never really liked me, she was weirdly a Trump supporter and well— it’s not like Trump was the most inclusive person.

“She’s exactly my type, she’s not bossy or loud. She’s a brunette— well I would rather her being more natural and drop the jet black hair. But she’s exactly what I want.” Austin said.

“You do whatever you want, just remember that marriage ties you down. Don’t let her cut your wings.”

I was 19 years old— marriage was the last thing on my mind. I was happy with my career and surely acting in more stuff gave me more fame and people started to recognize me more. But every action has its consequences and not wrapping it before tapping it caught up to us.

Have you guys heard of shotgun weddings? Well us was in some way. But the wedding should be another part of this.

So, this is the beginning. Austin will be kind of an asshole just cause his behavior is kinda inspired by Elvis.

[valkriii]

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓

Jυʂƚ α ƚɾιɱ

┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

═════════════════════

ꜱʜᴏʀᴛ ꜰɪᴄ

@universallyprincecollective

❝ Bebop is need of a trim and little bit of a line up with the help of Rocksteady ❞

(Not my usual fic but hopefully it’s okay)

═════════════════════

The day was a surprisingly calm one, New York was quiet, crime wise that was. It was a bit of an unnatural thing but the boys didn’t quite feel up to the chaos today. Instead they sat lazed around, one sitting watch a TV screen blankly, the other touching up their looks, having been neglecting any grooming for quite some time.

Bebop sat and messed with his Mohawk a bit. The purple hair was beginning to get a bit long for his liking, messing up his process to maintain his signature hairstyle. A huff escaped the nostrils of the warthog, staring himself down in the mirror. This caught the rhinos attention, “ya alright be?”, Rocksteady called over his shoulder, side glancing over to the bathroom. “Man! I look a mess”, Bebop’s frustration had Rocksteady’s brows furrowing. “You’re a warthog Beb’s…”, Rocksteady said a bit of an ‘that’s obvious’ kind of tone. This did not amuse Bebop as he turned and looked through the door way to the rhino. “Besides the point, my hairs a mess and my beard! Haven’t been able to get cleaned up since we got mutated”, Bebop took his grooming as serious as a ritual when it came down to it, he had an image to maintain.

“Ya want me to line ya up?”, Rocksteady offered. The Rhino was no professional but definitely considered himself decent as he cared for his own grooming when he wasn’t a mutant. Bebop put his hands on his hips as his eyes squinted, “you do that stuff?”. This earned a huff from Rocksteady, “of course man, now get your ass in a chair.”

This is what started the little barbershop moment Bebop was having with Rocksteady playing the barber. Bebop didn’t have the highest expectations but he wasn’t entirely against Rocksteady being good at the job. “You should lose the beard”, Rocksteady commented as he sharpened the blade of the razor. The rhino was classy, kept it old school with his vintage straight edge shaver. Bebop touched his face as he looked in the mirror, “really?”, that was replied back to with a quick ‘yes’.

And with that, that’s where Rocksteady began. After applying some therapeutic shaving cream across his cheeks, chin and neck, Rocksteady’s readied his straight edge razor blade.

“Don’t cut me with that thing-“

“Shut up, you’ll be fine”

Rocksteady began to sheer away the thick scruffy beard that was growing on the warthogs face. It took a second but after shortening up, that’s when he began the close shave to rid him of any loose stubble and leave him with a smooth shave. Rocksteady had to admit it was coming out cleaner then he expected. Cleaning off the razor, he went and grabbed a towel before soaking it in hot water, it wasn’t unbearable but it was definitely warm. When he came back, he applied the hot towel to the fresh shave, soothing any irritation that may have came or stopping it in its tracks. This got a satisfied sigh out of Bebop as he visibly began to relax and trust the process. Once the beard was done, it was time for the hair cut and trim. Setting the razor aside, Rocksteady took the comb and scissors in his hand. It wasn’t going to be terrible due to the fact Bebop didn’t have an immense amount of hair but enough to know it was more then liked. Rocksteady was carefully as he combed up but left just enough hair to trim off. The rhino was looking to mimic his previous hair length which didn’t seem more then an inch or two.

After trimming as much as he saw fit, he brushed the trimmed and cut hair of Bebop’s shoulders before grabbing gel and styling the iconic Mohawk. “You’re all done Beb’s” Rocksteady informed as he removed the towel. Standing up, Bebop went to the mirror again as his eyes widened before he slowly nodded, “damn man, you did better then I thought”.

[theolsentimes]

Mary-Kate Olsen's Singular Style

She came to fame as a twin, but the actress's cultish look is entirely her own. Here, with Lauren Hutton, she pays homage to another fashion inspiration, Grey Gardens. Written by Laura Brown, with photography by Peter Lindbergh (Harper's Bazaar, 2007)

VIEW GALLERY

Mary-Kate Olsen may be the only young actress who breezes into her local Starbucks wearing towering, fashion-fierce Balenciaga boots, who arrives at her latest premiere (in Mary-Kate's case, for the new season of Showtime's Weeds, in which she plays a devout Christian with a pot fetish) sporting an oversize cross, and whose favorite band is Led Zeppelin. She may, in fact, be the only young actress who knows who Led Zeppelin is. MK, as she is known to her friends and family, is also a punctual and professional sort. She arrives for a poolside tea in Los Angeles 10 minutes early, ordering a hot chocolate while explaining her fetish for all things sweet — "I'm a candy girl, like Tootsie Rolls and Swedish Fish" — and objecting when the waiter tries to take the sugar bowl away. She is wearing a nautical striped T-shirt (her mom's, from the '70s), tucked into two black Wolford slips rolled down and turned into a tight, Robert-Palmer-video-style mini, and multicolored sparkly Christian Louboutin stilettos. She's just had her hair colored, returning to a sunnier shade after some experiments with both peroxide ("I woke up one morning and was like, I want white-trash hair today") and the dark side (an auburn-haired near-Goth moment last year). She's carrying a large black fringed leather Prada tote — she doesn't do small bags — and her fingers are covered with rings, most notably two vintage coiled gold snakes stacked on top of each other. ("They remind me of twins, sort of double headed.") Altogether, the effect is less her famed "bag-lady chic" than an edgy, body-conscious, and, yes, sexy silhouette. If she weren't 21, she could be 40. And French.

Few people need reminding that Mary-Kate — with her twin sister, Ashley — literally crawled into celebrity aged nine months (courtesy of Full House) and has not been out of the spotlight ever since. She has been a celebrity for more than two decades. Perhaps that's one reason she seems as if she came out of the womb worldly, the textbook old soul. "Yeah," she says with a small shrug. "I get that a lot." With all of that attention and all of the money (her and Ashley's company, Dualstar, has famously become a "billion-dollar business"), Mary-Kate could easily have ended up the type who wears pink terry cloth and carries a variety of small dogs. "Could you imagine?" she says with the politest version of a snort. "No way." She credits her exceptionally close-knit family (she has five siblings) and, interestingly, early stardom with helping her keep her perspective. "I think it helped that I started in front of the camera, so it didn't come as a shock. If I was a teenager and was thrown into the spotlight, I don't know how I would react, to be honest." Though the tabloids are all too keen to brand her a skinny, nervous deer in the headlights, in person Mary-Kate is easy in her skin, confident and surprisingly tactile, curling up in her seat and touching you on the arm to make a point. She laments the generic style of most actresses and cites only men as style inspirations: "Heath Ledger, Johnny Depp. Men, they just dress the way they want, and they don't think about Who Wore It Best." She doesn't much care for Who Wore It Best, noting she avoids those pages by "wearing vintage so often. I just dress the way I feel instead of looking for what's the new handbag." If Mary-Kate and Ashley have their way, more people will be wearing clothes and carrying bags the way they do. They have just shown the fifth collection of their ready-to-wear line, the Row, and recently launched a contemporary label, Elizabeth and James, named after a sister and a brother. The Row's holiday collection (in stores next month) is a slick mix of skinny leather pants, razor-cut blazers, butter-soft, slouchy tees, and a destined-to-be-cultish pullover fur. Lauren Hutton, who stars in the Row's Spring '08 look book, says, "The clothes are extraordinary. A man I was with just loved them. The pieces are just so genius, soft like a baby's skin. Simple minimalist stuff, but really spectacular." Mary-Kate, designer, faces an interesting challenge. She has to marry Dualstar — which has made its fortune selling tween-tastic DVDs and pastel Mary-Kate and Ashley T-shirts at Wal-Mart — with her increasingly edgy and subversive taste. Dualstar executives, some of whom have worked with her since she was a child, often nag her, mom-style, about pulling her hair back "or wearing a color," she says with a laugh. "I had this event recently, and I was like, They're going to be so happy that I'm wearing ... purple. I actually have to think about those things, though, you know, so I don't get trashed." Get trashed sometimes she does. Hutton says, "Once in a while, she'll wear something and I'll think, Oh, baby doll, take another look. But to have the bravery, to take the chance to do that, is pretty wonderful. She is making her own way, which is hardly ever done in Hollywood." Of Mary-Kate's penchant for gigantic Balenciaga heels, Jenji Kohan, the creator of Weeds, says, laughing, "I'd be like, 'It's Tuesday. Do you really want to be wearing those shoes?' But she pulls it off." Designer Giambattista Valli, a friend, says, "She likes to take risks, but because she has such strong personal style, she always manages to make it work. Even if she had nothing on, she'd have style." And MK chic is spreading. "Sometimes I'll look at people or at a magazine and I'll do a double take because I'm like, Oh, my God, that's my outfit, but that's not me," Mary-Kate says. Playing with her wire-rimmed aviators, she jokes wryly that she should have bought shares in Ray-Ban. (She and Chloë Sevigny pretty much brought back white '80s Wayfarers.) She tends to fall in love with a look, then wear it until she's done. "If I put together a good outfit, I'll wear it for three days and then switch it up with a blazer," she says. "I still love my vintage jeans, my tights, and my pants, though." She didn't start wearing heels, in fact, until a couple of years ago: "I kept watching Ashley walk around in them so gracefully, and I'm such a klutz. But I ended up loving heels, and I don't usually take them off." She wears precisely one pair of flat shoes: Chanel's knee-high patent-leather gladiator sandals. This season, it's Balenciaga's fall collection — all of it — that has Mary-Kate obsessed. She is close to designer Nicolas Ghesquière and says, "He is so talented, but he's the nicest, most down-to-earth guy, and that makes everything he does more brilliant. I bought everything, but I haven't got anything yet," she says like a girl impatiently waiting for Christmas. Will she wear the new pieces with her infamous clodhopper boots? "Uh-huh. Wore them the other day, actually." Mary-Kate always goes with her gut, even if some people (back to those tabloids) don't quite get it. "The tabloids say things about me? What do they say?" she asks archly. "People are going to write what they want, and everyone's going to have their own idea of who I am. But I'm not trying to be friends with the people who are reading them, really." After a rough couple of years filled with near-forensic scrutiny of her weight, she'll have you know that she does eat. "This is not going to sound good," she laughs, "but I like making crispy tofu sticks with peanut sauce. I love my sashimi and my salmon and my vegetables." She observes, "Stress plays a big role in how I look day-to-day. I've always been very active — Pilates, yoga. I grew up horseback riding every day for hours. I love dancing. I usually last longer than anyone on the dance floor." A common image of Mary-Kate has her emerging from a coffee joint with an oversize cup. "I always get creamed for having my Starbucks cup," she says, sighing. "But the only time people get photos of me is when I'm getting coffee, when I can't sneak away from the camera." She also resents the pictorial implication that she and Ashley are dilettantes. "They take photos of us going into our offices, and it's 'Mary-Kate and Ashley shopping again.' But I'm going to work for eight hours, and we're working so hard. ..." She trails off. "It just shows how people want to think of you." Mary-Kate is not above celeb watching herself, however. Newly obsessed with Victoria Beckham, she notes she avidly watched Beckham's Coming to America documentary: "She's running around in a bikini and heels, and I'm like, Oh, my God! I do that, too!" How positively Grey Gardens. "I run around my house naked with heels all the time. It's so funny. All my friends will tell you I love running around in kimonos and jewelry or naked with jewelry." More people will be watching Mary-Kate soon, thanks to her role in the Emmy-nominated Weeds. "I am a very good Christian girl," she says with a wink. "She has her moral beliefs — and she happens to smoke pot." Of her newest cast member, Kohan adds, "Mary-Kate is complicated. She's a big celebrity, a huge media icon, but you have to separate the media images from someone who has the same issues, the same desires, as anyone else." Of course, Mary-Kate's image, in all its incarnations — from high fashion to small screen — is her strongest asset. And she has yet to settle on one. "I feel like I've lived 10 different lives already and I'm only 21," she says, almost as a reminder to herself. "But I also feel like I'm entering a new chapter." One thing on which she is clear, though: She doesn't need to be looked at all the time. What would she do for a day if she were invisible? "I would probably go to a restaurant with my friends, who would be able to see me, of course," she adds pragmatically, "and I would sit outside and enjoy a nice lunch with them. Then I would walk down the street." The old soul takes a sip of her little-girl-sweet hot chocolate. "That's what I would do."

[sinclairjholly]

Did you see HOLLY J SINCLAIR walking around the streets of Toronto? I could have sworn they look just like LUDOVICA MARTINO. SHE IS AN EIGHTEEN YEAR OLD FRESHMAN AND IS CURRENTLY STUDYING POLITICAL SCIENCE/COMMUNICATIONS AT TORONTO UNIVERSITY. PEOPLE OFTEN DESCRIBE THEM AS +CLEVER, +HARDWORKING, BUT ALSO -SELF CONSCIOUS, -BLUNT. I HOPE GOSSIP GIRL DOESN’T KNOW ABOUT HER HIRING A TUTOR, THEN DEVELOPING FEELINGS FOR THEM. [monroe (again), she/they, 21, est, n/a]

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

full name: holly jeanette sinclair  nicknames: holly j birthday: september 17th age: eighteen sun/moon/rising: virgo/scorpio/aries personality type: entj orientation: panseuxal education: high school diploma from degrassi community school occupational experience: server at the dot, server at little miss steaks, volunteer work positive traits: clever, hardworking, perseverant, calculated. negative traits: self-conscious, blunt, pretentious, chronic acid tongue.

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

aka, a handful of holly j’s favorite songs

CAROLINA - Harry Styles

ARE YOU SATISFIED? - MARINA

THAT DON’T IMPRESS ME MUCH - Shania Twain

NAKED IN MANHATTAN - Chappell Roan

FIRST LOVE / LATE SPRING - Mitski

COMING SOON- Annie DiRusso

𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐒

bullet journals, planners with a daily three task minimum, meditating in the morning, fruit water, trying (and failing) to drink tea over water, the library after hours, making dark circles fashionable, having a favorite pen, podcasts, color coordinated closets, loving plants but never having time to care for them, vintage perfume, thoughtfully pacing, second place ribbons, vanilla scented candles, the feeling of falling into bed after a long day, obsessing over linkedin, kisses on the forehead.

𝐁𝐈𝐎

it was early in life when holly j knew she was going to need to work hard in order to achieve her goals. she wanted to be an astronaut, the next female prime minister, and an author. financially, she had her parents backing her, so it was a given that part of it would be easy at least. the blanket of money swaddled her in a sense of security.

the difficulty in growing up came in the form of heather, who she always thought was naturally… better than herself. her name was synonymous with power and holly j didn’t have a clue how to live up to that.

speaking of heather, it took holly j a fair amount of time to figure out who she was outside of her older sister’s shadow. she knew she could be just as mean, but didn’t believe herself capable of being nearly as compelling.

although holly j finished high school with incredible marks and multiple scholarships, she had to work for it. she excelled in languages and humanities, but when it came to math and science, she would spend days on end having to re-teach herself the material.

holly j, like most, didn’t have the easiest high school experience. her family was riddled with financial troubles and all that comfort she’d basked in was ripped away. for her beginning couple of years at school, her insecurities ran rampant and she struggled to make meaningful connections. it was more important to holly j that she assert herself as an up and coming powerhouse rather than have fun.

she loosened the reins on her image a little the older she got, but the self doubt and insecurities are incessant. they follow her to this day. constant questions of, am i good enough? do i deserve this? am i even capable of this? somehow, she finds away to continually prove herself wrong.

holly j eventually navigated high school, and quite successfully at that, but now well into college she’s dealing with the same insecurities. she lashes out more as she gets a hang of this new chapter of her life.

while in college, she’s been surprisingly reluctant to join any new clubs. while she’s checked out a sorority or two, holly j refuses to commit to anything. every step she takes from here on out is huge for her future, and she lives in fear of making the wrong one.

her grades aren’t terrible, but there’s that special chemistry course that’s been kicking her ass. holly j had some money saved up from her summer job, so luckily she was able to hire a tutor. not a TU provided subpar one, like, an actually good tutor. problem is, she’s caught a certain love bug.

[tragedybunny]

Wise Men Say, Only Fools Rush In - Chapter 1: Welcome to the Jungle

What I had expected was an interview, a proper face-to-face with the chance to prove my suitability to my potential superiors. What I had was maybe twenty minutes on the phone with the notorious CEO before he cut me off abruptly. “That will be enough for today, Ms. Du Couteau. I’m perfectly convinced your Father is correct and you will be more than sufficient for the role here.” From the moment he spoke I’d noticed that while rich and cultured, his voice carried a certain quality to it, a sense of superiority, as though he held himself above those around him. It seemed to me that it was genuine confidence though, unlike Father’s smugness, which always seemed to be from a place of compensating for whatever. As rich and powerful as he, I could only think he had short man syndrome with his insecurities. There was something dark as well in the tone of this Mr. Swain, he was not a man to be trifled with. “Provided you do not prove to be inept in some way I can’t predict.”

It was probably unwise that I gave in as I felt my temper flare at the unnecessary condescension. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Swain. I can’t wait to prove myself sufficiently competent for my future with Noxus Holdings.” The sarcasm rolled off my tongue before I could catch myself, my eyes going wide and a hand moving to cover my mouth as though that could undo what I’d said.

There was a long pause on his end and I held my breath, sure that I’d just burned this whole thing to the ground. “Very well, we’ll expect you in two weeks. I’ll have all the details forwarded to you.” I could’ve sworn he sounded almost amused and I died a little bit inside.

Hanging up, I could feel the blood rushing to my cheeks, and was thankful I was alone so no one could see their crimson hue. Had I really just snapped at the most important person at my new employer, the CEO of the company that my whole future hinged on? And he hadn’t said anything. Either this was one of those “I like her moxie” types of situations or there would be hell to pay later. The latter was usually the case for me anyway.

It was with that peculiar encounter in mind that I found myself waiting in the lobby of Noxus Holdings wearing a subdued gray suit, hoping to look less like the hot-head I’d proven to be over the phone. I swallowed a nervous exhale and glanced around, a carefully constructed fantasy of an industrial office space from a century ago surrounded me, all glass, and iron, and deco style windows. An escort from my department should arrive at any moment, and I wanted to be damn sure I looked as cool and confident as possible. It wasn’t as if the job itself would be a challenge, contracts and fending off lawsuits from angry ex-employees and investors, nothing I hadn’t done before.

“Red!” A richly accented, yet horrifyingly familiar and obnoxious voice broke the quiet ambiance of the lobby. The pair of receptionists on duty shot furtive glances toward the source in unison before returning to what they were doing. Standing just in front of the elevator, a black suit with a yellow blouse perfectly accenting her bronze skin, was a woman I’d hoped I’d left behind on graduation day, Samira.

How had I missed that this was where she’d ended up? I’d stayed in touch with some of our old sorority sisters, and they kept me in the loop on a lot of the gossip about everyone. It made a lot of sense though, she had a truly vicious nature, there was no way she wasn’t thriving here. I inhaled, feeling a slight twitch in my eye at even this small interaction, and walked toward her. “Hello Samira, it’s been a while.” My voice remained level and surprisingly pleasant, I just needed to treat her like every troublesome, idiotic client I’d ever been assigned, even if I felt irritation clawing at every one of my nerves. It had always been like that, something about her just grated on me.

“A while!? We haven’t talked since the Phi Sigma Tau farewell party.” The wind was suddenly knocked out of me as I found myself in a very unwelcome embrace. “Not that anybody saw much of you that night, well except Garen. Not that I blame you, a moonlit beach, a few good drinks, perfect romantic atmosphere.” I was freed only to be nudged harshly with an elbow as Samira leered at me in a teasing manner. “And I heard he saw quite a bit of you out there on the sand.” The laugh that followed was at least quiet enough that we didn’t instantly become the center of attention.

An involuntary snort escaped me and I felt irritation starting to give way to outright anger, my mind buzzing and my vision starting to tunnel. “I’m surprised anyone noticed with the other incident that happened that night.” My pleasant mask remained in place but reminding her I wasn’t the only one with a story from that night filled me with a sense of petty satisfaction, especially since hers ended with the wail of police sirens.

“What can I say, it was a wild night all around.” Her arm looped through mine and she began to drag me toward the elevator. “See, it’s just like old times.” For a moment I wondered if she could truly be this oblivious to my intended insult. That was answered a moment later she leaned in and violently whispered in my ear. “Don’t think you can fuck with me Red. Your Daddy’s name isn’t going to get everything just handed to you here.” I’d just made horrifying mistake number two. There was no way she hadn’t been baiting me to see what reaction I’d have. With reckless force, she jabbed the elevator button and spoke in a more audible and warm tone. “I’m sure we’ll find ourselves to be best friends all over again.”

I nodded silently, not wanting to give her a response that would encourage her further. These last few moments had brought my new reality into stark clarity. I hadn’t expected to waltz in and find myself in a top position with no work on my part, but I hadn’t anticipated that I’d be met with outright hostility. If it was just Samira that would be one thing, but were there others lurking in the shadows that I’d have to wary of? Maybe deep down I had still had some delusion about the family name being a shield of sorts, those were just entirely shattered. It would get me no further than it already had.

A vintage styled, cage-like elevator came to a stop before us. An insistent tugging on my arm pulled me into it after her, her pleasant smile frozen into place. The doors closed, a cheery ding sounded, and we dropped all semblance of civility to glare at one another. “My dear,” my eyes rolled reflexively at the honeyed tone, “we are going to be working very closely. Try not to lash out every time I make a harmless joke. I know you are used to things being smoothed along in the family business.” Nails dug into my palm, there was no way she could know the truth, but still, I fought an urge the physically quiet her.

I know a powerplay when I see one, this whole scene had been staged to give Samira a sense of dominance in our new arrangement. And there was no way I could retaliate with her seniority over me. At least not yet. I could feel bile creeping its way up my throat as I realized that if I was going to succeed and build my life of independence, there was nothing I could do about it right now but live with it. There was the small consolation that I gleaned something else from this encounter, if Samira was taking direct action it was because she was threatened. I’d always been the better lawyer, all throughout school and our intern days. It was likely I wouldn’t end up having to live with her antics for long. To that end, I released a breath and relaxed my shoulders. “You’re right. Let’s start this whole thing over. It’s good to see you again Samira.”

A small noise of approval escaped her and she turned away to face the elevator doors, clearly satisfied with my conciliatory act. Well, even if she had won the battle for today, there was still a war to be fought. Another high-pitched ding and the cage stopped at one of the upper floors. The same aesthetic carried through here, exposed venting ran along the ceiling, gray carpet accented the dark wood and iron-finished metal of the walls, artfully uncovered “antique” light bulbs illuminated anywhere the natural light from those same intricate windows from the lobby didn’t reach. “We should really track down Darius and I’ll introduce you.” There was an implication she was doing me a favor. Another small irritation, the whole department reported to him, it was expected we’d meet. “He’s the VP and also head’s up the acquisition team along with lega-Ah!”

Samira had turned to speak over her shoulder at me and midspeech was physically halted by a collision with a figure appearing from around a corner. I stifled the laugh that bubbled up, she’d desperately deserved that little impact. “Sorry Sam, don’t kill me. Well hello there new and gorgeous.” His tone shifted from apologetic to a practiced arrogance somehow in perfect harmony with the goatee he sported, one that I can only imagine he believed was attractive. The obvious leering that accompanied his words left me with the urge to bury my knee in his groin.

“Draven, this is Katarina, she’s just starting with us in legal. Should I let your brother know what a warm welcome you’re giving his new employee?” The newcomer’s face visibly became several shades paler. Interesting, it would seem that Noxus was also a place of family ties. “Kat, this is Draven, head of marketing.” For once, I couldn’t blame her for the annoyance coloring her words.

A hesitant hand reached out toward me and I made sure to lock my grip on it firmly. Years of martial arts as a hobby had left me with deceptive strength in my small frame. Pale blue eyes widened at the sudden pressure as I smiled sweetly. “Very pleased to meet you Draven.”

Shockingly, he returned my smile when I released his hand. “You’ve got a bit of a spark, I’ll bet you fit in just fine. Lookin’ forward to working with ya.” Wordlessly, Samira led on as Draven waved pleasantly behind us. “Be nice to this one Sam!”

An irritated sigh escaped her, but she waited until we were out of earshot to speak again. “Nicely done,” a compliment, he must really rub her the wrong way, “he’s harmless, but it’s good to keep him on a short leash.”

The hallways we passed through lacked the small cubicle farms you would find on the lower floors, instead, there were plenty of offices, conference rooms, and occasionally open-plan shared workspaces for teams who worked closely together. It was in one of those workspaces, bordered by offices, that Samira finally stopped. The buzz of those gathered in the area halted, and all eyes turned toward us. Silence reigned even as the curious examination of the newcomer was evident. “Everyone, this is Katarina, our new team member I told you about.” Murmurs welcoming me to the group responded, they were subdued though, as if they were afraid to be too excitable in front of Samira.

Despite the outwardly friendly moment, I kept my face neutral, and voice aloof as I returned their greetings. Any group within a company this high profile would be extremely competitive, and I’d be damned if I was going to start by giving off an air of weakness. They were probably already appraising me, deciding if I was any real threat to their positions.

“I see I’m right on time.” A deep voice cut through the subdued chatter and a massive figure approached us. Clad in a simple, but clearly expensive suit, his presence seemed to fill the entire space as he exuded a calm confidence. There was also something familiar about him, I was sure he had been at the family firm before.

“You couldn’t give me an hour before checking in, could you?” Indignation caused her voice to go up an octave in pitch, an effect that was quite satisfying for me.

The newcomer’s eyes narrowed dangerously, my first taste of the office hierarchy in action. Impatiently he gestured for us to follow, and not wanting to seem daunted by the sparks, I cut in front of Sam, following to an office that was nearby. Once the door was slammed behind us, I realized it was her office, the degree proudly displayed on the wall bearing her name. Tension enveloped the three of us. “Don’t start Sam. I’m not trying to babysit you.”

She clicked her tongue and muttered in defeat. “Fine, just make it quick.”

The full attention of the room fell on me. “Darius Basilich, pleased to finally meet my newest team member.” He held out a hand for a much more dignified handshake than the one I gave his brother. “Sorry we haven’t had a chance to talk before now, Jericho doesn’t always give us a head’s up when he’s decided something.” The gruff words had a frankness and sense of honesty about them that was refreshing. I took note of the use of Mr. Swain’s first name, it was good to know who he was that comfortable with.

Releasing his hand, I could recognize that he’d be my first ally here and one that I needed on all fronts. “I believe we’ve met previously, while I was interning for my father.”

In answer, he offered a small, but genuine smile. “Thought you looked a bit familiar. Must have been when I was wrangling Draven out of that mess.”

Sam, who had sat behind her desk and started furiously typing, snorted. “Your brother is always into something.”

My expression must have faltered because he let out a weary sigh. “I see you’ve met. Anyway, great to have you on board. It was a shock that Marcus was willing to let one of the kids go.”

My stomach crawled as I recalled the last two weeks of verbal abuse I’d gone through, not just from Father, but Cassie as well. All because I dared to leave them. I was never more grateful for my apartment, that space that was mine alone, and no one could spoil it. Leaving the family manor was one of the best decisions I’d ever made. Of course, I couldn’t get into any of that, so I just shrugged nonchalantly. “Who would’ve guessed.”

“I’ll let you get settled in, we’ll talk again soon. Sam, play nice.” They glared at each other one last time before he exited.

“You two have a problem?” I ventured. Knowledge was power, so I needed to get the lay of the land quickly.

Laughter met my words. “Nah, Darius and I just have an endless pissing contest. He’s alright, but I am going to replace him as the boss’s favorite eventually.” No surprise it was some obnoxious game of hers. “Anyway, let’s get you settled in the office, I’m sure it’s not the posh corner you had a Daddy’s, but you weren’t expecting that anyway.” If the thought of returning to him defeated didn’t make my stomach heave, I would’ve knocked her out cold. Instead, I shot her a cold look and followed to my new office; small, windowless, and suspiciously right across from hers. A few seconds later we were joined by a short, pale woman with tight pinned brown hair and ice-blue eyes, about our age. “This is Alyssa, she’ll get you set up.”

Several hours, and an aching back later, my mind was completely overloaded with passwords, computer systems, and file paths. Stretching, I felt the siren call of the cozy little cafe I’d spied in the lobby. Turning to Alyssa, I could read in her expression she was in the same mind frame I was. She’d proven to be easy enough to get on with, that was one victory for the day. Our backgrounds intersected in a way, she’d come from a family business as well. However, she’d sold her share of the ownership of Ironspike Industries to Noxus on her way through the door. It had been a nice payday and guaranteed her a stable career no matter what. Most would consider it a cold-blooded move, but I could get the perspective that family wasn’t always sacred. Besides, she laughed easily enough and had a comeback for every bit of banter. “Hey…”

The door flew open with a sudden violence, Samira standing behind it. “You’ve been summoned Red.” A hefty binder dropped from her arms onto my desk with a resounding thud. “It’s been requested that you escort this up to the top floor for Mr. Swain. He wants to read through it before it’s presented to the board and he has a hard-on for physical copies.”

My heart lurched as I rose from my seat. I hadn’t expected it to come this soon, meeting the CEO I’d had the gall to snap at. “Well, wish me luck Alyssa.” My voice was deadpan flat and Samira gave me an odd look. Maybe the incident hadn’t become common knowledge as I’d feared.

The elevator ride was not nearly long enough as the gilded cage ascended the final few floors to the very top of the building. I stepped out, binder held in front of me like a shield, only to realize that Samira hadn’t given directions beyond the floor. An empty receptionist’s desk stood sentinel, the occupant clearly out to lunch. Beyond it was a foyer with branching hallways. Hesitantly, I stepped forward to glance down them. “End of the center hall.”

The deep voice from nowhere caused me to jump a little. Darius, of course his office was up here too. “Thanks,” I ordered my voice to remain cool and collected.

“Let me guess, Sam neglected that bit?” He chuckled slightly. “She really wants to assert herself with you.”

“It seems a certain level of ruthlessness is the Noxian way.” Some of the tension faded. Despite the fact that he was very nearly a literal giant, Darius was much less intimidating than you would think. In fact, there was almost a warmth to him.

He shrugged. “We buy and sell other companies. We have the whole of another person’s world in our hands. It helps to keep an edge about you. Although I imagine it’s not a problem with your background.”

It would seem that everywhere I went, the Du Couteau name would haunt me. If I wasn’t outright reviled for it, I was at the very least, notorious. Father had a reputation for ruthlessness, a reputation that had been handed down the generations with the firm starting with my great-grandfather. “You’re not wrong.” Even if I was shadowed by the name, the lessons I’d been taught in the cause of that reputation ensured I could be cut-throat when necessary. His words reassured me that even if the name itself couldn’t, the legacy of it could definitely serve me here. “Catch you around Darius.” I gave him a confident smile and a wave as he headed toward the elevator.

The walk down the hall was short with no other offices present and ended in an impressively large door made of dark stained wood. Before I could give it any more thought, I quickly knocked. “Enter.” The voice from the other side sent a shiver down my spine with the combination of confidence and callousness that I recognized from the interview. Again, I couldn’t hesitate, so I obeyed the order as quickly as possible. Afternoon sun streamed in from a wall of windows across from the door, throwing the massive desk to the right into shadow. Contrary to the sleek, artistic industrial look of the rest of the building, this office had the look of a cozy personal study. High-backed chairs surrounded a table to the left, bookshelves lined the walls. The L-shaped desk was made of warm cherry wood with brass embellishments and looked like a genuine antique. “Ah, Ms. Du Couteau, we meet at last.” Looking up from his computer screen as I approached, he fixed me with a piercing gaze that I would swear could read my thoughts.

My breath rushed from my lungs. That cultured and captivating voice I knew, but the physical reality of him I hadn’t been prepared for. Elegant cheekbones and a proud nose gave him a regal bearing, but his high arched eyebrows and deep-set, midnight eyes put it under a pall of severity. The long mane of silken looking, white hair that flowed down his back could’ve offset it, if not for the scowl he was currently giving me. Overall though, his attractiveness took me by surprise, the elegant silver-fox not the visage I’d been imagining since our call. That fact critically distracted me, leaving me frozen where I was at the edge of his desk far too long. “Well, I don’t have all day.” Inwardly I cringed, what the hell was wrong with me.He motioned to the binder that I still clutched with a hand that gleamed bronze in an errant ray of sunlight that had fallen over us.

“Right.” I passed the burden into that outstretched, lustrous hand.

He all but snatched it from me. “Yes, it’s prosthetic. You could ask instead of staring.”

My eyes went wide with horror, I hadn’t realized that I had been. “My apologies, Mr. Swain.” My father’s triumphant laugh as I begged to return rang in my ears.

Turning his chair from his monitor, he dropped the binder with violence on the desk and began to thumb through it. The pace was such that it gave the impression it wasn’t the first time he’d seen it. “Did you have the opportunity to read through this?” He asked without glancing back up at me.

“No, I hadn’t.” Mercifully, my voice remained steady.

Turning it toward me, he tapped a fingernail on a paragraph. “Tell me what is wrong with this?”

Leaning down, I skimmed through it quickly, my mind translating the legal jargon without effort. At first glance, it was a contract for our purchase of yet another company. What had he seen in it? What was I looking for? Ah, it wasn’t a sentence, it was the whole paragraph. “There’s no commitment for the transition from the current leadership. They can dump and run, leaving us without support.”

“Very astute.” Well, he didn’t lose the scowl but there was a subtle note of approval in his voice. It felt like I could inhale again finally, I might still be able to salvage this. “Take it back down to Samira and tell her it will not make it to the Board this week. I want Darius to answer how that was overlooked.”

Warily, I gathered back up the binder as he sat back in his chair, on guard as though he were somehow dangerous. “Will that be all?”

“For now.” His eyes were drawn back to his monitor, and I began to turn away, sensing dismissal. “Fine enough job for the first day, Ms. Du Couteau.” The small compliment halted me mid-pivot, a small touch of warmth blooming in my stomach and a smile tugging my lips with the unexpected approval. I opened my mouth to answer, but was cut off. “Hmm, you know, this should be further reviewed. Samira already has a lot on her plate. Let her know that you’ll be taking the lead on this for the department. Darius will bring you up to speed.”

The world around me spun. Take that Father, I’m already getting the recognition I had to scrape and fight for every day with you, even when I’d accomplished something. “Will do, Mr. Swain.”

I strode from his office, feeling at the summit of the world, but a curious sensation of butterflies filled my stomach. As the door shut behind me, I let myself smile wide. I’d done it, sufficiently impressed him, the CEO with the ruthless reputation, the known hardass, the man with...with those captivating dark eyes. “Reign it in Kat.” Furiously I whispered to myself. “You’re engaged and you’ve seen attractive men before.” My mind betrayed me though, flooding me with the sensation of having those eyes focused on me as I walked.

Silently lecturing myself, I headed back to the elevator. The sudden vibration of my phone from my jacket pocket shook me from the cycle of my thoughts. Pulling it out, the notification seemed there just to judge me, Garen’s smiling face poised next to it. “Hey dear, how’s that first day going?”

[rayne-storm]

AUgust 4 - Dancing

Title: SHOW ME YOUR MOVES

Fandom: Star Trek

Spirk / K/S / Kirk Spock

What the hell even is this? IDK, it's silly. It's dumb. Who cares? Kirk and Spock do dance things.

Show Me Your Moves

Of all places to meet, they were at a competition. A general dance meet that came down to a battle between the Captains - freestyle taps masters, and Vulcan - a classical ballroom group unparalleled in their form.

James Tiberius Kirk was the front-runner for the Captains, a master of keeping the beat with near-impossibly fast footwork, the tapping creating an almost hypnotic sound. Kirk was passionate, and would dance to any music presented to him. He seemed unbeatable.

S'chn T'gai Spock was practically perfect in every way. He knew the steps to almost every dance before the 1900's, and could execute them flawlessly. He could dance with any partner, and in the few instances when the troupe sought to change things up, he could dance as both the "male" and "female" partner. He seemed unbeatable.

The two teams flew through the competition. The Captains' wild energy revved up the crowds, Vulcan's perfection and vintage style wowed the judges. Eventually (inevitably), it was the two teams against each other, and they reached an impasse.

Crowd versus Judges, energy and fun versus perfection and nostalgia. How was a decision to be reached?

The debates raged on and the troupes were sent backstage to recover. They accepted, and went back to their respective rooms, save the two stars.

Kirk wandered the halls, shoes tapping his pathway. It was cathartic, to lose himself in the clicking taps and the winding corridors. He was so lost in thought, he didn't realize he wasn't alone until he collided with someone.

Spock caught them both in a grip surprisingly strong for his slender frame. He too found solace in the dark labyrinth of backstage areas. His troupe considered him an outsider, born outside the "family" as it were. He tried not to let it bother him, but… well, he still had emotions, whatever cruel jeers said.

Kirk popped back up with a click-clack, a sheepish smile on his face.

"Whoops! Sorry about that, I wasn't paying any attention," he giggled, rubbing the back of his head shyly.

He'd never seen the Vulcan man up close, and he had to admit he enjoyed the view now.

Spock felt himself blushing all the way to the tips of his ears.

"...it is quite all right. I too should have been paying closer attention to where I was going."

"It's so exciting, isn't it?"

"Beg your pardon?"

"The judging! It's so crazy isn't it?? I love that we've come so far!"

Kirk was all grins and Spock couldn't help blushing darker.

"...I suppose, when you put it that way, it is intriguing."

"I mean, you're amazing! I never dreamed I would be able to dance in the same league as the Spock!!"

Oh.

This attractive man was… was excited to meet him? Truly?

"Why??"

Kirk looked taken aback at the question.

"Because you're incredible! You're the best dancer on your team! Your steps are perfect, and you bothered to learn both parts in every dance I've seen you perform. Your waltz is poetry on a stage."

Spock was practically a new color with how flustered this farm boy was making him.

"I'm… thank you. That's very kind. I cannot fathom how you get your feet to move so fast."

Kirk was blushing now too.

"I dunno. Practice, I guess," he murmured sheepishly, that adorable little grin turning his every move into the cutest thing Spock had ever seen.

"Sometimes I feel like I don't fit in, though," he added.

"...how do you mean? You're the leader of your troupe."

"Kinda, yeah. Old man Pike's the real boss. I dunno. I just… I refuse to ignore the fundamentals, I guess. They tease me for learning old dances, but… I mean, it's our history, and using those moves can only make us stronger, you know?"

Fascinating.

Spock nodded.

"I suppose I… feel… somewhat similar. Sometimes I feel… suffocated. By the strict conformity. Sometimes I just…" he floundered, unsure where to go, when a warm hand took his.

"Want to do your own thing?"

Spock nodded, his turn to be shy.

"I think you're extraordinary. I would love to see what you can do when you put your heart into it," Kirk murmured, suddenly too close but unbearable far.

Spock had never had such encouragement. It had always been 'practice harder' and 'follow the lead' and 'use your head.'

He could fall in love with such sweet new direction.

"And I would like to see you try something traditional," he blurted out.

Kirk grinned, perfect teeth shining in the incandescent light.

"Would you show me how?"

Oh, that was smooth. Spock nearly couldn't believe he had actually said that.

It worked, though.

Two hours later, when the judges had finally agreed that the only just solution was to award both teams 1st place, Spock and Kirk were nowhere to be found. They'd split from the packs, and decided to start their own group, focused on dancing from the heart, but also in honoring the traditional moves from the past.

They decided to call it "The Enterprise."

[megastarstriker]

~{Unfortunate Events}~𝑨𝒛𝒊𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒉𝒂𝒍𝒆 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓  𝒙 𝑪𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒍𝒆𝒚 ---------------------------------------------- 𝓟𝓡𝓞𝓛𝓞𝓖𝓤𝓔 •·················•·················•

=====================================

“Faithful Encounters”

   Part Two

< previous

=================================

𝙋𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜: Aziraphale x reader x Crowley

𝙁𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙤𝙢: Good Omens

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩:??

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: She was just the new angel that day, only to be casted out on the spot, like a baby bird being thrown out of its nest to learn how to fly on its own against its will. She was an outcast and had no place or purpose there or even in the pits of fire. Now she finds herself reliving her traumatizing nightmare when she was child, as she counts the final days of the world’s demise as she plans ruining ‘The Lady Above’s Great Plan’.( I do not own Good Omens or its characters only the ones I create.)

𝑲𝒆𝒚𝒔 :

(Y/N) = Your Name

(S/C) = Skin Color

(B/T) = Body Type

(H/C) = Hair Color

(H/L) = Hair Length

(H/S) = Hair Style

(Y/A) = Your Accent

(F/C) = Favorite Clothing

=============================================================

TOM HIDDLESTON  as 𝘼𝙯𝙖𝙯𝙚𝙡

I walked down briskly as I looked at my watch.

“No way in hell that was Crowley”, I whispered to myself harshly hoping no one could hear me, as I walked through the crowded streets.

‘But then again he was literally from hell’ I thought with quite the reasoning but shook my head from those silly thoughts, and kept walking until I saw the Ritz.

‘Seriously what are the chances I was gonna meet Aziraphale as well’, I thought with a nervous chuckle,’ I’m pretty sure its very low and if it were to happen it will be from complete coincidence. Besides as far as I know, does not leave his bookshop on busy days and this day is no exception from that.’

I then opened the door to the Ritz and looked around to see if a spotted a certain friend of mine and surely enough from all of the people that were either talking, chattering , simply sitting in a calm fashion there was only one of the rest that had there arm raising as they waved excitedly at me in a likely childish way.

Almighty, I thought with a sigh as I walked towards the smiling lady at her table.

“Hey, (Y/N)”, she said in a cheery voice as she welcomed me.

“Hello, Elizabeth how are you doing?”, I asked a bit bored yet happy tone to see her.

“Good, well don’t just stand there have a seat!”, She said as she gestured to the seat across from her as I gladly made myself comfortable,” I’m so glad to see you didn’t keep me waiting like the last time.”

“Well, I was planning on doing it again, but I rather prefer this side of yours than the other as much as I hate to admit it.”, I replied with smirk as 

“You are such a meanie you know that”, She replied with playful expression as she slapped my hand lightly.

“Only when I want to, of course.”, I replied with a small chuckle as I fixed my seat,” So what was this ’Oh So important gossiping thing’ you had to tell me anyways, that you apparently dragged me here for.”

“Well, if you’re insisting then I guess I should tell you”, She replies,” Anyways..”

After we ordered our food and waited ,a whole 20 minutes passed of her telling me how her day was, she then started to ask me how was my day.

“Oh nothing really”, I said trying to keep my face neutral but failed as I lied.

“Oh Big Bullocks, tell me because from the looks of that face you’re making it seems you saw something interesting all right and I wanna know.”, She replied clearly not buying my lie for a minute.

“I sort of ran into a guy ,an old friend of mine, who I was very close friends with-”, I responded midsentence but was cut off by her to continue.

“You what?!”, She said her eyes wide as saucers with a excited grin as she misinterpreted what I just said,”(Y/N) do you know what this means, what you just said?”

“Um, sort of... I”, I responded in confusion as my eyes squinted at her slightly.

“You are in love!”, She said as she smiled widely and squealed like nails on a chalkboard.

Catching on to what she was saying I immediately declined.

“Oh no no its nothing like that, believe me your getting way ahead of yourself,” I responded in a bland expression as I tried to hide meekly blush appearing on my cheeks.

“Of course it is, you’re only making it more obvious by denying it you know”, She replied trying to pry out the information out of me.

“No there isn’t any love indication with him and I’m sure of it. I’m serious”, I replied trying to think of a way to change the subject.

I then spotted the food tray on our table.

“Oh wow would you look at that the food has arrived!”, I said in a cheerful tone as I thanked the waiter for bringing our food.

“Mark my words, (Y/N) (L/N) I will find out your secret, you so cravingly hide.”, She said as she pointed the spoon at me as she squinted her eyes at me.

“Speaking of cravings. Let’s eat.” I said suddenly successfully changing the subject.

After we finished eating and payed for our delicious food, we headed outside for a walk.

“So were would you like to go?”, I asked her as I walked beside her.

“Well there is this bookshop, I’ve been wanting to go to, maybe look at some books.”, She said thinking out loud as she paced through her mind,” It’s a few blocks away I believe if I’m correct.”

“Well, I’ll go if you go. Lead the way”, I said as I followed her 

It took us a few moments to get there but when we did reach the bookshop I couldn’t help but have the feeling I’ve seen this before.

“A.Z. Fell & Co. Bookshop”, I read as I looked at the sign, the store’s outward appearance was a bright red and had two signs one that said ‘OPEN’ and other had an Opening hours that was surprisingly and oddly long. It read:

Bookshop Opening Hours

"I open the shop on most weekdays about 9:30 AM. perhaps 10AM. While occasionally I open the shop as early as 8, I have been known not to open until 1. Except on Tuesday. I tend to close about 3:30 PM, or earlier if something needs tending to. However, I might occasionally keep the shop open until 8 or 9 at night, you never know when you might need some night reading. On days that I am not in, the shop will remain closed. On weekends, I will open the shop during normal hours unless I am elsewhere. Bank Mondays will be treated in the usual fashion, with early closing on Wednesdays, or sometimes Fridays.

(For Sundays see Tuesdays)

A. Z. Fell, Bookseller"

“Well from the looks of it it’s opened,” I said as I ignored the long opening hour sign in front of me as it was far too tiring to read,” After you.”

I opened the door for my friend while I followed behind her as the door closed causing a ‘ding’ of a bell to sound on the shop, alerting that someone had entered.

I awed in amazement as I saw the bountiful of books in the shelves, 

‘This place looked stunning, even more than my library at home’ I thought as I scanned the bookshelves that held many marvelous and classical books.

“Oh no! I have to leave”, I heard Elizabeth say in panic,  As she looked at her watch with wide eyes,” I’ll get fired if I don’t hurry, I’m sorry I couldn’t stay for long.”

“It’s Okay, besides we’ll meet some other time”, I said giving her a small smile.

“Thank You for understanding”, She said giving me a small smile of her own,” Well, I’m off. Bring me a book as well!”

Just like that, she left the shop leaving me and the peaceful silence to myself. I went back to scanning the room in the shop and the books.

I came across a bookshelf and started dragging my fingers across the books embroidered and well- defined spines. I came across one that read “To Kill a Mockingbird A Novel by Harper Lee.”

As I was about to take the precious book from the shelf I heard a clear cough from someone behind, causing me to flinch and startling me as I backed away causing my back to hit something as I felt it touch my shoulder very delicately but the. As I was about to take the precious book from the shelf  

“U-Umm Excuse me, sorry to inter-”, I heard a voice say behind me, after it cleared its throat awkwardly.

Startling me, I jumped and backed away causing my back to hit something as I felt it touch my shoulders very delicately but then disappear as I heard footsteps back away from behind me. 

“Oh Dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you,” The masculine voice said in a soft tone.

I then turned around quickly locking eyes with two bright and beautiful ocean ones. The man—I had now confirmed—seemed to fit right in with the rest of the shop. His clothes had a very vintage feel to them, and although it was highly unlikely, something in myself told me that they were all original. He was not terribly tall, but he wasn’t short, either. He had such a kind face, that was currently frowning in embarrassment. All of this was topped off by some extremely blond curls—so blond in fact that they may as well have been white. Although he would not be considered particularly handsome by most estimates, something about him was drawing me to him like bread to butter.  the person did had some gained weight on him that had stood out very adorably with his nifty pastel suit and brown shoes that perfectly matched his cute little white bow tie on his neck. There was this sense of peaceful aura circulating around in a radiating way when I was near him. There was no denying in my mind that this person looked oh so gorgeous and undoubtedly out of a masterpiece painting. Purity and dainty was marked and sculptured in his beauty like an angel with perfection. Exactly like an angel. No, He was an angel. It was Aziraphale without a doubt in mind.

“You just looked so happy and so focused, I just thought it would be rude and no good manner of mine to interrupt your concentration.”, He said as he looked down in a meek and shy manner a nervous smile planted on his plump rosy lips.

“U-Um no worries...its Okay”, I started to say in a stammer, as I felt my cheeks burn in embarrassment as I stared at him. ’Why am I stammering’ I thought in my head as I have never had occurred to have done this before.

“Oh really, well that’s good to hear, Crowley said that I had a tendency of sneaking up on people.”, Aziraphale said a hint of relief in his voice and with heart-warming smile along with chuckle.

I laughed as well feeling my heart skipped a beat and beating out of my chest repeatedly as if the sound I just heard was the most perfect sound ever created. ’Seriously what’s going on with me’ I thought in my mind thinking I was probably sick or coming down with something

“Good Heaven’s, where are my manners? I’m Aziraphale and the current owner of this shop. And you are miss...?”, He said as he held out his hand in a welcome fashion

“Mrs. (L/N), but my friends call me (Y/N) and its an honor to be standing in your bookshop”, I replied as I shook his warm hand gently in mine. 

“Oh, Thank You and its great to meet your acquaintance...”, He said with a happy grin on his face as he shook my hand happily.

“Have you come to purchase a book here by any chance.”, He asked as he let go of my hand and put both of them behind his back, his face changing in a neutral expression,” Because if you were so happened to be here for that matter, I’m afraid it’s closed.”

“Well, I- Um, had a friend who so happened that wanted to come here, but she left moments ago and I’m afraid she won’t come later,” I explained in a nice manner,” We were planning on looking about around your shop and see what books you had in here, and maybe buy one not completely sure. You see this is our first time at your bookshop. The sign outside said it was “OPEN” if I remembered.”

“Oh I must of forgotten to turn the sign at the door! I can be really so forgetful at times,” Aziraphale said in realization with a hint of horror, then his face was wearing a small smile that was adorned prettily with his rosy cheeks as he rambled with excitement, ”Well then, my dearest of welcome to you and U-Um you are free to look around the shelves in the shop and pick your book, you can also come to me if you have any trouble if you’d like or need any assistance in picking one, of course there’s that one-- Oh goodness me ”

“Well now that you mention it, I actually don’t even know what book to look for, I hope it wouldn’t be a bother if I could ask for some help from you, Aziraphale?”, I replied as I smiled slightly at him saying his name in a soft tone.

He looked at me with those captivating eyes of his and hastily replied, ”N-no it wouldn’t be at all, on the contrary I actually enjoy helping people and its my job, especially with finding a good book to read. I like reading myself, you see and in terms of working here I pretty much know all of these books from top to bottom. You never know when someone needs a good night reading or any literature for that matter. ”

“Wow you mean, you work here all by yourself and do everything around here.” I said in complete amazement as I looked at this person with utter most respect as I followed him at his side.

“Y-yes I do in fact, but its never a bother for me ,really. It keeps me more motivated to do things around and it keeps me busy, despite how hard it is. It does get quite lonely here, but the silence hear is lovely and perfect for reading-- I’m rambling again aren’t I? ”

“Oh its okay ramble away if you have to, its quite entertaining. You weren’t joking about the shop being quiet though,” I said as I let out a joyful chuckle, trailing behind him.

“You are too nice and yes it is quiet indeed”, He agreed as he laughed along, he then went and carried a big stack of books towards, ”I’ll be back, once I’m done organizing these over on that shelf”

The books looked pretty heavy and there where piled no more higher than him and it worried me that it was going to fall as it wiggled and the carrier holding the mount of books was having a lot of trouble.

“Are you sure you don’t need any help with that?”, I asked with concern as I watched him trying to look were he was going by peeking slightly at the front of the pile of assorted books.

“Uh No no need, Dear. Just having a bit of trouble carrying them that’s all, they are quite heavy.”, He said with a bashful chuckle as he kept walking towards a hallway his lips forming sounds of struggle.

Not buying a bit of his excuse, I decided to take it upon myself to follow him and as I stood in front of his view, grabbed half of the stacks that were above the pile as many as I could until I had the same amount of books in Aziraphale’s hands. Startled and now being able to see clearly as there were no more little than 7 or 6 books in his hands, he looked at me shocked and with softness in his eyes.

“You do know it’s okay, to ask for help, Right?”, I said with a smile, as I carried the pile of books in my hands.

“O-of course ....Thank You”, He said as he looked at me with slightly wide eyes in pure shock, a hint of shyness in his voice.

“Your welcome”, I replied with a small grin.

A few hours passed as I helped Aziraphale with sorting his books on the shelves, and he talked about many things and books as well as I did, the only sound in the shop was the clock ticking by. But as we did there was something that has been bothering me since we first talked. ‘Why didn’t he remember’, I thought with worry.

‘It has been many years since I’ve seen him so maybe it wouldn’t have really jogged his memory for me to appear, but then again I did kind of expected him to at least remember me’ I thought quite angrily yet understanding as I thought of  the angel,’ Couldn’t really blame him though with upstairs and all of that involved it wouldn’t surprise me for him to forget me, too many years of paperwork I guess. Shouldn’t that be a good thing though? I mean for all I know as much as an angel of a principality he is and may seem he could be working with heaven to execute me and he is danger to me if it does seem that way.

 “Well, now that the books are in there proper places”, Aziraphale said as he looked at the books he had just stocked with glee,” I’m ready to help you with finding the perfect book for you. So what do you like to read in your spare time?”

“Mostly about Paris or anything really that captures my attention, but to save your time after sorting all those books with me...,” I said as I paused for a moment to look at the bookshelf and analyzing each book, then later spotting one that caught my curious eye,” Aha! This one.”

I took it out and the embellished cover read, “Faust by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.” 

“Hmm its seems like a good read and exactly what I’m looking for”, I said as I pondered, looking at it for a moment,” Is it okay if I just borrow it?”

“I can tell and know how much these books mean to you, and besides I already have a library of my own at home. I do keep promises, when I say that I will return it as soon as I have finished it.”, I added knowing fully well why he seemed hesitant to reply to my question on borrowing the book.

“Well you did help and I appreciate it a bunch. As a matter a fact you can keep it,” He said almost a bit hesitant, but nonetheless very kindly and with a small smile, ”As a gift for helping me and all.”

“I couldn’t, I only helped because I wanted to not for something in return. I really can’t accept this”, I replied as I stubbornly declined his generous and absolutely kind offering.

“It’s a gift between friends”, He said softly as he looked at me,” I enjoyed your company very much, and It would make me very happy if you would accept it. I have an extra copy of that same book anyways”

Geez he really is an angel. He really lives the name up to its potential and meaning.

“Okay, but I’ll only accept it if you agree to let me help you around if you need any.”, I said as I held the book tightly in my hand,” and to let me come to your shop every once in a while. If you’ll let me that is?.”

“Since you insist, Of course and you are welcome to my shop whenever you can.”, He said in a friendly manner as he kept that smile on his face.

“Is it okay if I can read it in here for a while?”, I asked him half-wishing and half-hoping he would say yes,” That’s if you are fine with it.”

“There isn’t that many customers coming in today and I was about to sit down and catch up on my daily reading as well. Of course you can stay”, He responded with a glowing and beaming grin as he went to put on his reading glasses that looked very good on him.

“Thank You,” I said as my heart beat in excitement and with happiness mixed together.

“No need for that, I actually enjoy your company very much,” He responded waving off my “thanks”,” I’m afraid, its not every day you get to enjoy a nice book with someone else who likes them as much as I do. Glad to see, that I could share it with you.”

 “Would you like some tea?”, He asked me as he carried a tray with two cups.

“Oh yes. Thank you very much,” I replied as I took the cup he had placed in the small table in front of me.

I then remembered something important that I had to do today and quickly declined as I made up an excuse.

“Um, now that you mention it I can’t stay...”, I replied in a hurry as I rambled in explanation with embarrassment,” I had this thing going on  that I left at home and should be waiting for me ...”

“Oh really?”, He said in a surprised tone at my sudden outburst.

“Yes and I better get going, so have a nice and wonderful day.”, I said as I hurried for the door outside, before the man outside could open it. As I heard Aziraphale say ‘Come Again!’ behind me. I replied with a “Will do!” as the door to the shop closed swiftly behind me. Feeling blue and guilt for the angel I so much adored for not staying, as I thought of a way to repay him. I  sat down on a abandoned bench with no people walking in plain sight. I then grabbed my “Divine Comedy” book I had in my coat and looking sideways I mentally miracled some sticky note out of thin air with a pen and with my best calligraphy writing, I wrote:

“𝓓𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓐𝔃𝓲𝓻𝓪𝓹𝓱𝓪𝓵𝓮,

𝐼'𝓂 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝓎 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓇𝓊𝓃𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝒻𝒻 𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓁𝒾𝑒𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝐼 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒹𝒾𝓈𝓅𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓈𝑒𝒹 𝑜𝓇 𝑜𝒻𝒻𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒾𝓃 𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓌𝒶𝓎. 𝐼 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝐼 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝑒𝓃𝒿𝑜𝓎𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒸𝑜𝓂𝓅𝒶𝓃𝓎 𝓋𝑒𝓇𝓎 𝓂𝓊𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝑜𝑜 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒶 𝓌𝑜𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇𝒻𝓊𝓁 𝓂𝒾𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝓂𝓎 𝒻𝓇𝒾𝑒𝓃𝒹. 𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓌𝒽𝓎 𝐼 𝓌𝑜𝓊𝓁𝒹 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓂𝒶𝓀𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝓊𝓅 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝒷𝓎 𝑔𝑜𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝒻𝑜𝓇 𝓁𝓊𝓃𝒸𝒽 𝓉𝑜𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌  𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓅𝓁𝒶𝒸𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓅𝒾𝒸𝓀 𝓉𝑜 𝒸𝒽𝑜𝑜𝓈𝑒, 𝒾𝒻 𝓎𝑜𝓊'𝒹 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝑒 𝓌𝒽𝑒𝓃𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓇𝑒 𝒻𝓇𝑒

𝐿𝑒𝓉'𝓈 𝒽𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝓉𝑜 𝓈𝑒𝑒 𝑒𝒶𝒸𝒽 𝑜𝓉𝒽𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝑔𝒶𝒾𝓃

𝒲𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝐵𝓁𝑒𝓈𝓈𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈,

               (𝒴/𝒩) (𝐿/𝒩)

𝓟.𝓢. 𝐼 𝓃𝑜𝓉𝒾𝒸𝑒𝒹 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒹𝒾𝒹𝓃'𝓉 𝒽𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝒷𝑜𝑜𝓀 𝒾𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓈𝒽𝑜𝓅. 𝐻𝑜𝓅𝑒 𝒾𝓉 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝓁𝒾𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔!”

I then put the cap on the pen and laid it down beside me. Taking out the written sticky note, I paste it on the front of the book’s cover and  miracled it to the shop with a snap of my fingers. I then grabbed the pen and sticky note box as I placed them neatly in the pockets of my coats. Whistling a tune, I couldn’t ignore the growing happy grin on my face, as my heart grew wings and did a happy dance as I would if I was alone and not in the public streets.

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

{Nighttime}

I walked in a brisk pace as my feet hit the pavement on the ground as I made my long walk, As I approached my home and opened it. I then closed it and just when I did, I saw a silhouette of a man sitting in my chair in the moonlight as everything surrounding him was painted dark and pitch black.

“Home sweet Home”, The demon, Azazel said in a bored and mysterious tone as he looked at me with his piercing eyes, with a glint of curiosity behind it,”(Y/N)”

“What are you doing in my home?!” I asked startled and angry as I grabbed the vase next to me,” How many more times do I have to tell you to leave me alone before I resort to violence.”

“No hello? How nice of you. Well then, all greetings aside,” The demon said as it  approached quietly with each footstep, only to see  clearly as it stood in the light’s view, the demon looked and dressed decently in his black coat that he wore with his tie, hands clasped together behind his back and long black hair slicked back as he looked at me with a bored face,” I’m here to talk about business. I believe you know what I’m talking about.”

As I heard a thunder clap from outside, the pitter-pattering of rain resounding outside as it fell, covering the windows like a cascade or waterfall, I looked at the man in front of me with fury and disgust.

“Yes quite frankly, and no I’m not joining your side if that’s what you are offering. Neither you or them for that matter”, I said in irritation as I looked at the demon with a glare as I tried my best to be polite in the most hateful way as I pointed up and down to signify ‘Heaven and Hell’, I then pointed towards the door that leads to the outside,” There is the door, so you can show yourself off now.”

“Yes I know and I’m afraid, I won’t be doing that.”, He said with a dead and irritated tone obviously not bothered by my way of speaking,” I didn’t came here for that, I came because my Highness has sent a message for you.”

He then took something from his pocket and there was a letter with the name “Lucifer” burnt and imprinted on the front of the envelope with seal symbol of a pentagram.

“I don’t want his bribing or anything from him. I’m not some product or weapon to be bought with or to mess around ”, I said in a stern strict voice not wanting anything to with the demon or his poor excuse of his so called Highness, Lucifer, as I kept a confident posture, and not taking the envelope or so as to touch it whatsoever from his hands.

“It is not my place to say this, but the sooner you cut this weak and rubbish act of bravery and join our side, the easier it is for the both of us and this war,” He responded as he put the letter on the table,” In the end you don’t really have much of a choice, anyways.”

“What the hell are you talking about?!”, I asked in anger and irritation in my voice as I stood still in my spot in front of him somehow confused with what he said.

He then walked past me towards the door rudely, and not answering my question as he turn the doorknob and left not caring for the rain that pouring down from the star covered night sky, I followed after him in frustration as I yelled at him,” Answer me!”

“Oh I wouldn’t want to ruin the surprise of the ‘Great Plan’, you’ll soon see yourself,” He responded as he stopped dead in his tracks, his back turned and facing me as drops of rain covered his body. He then turned his head towards me and said the sentence that I feared the most with a devilish-eating grin,” After All,......”

“𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝐸𝓃𝒹 𝒾𝓈 𝒩𝒾𝑔𝒽”

=======================================================

{So what did you guys think?

I made Tom Hiddleston as my character Azazel because he fit the characteristics pretty well as he did for Loki. 

I hope you liked it 

and stay tuned for the next chapter}

[youngwrites-prompts]

CHAPTER ONE

𝙻𝚞𝚌𝚊

"For there is hope in every heart." His mother's sickeningly sweet words oozed from her mouth like honey. She grasped his cheeks harshly, her perfectly manicured nails dug into his flesh leaving behind indents. "Wipe that frown, darling. It's only your first day." Her eyes shone with everything beautiful and gold (though sharing the same eye color, hers belittled his measly ones in comparison).

Wincing slightly, Luca removed her hands from his face. "What's wrong with me attending public school?"

She looked at him in exaggerated disbelief. "Darling, we're aristocrats now! We don't slump it with those below us anymore." She flung her hands in the air dramatically, almost hitting him in the process.

What she meant to say was she's sleeping with the aristocrats now. But of course, he didn't voice that out loud.

Rosalie Jones was -how shall he put this lightly?- an interesting woman with one goal: to survive. And though he of course respected his mother's goal, it didn't mean he approved of her demeaning methods. She'd do anything to shed her image from the past and if donning herself in satin dresses and adorning her neck with strings of pearls and sleeping with married wealthy men is the way then so be it.

Her latest lover, or more preferably husband was none other than Erik Coldwell. A dignified man of few words and even fewer virtues. One of the high-powered patricians that ruled West Mines with a fist of steel. And only just a few months ago became his new stepfather. He'd like to believe that he was simply moved with pity for them and took them in from the kindest of his heart. But he knew that would only be a lie, afterall his mother had him wrapped around her slender finger many years ago and similar to how she gripped his cheek, she also gripped this man's heart and held it in a tight grip of desire.

"But why a Catholic school? You don't even believe in God," His miserable pleas fell upon death's ear.

She ignored him and instead, frowned at his attire. Who could blame her?

In the full length mirror, he could clearly see a tall, lanky boy wearing a navy blue bucket hat and a loose fitted denim jacket. His converse were ragged and beaten up after years of owning them. "Darling, to be frank. You look like crap.Why couldn't you wear the lovely clothes I picked out for you?" She pouted, gesturing to the blazer waistcoat and jeans she laid out on the bed.

"It just isn't my style, Mom," He frowned.

She clicked her tongue. "Ridiculous! You would look marvelous, like a young Prince Harry."

Prince Harry is white, mother. Have you forgotten? Was on the tip of his tongue but a sarcastic drawl interrupted him.

"I do have to agree with your mother for once, Luca." Bright, cerulean eyes met his through the mirror.

Myron Coldwell snorted, "You do look like shit."

Heat crawled at his neck, nipping his skin like a fiery flame. He rubbed the back of his ear, turning away from the mirror, not wanting to see his image anymore.

"Language," His mother reprimanded.

Myron's eyes darkened, and his mouth pulled into a thin line. "You may have forgotten, Rosalie but you're not my fucking mother."

Rosalie pulled back in dismay, her hand meeting her mouth.

Rarely ever experienced, anger enveloped Luca in an overbearing embrace and led him blindly towards the oblivious Myron. Hands holding onto the material of his shirt,he lifted him up to meet his eyes. He gritted out with clenched teeth. "Don't ever disrespect my mother that way." Myron's nose flared, and pure resentment danced in his eyes.

Rosalie touched his shoulder. "Darling?"

He released his hold and Myron collapsed to the ground, coughing. He picked himself up, brushing at his trousers. "I didn't think you had it in you, champ."

"It's me you have the problem with. Not her."

Myron let out a sardonic laugh. "I don't think you understand, you little shithead." He shoved his finger in his face, jamming his nose in the process. "The problem is with this entire fucking household."

The words hung in the air, the atmosphere tense and thick.

"Okay. Okay I believe that will be enough." A booming voice filled with power came from the threshold. Myron twisted his lips into an ugly scowl, with narrowed eyes he followed the movements of Erik Coldwell making his way to the middle of the room. The persian rug softened the sounds of his loafers clad shoes as he paused at Luca's side, laying a firm hand upon his shoulder.

"What's going on here?" Though the question was directed to all, his attention zeroed in on Myron.

"Nothing," Luca said.

Myron huffed, and stubbornly looked away. In that exact moment, he reminded Luca of an edgy poet with a wicked gleam in his eye, tousled hair, ink-stained fingertips and a black turtleneck. What a troubled boy.

"Luca and Rosalie are family now, and you will do everything in your power to treat them with the respect they deserve," Erik said.

"Funny, where was the same respect for mom?" Myron snarled, tremors running through his body, hands clenched into fists by his side.

Erik folded his arms, voice stern. "Do not bring your mother into this mess. Let her rest in peace. You will not sully her name."

Myron shook his head in disbelief. "God, I hate you."

Erik didn't even falter. "You will bring Luca with you to school, this is all that I ask."

"Fuck you." He barrelled past them, almost knocking Luca off his feet.

Erik sighed, pulling his mother into his arms. She kissed his cheek, wrapping her hand around his waist. "I want to apologise for my son's behavior, Luca. He means no harm. He's in a very reckless phase in his life."

Luca didn't quite understand how Erik was so placid after losing his wife only a couple months ago. Luca almost pitied Myron. He forced a smile to slip on his face and waved it off, "It's okay."

"Darling, you should hurry before he leaves," His mother said.

"If he hasn't already," Erik sighed. "I won't be surprised."

Surprisingly, Myron did wait for him. He was leaning against the side of his car, an impressive sleek black 1967 Ford Mustang. He had a lit cigarette stuck to his lips and twirled the keys around his finger. "Stop gawking and let's go."

To ease the tension, Luca gracefully slid into the backseat. He started the engine and the car purred to life.The early morning dew crept on the surface of the glass fogging the window. Luca wiped the glass with his sleeves. Alabaster clouds idle lazily in the soft skies, wisps of saffron yellow mingling in the midst of gentle strokes of blue;a quiet destruction.

Rage over a lost penny by Beethoven played through the stereos, this came to a shock to Luca since he didn't peg Myron as the type to listen to classical music. The symphonic music continued to fill the air, the faster the tempo increased, the harder he pressed the accelerator. Everything outside becoming a blur.

The academy came to view, and it rendered him speechless. Myron maneuvered the car through a small pathway that encircled the school. As they drew closer, he marveled at the prehistoric beauty the academy seemed to possess. Gracing his sight were twin ivory towers that stood imposing up close. As they neared the parking lot, students hurried along with tailored, pleated trousers, foggy glasses from the early morning dew and leather bound bags crammed with textbooks and notes.

"Close your mouth or you'll catch flies," Myron said, eyes flickering to the rear-view mirror.

Though his mouth was closed and in fact, not gaping wide open like he'd just stated. The familiar heat crept at his neck at the derisive tone in his taunting remark. "It's beautiful," He said, and he meant it. Romanesque architecture was an architect he admired deeply.

They pulled into a parking lot filled with 1957 Corvettes and Volkswagen beetles. He parked his car into an empty lot supposedly reserved for staff. Myron tilted the rearview mirror and ran his fingers through his hair. "Let's make one thing clear, Jones. At school, we're strangers. I don't know you and you don't know me. Capiche?" He twisted the rearview mirror back in place meeting his eye.

"Yeah," Luca mumbled.

"Don't speak to me and don't make eye contact with me in the hallways," He continued, "Now get out of my car before people see us together."

When Luca didn't leave, he cocked a brow. "Well? Fuck off." Luca hurriedly unbuckled his seat belt and exited the car. Without a backward glance, he left Myron behind.

Luca longed to twirl on the balls of his feet like a graceful ballerina under the grand ornate chandelier hanging loosely from the high ceiling, glimmering like thousands of refulgent stars. But instead, he tightened his grip on his denim jacket- already an outcast from the sea of affluent scholars dressed in vintage clothing.

"You must be Luca Jones. Welcome to West Mines Academy." A fiercely beautiful, dark skin girl stood before him.

"Uh, yes. It is I." It is I? Luca slightly winced. But either the girl failed to notice or she simply didn't care.

She smiled in amusement. "I'm Olivia St.Moore. You can consider me somewhat of your guide today. Let's hurry along, shall we?" They interlocked arms and walked the halls of West Mines Academy.

She told him everything at once until it left his head swimming. She spoke about their history, (something about an European traveler laying claim to this land to an ecclesiastic declaring it as a church many years later then remodeling it to become an all boy's Catholic school then finally, opening their doors for women decades later- she stated the latter with a proud gleam. "Equality shall reign," she had said.) the students activities and went over his class schedule.

"I know it's a lot to take in but you'll get the hang of it. Usually the headmaster does this sort of thing but.." Her sentence trailed off.

He'd already know what she meant to say.

"Let me guess, he wouldn't waste time and energy on someone like me? Am I right? Someone that's not filled with riches ."

"I'm sorry, Luca. That's just the way it is," she winced.

She brought him to the right wing through a deep archway that led to a hallway of lockers. She paused in front of a locker and dutifully handed him a paper and written in the prettiest calligraphy was his locker number and code. Olivia unlocked her locker and pulled out her textbooks, gathering them into the crook of her arm.

She slammed it shut and pursed her deep fuchsia colored lips. "Our town is quite an interesting one, wouldn't you say?"

Luca cocked his head to the side. "I would like to think so?"

She sighed, tilting her head slightly in his direction. "Our history is quite a complicated one. One I promise to tell you all about when we have the time." She looked down at her diamond-rimmed piaget watch adorning her wrist. "Why don't you hurry along to your first class before you receive a demerit."

With that, they walked briskly to their assigned classes, departing ways. And for some reason, it left a hollow feeling in his chest. And he realized that feeling was loneliness.

──────

His day flew by quickly. The highlight of his day however was gaining the attention of his eccentric english teacher. It was after class and the peculiar professor had their feet propped on the desk, reading an underrated classic that he'd favor since he was a young boy:The Cask of Amontillado by Edgar Allan Poe. When he pointed it out, they jumped out of their seats like their pants were lit on fire. They leaned forward, their eyes dancing with excitement.

"Ah! What a deliciously disturbing work Poe had bestowed upon us, wouldn't you say, young lad?" They sing-songed.

"It must be understood, that neither by word nor deed had I given Fortunato cause to doubt my good will," They continued, "Do you truly believe this is a tale of revenge as he states to us in the beginning, or is it a tale of jealousy fueled by insanity and madness?"

Luca pondered, and decided to say, "I believe it's rather an eloquent book that Poe wrote and refreshing that he has the ability to delve into the taboo and twist the reader's mind with such macabre writing. The narrator in this story is undoubtedly an unreliable one; therefore, who are we to take his word for it? He may have vowed this was a tale of revenge, but his actions led me to believe jealousy was truly the stem of it all, as it is mostly the case."

They clapped madly, startling the students coming into the room for their next class. "How splendid! A wrong is unredressed when retribution overtakes its redresser. It is equally unredressed when the avenger fails to make himself felt as such to him who has done the wrong," They said. "My my my, Mr Jones was it? What a marvelous young man you are. My word will reach you soon."

Luca left them with that final statement, bemused. It was only a few hours later, he had understood what they meant. He was in the main wing, leaning against a pearl statue of Mary Magdalene. Whispers of new students and family of new money tickled his ears yet he had yet to come across the supposedly new students. The teacher's word came in a form of a dainty girl with long, mahogany hair framing her elfin face. She wore a beige cardigan tucked neatly into her vintage check pleated skirt.

Tucking her hair behind her ear, she murmured. "Pleasure to meet you." Up close he saw a little cherub pendant dangling from her slim neck.

"Hello," He said.

She slid a slip of paper into the palm of his hand. "From Professor Bishop." And with that, she waved him goodbye and walked off in the opposite direction. Luca stared at her retreating figure in wonder, then looked down at the slip of paper, his fingers tingling from the skin on skin contact. The paper gave a cryptic message, it read: ‎St. Michael the Archangel wing, Room 113, 3pm.

Call it curiosity if you will, but whatever it was led him to his current predicament. Sitting in a circle, he sat amongst an odd group of pretentious scholars that looked like they belonged in the 20th century, England not the small quaint town of West Mines, in the 21st century. They wore cardigans and sweaters vests in muted colors and tweed trousers. They smoked cigars and smelt of black coffee. They debated philosophy and read prose, and discussed french revolutionaries not everyday mundane topics.

There was Alaric Sebastian Watson (he preferred to go as 'Rick', he said Alaric was too iffy), an orgulous lad with bushy brows and ash freckles peppered across his face. Then there was Cyrus Rothschild. His handsome features sharp and hard like a cut diamond in the rough. Thick lips shaped as the curved body of a bow. Perched on the chair with crossed legs and fingers thumbing through the sepia pages of a foreign novel, the title written in Latin, forbidding Luca from understanding.Then, Luca's eyes bounced to the girl he met earlier (he learned her name was Aspen Berkshire) sitting elegantly next to Cyrus. She was leaning against his shoulders, her hands alighted on his knee. She felt his eyes upon her and she looked up, giving him a half smile. Luca quickly averted his eyes and his attention strayed towards the narrowed eyes of Myron. It surprised him immensely when he'd found out Myron was here. Myron, as expected, was not too happy about his presence either. He swore Luca did this to spite him. Then lastly, was Olivia St.Moore. She stood in the centre, head raised in poise, giving her the air of a regal queen.

"First and foremost, I would like to welcome Luca Jones not only to the literature club but to West Mines Academy."

Literature club?

Myron stifled a yawn, Alaric gave a haughty laugh, Cyrus merely lifted his bored gaze for a split second before lowering his eyes back to his latest read and Aspen, oh sweet Aspen clapped politely.

Luca's face burned red.

Before he could open his mouth however, someone bursted into the room, slamming the door open. Luca almost jumped out of his seat, yet the other students obviously used to this merely sighed and one person muttered under their breath: "Here we go again."

"My apologies, everyone." Professor Bishop Shawford scratched the back of their head, their wire frame glasses slipping ever so slightly. They hurried to the blackboard, however their satchel somehow caught at the edge of the desk, causing their notes to scatter.

Aspen sighed, and bent her knees to pick up the scattered notes. "Oh heavens no, what a mess! Thank you my dear. Ah." They surveyed the room until their eyes fell upon Luca. "Mr. Jones, you've arrived. Welcome, so glad to have a new member. This calls for a celebration." Suddenly, they went to a backdoor Luca hadn't seen before, then came back wheeling in a small cart of victorian style tea cup sets.

"As you already know, I'm Professor Bishop Shawford, you can please kindly and respectfully refer to me as they/them pronouns." They passed along chamomile tea to each of them, already familiar with their preference. "Milk, honey?"

"Honey, will be fine," Luca replied.

Bishop continued, "Not only do I teach here at this academy, but I work as a college professor at the St. Catherine University in the next town over."

"Yeah they teach humanities, philosophy and intro to ethics," Aspen piped in, over her cup of tea.

"That's nothing," Alaric smirked. "My cousin, Walsh? You remember Walsh right? Anyway, he teaches ten courses at Harvard. Impressive, if I do say so myself. And he has like three PhDs. How many PhDs do you have, professor?" He slurped on his tea with his pinkie raised in the air.

Olivia rolled her eyes. "Does it matter?"

Bishop blinked rapidly, their mouth opening and closing. "Well, just one." Then the familiar look of bliss fell across their androgynous features. "And I'm quite satisfied with it. Anyway, Mr. Jones, the literature club- don't mind the name, we're working on it, is simply a group of young students like yourselves who come together to discuss the fine language of english literature. Quite fascinating, isn't it?"

"I still don't get why he's got to be here," Myron muttered bitterly under his breath.

"Well Mr. Coldwell, our dear friend is here today because I couldn't resist! It would be such a shame to have missed this opportunity. Oh goodness me, I'm afraid I would have to cut this meeting short. I have a seminar I must attend to in the next fifteen minutes. My my my, see how the time has run. Ah but Punctuality is the thief of time. Any idea who said that fine line? "

"Twas Oscar Wilde," Cyrus answered, speaking up for the first time. "I am always late on principle, my principle being that punctuality is the thief of time. You best do to hurry up, Professor."

They grabbed his satchel and patted them on their heads. "Splendid! The meeting is over. I will see you all tomorrow. This goes for you too, Mr Jones." Luca nodded, satisfied, they left.

When Luca arrived home, he was beat. Today was a very interesting day indeed. Somehow he knew deep down that he would become like the strange individuals he met earlier. His mother was gone for the day, perhaps on her sixth shopping spree. He decided to work on his homework before it piled up on him in the upcoming weeks. Lofi music quietly played in the background as Luca flipped through his pages. Before he knew it, three hours has passed and through his open window night has fallen and the moon hovered anxiously like a coddling mother.

His door slid open, a sliver of orange light was seen. His mother popped her head in and she gave a soft, tired smile. "Darling, how was the school? The students? Was the school beautiful as the brochure showed?"

He answered her rapid questions: "Fine. Interesting. And the brochure couldn't possibly capture its beauty."

She gave a sigh of relief. "At least something good came off from all this." He didn't question what she meant, he could only wonder. She ruffled his head, and placed a kiss on his forehead. And with that, she left and shut his bedroom door shut.

It was 2 am when Myron came home stoned. Luca was looking up at his ceiling, deep in thought. His last cup of tea grew lukewarm on his bedside table. There was angry shouting and doors being slammed. Then the screeching of his car could be heard from outside as he departed. Then, silence. Pure and utter silence.

Luca pulled the cover up to his lips and closed his eyes. He couldn't help but think, what will tomorrow bring?

[leavaloo]

Piers Commission Piece!

Got a small 1.1k commission from @samarazeroni for a little coffee date with Piers and I’ve been given permission to share it! Hope y’all enjoy it!

    Piers wasn’t really one to give himself to others, or to even let someone into his life.

    He had anxiety with new people, despite the constant barrage of interviews, fan interactions and shows he did. And, for the most part, he didn’t mind that stuff. It meant that people really liked what he did, and his music was his life. The fact that people appreciated his dedication to the craft was a nice feeling in and of itself.

    But when it came to letting people see past that part of him, that shell, and into the walls he had so heavily built to keep others out, it was nearly impossible. When he was first appointed gym leader, he barely gave any of the other gym leaders the light of day. He interacted with Raihan the most because, well, they were a city away, and his gym was right before the crazy dragon man.

    And yet, even through the fortress walls that he had made tower above and over his heart, you managed to worm your way through his defenses. It didn’t start with the two of you talking, but you would come to the bar that he chilled out at sometimes and you would sing. You were never paid and instead declined any payment, but at the time that he had come to the bar after a couple of weeks, it was a regular (and encouraged) occurrence.

    And by the graces of Arceus, your voice was beautiful.

    Your fingers would fly over the piano keys, and that cute smile you got on your face reminded Piers of himself, way back when it wasn’t about any money or to survive. He found himself entranced by you, and through the crowds and the noise, you had noticed him too. He had always been an idol of yours, and while you sung for fun, he had always been an inspiration.

    It took weeks of sidelong glances at each other for your interaction with him to evolve into waves. Weeks more to actually have a conversation, that he surprisingly started. And now, after a few more weeks, here he was, getting ready for this coffee date with you. He had gotten your number, made you laugh countless times, bought you drinks and even sang with you a couple of times. And even still, his heart was moving faster than a Cinderace.

    How did this work again? It had been so long since he’d had a date that he didn’t remember quite how it worked, what to do, how to dress… You had said it was casual, and also that you didn’t mind his fashion sense, so he had taken a deep breath and decided to go on the more tame side of his wardrobe. Black tank top, dark grey skinny jeans, biker boots and his old varsity jacket from when he first started to perform.

    As he pulled the jacket out of his closet, he laughed to himself. The design on the back was vintage, for sure, and definitely one that he hadn’t used for any merch in a really long time. As far as he knew, this was a collectors item, though he didn’t really know how much. It still fit perfectly, even as he was looking it over in the mirror. Bright pink stripes down the sleeves, matching collars and hems, the whole deal. His Obstagoon snorted on his bed at him.

    Piers looked over to him. “You think it looks okay?”

    A snort.

    “Well I’m trying to look at least somewhat tame from my concerts.”

    Another snort and slight growl.

    Piers furrowed his eyebrows at the Pokemon. “I know that, but I don’t need to hear it from you.”

    Obstagoon just did his normal hyena laugh and went back to sleep.

    You were already at the coffee shop in Hammerlocke, and you were adorable. Totally different style from him, but the light blue dress, the white ribbon stockings, and little bows in your hair were absolutely perfect. After the initial greetings and ordering of coffee the two of you sat down at a table next to the window.

    “You know, I was surprised that you asked me to this,” you said, stirring your coffee with your straw.

    Piers laughed slightly, tapping the top of his own straw. “Yeah… so was I, honestly.”

    You giggled slightly, and it was like music to his ears. “I don’t think anyone’s really seen you with anyone except team yell, Marnie or the other gym leaders.”

    “That’s cause I don’t really let others into my life.”

    “Oh?” You questioned, eyebrows raised. “Then why me, of all people?”

    There were those butterfree again. “Well…” Piers said, blushing into his coffee. “You captivate me. You sing like an angel on steroids, and yet you want no money for it. You simply perform for the joy of singing to others. Not to mention you’re very beautiful.” Piers thought he could see a slight amount of pink on your cheeks, which he found absolutely adorable.

“I suppose we’re not too entirely different,” you eventually said after a long sip of your coffee. “You’ve always been an inspiration to me, even though my job is, ya know, pretty stable and I enjoy it. And honestly? To be going on a date with my idol? That’s like a dream come true.”

    “Well…” Piers started, reaching out and resting his index finger under your chin with a sly smile. Whatever creature had possessed him to be able to have this sudden confidence was either a madman or a blessing in disguise. “Perhaps… you could perform with me sometime?”

    The blush that encompassed your face made it a blessing. You hid yourself in your hands, totally not expecting the sudden advancement. Piers’s laugh was a serenade, and he kept softly laughing as he tried to pry your hands from your face. He kept saying things like, “awh c’mon, I wanna see your blush” and “this doesn’t answer my question, dear”, neither of which helped bring down the blush.

    “Does this mean you’re saying no?” he eventually said, a slight tinge of sadness in his voice.

    “No no no!” You squeaked, panicked and throwing out your hands as if to grab the question and bring it back. “I-I do! I-I was just… flustered!! Yeah! Flustered!”

    Pier’s smile didn’t make the butterfree in your heart die down, and they didn’t die down for the both of you the entire rest of the date. The more you became comfortable with it, the more you started to flirt back with him. When you said that you needed to leave in order to get to work in time, Piers frowned and walked you out to the Corviknight cab in the area. That was when he gave you his jacket with a wink, not allowing you to give it back. He said he could always order another one just like it, and that it would look cuter on you. Which it did, all things considered.

    After a long day’s work and a lot of sidelong glances from everyone as well as questions regarding the jacket, you looked up just how much this jacket cost. You basically screamed along with your friends when you saw that the lowest bid on it was 10,000 poke.

[cajolions]

lyle, 26 32 48!!

i used my brain harder on this than i have on anything in ages

26. What does your character’s home look like? Personal taste? Clothing? Hair? Appearance? 

Clothes & grooming: While he definitely prefers wearing lighter outfits when possible, Lyle feels relatively neutrally about the necessities of clothing. Ideally he’d like to treat all of his outfits either as work clothes, or as social uniforms: whatever the average working man wears, Lyle wears. During his childhood in the 80s and with his peers in college he kept up well with trends in fashion, and negotiated ways to safely follow them. In his years working, he defaulted to whatever button downs / jeans / waterproof jackets his co-workers and local workers wore. What this means is also that Lyle borrowed most of his clothes throughout his life, and only would go to buy clothes with an exact idea in mind, usually for something needed immediately.

Being back in New England has actually caused some awkwardness in this regard, as it has brought up the possibility of him needing a style of dress-- a prospect which makes him horribly uncomfortable. His sister recently convinced him to get a new jacket that was an ounce-less-than-completely-nondescript, and while he does wear it, doing so makes him feel like a fluorescent sign post.

What discomfort Lyle has in choosing his own clothes, he makes up for by referring to the etiquette of men’s attire, in which he takes after his mother. He���s likewise meticulous with his grooming, and shaves both his beard and head every morning. Hair is the one aspect of his appearance that Lyle choses, as he considers it to be a practical matter: his hair has gotten shorter and shorter throughout his life, and he started shaving it completely in his early 30s, reasoning that it was easier to maintain, and made his age harder to estimate.

Home: Honestly Lyle’s current home is nice! It does sometimes feel like it’s too big for one person, but it’s clean and organized and generally a fantastically planned-out space (years of living on ships will give one these habits.) It’s one of those apartments with the wrap-around windowed balconies that you see sometimes see added to Italianate style houses in New England, in a residential street in the the area of a larger city. Each room feels kind of like a station, with ample space to move around and everything made to be available at a moment’s notice. Since the house is split into two apartments, of which Lyle has the second floor, the balcony / porch and the room leading into it serve as a kind of workshop / garage space, which he mainly uses for small repair projects on appliances and furniture. 

One of the few things Lyle has actually enjoyed about being sedentary is the possibility of collecting books and art objects. Lyle makes a point of not having a TV, so the living room is the books / music room, where he keeps an impressive collection of prints, art books, plays, poetry anthologies. His tastes are actually quite particular, (and decidedly retro) and Lyle has a good relationship with bookkeepers and vintage store owners in the area: he’s drawn to the monochromatic, to schematic art, found object art, and materials like wood, metal and plastic. This room and its surprisingly pointed curation are what won Jacob over when he first came to visit Lyle.

In strange contrast, the bedroom has kind of become the dump room: there’s old rolled up posters propped up against the walls, jewelry, large cleaned-up machine pieces that have gone out of manufacturing, mismatched carpets, travel trinkets... It’s a mindless, lazy place, which displays the sediments of Lyle’s life much better than any other part of his house. Most of these objects Lyle doesn’t notice around anymore.

32. How does your character react to stress situations? Defensively? Aggressively? Evasively? 

In situations of pragmatic stress where Lyle feels like he is the most competent person present, Lyle is exacting. Stress situations need a plan, and that plan needs to be organized immediately, and must be made by a sound leader-- if no such leader makes himself known, Lyle will very quickly fill that space, and gives hell to whoever isn’t quick or skilled enough to follow through. Things need to move and he will stick around to make sure they do.

In situations of emotional stress, where no pragmatic angle can be found (in particular with long-term emotional tensions) Lyle is professionally evasive. This is a state reserved largely for lovers and family, where Lyle is just as extra-punitive as he can be at work when pushed, but is normally passive and reactive. If even the smallest thing seems off, he will avoid it, and keep it up for weeks (or years, as the case may be.) He’ll avoid the problem until someone becomes fed up with the stress, provokes him about it, at which point Lyle is sarcastic, petty, and quick to anger. He acts trapped, and is always the first to leave the room during an argument.

48. How are your character’s gestures? Vigorous? Weak? Controlled? Compulsive? Energetic? Sluggish? 

It’s changed with time. His gait has always been noticeably slow, but up until his mid 20s, Lyle was a relatively nervous-looking man. His trust was hard to earn, and his movements made it clear that he regarded everything around him with a calculating suspicion. He’d always appreciated lessons about composure, but only really learned to embody that composure through the rigor of shipping work. This work environment also taught him how to make demands, and made him realize his own freedom and sense of ability, which granted him real aplomb. He never quite became easy-going however, and while his movements are practiced and deliberate they still retain that ghost of restlessness. Lyle’s gestures are posed, intelligent and decided, but have always lacked the final touches of proper masculine physicality-- in moments of weakness that failure makes itself horribly apparent.

[undistinguishednerdycat]

Playing Along ~ a Good Omens fic

Aziraphale had always loved the theatre.  As an outside observer, seeing humans the way they saw themselves was fascinating.  Crowley preferred funny plays, but Aziraphale was particularly fond of the tragedies. There was something beautiful about them.  To watch these characters struggle and fail and yet try again.  Wasn’t that the essence of humanity?  After Shakespeare, his attachment only grew.  Of course, that wasn’t entirely Shakespeare’s doing.  He could still remember that day in the Globe in crystal definition. The glimmer of a smile on Crowley’s lips.  The glint of humor behind his ridiculous sunglasses.  The fond annoyance in his voice as he promised to miracle Hamlet into success.  Aziraphale had watched many productions of Hamlet in the years that followed, all different, but he thought of Crowley every time. One time in particular, though, he thought of him more than usual.  

It was a few months after the Apocalypse That Wasn’t, and he and Crowley were taking some time apart to recover after all the excitement.  He had miracled himself into a front row seat at the Royal Shakespeare Company, dressed in his finest evening attire (which, honestly, wasn’t much different than his normal attire).  Hamlet was playing, and, as usual, he couldn’t let the run go by without watching at least one performance.  Everything was proceeding as usual until Hamlet’s entrance.  That voice… it was so familiar.  Why couldn’t he place it?  As he listened to the disillusioned Hamlet’s “To be or not to be,” it suddenly hit him.  Years back, he hd visited the RSC for a production of Richard II.  Richard was young and unsure, with long red hair.  He couldn’t help but think of Crowley, all those years ago. As he had been when they first met.  Gentle, unsure, alone.  Checking his program, he recognized the lead actor’s name.  What a coincidence.  It wasn’t normally his style to hang around and meet the actors, but what the hell.  It seemed as though it was meant to be.  

He joined the small group of humans waiting outside the stage door, standing in the back in an attempt to be inconspicuous.  The rest of the cast filtered out the door, greeting their fans and giving autographs, but Aziraphale was only waiting for Hamlet.  And he kept waiting.  Until all the rest gave up and went home.  And just when Aziraphale himself was about to call it a day, the door crept open, and a shock of red hair emerged.  For a moment, Aziraphale stood in stunned silence. “Crowley?”  The figure whipped around to stare at Aziraphale, and sure enough, there was the familiar face, colored with embarrassment. 

“What are you doing here, angel?”

“I came to see the play. I didn’t expect to run into you.”  A moment of awkward silence.  “Come back to the bookshop with me? We could open a nice vintage to celebrate?”

Crowley hesitated, but the promise of alcohol eventually swayed him. “Alright.”  The walk home was uncharacteristically silent. A few steps from the bookshop, Aziraphale offered “I quite enjoyed the play.” Crowley smiled ever so slightly.  “Stellar cast. A joy to work with.  Patrick was born to play Claudius.”

Aziraphale huffed softly, pursing his lips.  “Crowley, I was talking about you.” 

Crowley suddenly stopped, and Aziraphale turned back to look at him.  “What’s wrong, Crowley?”

Crowley met his gaze for a moment, then brushed past him into the shop. “You promised me alcohol.”

Aziraphale followed him, making sure the door was locked.  When he reached the sitting area with no less than three bottles of wine in his arms, Crowley was surprisingly still standing.  Usually he was lounging on a sofa by now. Snake instincts and all.  Aziraphale poured him a glass of wine and he took it, leaning against a pillar as he drank.  He was trying hard to maintain his aloof demeanor, gazing out a dark window, but Aziraphale could see the tension in his shoulders.  After pouring himself a glass, Aziraphale stood awkwardly for a few moments before clearing his throat.  “Since when are you an actor, Crowley?”

Crowley paused before taking a deep drink of wine.  He made a few noncommittal noises in his throat, then replied, “Dunno, since Shakespeare I guess.  I promised I’d make Hamlet a success, and well...” His words trailed off and he readjusted his posture awkwardly.

Aziraphale’s eyes widened, “All this time?” he asked incredulously.

Crowley grumbled softly.  “I don’t need your permission to do anything, angel.”

“No, of course not! That’s not what I meant at all!”  Aziraphale’s defensive posture softened and he moved towards Crowley.  His voice was quiet when he said, “If you had only told me, I would have been at every performance.”

Crowley sighed deeply.  “I know, angel.  That’s why I didn’t tell you.  It’s nice to be someone else for a while.  Forget who I am.  Hard to do that when everything you used to be is staring you in the face.”

Aziraphale took a step back, trying to hide the hurt on his face.  “Oh.  I see.”

The silence hung like a condemned man.  Crowley finally broke it.  “Angel…” He took off his sunglasses and hung them on his shirt, turning to face Aziraphale at last.  He struggled to find the words for a moment, then hissed softly in frustration.  “Look.  Maybe now that we’re on our own side, we can... try something different.”  He pauses, smiling ever so slightly.  “There was something special coming from the audience tonight.”

Aziraphale brightened, looking a little bashful.  “You really are very good.”

A glint struck in Crowley’s eyes.  “One condition.”

“Yes?”

“We do this again tomorrow night.”

A smile warmed Aziraphale’s face like a perfect summer day. “Of course, my dear. After all, an actor’s entitled to his after party.”

[empressxmachina]

It might have been his allegiance to Viridian, but Jasper’s urge to scope out any competition was too strong to let go.

The King’s Citadel, as its splinter of a sign barely reflected onto his vamps, fit its name to a T. Fortified with stone on all sides. Blocky with the occasional spire for decoration. A style almost indistinguishable from visions of Earth centuries past. The width of an entire city block on its own. Its ‘vintage in the best way’ aesthetic was something to be marveled, and with the fencing and banners announcing its temporary closure for renovation in the not-so-far future, there was plenty of work its staff put into keeping it up, and plenty of patrons were taking their time to enjoy it in its present state while they could.

Viridian didn’t display an establishment date here – for a myriad of reasons, choosing one would be complicated – but in this town, as far as what the details listed, claiming it to have been created more recently seemed reasonable. Because of that and its hidden intricacies, despite the brutally exclusive rules for entry, there were many new, once Citadel-centered eyes on the emerald tower. Still, the vacancies of the hoarier fortress were slim, mostly collected at the top in the more expensive sections. But who was to say those dark rooms weren’t just smarter souls hiding away, as Jasper bent down and ran a hand down one of its sides, presenting himself to the skies and humming as he felt the ridges of each window on his finger pads?

Erin, besides having strained to not stain her dress and her chair from Jasper’s destructive sashaying away, surprised herself in how quickly and how much his spiker scolding was taken to heart. His honeyed words sweetened the appeal of the drink au naturel, but there was no way she could down her glass now and not feel bad as the additive had ultimately completed dissolving. So, what was she to do?

The only solace in sight was to dump the drink and start anew. But, to do so, Erin would have to go inside and find a drain. Throwing it off the balcony was the first thought that came to mind. However, with Viridian’s conic shape, it’d probably just end up back on a window, and she couldn’t bear to mess it up from pettiness. The same would go for letting it drip onto the floor: a mess for the all-seeing staff to clean later. Thus, all she could do was go inside… and hope a certain host wouldn’t notice her brief absence.

Erin, to the best of her ability, ascended from the chair, adjusting her outfit and checking for any soils along the way. Her heels clicked across the balcony floor to the edge of the sliding glass doors, and a glance at the reflection in them – the one of her and the charging colossus in the background – showed that said colossus hadn’t noticed. She seemed clear for the moment, but her judgment of her path to the wet bar was more turbid.

Would her shadowy semblance not be instantly perceived zooming in the sea of white that was the suite? If the giant could see her far away while still, then what difference would it make if she was moving? Then again, why would it even matter? What would he do: be upset at her doing what he wanted… only for her to not pay him because of it? Or, worse? These thoughts and many more flooded the bitty business lady’s head, but nothing stopped her from instinctively reaching for the door to do the deed.

No, actually, one thing did.

“What the shit!?” Erin exclaimed as she was nearly knocked off her feet, with glass nearly knocked out of hand. She already had plenty of experience with symphonic sensations and their sizeable sources, but nothing prepared her for this.

It looked like a bomb had gone off and sounded like it, too, as sizeable slabs hit the ground in droves, glass shattered and fell like confetti, and a dust cloud dirtied the sky. However, rather than the silence that would’ve joined a nuclear blast, the metropolitan cacophony was only increased with city folk hurrying away from the epicenter and panicking about the situation in general. As they should.

Witnessing a nine-hundred-foot man-mountain using a hotel as a stool as the smoke cleared probably wouldn’t end well. Counting all the floors that once were but now were under a titanic tush said enough on its own. Erin wanted to be mad about liking what she saw and technically caused – a usual aftermath reaction to a Viridian session for her, though a bit different this time – but she was too busy liking what she saw to care.

“Ah, there we go,” Jasper sighed, holing his ass into a comfortable crater. “Best seat in the house.”

He looked around at the attempting escapers, jubilant at all of the jittering around his feet and in his shadow… and the scattered splatters contained by them. However, upon a closer look, he saw the other consequences of his casual calamity: these not so appreciated.

“I hope this mess was worth it, though,” he then remarked, detailing and swatting at the collections of dust and rubble on his suit. Surprisingly, if one looked past the darkness of night and his obsidian-hued suit, no blood appeared to be absorbed anywhere. If it had, unnoticed, then removing it from his shoes was a non-issue. But he could only wonder what his glutes engorged because he wasn’t moving to check anytime soon. “Better not stain, or someone’s going to have a bad time.” Obviously, to himself and Erin, he was referring to himself or a Viridian volunteer cleaning his clothes later, but the pint-sized public was none the wiser, adding to the hysteria they already had.

As he cleaned himself and prodded around to a perfect position, he claimed the King’s Citadel as a king’s throne with no objection. Maybe no objection. He would’ve had to ask to know for sure, and by the looks of it, he needn’t to question. But an audience was pressed, anyway.

“Oh, heiress,” Jasper sighed, raising his gaze to meet Erin’s… or her silhouette, at least.

The little lass seemed transfixed by something – probably his doing, but he couldn’t be too sure – now standing at the balcony, resembling a ballerina in the third position, with fuzzy, bedroom eyes on her face and her glass untouched but almost sloped enough in her hand to drip. Both expressions were just asking for a climax, and so did he.

“Don’t just stand there,” he directed, slumping deeper into his building chair, cracking it further. “Come, now. You know you want to.”

Jasper’s allusions were, for better words, alluring enough to break Erin out of her whimsical stare, but she hadn’t a clue of his reference. Despite her lack of sureness, it sounded very presumptive, especially with what she wanted but hadn’t yet done with herself from the show, and the assertiveness of it all was… well, it was kind of attractive, honestly. But, of all times, now!? Just moments ago, Erin was close to incapacitating herself with a drink. They both knew that and could see that the glass hadn’t gone anywhere, and he dared to test her patience – the patience she was willing to hold for him to bulldoze a building with his butt – with it and only a glass half-wall in her way from the ground?

Erin was appalled as she waded through increased arousal, and it took an addendum from him to get her head out of the gutter – more like peeking out, in reality – and get on the same page.

“Toss it!” Jasper cheered, though it came out more like a chuckle, motioning a flick of her wrist with his light pole of an index finger. “Throw that shit!”

The glass. He meant the glass. Of course, he did. It’s what he said he wanted, after all. A bold proof of her strength through grief from an even bolder man.

With almond oceans for eyes watching her every move now, the pressure was on. But, the push to do that task wasn’t what kept Erin still. It was how, where, and all the other questions for possible cup launching. Her mind immediately went into a mode of intense concentration, contemplating every possible option in sight and its worth in the end. Minutes ago, they were simple whims to be thrown in the wind, so it did no harm to ponder. Now, one of them literally had to be lobbed and probably would cause a ripple somewhere.

Jasper wasn’t exactly an impatient soul – quite the opposite, actually, from what other clients tended to say – but it didn’t seem like such a profound or prophetic concept in his mind. It wouldn’t matter where the wine glass went in the end; it just had to go anywhere but stay in Erin’s hands. He gave a straightforward directive, and she had a panoramic balcony on which she could follow through with no hesitation. Yet, here she was with just that.

It was unlike her to not know exactly what she wanted, and, in some regards, it was adorable, watching her eyes flutter and take his words to more than the heart, it seemed. Still, the more time wasted would do neither of them any good, just delaying her own satisfaction and the inevitable for the ant-like anthropoids on the ground at their mercy. Hence, he inserted his hand all but literally in the process so that they could proceed.

“Heiress,” Jasper’s modulated voice called for her, releasing the helpless human from her mind palace. “Aim at me.”

Erin’s stance straightened immediately at the prompt, to Jasper’s approval. However, he didn’t expect her to act so quickly at the idea – at him – or so robotically. A chill grazed his neck, perhaps fittingly, as Erin gracefully twirled the stem of her glass to between her middle and ring finger, allowing for the bowl to sit solidly opposite her knuckles. From his angle, Jasper saw a similarity between her new grasping technique and that which is generally used in some throwing sport he couldn’t remember the name. Little did he know, Erin would go down the same path, channeling a star athlete to let go of her aggressively inebriated anchor.

The physics of Earth, Jasper’s home, and the realm where the pair presently resided all showed that a splash from her diminutive dram soaking into his suit was not to be a worry. The distance between the two of them was wider than he was tall, yet the goblet flew outward and down, more so the latter, like it could’ve traversed the blocks with ease. A crystal comet with a sparkling tail: beautiful in flight but still affected by gravity, nonetheless. It, like a meteorite, eventually came crashing down, and both beauties followed its trail: Jasper following it with only his eyes again versus Erin’s all-in, almost toppling, full-body trajectory tracing. The resulting calamity was worthy of the history books, and Erin almost regretted being the cause of it, too.

Almost.

A toxic trickle fell upon some unsuspecting shelter-seekers as they ignored all traffic laws and ran across Viridian’s front street for cover in some greenery. Feeling liquid on their forms, particularly somewhat cool stuff when surrounded by flames and blown fuses, sparked confusion. They instinctively looked up for a hidden cloud and around for a broken hose and found nothing but the green and aqua lights’ glow above and warm dots in the surroundings. At the realization, the group took away any consideration for a human source, remembered why they were running in the first place, and froze in horror and disgust.

The angles and quantity didn’t seem right for their astronomical adversary’s position and girth. But said place and size (and a surprisingly sweet aroma) weren’t right in any reasonable regard, either. So, who were they, in comparison to him, to judge how he played with their lives… and presumably himself all the while? To find out – their place in this world and what was bound to be a new truth – they turned to meet their maker and found themselves in the front row of a greater mess.

The droplets of Chagnioreic Xunnusus did travel far, but they were nothing against the goblet. While the soaked souls were analyzing, it shattered on contact but not on the ground. Shards settled in with flying colors in the back of someone’s skull, and the awestruck audience stood on the sidewalk, burning their corneas and scleras off watching the cards fall as they did.

The unconscious body of the belted bystander tumbled in front of an oncoming car. That same car then swerved out of the way to prevent them from being hit, only to go into another car on the opposite lanes of the street. A new pile-up built at its place, just waiting to be set off or explode… or crushed underfoot if temptations came through looks of wonder. Erin flinched at each bad move gone worse, in spite of her loving the chaos occurring. She enjoyed it while she could because she knew it wouldn’t last much longer. Jasper was just letting the twinkles of terror glisten in his cool eyes, staying calm for the awaiting craziness he wanted her to admit.

She felt his stare, and then she felt him.

“Now that that’s done and dealt with,” the giant bellowed to turn the tables, voice reverberating at a level to blow her hair back, break more than a few windows, and yet shockingly not blow her ears out, “we can get to the real shit.”

“Oh, it’s shit, alright,” Erin stated, not hesitating to snap back, gripping the balcony rail with both hands hard enough to make a dent. “Complete and utter shit.”

“If this world you’ve led us to has anything to do with your supposed tragedy, then it really must be,” Jasper explained, rubbing the scruff on his chin. “Everyone thought you’d be happy today, yet here you are, anything but.”

With how promising her companies’ stocks looked and how flourishing the press releases were all week, the staff of Viridian was restless, expecting their most opulent client Erin to come by for a celebratory session. Sure, she tended to be the only one celebrating through them, but her happiness was all that mattered. The industrial levels of the resort were in a frenzy, switching back and forth between caring for those already there and anticipating future arrivals, including their particular patron of honor.

Some of the more creative souls on the team were considering preparing a treat as savory as her recent accomplishments: a juicy fruit basket with enough juice to lubricate any plaything, living and not, available for her choosing. Others were convinced that she wouldn’t even come in, having such good news and wanting to celebrate in her lonesome. However, upon seeing her enter the lobby, the figure of her silhouette alone expressed more emotion than her vocal self openly gave a reception.

Drooping demeanor. Unkempt makeup. No greetings, gossip, or generalities.

Erin came into Viridian right from overstaying her office time with nothing in mind, giving nothing to offer help, wanting nothing in particular, and thus not filling in anything on her reservation request form at check-in. Viridian had base rules for these so-called ‘blank scenarios’, though usually not as aggressive as what Erin received. They were rather fantastic at basing a session on the client’s current well-being, past service history, and a bunch of other, always accurate qualities they’d never reveal. Putting all of them together in their system as Erin exited the lobby and awaited instructions, the staff quickly saw that the result, aka her and Jasper’s place of pleasure, while physically stable, was going the total opposite symbolically in all of the worst ways.

The host at a height at which people are near indistinguishable from bugs made it statistically impossible for said host to traverse without the annihilation of something important. The client seated at the top of a tower – a conic one, no less – although safe from the ground, made them a target for an aerial approach. For most, at such a size and power difference, a distance was kept between the two for safety or, of course, not done at all. Most customers tended to go more fantastically when they and the chosen staff were on the same scale. But none of them were Erin.

This was Erin. This version of Viridian reaching halfway up a host’s body without asking for it signaled a perceived social imbalance out of the guest’s favor. This was just another blip on her record, one where she was mostly rough… on herself.

Every host was qualified to take on the challenge she was giving, including the one that was going to be assigned to her first. But no one could please Erin as Jasper could, and everyone knew it. The fortunate opening in his schedule as she concocted her troublesome tonic allowed for the best chance of an all-clear ending. So far, so good, but there was still plenty of time for a problem.

Jasper, being the epitome of employees, obviously knew all of that coming in, leaving him cautiously curious about why they had come together with her. With them in mind, along with a plethora of other things about Erin, it only seemed fair for him to inquire further on her depressing dilemma without missing a beat,

“How shitty is it?"

Finding the right words was more of a struggle for Erin than expected, and it wasn’t just because she hadn’t wanted to talk about it. She had good reason to believe that Viridian could and/or would act upon whatever she said, so she needed to be extra careful.

“You, uh… You know how you guys at Viridian enticed me to come here?” she set up, biting her lip on nervous reflex.

The last thing Jasper expected to hear in connection to her quandary was his interplanetary place of work, raising a brow in disbelief. But, going back to the question, in particular, it was obvious what his answer to it would be.

“Of course?” he conceded, openly expressing his amazement. “Why does that matter to you, er, your problem?”

“You… You know how you all – this ‘system’ or whatever – basically don’t exist to the rest of the world, except to those you invited here. Yet, you can have your hands in whatever you want?”

“Whoa, whoa.” Jasper raised his hands to challenge her. “I won’t deny my team and, by extension, all my people having ‘great’ influence, but that is all thanks to your and more so all of Earth’s research organizations being compliant with us.”

Erin remembered how her competitive interrogation tactics led to her finding out Viridian’s extraterrestrial connections to the world’s head space agency right from the get-go, but she never considered it truly being a compromise. Looking at Jasper and all he could do without doing anything was a solid example on its own.

Plus, if he truly meant compromise, then wouldn’t he have used that word himself?

“You’re the ones that want to keep us to yourselves,” the situationally gentle giant continued in a sing-song tone. “We only give as much as you humans allow us to take as part of your patronage, whether it be a simple spa day, fifteen flirtatious minutes of fun, or a more… ravenous respite in a world of your own.”

Erin knew there had to be more laced through that wording than the rather domestic destruction he had already done through so little. Was he going to live up to it? Only time would tell.

He continued further, “A feat of ours can have a wide range, but it’s a two-way street, just like the ones under me and mine.” It sure seemed to be heading there, especially with the too-strong-to-be-unintentional pun play. “That being said…” He elongated his conditional almost as long as his body. “…I can only imagine why an heiress or any magnate, really, would bother to simulate our so-called ‘invisibility’ because that would imply more than just protection.”

Although the implications her words had already made were pretty heavy, Jasper was able to look right through Erin and see that they held even more weight behind them. The nervous, tangentially agoraphobic expressions and quivering she had, rocking in her seat and tiddling her digits – fingers and, presumably, toes, too – emphasized it. Despite all of the supposed security Viridian had and how much every resort-bound staff member and extraterrestrial emissary adored her like a queen, even here, Erin didn’t feel safe, and that certainly wasn’t okay.

Waiting any longer, and Jasper felt she’d implode from guilt alone. So, he set the table for any surprise dish he could be served, not hiding his concern one bit.

“Erin, what did you do?”

The silence that followed, once the general cacophony of insectile, civilian panic was filtered out, was off-putting. As much as Jasper’s near-100-story body broke glass, foundations, pathways, and bodies beneath him, none of that resultant discord was as loud as Erin’s sigh, saliva swallow, and response cutting the upper air with a pause,

“If I promise not to spike it this time… can I get a glass of that bub? I’m gonna need it.”

[justkending]

Used to Be Overlooked. Chapter 7.

Series Summary: Steve Rogers was walking down the streets of Brooklyn after finishing a mission. The goal was just to take some time to clear his mind along the city streets, but when he runs into a gorgeous young lady that looks extremely familiar… How can he go about moving on? Who is she? What does he know her from? Was that memory even from this decade?

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader (Rosalyn Ember/ Y/N ?)

Word Count: 2100+

Series Masterlist

Chapter 7:

As the elevator doors shut, Tony relaxed his shoulders and slapped Steve’s arm with the back of his hand.

“Hey!” Steve said grabbing at the bicep that was assaulted.

“Don’t ‘hey’ me!” Tony sassed. “What the hell was that? You just stood there like a little school boy drooling over his crush.”

“I did not-”

“I did not,” Tony mocked. “Oh, shut up… yes you did. It was obvious. I’m surprised she didn’t get creeped out by it and run the opposite direction with the way you were ogling over her,” he huffed.

Steve let out a irritated sigh at Tony getting onto him. It wasn’t his fault he couldn’t get past your beautiful bright Y/E/C eyes that were gleaming with all the sunlight that was coming into the surprisingly well lit and open building. Or the way that your hair was curled and pinned back half way just right to frame your face with little whisp of wayward strands and enhanced all your stunning features. Or the outfit that made your collarbone pop and shoulders straightened in the perfect posture as you put Tony in his place. He couldn’t help but stare and study when all of those things were there to distract him.

“Hello? Earth to Cap?” Tony said waving a hand in front of his face catching him in yet another day dream.

“What?” Steve said noticing the hand and slapping it away. “Stop it!”

“God, you really are infatuated with her,” Tony said with a sly smirk. “Your eyes are still wide.”

“Cut it out Tony.”

“I will as soon as you admit you have a crush.”

“Tony…”

“Ok fine, but don’t expect me to hold back when she comes over tonight,” Tony said, putting his hands up as the elevator door opened.

“Tony!” Steve shouted, catching up with his persistent coworker as they left the building and headed back to the compound to get ready for dinner.

__

You got out of the office earlier like you expected, and rushed home trying to wrap your head around the situation. You were pacing around your bedroom already changed into some sweats that hugged your hips, and a black crop top.

“Maybe I can call and say that I came up with a cold…” you thought as you walked back and forth.  “No, no. They won’t buy it. They just saw me, and saw that I was perfectly fine,” you huffed running a hand through your hair. “Oh, but food poisoning! That can be unexpected! They can’t deny that!” You jumped, happy with your excuse. “Yes! Food poisoning it is.” 

You ran to your phone ready to call Banner since his number was the only one that you had, and tell him how you wouldn’t be able to attend tonight due to “unexpected” food poisoning.

Just as you had unlocked your phone, and were scrolling through the names, your doorbell rang. Your head shot up from where you were and you tilted your head confused.

“That can’t be the driver. It’s not even 4 yet.” You walked down the stairs and approach your door looking through the peephole. “Claire?” you whisper to yourself.

You opened the door and greeted her with a smile that you were hoping didn’t come off too surprised.

“Claire, what brings you here?” you said looking around.

“Hello Miss. Ember- Sorry, Rosalyn,” she smiled. She had a bag in her hand and a coat draped over her arms.

“Please, Rose is fine,” You smiled. “Here, come on in.” You moved out of the way to let her in the house.

“Thank you.” she smiled and walked in taking in the living room and dining room that was off to the side. The stairwell and hallway to the kitchen straight ahead. “You’re home is beautiful. It’s very… you,” she smiled.

“Thank you. I’m not sure what exactly makes it me, but-”

“Oh, I just meant that it’s homey and vintage at the same time. It has the modern twist to it, but still has the old timey antiques as well.” She smiled fidgeting in her spot as she looked at your record player and old vinyls by some antique paintings. You could tell she was nervous, so you motioned to the couch to help calm her nerves.

“Not that I’m upset you’re here Claire, but I must say I am a little shocked,” you sat on the couch which she quickly did after you.

“I know, and I’m sorry for coming over unannounced, but I had a feeling I needed to drop by tonight,” she said looking down and putting what looked like a makeup bag on the coffee table, and folded the coat in her lap.

You brought your elbow up on the back of the couch, and leaned your head on your fist as you watched her. You picked up your feet tucking them behind you, and she took a deep breath.

“I have a feeling something is bothering you. Wanna let me in on it?” you smiled kindly. “It’s not something having to do with you and your fiance, is it? Is everything ok?” you said suddenly getting worried.

“What? No! No!” she laughed. “Thank you for the concern, but me and Josh are just fine.”

“Ok, good,” you laughed softly.

“It actually has to do with the dinner party tonight...” she said more quiet now.

“I’m sorry, what?” you said confused.

“I don’t mean to overstep my boundaries, but it’s kinda hard not to overhear the conversation between you, Stark, and Rogers when you were literally standing by my desk,” She blushed. “I-I just had a feeling that you were going to try and find an excuse to drop out of it.”

“I-I don’t know Claire. I don’t know them really, and I’m fine with just staying in.”

“And I get that!” she quickly said defending your thoughts. “It’s just well… I am your personal assistant, so I know what you do in your free time, and… I think you’ve had enough nights in. If I know you, you were going to find an excuse to stay home and do more work.”

Your eyes widened a little. She was right. You did do that quite a bit. I mean you always denied when people asked you on date. When the office went out for drinks, you told them you weren’t in the mood, or were busy. If there was a party or celebration your were invited to, you always had an excuse. You had to hand it to her. She picked up on things even you didn’t think about.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” you said thinking it through.

“I just had this strange thought to come over here and help you get ready for tonight to ensure that you actually went out and had fun. I mean you’re 26! You should be living your life! Not being a workaholic at home and at work. Every girl needs time out to get all dressy and show off her looks. You especially,” she said motioning to you.

You laughed at her rant. 26 years old. Right.

“I’m still not too sure Claire.”

“How about we get you ready, and if you’re not feeling it still we can call it, and I’ll get out of your hair,” she said grabbing her makeup bag.

You hesitated, but looked at her pleading eyes. Sure, things were more complicated than she knows, but she’s right. You don’t remember the last time you went out and had fun. For the past couple of decades, you have been diving head first into your job.

“Ok, fine. But nothing too crazy, ok?” you said getting up and straightening your shirt.

“YAY!” she jumped up. “Ok first, show me your closet. You already have impeccable taste so I’m not worried about dressing you up.”

You laughed as you walked up the stairs and led her to your closet.

About an hour later, you had your hair redone, and Claire did your make up. Just enough to make our eyes pop and skin glow. As the prep for your night out when on, you both got caught up in talking and gossiping about life and work. You forgot what it was like to have a girlfriend like this and spend time just talking with someone. You had been a homebody for years past, and you missed this kinda thing.

“Ok, outfit. I picked out three while you were doing your hair, which by the way you are going to have to teach me your secret on. I don’t get how it always looks so perfect and retro,” she said crossing her arms as you brushed through the choices with your fingers.

“Years of practice,” you smiled looking down at the outfits. “Oh, some of these I haven’t even worn yet. Never really had a reason to.”

“Well now you do,” she grinned adjusting them on your bed. “I personally think this one, but these two are close behind. Each one has a different vibe for your mood.”

“What are the moods?”

“Well, this one is more edgy and kinda show off. The second one is more modest and business casual. The third one is for more of a cutesy friendly feel. You know for getting to know new people,” she winked. “So, which one are you feeling?”

“Hmm…” you hummed running a hand over the options. “I’m feeling a little rebellious tonight.”

“Oh, I like your style. This is the one to do then,” she said clapping her hands, and grabbing the more edgy outfit.

“Ok, I’m going to change,” you said grabbing it and walking to the bathroom. “What time is it?” you asked through the cracked doors.

“Uh, looks like 5:15,” she answered.

You came back out fully dressed and ran to your closet to grab a purse all of a sudden in a rush.

“Oh, my gosh! I only have 15 minutes,” you said frantically.

“Wow,” she said breathless.

“What? Does something look wrong? It’s too much, isn’t it?” you said stopping and smoothing out the dress. “This is why I never where it. It’s not really my style, but it was on sale and I thought maybe for a cocktail party-”

“Rose. It looks… You look breathtaking,” she smiled.

“Really? It’s not too edgy?”

“The perfect amount of edge.”

You had on a tight black cocktail dress that has a sliver of white on the lining at the bottom. It was a halter neck, but showed off your arms. It was just long enough not be too distracting, but short enough to bring attention to your toned butt and legs.

“Ugh, I’m second guessing it all,” you huffed grabbing the purse and throwing your wallet and phone in it. “Maybe I can still call and say I have food poisoning and-”

“Rose!” she cut you off. “If you take that dress off, I will hurt you. There is no one else in this world that can pull it off as well as you.”

“Really?”

“Yes, now get your fine tush together. The car will be here soon, and I probably need to leave before you,” she laughed grabbing her things.

“Ok, ok! I’m going,” you laughed walking down the stairs with her.

Sure enough, the driver was already there a couple of minutes early. You walked out and he came out of the driver's side walking around ready to open the door for you.

You walked down your porch with Claire after locking up, and gave her a quick hug before thanking her.

“Thank you for this Claire. I don’t remember the last time I had a girlfriend who helped me get back out there.”

“No problem. I mean, sure you’re my boss, but us girls have to look out for each other,” She winked. “Now, you have to tell me everything you learn tonight, ok? I’m dying to know what happens in the Avengers home.”

“Will do. Enjoy your weekend!” you waved as she walked to the car, sending a wave your direction and to the drivers direction which he kindly returned.

You took a deep breath, and adjusted your black pea coat that fit tightly at your waist and flared at the end. You turned and smiled at the man as he went to open the door.

“Miss. Ember, I presume?” he smiled.

“Yes, and you must be Happy,” you smiled back.

“That would be me.”

“It’s nice to meet you. Now tell me, should I be nervous about tonight?” you said with a sly grin.

“Anything that involves Tony Stark, you should be nervous about,” he said back with the same grin.

“Then it should be an interesting night,” you chuckled getting in and adjusting in your seat as he shut the door.

“I like her.” Happy hummed to himself as he came around the car to the drivers side.

Chapter 8

Used to be Overlooked Tag:

@xa-dia  @losersunitetonight  @fashionlive15 @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan@steverogersxreader@laneygthememequeen @lauravic @shreddedparchment@iheartsebastianstan @almostelegantfire @manymaria111 @shreddedparchment @carol-damn-vers @angelkurenai @squirrelgirl67 @stevieboyharrington @deaniebean @demon-doggo

Other Tags:

@shamelesslydean @sleepless-sin  @sandlee44 @gripmetight-raisemefromperdition@justanotherwaywardsister-libary @spnwoman @ravengirl94@carryonmywaywardcaptain@ezilyamuzed @thosekidswhohuntmonsters@purpleskiesandcherrypies@anise-d-castle6@tailsoflightning @spookycowz @eve05glee@snffbeebee @deans-baby-momma@natura1phenomenon @tftumblin @gh0stgurl@screechingartisancashbailiff @kersumgen @herscrunchiehairtie @dreaminemz@monkeymcpoopoo@a-girl-who-loves-disney@andthatsmyworld@greenarrowhead @savio-the-depressed-moose@awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce@greyeyedsmile14 @sundownridge @adoptdontshop-blog@casper57@twentyonesupernaturalartist @traceyaudette @rainflowermoonlibrary@traceyaudette@luciathewinchestergirl@almostelegantfire@thefaithfulwriter @deansgirl-1968

If I tagged you and you aren’t normally on my tag list, I thought you would enjoy the story. Fair warning, it is a slow burn so we will get to the bottom of the issue later, but the burn is what makes it soooooo sweet. I’m really excited for this series, and would love your feedback:) Thank you!

If you want removed let me know. After 3 chapters I will only tag those that I normally do, or those that ask:)

[teddylawrence]

task 001 baybee!

PREFERRED NAME — bri

PRONOUNS — she/they either work fr me tbh

AGE — 22

TIMEZONE — est

HOW OFTEN ARE YOU ONLINE? — literally too much.......... like if i’m not online on my laptop i’m lurking on mobile it’s a Problem

HOW DID YOU HEAR OF WATERSHED? — i’m friends w the asshole who Created It /:

DISCORD — chocalety milk#0458

OTHER SOCIAL MEDIA YOU’D LIKE TO SHARE — uh my personal is here n my pinterest is here im always down to give out twitter n insta too if anyone wants it :B

MYER-BRIGGS — istp

HP HOUSE — slytherin

ZODIAC — gemini

DO YOU BELIEVE IN ASTROLOGY? — like a lot yes an embarrassing amount i am, in fact, that white girl that asks what ur sign is like 3 minutes into meeting them im not PROUD of it its jst me this is real this is me

DO YOU ENJOY ASTROLOGY? — i have the gemini symbol tattooed on me.

HOW OLD WERE YOU WHEN YOU STARTED RPING ON TUMBLR — i think like 13?? or 12 i cant remember tbh

WHAT YEAR WAS IT? — 2011 or something i dnt wanna do math thts jst a random guess

NAME A RANDOM ROLEPLAY THAT STICKS OUT IN YOUR MEMORY — the magic returns, it was a next gen harry potter rp tht i was in fr im not kidding my entire high school career

WHAT WEIRD ANIMAL WOULD YOU HAVE AS A PET IF IT WAS REALISTIC — idk a kangaroo i think........ i kno they can actually b super aggressive and r jacked as fuck bt its rly cute when baby joey’s r in their mama’s pouches

WHAT PET DO YOU GENUINELY CONSIDER GETTING SOMEDAY? — i want another cat so bad and i’d like to have a dog again someday tbh

NAME THE FIRST SONG ON YOUR DISCOVER WEEKLY ON SPOTIFY OR THE FIRST SONG THAT COMES ON APPLE MUSIC / ITUNES SHUFFLE — the first song on my discover weekly is 2all by catfish and the bottlemen n i put my spotify on shuffle too n the first song that came up was imaginary parties by superfruit

NAME A BOOK THAT YOU READ IN SCHOOL THAT YOU SURPRISINGLY LIKED — i think besides to kill a mockingbird, brave new world by aldous huxley was my fave??

NAME A BOOK YOU HATED THAT MOST PEOPLE LIKED — i genuinely can’t even think of a book i hated......... maybe the great gatsby, its my english teacher’s fave n she was hyping it up sm but it jst kinda bored me??

WHAT TV SHOW DID YOU RECENTLY BINGE? WOULD YOU RECOMMEND IT? — i’m binging stranger things with my mom rn and shameless on my own, both r Dumb Good i’m quite obsessed.................

WHAT FILM DID YOU LAST WATCH? DID YOU LIKE IT? — i finished texas chainsaw massacre like the original with my bf and i thought it was rly boring NSDGLJSKDLGH film nerds everywhere b spitting on me rn /:

FAVOURITE QUOTE — i genuinely don’t think i even have one............ there’s been a few that’ve always Touched Me bt i can’t even think of one rn

LINK TO A VINE / TIK TOK / VIDEO THAT EXUDES YOUR ‘ENERGY’ — this bad boy right here

DO YOU WRITE OUTSIDE OF RP? WHAT DO YOU WRITE? — i’m attempting nanowrimo but it’s frankly not going well and other than that?? i haven’t in forever but should start again tbh

THREE YOUTUBERS YOU STILL LOVE & TRUST — noel miller, cody ko, chris klemens

A CELEBRITY CRUSH THAT JUST WON’T QUIT — harry styles until the day i die baybee!

EVER MEET A CELEBRITY? SHARE YOUR STORY — i met kurtis conner at the last 1975 concert i went to it was quite awkward i cld jst tell he did not want 2 take another picture LHSDGLKHSDG

WHAT’S YOUR PICTURE-PERFECT NIGHT? — tbh in the summer all my friends and i do is sit in my backyard drinking beers and playing card games so that

A CONSPIRACY THEORY YOU KINDA BELIEVE IN — the mandela effeect

ARE ALIENS REAL? — yes ofc u cannot look me in the eye and tell me we’re the only living species in the universe

PLAY ANY PHONE GAMES? WHICH ONES? — /: i have 4 diff versions of candy crush on my phone...............

PLAY ANY OTHER GAMES? WHICH ONES? — i was never allowed to play like any computer/video games growing up so i jst never did it was a sad childhood

WHAT’S A FILM YOU LOVED WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG AND RECENTLY WATCHED, ONLY TO FIND OUT YOU DON’T ANYMORE — i can’t think of one....... maybe surfs up i was obsessed with that when i was little bt i bet if i watched it now i wld hate it LSHDGKLHSDLKG

DO YOU COLLECT ANYTHING? — ticket stubs from the movies i go to, weird like vintage/homemade jewelry tht i never wear, old coins, etc.

WHAT’S SOMETHING YOU WANT TO LEARN MORE ABOUT BUT YOU’RE TOO LAZY? — politics tbh

THREE LANGUAGES YOU DON’T SPEAK, BUT WISH YOU COULD — spanish, latin, mandarin

MOVIE YOU’VE WATCHED MORE THAN 5 TIMES — tangled........ i went thru a phase fr 2 months where i watched it every day i was so obsessed...........

NAME A FICTIONAL CHARACTER FROM TV/FILM/MOVIE/GAME/BOOK THAT YOU FIND YOURSELF PROJECTING ON / YOU RELATE TO — rue from euphoria probs the most tbh

IS THERE ANY MEDIA (BOOK/MOVIE/GAME/TV SHOW) YOU FEEL CHANGED YOU IN SOME WAY? — maybe the harry potter series...... the biggest rp besides this one i was in was based off it n what not so

DO YOU FOLLOW ANY SPORTS? WHO DO YOU ROOT FOR? — like now tht i have a bf who likes sports kind of?? my whole family loves watched the blue jays baseball and maple leafs hockey games so i Sit There bt i dnt rly . care tht much JSDGKLHLDSG

HOBBIES BESIDES WASTING AWAY HERE? — /: reading?? fkin...... Drinking, i do some music stuff tht i need to . focus on again

PLUG A TV SHOW / MOVIE / BOOK / VIDEO GAME / ETC… YOU WISH MORE PEOPLE WOULD CHECK OUT — uh?? watch chris klemens on youtube if u dont

TEAM EDWARD OR JACOB? (IF NOT APPLICABLE, WHO DO YOU LIKE MOST IN THE TWILIGHT SERIES) — i was jacob when i was younger now? alice and jasper........ the Real otp of twilight

LAST MOVIE SEEN IN THEATRE — the lighthouse

DO YOU STILL READ FOR FUN? — not as much as i wish i did /:

IF SO, WHAT ARE YOU CURRENTLY READING? — the furies fr the watershed book club

ON A SCALE OF 1-10, HOW MUCH DID YOU HATE FILLING THIS OUT? – i didnt hate it rly i like talking abt myself quite a bit its jst the truth

[weremarkable]

LA Confidential - nice read and pictures 👌

Corduroy jacket, $2,730, and pants, $795, both at Ermenegildo Zegna; rollneck sweater, $185, by Mr P. at mrporter.com

Oh, it was such a sleepy, idyllic town until Armie Hammer came along with those chiseled charms of his. Eighteen months ago, the Italian city of Crema drew occasional visitors for its sweet ravioli and the Gothic 17th-century bell tower in the piazza. But then something positively scandalous happened involving an overripe hollowed-out peach, and Crema was anonymous no more. 😄

If you’ve seen Call Me By Your Name, you’re aware of the indelible moment in which Hammer plays erotic muse to last year’s juiciest moment in film. To sidestep spoilers, let’s just say that Timothée Chalamet, Hammer’s young costar in the coming-of-age drama, discovered a fruit-forward way of quenching his desire for Hammer’s character. Heaps of award nominations (including a Golden Globe nod for Hammer’s performance) and a global invasion of drosophilalike movie tourists followed.

“I went back to Crema after Call Me By Your Name had already come out, and walked into the duomo, which had been so calm and lovely when we filmed,” Hammer, 32, says, shaking his head a little in the courtyard of a Hollywood hotel. At 6 feet, 5 inches with bright blue eyes and a polished smile, the movie star in the conversation is impossible to mistake for someone else. “A few girls were standing together looking at their phones, and one of them looked up at me and just went, ‘Holly f---! There he is!’ And I thought, That’s it. Everything’s different here now.”

Donegal cableknit sweater, $595, paulsmith.com

You could say that about Hammer too. The actor noticed a change at the Oscars last year. The first time he attended, in 2011, to support The Social Network (through the magic of split screens, Hammer played both of the Winklevoss twins, who claimed the Facebook idea was theirs), he felt lost in the blur. “You’re on the red carpet looking around at all the insanity going, ‘What the hell?’” he says. “It was like being in a car accident.” But last year, the experience was one to savor. “I walked into a situation where suddenly I’d done a lot of work with a bunch of different people, and it was all, ‘Hey, how are you?’ ‘Oh, wow, great to see you.’ ‘Isn’t this fantastic?’”

Hammer’s orbit continues to widen. This season, he appears opposite Felicity Jones and Justin Theroux in On the Basis of Sex, a biopic directed by Mimi Leder about the life of Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsburg. Hammer plays Marty Ginsburg, a husband-of-the-century type who cooked and cleaned, and also argued cases alongside his wife in support of her pioneering legal career. “I talked to a lot of Marty’s law students and family members, and said, ‘Be totally honest—he couldn’t have been as great a guy as we’re making him out to be,’ and they all said, ‘You’re right. He was better.’ What the hell do you do with that as an actor?” Hammer obviously figured it out: The role is getting early Oscars buzz in the best supporting actor category.

Hammer portrays another dedicated family man in Hotel Mumbai, based on the terrorist attacks in 2008 at Taj Mahal Palace Hotel in India. It costars Dev Patel. Hammer’s character has to make a Sophie’s Choice-style decision about whether to protect his wife or the child he’s separated from. The production shot in Adelaide, Australia, shortly after Hammer wrapped on those magical months in the Italian countryside. “I went from riding a bicycle in paradise and drinking wine at lunch to getting chased down the hallway by guys with machine guns,” he says. “At a certain point, you just go, ‘Acting is a really weird job.’”

Replica leather trench, $4,980, by Maison Margiela at Barneys New York; classic T-shirt, $335, at Louis Vuitton; wool trousers, $225, by Mr P. atmrporter.com; L.U.C XPS 1860 timepiece in rose gold, $21,700, by Chopard at Neiman Marcus; Tyler lace-up boots, $318, at Frye.

On the surface, you would think Hammer could have chosen any career—or none at all—and done quite well for himself. It’s not just that he clearly won the DNA lottery; he’s good-looking enough to attract giddy triple-takes even among the blasé hipsters at the hotel. But Hammer is also—brace yourself if you haven’t heard—part of a storied dynasty. His great-grandfather was the Russian-American petroleum baron and philanthropist Armand Hammer, whose name is emblazoned upon buildings and institutions such as the Hammer Museum and Armand Hammer Golf Course in Los Angeles. This is the tycoon who traded caviar and furs with Vladimir Lenin in exchange for American wheat shipments and later bought the company that manufactures Arm & Hammer baking soda, mainly because he got a kick out of the name. Google around and you’ll see images of adorable little Armie—born Armand Douglas Hammer—on Great-grandpa’s private jet.

What’s interesting is how the family legacy shook out. Armie’s parents, Michael Armand Hammer and Dru Ann Mobley, now divorced, relocated the family to the Cayman Islands from Texas and Los Angeles when Armie was 7 and his younger brother, Viktor, was 5. Although the Hammers are mostly of Jewish descent, Armie’s parents identified as Christian evangelicals, and, while in the Caymans, founded Grace Christian Academy, which the Hammer boys attended, and the Christian Communications Association, a not-for-profit Christian radio station. When Armie announced he wanted to pursue a life in show business and left high school to follow his acting dreams, he was effectively disowned for the decision. Ironically, Hammer’s first significant role, at 22, was in a biopic of the young Billy Graham. “When I first got into this, the reaction was basically, ‘Are you out of your mind?’” Hammer says. “But when [my parents] saw how hard I was willing to work and how passionate I was, and that this wasn’t just a fad, they said, ‘OK, we get it.’”

Hammer insists he’s been independent financially since he was 19, and that’s been a prime motivator as he’s shouldered his way through hits and misses (The Lone Ranger and The Man From U.N.C.L.E. were supposed to be his megabudgeted star vehicles; they weren’t.) “I’m so thankful that from a young age, I’ve never had to take anything from anybody. You never get to take money without something attached to it, so I didn’t want those encumbrances. I wanted to live my life without anyone telling me what to do, and that’s meant everything.”

Donegal cableknit sweater, $595, paulsmith.com; crew neck T-shirt, $55, Vince.

Hammer and his wife of eight years, food TV personality Elizabeth Chambers, have a daughter, Harper, 4, and son, Ford, 2, who travel on locations with Hammer when he’s not dadding around L.A. “I do a good portion of the school runs, and I cook breakfast for everybody every morning because it’s not like I have a 9-to-5—and also, I love it,” says Hammer, who collects vintage typewriters and won’t say no to a good cupcake (the couple owns two high-end bakeries in San Antonio, where Chambers grew up, and Dallas).

In between the cooking and baking, Hammer finds time for Hollywood. This year, he appears opposite Dakota Johnson in a horror-thriller by British-Iranian director Babak Anvari. “I play an empty shell of a man who works at a dead-end job at a dive bar in New Orleans, which was surprisingly enjoyable to do,” Hammer says. He’s also starring in a remake of Rebecca, Alfred Hitchcock’s first Hollywood film, with Lily James. The film shoots in London, which, unlike that serene village in Italy from Call Me By Your Name, maybe—just maybe—can handle “the Hammer effect.”

PHOTOGRAPHY BY MIKE ROSENTHAL; STYLING BY MARK HOLMES; GROOMING BY KC FEE AT THE WALL GROUP; SHOT ON LOCATION AT VILLA CARLOTTA, LOS ANGELES