#Christian mouse pad

[ministryideaz]

Enhance Your Workspace with Inspirational JW Mouse Pads

As Jehovah’s Witnesses, we often seek ways to keep spiritual reminders close at hand, even in our daily routines. Whether you’re working from home, preparing for meetings, or engaging in personal study, having visual encouragement can make a meaningful difference. That’s where the 2025 JW Year Text Mouse Pad comes into play. Bring Paradise to Your Desk Imagine transforming your workspace with…

[makeyoumine69]

One of my New Year's gifts. *I'm crying*

[unlimitedlust]

Take Me Back To Eden - Noah Sebastian x Reader (+18)

Author’s Note:

Heyyy it’s me again! My fantasies have been all over Noah recently as you can see so, faster than ever (for my standards), I’ve got this story out for you. I really got out of my comfort zone for this one, but I hope you like it, let me know your opinions here later, please!!!

Disclaimers: I’m unable to write anything that doesn’t involve smut so there’s tons of it ahead, as always, you’ve been warned!!! Here we’ll also have bits of heresy, there are mentions of religiousness in a not religious way, there’s also dom! and rough Noah, oral (m receiving), fingering, unprotected p in v, unprotected p in a (yes, anal), creampie, aftercare.

Again, english is not my first language, forgive me for any mistakes!

WC: 2.4K

Hope you all enjoy your time here, don’t forget to like and reblog if you appreciate it and, if possible, I’d be very happy to hear your thoughts on it!!!

Warnings done, enjoy the story!!!

End of Author’s Note

~0~

The community priest’s daughter, that’s how everyone knew you for, and despite not being as religious as your parents, you did your best to keep up with the family’s reputation, at least publicly.

At the community’s eyes you were the daughter every father wished and prayed for, but if they ever knew about your likings off the spotlights.

Noah Sebastian, the rockstar born and raised in that same community, on the other hand, was not seen with the same grace, after all, he crossed lines a good christian could never accept nor admit.

And that, him being the forbidden fruit, the bad example no one should ever follow, along with his tall figure adorned with tattoos all over his skin, drew you into him instantly. After all, everyone loves a good sin.

At first, when the two of you met, you thought you’d just take part in a harmless cat and mouse game. At that moment, in your mind, he represented no real danger since he was almost always out of town. But oh boy how terribly wrong you were.

When things started to escalate and you had a taste of his sins, you soon realized you were in serious trouble and yet you didn’t want any help out of it.

What was meant to be only a physical involvement at first quickly turned into a forbidden relationship, which now you had to hide from the world, after all your parents, and mainly your father, would never allow such a thing, not with his most precious and chaste daughter.

And it would probably cause him a heart attack if he knew that at this very moment you were fully naked, locked up with Noah in his bathroom, down on your knees with his cock deep in your throat.

Noah’s tattooed hands held you by your hair as you bobbed your head up down his length, hollowing your cheeks around him, earning deep moans out of him at each movement.

You’ve been taught your whole life that you should only get down on your knees to pray, but oh boy how you loved to get down on your knees and let him use you and your mouth to his own liking.

You pulled your mouth out completely and teased the bundle of nerves right under the tip of his cock with your tongue, a devious smirk on your lips as you watched him watch you. He tightened the grip on your hair as your tongue went on, sliding from left to right and up and down on such a sensitive spot.

“Fucking stop” He pulled you up on your feet “I don’t wanna cum just yet”

He claimed your lips and hoisted you up by your asscheeks, sitting you on the counter behind you, legs wide open as he stood between them, devouring you with his lips and tongue while his hands traveled down you your body, one of them kneading one of your boobs as the other slid between your drenched folds, collecting your slickness as his pads circled your clit, applying pressure on it, your eyes rolling back at the stimulation.

“This wet already only from getting me off?”

You couldn’t answer, all you were able to do at that moment was bite your lip to keep you from moaning louder than you should, until he drew his hand away from you.

You whined in frustration as your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate to have him inside you, filling you, claiming you.

“Noah, p-please” You tried to pull his hips closer by hooking your legs around them as your hands ran up his tattooed arms to his nape.

“Tell me what you want” He demanded, lips inches from yours as he roughly grabbed you by your face, his dark eyes burning holes into yours.

“Fuck me. Hard” You spit out filthy.

“You want it hard?”

“Plea…” You gasped audibly when he pushed himself inside you with no warning “Oh fuck”

One of his arms snaked around your hips to keep you put by the edge of the counter as he bottomed you out. The sudden stretch made your body quiver in pleasure as he started to set his pace. Without breaking eye contact between you, he’d pull out almost completely to then slam himself back in harshly.

Like a starved man, his lips ran down your neck towards your breasts, where he kneaded one with his hand while his lips and teeth nibbled on the other, taking their time on your sensitive nipples as you arched your back towards him at each thrust, head thrown back in pleasure as his cock slid in and out of you.

With no warning in advance, he pulled out of you and, as if you were a weightless doll, he manhandled you down the sink and spun you around so now you could watch everything he was doing to you in the mirror.

He pushed himself back in, harder this time, making your body jolt forwards, his hips smacked loudly against your ass as he pulled you up straight by your hair for better leverage. He hooked his arms around your shoulders and hips, bringing your back to rest against his chest and allowing him to reach a new angle inside you, his pounding faster and harder as you felt your orgasm building within.

The scene unfolding in the mirror in front of you took your lust to a new level as you watched him rail you, the way his tattooed arms wrapped around you, the way your boobs bounced with each thrust, the fucked out expression you both held on your faces as you stood there agape, a pure moaning mess.

The hand on your hip slid down your front towards your clit, massaging and rolling it between his pads, the added stimulation tightening the pleasure knot in your lower belly. Noah knew you were close because he felt how your pussy clenched around him, so he picked up his pace and intensified his fingers’ work, and with a deep last thrust it snapped.

He kept your body close and stilled behind you as your body quivered against him while his fingers kept on working on you, riding you through your high until your body felt numb.

On the verge of his self control to not cum, your clenching walls like torture around him, he pulled out of you when he realized you were done.

Your eyes met again through the mirror and he reached out for your chin, pulling it to the side so his lips could meet yours in a passionate and tender kiss.

You’d just come, yet you were still in need of more of him, your body still ached for him, the amount of time you usually had to stay away from each other due to his work had you climbing over the walls for him, and by the look on his face behind you, he also wasn’t done with you.

His cock slid up and down between your asscheeks, still slick and wet from your pussy that now contracted around nothing, missing the way he stretched it to its limit just seconds ago.

With his palms now both splayed on your ass cheeks, parting them at each rub of his cock, you knew very well what he had in mind for you next.

You’d fucked countless times already but there was one thing you’d never done, a thing Noah knew you’d never done.

And he wanted that, he wanted to be your first, he wanted to claim you, you both knew that it was the biggest token of submissiveness and truthfully trust you could give him. The erotic and animalistic sense of possession and control involved in that exchange sent your head and body to overdrive with both lust and apprehension.

“Noah…” You bit your bottom lip, the uncertainty in your voice fading as his thumb drew circles on your hole, stimulating you, his eyes never breaking contact to yours because he wanted to have and to conquer you, but he wanted you to want it, he wanted you to crave for it, he wanted to be chosen and he wanted to watch you feel every aspect of it through that mirror.

“Yeah?” The husky whisper against your ear sent a strong shiver down your spine as he kept working on easing your hole.

His cock now between your legs, slipping back and forth slowly against your drenched folds, collecting your slick and coating himself in it, and he made sure that with every slide his tip met your clit teasingly, smearing it with his precum.

To feel him and to watch the scene unfold in front of you in the mirror felt pornographic as his swollen tip peaked between your thighs with every rub. You felt yourself getting bolder and hotter, and you couldn’t help but to bite your bottom lip harder as he slid a finger in your asshole, the strange yet stimulating feeling making you melt under his control at each calculated pump of his finger stretching you, getting you ready for him.

His eyes were dark with lust as he watched you relax and give in, as he watched your body reacting to him, your pussy now dripping with how turned on you were getting as he played with your ass.

“Noah…” His name left your lips once again in a soft chant as your ass met his finger on its own, the unexpected reaction making him groan.

“Fuck…” He bit on your shoulder blade and removed his finger slowly, which soon was replaced by his swollen tip coated with his own precum mixed with your slick, lubing you.

“Will you be gentle?” You whined, voice weak in anticipation as you braced yourself on the edge of the sink you were trapped against.

“Yes baby… Let me take care of you” He trailed wet kisses from your nape over your back and shoulders, their tenderness sending another wave of chills down your spine “I just need you to trust me, okay?”

His eyes met yours in the mirror again as he positioned himself against your ass, his tip pressing against your hole waiting for your signal as his large palms kept your ass cheeks parted, allowing him full view.

“Take me, Noah”

Your lips shaped a mute “O” as you felt like your breath was punched out of your lungs when he pushed in, the initial stretch from his thickness felt like it was tearing you in half and he was not even a couple of inches deep yet. He didn’t move at first, allowing you to feel and get used to it as he peppered wet kisses along the crock of your neck, his eyes trained on your every reaction in the mirror.

Seconds later the stingy pain started to fade and was suddenly replaced by a new found sensation, a different kind of pleasure you’d never experienced before burning through your veins as your hole settled him in.

It was raw, primal, blinded and flooded your senses in sheer lust.

Noah pushed deeper and a long animalistic moan erupted from your chest, your cheeks flushing in a dark shade of pink as your face contorted in bliss.

His digits sunk in your flesh as he shifted his attention between watching your fucked out face in the mirror and his thick cock disappearing into your tight hole, the feeling of it swallowing him deeper into you making him grunt and struggle to keep his restraint under control as he too was high in pleasure, transcending with the realization that you were his, only his, fully his.

“Fucking mine”

Once you got comfortable and confident he fucked you rough, raw, your ass colliding against his hip bones with each thrust, nasty moans and unintelligible profanities being spilled out from both of you as his length was now all the way in your ass.

It felt wrong and wicked, but the idea that he was ruining you with each pound, fucking you like a filthy whore, got you spiraling over the edge in a new found layer of lust as you now had no control over how loud you were being at that point, completely tamed by how hot it all felt, how amazing he was making you feel.

Your legs started to falter as your orgasm grew hot and strong, coming in a violent and uncontrollable wave. Seeing the way you were about to fall into pieces, Noah’s hands left your ass cheeks and moved up your body, one entangling in your hair as the other moved towards your mouth, pushing two of his fingers against your tongue, forcing you to open your mouth wider as he now fucked you in an unholy rhythm.

Feeling and watching him all over you, overpowering you, desecrating you, made your body tremble violently as your climax washed away all of your senses, deafening and blinding you as your body melted under his control.

Noah embraced you in his arms to keep your body from collapsing and your legs from giving in as he now pursued his own high, which didn’t take many seconds after yours to strike him as he was desperate to cum at that point, crazed by all of you. He crushed your body between his strong arms as he came inside your ass, releasing all his spent in long and thick hot spurts, his body twitching against yours as he did so.

“I love you so much” He whispered before pulling out of you, and you immediately felt his cum start to ooze out of you down your legs.

He kissed you tenderly and then proceeded to turn on the bathtub’s faucet, filling it.

He knew you couldn’t move from the sink where you were still standing by, exhausted and overwhelmed by the newly found sensations and experiences, so he lifted you up on his arms and walked you to the bathtub, carefully setting you down in it, your muscles instantly reacting to the amazing feel of the hot water engulfing you.

Noah took his place behind you in the tub and pulled you closer, nestling you in his arms as he kissed your temples.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” His voice was laced with concern.

“I’m more than okay” You looked up to meet his eyes, reassuring him “And I loved that you were the one to do it to me”

He smiled proudly and tightened his arms around you.

“The one and only” He giggled “Like I said: you’re mine”

[danosrosegarden]

burn - eli sunday x masc!reader headcanons (NSFW) ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

{kinktober: day twenty one. prompt: stygiophilia. 🎃}

{contains: sacrilegious content, internalized homophobia, male masturbation, and descriptions of oral and penetrative sex (male receiving).}

☽ He knew what it was, to stare sin in the face. Its teeth were rotten yellow and black, its eyes melted out from the sockets. Its skin leaked thick, putrid pus and it smelled of ripe, rank death. Sin was ugly. It was a simple choice; Eli chose to live in the sparkling light of good godliness. He felt clean and pure and whole, basking in the warmth of God's grace. At least that's what he meant to do.

☽ He'd often had blackened, terror-fueled, demonic dreams haunt his sleep. He could feel the licking flames melting his skin, could hear the crackling snap! of the dark lord's whip. He presided over a humble but God fearing church. He read from his King James daily and prayed fiercely for those less fortunate than he. Was he not doing everything right? Where did these filthy thoughts of you come from?

☽ Eli could tell you didn't wish to be a part of the church. You were likely just attempting to appease your family, who sat next to you each week. While they latched onto his every word, you yawned and rolled your eyes. You were a selfish young man who lived for his own righteousness and thrill. Eli should've shunned it.

☽ Instead, he found a rush of lust flowing through his boiling blood each time he stole a glance your way.

☽ He greeted the upstanding Christians of Little Boston after each service, feeling sick to his churning stomach and wiping his sweat-slicked palms on his trousers as you inched closer and closer to him.

☽ When it was finally your turn to shake his hand and gift him a polite smile, Eli breathed deep and extended a trembling hand.

☽ "God bless you." A voice he hardly recognized as his snaked from his chest as a slick grin plastered itself across your face.

☽ He felt like the bloodied mouse caught between the crunching fangs of a cat. He had a reputation to uphold, damn it. How disgusting he felt, his confidence in the Lord and vigilance against evil struck down by a man.

☽ But deep in that dark cavern of his stomach was a twinge of...excitement? He could weep from the bitter guilt he felt when he touched himself alone at night, thinking of how you'd look down on your knees in front of him. How Eli himself might sound as you took him roughly from behind, the pads of your long fingers digging into his hips as you slid in and out of him. How divine the swirl of your tongue on his weeping cock would feel. There was no denying there was something utterly enchanting, bleakly alluring about the filth-injected thoughts he indulged in. You were something glimmeringly special, and Eli desperately, pathetically wanted what he knew he could never have.

☽ It's not like he was setting out to burn in hell. He was supposed to hate all that was dark and dirty. But there was something about your charmingly devilish grin that held him captive, stuck in the loop of pumping himself until he was squirming and writhing and then sobbing for forgiveness with the remnants of his sin still dripping from his fingers.

[fragilcline]

star sign: cancer mythological creature: phoenix folktale: lungmo fairytale character (classical or modern): thumbelina (hans christian andersen, 1835)

"Thumbelina escapes the toad and her son, and drifts on a lily pad until captured by a stag beetle who later discards her when his friends reject her company. [...] The mouse suggests Thumbelina marry her neighbor, a mole, but Thumbelina finds repulsive the prospect of being married to such a creature because he spent all his days underground and never saw the sun or sky. The field mouse keeps pushing Thumbelina into the marriage, saying the mole is a good match for her, and does not listen to her protests. At the last minute, Thumbelina escapes the situation by fleeing to a far land with a swallow she nursed back to health during the winter." (x)

3 fictional tropes: fate worse than death, bookworm, sensitive artist

Fate Worse than Death - "Think death is the cruelest fate? Think again. There are several things much worse. More often than not, some unfortunate soul will experience it." (x) Bookworm - "A character who just loves to read and collect books. They tend to be smarter, nerdier, and more into school than other characters, but some book enthusiasts are of average intelligence. [...] Expect for them to have few friends because they ignore or avoid others so they can sit down in a secluded area and indulge in reading." (x) Sensitive Artist - "'Sensitive' here typically refers to emotional sensitivity, being empathetic, introspective, or highly intuitive and perceptive to the feelings and thoughts of those around you. Portrayed positively, this lends itself to a kind, gentle, compassionate, and understanding disposition. When people say Artists Are Attractive because they're sensitive, this is usually what they're referring to." (x)

romantic or platonic trope: belligerent sexual tension, the playboy, odd friendship

Belligerent Sexual Tension - "There's a couple, usually a sometimes sweet, sometimes grouchy female paired with a secretly-kind jerk, who are not able to admit their feelings. At the top of their lungs." (x) The Playboy - "The lifelong playboy character finds themselves considering hanging up their player threads to be with someone who does not fall for their charms, or the protagonist sets upon a notorious playboy to improve them." (x) Odd Friendship - "A friendship which develops between two characters that would seem unlikely to be friends, whether it's because of them having diametrically opposed personalities, holding beliefs that would normally get one to try to demonize the other, or some other quirks of their beings that would lead to them clashing." (x)

creepypasta story: borrasca (x) greek god or goddess: pasiphae time of day where they draw the most energy: 9 am their achilles heel: her past coming back to further haunt her medieval weapon of choice: mancatcher survival, starvation, or death by the undead in the apocalypse: starvation which of the seven sins represent them? horseman of the apocalypse?: sloth, famine what their superpower would be: resurgence could they pull excalibur from the stone?: no one aesthetic for each of the five senses (taste, hearing, sight, smell, touch):

black coffee with just a half teaspoon of sugar added in, the scratch of a charcoal pencil against the thick pages of a sketchbook, the beauty of the sunrise when unable to sleep, the aroma of flipping through an old and used book, pulling an oversized sweater over your knuckles and pulling it tighter around yourself

a bad habit that won’t go away: unable to fall asleep and choosing to read late into the night instead a recurring nightmare: too graphic/violent to describe an object they consider their lucky charm: no longer in her possession but it was a necklace with a small 'm' charm that her mother bought her

[birchkillchronicles]

Getting to Marigold

Chapter Twelve

Blood-Orange, Heliotrope, Chartreuse

            “One pony ride is enough.  I like the bouncy castle more.” 

            As usual, Tara knew exactly what she wanted out of life.  So, it was off to stand in line for the bouncy castle again for Jeanie and her strong-minded junior charge…

            Except that—when she looked down to take Tara’s small warm hand in her own—Jeanie realized that it was Bernie who stood beside her… 

Not Bernie as she appeared now, though. 

Bernie as that pale, skinny little girl with the perpetually runny nose…

            And she realized that they weren’t walking towards a rainbow-hued bouncy castle.  They were floating like ghosts toward Lindy’s decrepit old house where, waving them on from the ruined windows, were Chuckie’s dead mother and his wretched little sister… 

And could that blood-orange wraith in the doorway be Sylvie?  Stretching her mouth far too wide in a silent scream?  Urging them to join her in her untimely tour of hell—?

            A jolt of fear shocked Jeanie awake.  Her heart was fluttering like a netted bird, and she had to gasp for air before it would settle it down.

            That was something that had been happening far too often recently.  So ridiculous…            

Really, she blamed that stupid play about ghosts and séances that Bernie had made her attend in November.  She’d explained to her daughter that the story hadn’t sounded like one she’d be interested in.  But—“Chuckie’s in it, Mom,” Bernie had said.  And she’d insisted that Jeanie go. 

            That one had turned out to be far worse than even the first Lindy’s play she’d seen.  It had been very funny—once more, she’d had to admit that—but it had been also nasty, creepy and, ultimately, very sad. 

Why anyone would want to produce such a festival of misery, Jeanie had no idea.  But, apparently—according to Bernie and Don—it was “a brilliant piece of black comedy.” 

A comedy?  Hah!

Not by my standards, Jeanie thought, it sure wasn’t. 

It hadn’t even had a happy ending! 

But, in order to maintain a decent relationship with Chuckie and Lindy, she’d decided to keep her opinions largely to herself.  And so, after the show—while everyone else had been fawning over the playwright and the actors—she’d merely commented that it had been “a very interesting topic for a play…”

Yeesh.

Returning to her present state of heebie-jeebies, however—it took a moment for Jeanie to gather her wits and realize that it was early Christmas morning, and she was safely in bed with Don. 

Her husband was still in a deep snooze, so she gave herself a purely mental shake to get the cobwebs out and gently tossed back her side of their heliotrope duvet.

Padding to the bathroom, Jeanie managed to get herself more fully awake with a splash of cold water and a vigorous tooth brushing.  Then, as quiet as a Christmas mouse, she grabbed her robe with the holly berry collar and cuffs and made her way down to the kitchen for a bracing cup of coffee.

Jeanie—who’d been brought up in the United Church by casually pious parents—hadn’t been particularly interested in religion since she and Don had left British Columbia many years ago.  But she very much enjoyed decorating her home with the symbols of the major Christian festivals.  And so, glancing into the family room, she was gratified to behold the glorious Christmas tree that Sylvie had helped her re-theme from Country Casual to Pastel Sugarplum just four short years ago.

Naturally, changing the decorating scheme to suit Jeanie’s newly purchased eight-foot-high artificial fir had upset Bernie.  She’d whined that all her favourite decorations were going to be sent to the Sally Ann thrift shop. 

So, that first year, Jeanie—ever the accommodating mom—had set up a faux tabletop pine in the living room just to display some of her daughter’s favourite baubles.  And, there, among the snow-flocked tree limbs had nestled a reserved selection of jolly tin Santas, German straw stars and wooden clothespin reindeer. 

Still, Bernie hadn’t been particularly grateful, as far as Jeanie could recall.  She’d rarely ever visited the living room tree and had persisted in describing the new one as ‘hardly Christmas-y at all.’

In sharp contrast, Tara had immediately loved Jeanie’s Pastel Sugarplum fir. And, on her mid-December visit, the little girl had spent many happy hours helping to unwrap the delicate decorations and hang them artistically on the tree. 

Unlike Bernie, Tara had oohed and aahed over the meadowsweet-pink and cornflower-blue Christmas fairies.  She’d appreciated the detailed craftmanship of the chartreuse ‘candy canes’ and citron-yellow ‘lollipops.’  And oh-so-carefully positioned the sparkling lilac glass balls where they would shine most brightly against the dark evergreen branches.  Instinctively, she’d understood the need for negative space and never bunched or crowded the ornaments or obscured the ‘popcorn’ garlands.  And—once Jeanie had secured Sylvie’s handcrafted Hansel and Gretel cottage to the very tippy-top of the tree—Tara had actually danced with pleasure to see the exquisite results of their mutual labours.

“Oh, look—look—look, Daddy!” she’d crowed to Chuckie.  “Ms. Jeanie and I have decorated the most beautiful Christmas tree!”

Yes, truly, it had been pure joy to have the little girl help her trim the lofty fir...but then— 

It’s a real crime that Tara won’t be here to open her presents under its lovely boughs, Jeanie groused to herself as she poured coffee from the insulated jug she’d set the machine to fill automatically.  You’d think that—with newborn twins—Dolores would be glad to let Tara visit her daddy for the day…

But no. 

Obviously, sniffed Jeanie to herself, it's never occurred to Dolores that she might find it slightly hectic to deal with the demands of two little babies and a seven-year-old girl on Christmas morning.  I can’t imagine how Tara’s going to get the attention she deserves while her mom is juggling feedings and diaper changes with gift giving and preparations for a hearty family brunch!  And, of course, she’s got a gala Christmas dinner to prepare for the evening, too… 

Now, I’ve got an egg, sausage and kale strata waiting in the fridge for its final breakfast bake, thought Jeanie, complacently.  And there’s a very nice beef rib roast that I’m going to serve with all the Christmas trimmings to my little crew of four…wait…is that it?  Just four?  It seems like there ought to be…oh, heck…of course, Sylvie and Nick always used to add to my count at holiday dinners…but, then—

This isn’t a day for regrets! Jeanie chided her undisciplined mind.  And gosh, she figured—pushing herself relentlessly back to the subject at hand—with today’s busy gifting and cooking and cleaning agenda, even I might be hard-pressed to give Tara her due.  So, I expect that Dolores will certainly be snowed under… 

Earlier in December, Jeanie had mentioned these thoughts to Chuckie, but he’d just shrugged his shoulders and laughingly commented that he was sure that—no matter how much was happening around her—“Tara’s gonna find a way to take a starring role.”

But—with two new babies in the house? 

Jeanie’s mind remained wracked with doubt…

Fortunately, however, Dolores hadn’t been so unreasonable about the rest of the winter school holidays and had told Chuckie that his daughter would be welcome to stay with him for a whole week, if he wanted her to. 

Which, as a loving dad, of course, he did.

Duh…

So, the good news was that Tara would be coming to them the day after Christmas and staying until at least New Year’s Day.  Since she wasn’t permitted to have the little girl visit earlier in the holiday, Jeanie had decided to be very pleased with this schedule.  And she’d had lots of fun planning a roster of activities that she hoped would appeal to the child.

There’d be the usual home-based fun, plus snowfort building and skating, of course.  There’d be outings to shopping malls and museums, as well as a family movie matinee at the Mayfair Cinema.  And—the cherry on top!—there’d be a very special trip to the National Arts Centre to see The Nutcracker ballet.

With an eye to efficiency, Jeanie had stockpiled assorted drawing and crafting materials which would compliment the whimsically wrapped Christmas presents she’d sent to Dolores’ house.  For, along with the natural lamb’s wool mittens and beret that matched Tara’s new icy-pink coat, she’d loaded Chuckie down with a bag full of crafts, puzzles and games, several adult colouring books, and a huge fancy tray of glass beads and jewellery findings.  She’d added some Christmas candy, of course, and she’d tucked in a basket of trinkets for both Tara’s and the babies’ stockings.

Also, she’d purchased a couple of junior looms on-line—one for her house and one for Dolores’ place—and a few skeins of wool to get the child started.  That way, Jeanie reasoned, she could instruct the little girl on one loom during her visit, and then Tara could take the other one with her to work on when she went home. 

And, last but not least—with her little friend’s help—Jeanie was planning to get all of her Olde Fashioned Reunion invitations written and posted.  So, it was going to be a very busy week for Tara, indeed! 

Now that Lindy had come around to being sensible—at least as far as writing a short play set in the Roaring Twenties was concerned—Jeanie had been able to timetable their Olde Fashioned Family Reunion.  

Thinking that it would be perfect to see everyone over Canada Day, she’d pushed for her seven days of Reunion to begin in last week in June.  However, Lindy—always frustratingly selfish—refused to even consider any dates in July, or even in the first three weeks of August, because her Excursion Theatre Company ‘would still be playing the parks.’  If Jeanie wanted her artists involved, Lindy’d proclaimed, the Dinmont-Todd Reunion would have to be scheduled for the very end of the summer holidays. 

Which Jeanie—albeit reluctantly—had done. 

After a brief consultation with Don—and a briefer one with Bernie—she’d gone ahead and programmed her Reunion festivities to start on the last Sunday in August.  They’d continue through that week and then end with the guests’ departures on the first Monday in September. 

It had been a major compromise. 

I certainly would have preferred, sighed Jeanie, to have chosen a very different set of dates.  But then, of course, by the end of August the younger families will probably be finished sending their kids to camp.  And—even with travel on Labour Day Monday—they’ll be sure to arrive home in time for the beginning of the new school year, if that’s a concern…  

So, all in all, Jeanie mused—as she paused to admire the heap of gifts she’d so thoughtfully selected and lovingly wrapped to co-ordinate exactly with her Pastel Sugarplum Tree—I’m not totally dissatisfied with my Reunion plans…

And when my relatives get their hand-written invitations—oh, boy!  Then the whole darn clan’s just going to be so amazed by the fabulous activities on offer in my Master Schedule…that’s for gosh-darn sure!

Smugly, Jeanie tossed back the last drops of coffee in her mug.  Then, filled with anticipatory joy for this morning—and for next August as well—she scooted upstairs to rouse up Don and then Bernie and Chuckie.  All of whom absolutely deserved to share in her excitement on this most glorious day of material delights..!

* * * * *

“Why not russet apples?”  Impatiently, Tara repeated herself. 

But Ms. Jeanie wasn’t listening to her.  She and Mommy were having an intensely smiling conversation.  And neither one seemed interested in Tara’s questions about the recipe that she and Ms. Jeanie had been reading before Mommy showed up at the house again without the twins. 

Why Mommy had come back after dropping her off half an hour ago wasn’t clear to Tara.  But Mommy was sure getting in the way of Ms. Jeanie’s and her plans for tonight’s tarte aux pommes dessert.

“Ms. Jeanie!” Tara insisted, tugging on her sleeve.  “Why not—?”

“Hush a minute, Tara,” said Mommy, with a warning shake of her head. “In fact, why don’t you go play upstairs in your room right now?”

“But—”

“Do as your mother says,” said Ms. Jeanie, shortly.

So, heaving a giant sigh to show Mommy and Ms. Jeanie just how annoying all of this was, Tara tromped upstairs.

Once the little girl was out of earshot, Dolores dropped her fake smile.  “Tara already has two sets of grandparents.  My mom and dad in Ottawa and Mark’s in Hamilton.  And, as I said, although I appreciate you and your husband’s good intentions towards my daughter, she doesn’t need a third.  So please don’t make major assumptions about your place in her life without consulting me.”

“I wasn���t assuming anything,” replied Jeanie, steely-eyed.  “But since her dad is living with us—and she’s a regular guest—I would expect you to accept that we would have more than just a passing interest in Tara.”

“An interest would be okay.  Showering her with gifts and over-the-top attention is not.  You are not her grandparents.  She is not your grandchild.  A small Christmas present would have been fine.  But I don’t want my daughter to see the holiday as a time for greed and over-indulgence.  A couple of the stocking stuffers you sent—the Santa pen and the jelly snowmen—were more than enough for Tara.  That’s why I had her donate the rest of your gifts to the Christmas Tree Drive—”

“You had no right to do that!” hissed Jeanie through clenched teeth.

“I have every right to determine how I want my kid to experience Christmas,” continued Dolores, coldly.  “I took off the labels and unwrapped each gift.  And I didn’t tell Tara that they were meant for under our tree—don’t you worry about that!  And I kept the mittens and the hat—which obviously went with that ridiculously expensive coat you bought her—and I’ve brought them back now so that you can give them to her for Valentine’s Day.  And then Tara and I went to the nearest donation centre and gave away all the rest.  I could tell she was reluctant to part with some of the stuff, but it was an excellent lesson in charity.  I was able to teach her that it’s only real generosity if you feel like you’d like to own the things yourself.” 

“And did the twins only get a few little things too?” spat Jeanie.

“Peyton and Frankie are too small to notice.  Besides, that’s not the point—”

“And the point is—?”

“The point is that—unless you’re willing to rein in your emphasis on materialism with my daughter—I’m going to have to tell Chuckie that I’m not happy to have her coming here to visit—”

“You wouldn’t!”

“—and that—if Chuckie wants to continue to see Tara as often at his own place of residence as he has in the past—he may have to change where he’s living.  I don’t know if Bernie would want to move too, but…” 

No Chuckie.  No Tara.  And no Bernie, too.  That was plainly the threat Dolores was waving.

“Oh.”  Jeanie had to bite her lip hard so she wouldn’t blurt out the words that sprang to the edge of her tongue. 

“Do I make myself clear?” demanded Dolores.

“Perfectly clear,” acknowledged Jeanie, bitterly. 

“So, Jeanie.  No more extravagant presents.  No more day-long shopping trips.  No more emphasis on what my daughter has—rather than what she does.  Fun activities—like cooking or painting or going to the museum—those are okay.  But celebrating materialism—by over-shopping or starting collections or just generally accumulating stuff—that’s not.”

“I understand.”

“I hope so,” cautioned Dolores, “because, otherwise, I’ll have to—”

 “You won’t,” Jeanie cut her off. 

“Okay.  And I hope—for Chuckie’s sake—that I can trust your word on that.  Tara!” she abruptly called up the back stairs. “Mommy’s leaving again.  Come down and say good-bye.”

“Coming!” came the muffled answer as Tara scampered from her room to run down to the kitchen.  And, after hugs and kisses, Dolores left to answer the needs of her newborn twins.

            “All right,” began Jeanie to Tara, as cheerfully as she could muster. “Let’s have a look at that apple tart recipe again…”

* * * * *

            “We have an ice dam over the mudroom roof,” reported Don, coming into the kitchen on the first Sunday afternoon after Christmas.  “That’s why there’s water dripping through the ceiling and puddling on the floor.”

            “Want me to make like a mountain goat an’ shovel it off?” asked Chuckie, seated beside Bernie at the kitchen island.

            “You’ll kill yourself, sweetie” warned Bernie. “That side is really steep.”

            “Perhaps we should call the roofers, Don—if you think it’ll help,” suggested Jeanie, stowing the clean glassware from the dishwasher into its usual blond maple cupboard locale.

“Maybe not just yet,” frowned Don. “It might only need a patch, and I don’t want to get into anything major on a weekend.”

            “I’m bored,” complained Tara, as she coloured in the family room.  “May we please go to the mall, Ms. Jeanie?”

            “No!” chorused all the adults with a united finality. 

            “O-kay!” said Tara, rolling her eyes. “I was only asking…”

            “We thought you might like to go to the Children’s Museum, instead,” proposed Jeanie, in a softer tone.

            “I go there all the time with Mommy and Tío Mark,” pouted Tara. “I like going shopping with you.”

            “Well—that ain’t in the cards right now, Bugsy,” said Chuckie, ruefully shaking his head. “Where else would Mademoiselle Princesse deign to progress with her royal staff?”

            Tara let out a long-suffering sigh.  “Maybe we could all go down to the Glebe to window shop?”

            “Oooh, no, Bugsy, the Glebe is definitely off-limits for any action like that,” said Chuckie, echoing her sigh. “How’s about the Nature Museum instead?”

            “Or the Museum of Science and Tech?  That used to be my friend Sylvie’s son’s favourite outing,” suggested Jeanie, casting about in her memory for an acceptable kid-friendly alternative.

            “I’ve been to those places a ba-jillion times!” whined Tara, with another huge sigh.  “Why can’t we just go shopping at the mall?  That’s my favourite Girls Day Out.  We don’t have to buy anything—I got tons of presents for Christmas.  But I love to walk around and look at all the neat stuff with you.”

            “Oh, Tara, I’m so sorry—” began Jeanie, but—“How about an antiques and collectibles market instead?” suggested Bernie, who was scrolling through her phone.  “There’s an indoor one in the far west end of the city that’s open this afternoon…”

            “Why, yes,” said Jeanie, hope dawning. “In the old days, Sylvie and I used to source there quite a lot.”

            “Hey, yeah,” said Chuckie, reading over Bernie’s shoulder.  “An’ its gotta Barbie Doll Museum too.”

            “Oh, I’d forgotten about that.  So,” reasoned Jeanie, shutting the cupboard door, “we wouldn’t be shopping, really.  It’d be more like a visit to an exhibition—”

“Absolutely, Momsy!  More of an hysterical outin’ for Tara.”

“—so, You-Know-Who couldn’t very well object,” continued Jeanie. “Especially if the rest of you guys are willing to come along on an ‘educational outing’ with Tara and me—”

“I’d be up for a drive,” nodded Don.

“And we could all go to the Swiss Chalet restaurant afterwards,” added Bernie, whose fondness for that particular Canadian institution hadn’t faded with adulthood.

“That’d work, Cutie,” grinned Chuckie.  “So—whaddaya say, Bugsy?  Sound like some fun?”

“Sure, Daddy!  I like Barbies and antiques and Swiss Chalet,” nodded Tara, hopping up from her colouring book.

 “Then it’s a plan.” Don was smiling broadly. “So—you guys go get yourselves sorted, and I’ll just go stick Tara’s booster seat into the car…”

“Aye, aye, sir,” saluted Chuckie, while Tara prepared to skip up the back stairs to get her fluffy swan purse—“Just for show,” she allowed—with Bernie and Jeanie following close behind.

[keminkreative]

(via The Name of the Lord Mouse Pad by keminkreative)

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Sick Little Games: Seven

B.C.

“Y/N I swear. If you ever do anything that blatantly stupid ever again,” Steve threatened as you sipped a cup of water.

“Yes, dad,” you sigh rolling your eyes.

Steve glared at you as Natasha muttered angry Russian expletives and you smile a little, “Look, I knew that it was incredibly unlikely I was going to die. It was just going to hurt. A lot. Still hurts actually.”

Natasha scowled as she tucked the blankets around you, “It was still stupid.”

“Oh,” you snort, wincing, “There’s no doubt about that. But It was effective and I had to act fast... That hell-hound had only been topside about 12 hours. And I almost couldn’t stop it... If I’d waited we would have been fucked. And it takes centuries for demons to marshal enough energy to build one up here... So. I’ll take the win.”

Thor was quiet, arms folded where he leaned on the wall. He was glad you were safe. That you were going to make a full recovery. But the image of you in a pool of black blood, bloodied and twitching still made his chest ache. “How did you know I wouldn’t kill you?”  he asked softly. 

“Your less well-documented powers don’t exist in a vacuum, Thor,” you answer, “Terrified Christian monks who wrote down stories had to hear them from somewhere... I needed consecrated ground. Quickly. And to do that I needed to be able to conduct the energy and... I needed to be holding on to direct it where I needed it to go.” Thor moved closer to the bed and pats your cheek, “We thought we lost you for a second, witchling.”

“Nah,” you say, giving him a brave smile. It still felt like you might be dying. It certainly hurt that much. “I’m like a bad habit.”

“Thor isn’t Christian,” Steve said abruptly. 

You shrug, “The Christians don’t hold a monopoly on Holy... The definition is fairly flexible. Thor still has followers, thus where he works a miracle... and this fucking counts because I didn’t know if this was gonna work, there is holy ground.”

Steve frowned but nodded, taking a second to kiss the side of your head, “Still. If you ever do something that stupid ever again I’m gonna make Bucky do your training rounds with you.”

Thor chanced to glance at you and your face betrayed nothing. Only the same mild amusement it had a moment ago. And as for year heartbeat... well. It was still irregular and too fast. Your body on high alert after your Jolt. But a muscle in your throat pulsed just slightly. Just enough to tell him your prey instincts had kicked in, and if you could have done it, you’d be ready to bolt.

The Three of them left shortly after to give you some time to rest and Clint slipped in quietly. 

“Hey, Cupcake,” he said, breathing a sigh of relief. Now that your eyes were open and you were sitting up he felt like it was okay. Before “okay” was a horribly abstract concept. 

“Hey, Hawk,” you say, smiling a little. “You okay?” Clint takes a second to look at you. Big luminous eyes and tangled chaotic hair. You look frail and pale... Nat had told him like a sick Victorian Child who wouldn’t make it to Spring. But fuck if you aren’t the prettiest thing he had ever seen.

“Now that I’m seeing you alive?” he said giving you a crooked smile and tucking himself sitting next to you, “I’m great. This might be the best day of my life... I thought you were a goner, babe.”

You rest your head on his shoulder, “There’ll be better days, Clint,” you tell him fondly. 

“Yeah,” he said, “The day they let you out of medical and you meet my dog.”

“YOU GOT A DOG?” you yelp, “Gimme, lemme see the puppy.” You make a sort of vague grabby hands gesture.

“He’s not a puppy. He’s a grumpy mutt I pulled out of an Alley... who then proceeded to steal my pizza and get shot.” he said, “And they told me he can’t be in here.”

“But witches need to commune with nature,” you pout, “And that,” you say pointing at the sad little potted plant in your window sill, “Is NOT nature. It’s plastic!”

Clint chuckles and rests his cheek on your head, “If I get in trouble I’m blaming you.”

“Don’t you usually?” you ask.

“Touche,” Clint conceded getting off the bed. He knew from the jump he couldn’t tell you no. He’d already told Lucky all about you. And as he padded his way into the room and made his way up to the bed, Clint had no regrets. 

Lucky wiggled his way into your arms and accepted all the kisses and cuddles and effusive compliments about what a pretty boy he was. And Clint watched, smiling a little. You glowed. Warmth and light. Compassion. You took in everyone’s flaws and loved them anyway. The way you didn’t think you deserved. And Clint knew. He knew. That he’d never be able to tell you “no” ever again. He also, when he had to half drag Lucky off your bed, was vaguely aware that his dog probably loved you more than him. And Clint had to admit that that was fair. You were definitely nicer to look at. 

____________________

A.C.

“Where’s Lucky,” you ask in the quiet on your porch.

“With Nat,” Clint answers smiling a little, “Plane rides freak him out.”

Clint watched the sun sink lower, burning up the atmosphere and turning the sky a flamingo pink. Stars were starting to sparkle on the horizon and the air was getting cooler. Crickets were singing and birds were calling out. It felt nice. Rocking you on the porch swing in the quiet. 

“So,” he asked teasing, “If you don’t have T.V. what do you do out here?”

“This,” you answer, gesturing vaguely. “There’s a pond out back for swimming and my closest neighbor is four miles away... I just. I mean I’m not a total animal. I do have Wifi. But sometimes I just... I can’t take being trapped in anymore.”

Clint makes a soft sound and pulls you closer, “So you wanted freedom.”

“And some time. Time to figure out my next move.”

“Are you coming back?” he asked, his voice so soft that you can hardly hear him.

“I don’t- I’m not- I shouldn’t.” you settle on finally, “We just got the team back in working order... and this. This is the only family I have. I really don’t want to be the one responsible for tearing it apart.”

Clint stops and looks down at you, tilting your chin up carefully, “Babe,” he murmurs, “You did nothing wrong. Not one thing. Barnes did all of this. You were quietly nursing a harmless little crush. And he exploited it. Exploited you.” When you look away, uncertain he sighs, “Look. If it were Nat what would you tell her?”

“Nat would have already killed him,” you point out.

Clint makes a soft exasperated sound, “Fine. Any other woman. Would this be their fault?”

“No but-” you trail off and Clint stops, stroking his thumb against your jaw.

“But what?” he presses.

“They aren’t me,” you say exhaling slowly. 

“What does that mean, baby girl,” he asks.

“I mean I could have influenced him. I could have cast a charm unintentionally and he could have reacted poorly and-”

Clint tries. He wants to hear how you’ve twisted this around in your head to make it all your fault. He wants to know so he can tear it apart. But he can’t. He can’t listen to you justify that level of manipulation. So he kisses you. It’s a soft kiss. The gentlest way he knows to stop you talking. To distract whatever anxious death spiral you’re about to go down to tell yourself that you did this and you deserve it all. 

It’s over before it really starts and Clint is pulling away about to apologize when you sit there blinking at him in shock. “Stop,” he says instead of apologizing. “I know you. You never do anything like that unintentionally. Hell. You never do anything unintentionally. You agonize about people’s feelings for hours before you send a risky text sometimes... Even if you did cast some spell on him, baby it’s the same one you cast on everyone. Just by being you. And being you doesn’t mean that that grumpy fuck gets to abuse you.”

When you start to cry, Clint pulls you into his lap wordlessly and just rocks you. “No one,” he murmurs, “deserves what people have done to you, babe. Not one person.” He doesn’t try to stop it. He just lets you sob, even though every racked stuttering breath makes his chest hurt. He’s seen you a mess before, but not like this. Not this shattered and jagged. This tortured. 

And for once, he doesn’t think a stupid joke and a cupcake is going to make it better. For once, he’s going to have to ride out the storm.

____________

B.C.

Girls' night in the compound meant a lot of things. Mostly, it meant that Tony was working Pepper’s last nerve and had enlisted every last woman she could find to throw a night out on his dime because he’d irritated her. 

But it also meant, of course, that the men in the compound had unexpected free time. Which was both a blessing and a curse as they all sat in the commons trying to decide what movies to watch and what pizza toppings to order. 

They were mid-argument when you came downstairs kitted out for the night. Complete with a corset, black leather skirt, fishnets, and combat boots. You look feral and sexy. Sleek. All smoke and sultry. And that skirt is riding temptingly high on your thigh. For just a half a second, Bucky can’t not stare. 

Until he realizes who you are. 

“You look-” Steve stops. Not sure what to say, looking flustered. You never show that amount of skin if you can help it. 

“Otherworldly and vaguely threatening?” Bruce supplies, as Thor nods in agreement. 

Sam whistles, “Damn,” he says, “Girl where’d you hide that outfit?”

Clint, standing next to Thor makes a sound that reminds the god irresistibly of a mouse being stepped on. The god is pretty sure the Archer stopped breathing when you stepped off the elevator.

“Nice “Come fuck me boots,” Tony observed drily.

“They were on sale,” you say, tossing a wild mane of curls over your shoulder.

When you drift out, Clint falls forward, face planting into the sofa, “Please. Please tell me that was real.”

“Oh yeah,” Sam chuckled, “That was real.”

“Fuck me.” he groaned, “That’s just rude.”

“Or not,” Bucky muttered, picking up his phone.

___________

When you hadn’t so much as looked at him, Bucky was irritated. Who the fuck were you to not pay attention to him. Well. He had a way to fix you. He had a way to remind you that he could destroy you. And he wanted to. 

How dare you act like he didn’t matter to you when he knew it wasn’t true. He knew it wasn’t from the quiet way you still just... did things. The way he could hear your heart race in a quiet room. The way your eyes light up when he was even passingly civil. The innocence rankled. The sweetness. The fact that you got to stay the same while he was beaten into submission. 

It didn’t take long. Not for the next phase of his plan to take place. Models were in easy supply. Everyone wanted to fuck a hero. And when he started looking, women crawled out of the woodwork. Perfect. The perfect thing to trot out.

The first one had almost been accidental but after that... well after that, it was fun. The shock. The blushing. The scampering up the hall. The next morning knowing you’d skip breakfast to get your work out in. It felt right, ripping those pieces of innocence out from under you. Forcing you to stop in your tracks and deal with this reality instead of sprinkling glitter on it.

He loved every minute of snatching that out of your hands. But, he reflected, it felt like it was time for something... new. Of course, he came to this conclusion when you walked in on him fucking some blonde off of Tinder in the motor pool when you were going to get your jeep and you’d not looked nearly... startled, enough. He needed more, he decided. He just needed to figure out how to get it.

Tags: @lancsnerd, @thorfanficwriter @blameitonthecauseway @etherealwaifgoddess, @stevieang, @beautybyfire, @sunmoonandbucky @mrsfox79, @bbmommy0902, @mendes-fan, @iheartsebastianstan, @wtfcas @pinknerdpanda, @process-pending, @ladifreakingda, @leasly, @coldbookworm, @hv-chw3, @past-perfect-future-tense, @starkrobb @beardburnsupersoldiers, @petlaufeyson, @queenoftheunderdark, @potatoheadthewise, @thehyperactiveteen, @thefridgeismybestie, @boyett514, @an-awkward-human-1, @sunshine-and-riverwater

[fashion-runways]

Jeremy Scott (born August 8, 1975) is an American fashion designer. He is the creative director of the fashion house Moschino and the sole owner of his namesake label. Since launching his brand in Paris in 1997, Scott has built a reputation as "pop culture’s most irreverent designer", and "fashion's last rebel". In 1992, Scott moved to New York to study fashion design at Pratt Institute, one of the city's traditional colleges, where he wore sci-fi-inspired clothes, "1880s vs 1980s" outfits, and shredded and decaying clothes. After graduating in 1996, Scott moved to Paris. While looking for a job in fashion industry, he was forced to scrounge meals and sleep in the metro. Not having any luck with fashion jobs, he decided to create his own brand. 

The following season, in 1997, Jeremy Scott, the brand, made its debut in a bar near Bastille. Scraps of fabric from the Porte de Clignancourt flea market resembling garbage bags were used in the follow-up show, all in black, which was described by Scott as "Blade Runner, trash bags and the apocalypse." The collection was later exhibited in the influential Parisian shop Colette, which has carried Jeremy Scott ever since. His third collection, all in white, was a critical hit. It won awards and attracted Mario Testino, the editors of French Vogue, and the stylist Isabella Blow, who adopted Scott as a protégé. In the same year, Scott made a show about 1980s decadence (sable, shoulder pads, big hair, gold lamé) as maybe the first designer to revive the eighties. The models' unbalanced heels were designed by Christian Louboutin. Opposing the prevalent minimalism, the show was panned by Vogue and others. Scott himself considers "the gold show" as the hardest moment of his career. In October 2013 Scott became Moschino's creative director. After turning down several other offers, he chose the Italian label because it had a similarly irreverent approach, its founder Franco Moschino seeing fashion as a form of protest. In his 2015 manifesto in The Guardian, Scott described his approach to American consumer culture: "An image of Mickey Mouse is understood in Mumbai, Timbuktu and Los Angeles in the same way. It’s a clear message even if you subvert it by, say, putting Mickey ears on an army helmet (as I did in 2007)... A lot of my collections are informed by nostalgia." 

if you want to support this blog consider donating to: ko-fi.com/fashionrunways

[eludum-a]

Shyly slides this over ✨

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Send ( ✨ ) if we haven’t interacted yet, but you want to.

hey!! you dont rly have to do anything special to interact with me, just send in an ask meme or even write me a starter if u want!

[chinatea]

Sometimes I like to imagine Christian and Diminie as a superhero duo. Christian is the leader even if he doesn’t necessarily have any super powers. He’s like batman, I guess - super brainy and likes tinkering with gadgets, also he’s a pro at martial arts, while not bursting with muscle like a fat sausage in a mesh. He’s actually quite compact in size, also wears glasses when off-duty. (Cute.)

Diminie is his side-kick and best friend and a roomie. They love each other, but not, like, in a romo way, although a lot of people tend to think that way. Diminie does have a superpower - (maybe he can go through walls? I dunno), but he also has loads of mini-superpowers, that usually go unnoticed by the general public. Like, he’s really good at doing chores or walking their five dogs, professionally. Because they absolutely need to have five dogs (and a fish). Diminie is also dating, like, twenty people at the same time, because he’s bad at saying no, opting for “maybe?”s instead, but he’s also bad at showing up for dates or generally keeping in touch, so it’s alright, besides Chris has his back when Di needs someone to pluck him out of a sticky situation.

Di also likes to tease Chris about that one guy, you know. Ian is neither a hero or a villain, he’s somewhere in the middle, in the gray zone (he also has his own tower in the city, The Ian Tower). Chris likes to think he’s so done with that pretentious prick, but sometimes, when the world is about to end and all, he has no choice but to accept his help and it goes surprisingly well - as in, the world doesn’t end while Chris ends up shoved face down into Ian’s expensive sheets, the said man going to town on his ass. And even if Ian is annoyingly hot and Chris would probably climb his dick like a tree (again) if he asked, that doesn’t mean that Chris likes him or anything. Or that he wants to go on a date or hold hands or anything. Or that he secretly likes to doodle stupid-ass hearts around Ian’s name or anything. Or...

Meanwhile Di has a crush on Tat, the wonder boy. (Him, I totally ripped off the Superman.) Tat is in charge of the neighbor city, actually, so Di doesn’t get to see him that often, but they chat regularly, via secure channels, of course, and sometimes their conversation gets a lil bit too steamy, so Chris, who is totally monitoring the whole convo, has to cover his innocent virgin (but not really) eyes lest he learn something he’ll never be able to unlearn about his side-kick, best friend and a roomie and apparently one thirsty little tho-

// I just need more Tat/Di in my life, ok? Goodbye.

// Bonus 1.

Di has a hoodie with the letter T on it, which stands for Tattoo, obviously. In fact, his room is stuffed with Tat's merch (the market for superhero merch is huge), from mouse pads to Di's favorite body pillow (that he likes to cuddle and do some other unmentionable things in the dark of night). Chris naturally likes to tease him about his little crush slash obsession, but it's not as if he doesn't have a miniature model of Ian's tower stashed somewhere, probably under his bed. His dirtiest and darkest secret.

[firethatgrewsolow]

Swiss Time - Chapter Twenty-One

**Thanks for reading and hope you like it! The clock is closing in ... <3 PS - expect fluff :-)**

We’re off, Nattie. I suppose it’s a good thing that you didn’t want to come, considering you were near comatose when I came downstairs to say goodbye. There’s water and aspirin on your nightstand and orange juice in the refrigerator, courtesy of Christian. I would have let you suffer.

Natalie shook her head at the evil smiley face her aunt had drawn. Christ, she was definitely suffering and pretty certain that at some point her head was going to explode. She crawled out of bed and snatched up the aspirin, knocking them back with the lukewarm water. Grimacing, she returned to her nest, pulling up the covers around her as she continued to read.

We likely won’t be back for close to a week, so please take care of Duchess. Change her water every day, and make sure to wash the bowl. Her food is in the pantry, along with her brush and some of her toys. Her favorite is the little pink mouse. Make sure it’s filled with catnip at all times. And don’t forget her music. She enjoys classical, but only in the morning. In the evening, she prefers jazz.

Nat rolled her eyes. The cat got better treatment than she and Christian did. Her annoyance faded away as she heard a faint mewl next to her, and she bent over, smiling as Duchess sprang onto the bed. Running her fingers through the kitten’s soft gray fur, she turned her attention back to the note.

You should be set in terms of groceries as I had extra delivered before the party, but feel free to order more or dine at the hotel. Just charge it to Christian.

Natalie’s stomach grumbled. A good sign in the midst of the worst hangover she’d ever had. At least she could still eat. The aspirin was beginning to work, as well. Maybe she’d actually live through the day.

Okay, that covers it. You have our hotel information should you need to contact us. Have a wonderful, relaxing week, darling. Oh, and one more thing. Apparently, you spoke to Robert on the phone last night. It was a rather animated conversation. At least, what I caught of it, which unfortunately was only about half.

Nat stilled. She’d spoken to Robert? Oh, shit. She replayed the evening, what she could remember of it, racking her brain for a clue about the conversation. Did I call him? Or did he call me? Surely she’d not given in and phoned him. Oh, God. She breathed a sigh of relief as she read the next line.

In case you’re wondering, he called you. Anyway, after a rather interesting exchange, you told him to ring you at 3:00 sharp. Today. Given your state last night, I thought I’d remind you. Love to you, sweet. See you when we return.

Natalie’s eyes darted to the clock, her heart pounding. 2:58 … 2:59 … 3:00 She warily shifted her gaze to the phone on her bedside table, its silence a blaring warning of yet another broken promise. Still, she waited, hopeful. One minute ticked by, then a second, and then a third. By the fourth, the familiar pang of disappointment washed over her. By the fifth, she gave up, her eyes welling. What did you expect? He never comes through. She stood, squaring her shoulders as Duchess scampered under the bed. Fuck him. Get on with the day.

She was due to meet a group of friends at the Christmas market later that evening, but her desire to go had been vanquished. She padded to the french doors that led to the patio and pushed them open, taking in the glorious view. Even with a chill in the air, it never failed to uplift her, the sublime beauty of the nature around her like a tonic that could cure all ails. Except today. Stretching, she determined she needed another tonic - hair of the dog and a soak in the hot tub.

Natalie headed to the bathroom, shedding her clothes along the way. She brushed her teeth and pulled up her hair, splashing cold water on her face to wash away the night. Satisfied with what peered back at her, she grabbed a towel and made her way toward the porch, freezing mid-stride. She glanced toward the ceiling, certain that she’d heard something upstairs. Or someone. Wrapping the towel tightly around her, she tiptoed to the landing, tilting her head. She waited a beat, and then another. Silence. Finally convinced all was well, she whirled around, slamming into what felt like a wall. She shrieked as she realized it was human.

“Whoa! It��s just me ...” Robert trailed off as her towel hit the floor, his eyes sailing up and down her completely naked form. He barely registered her scowl and the swift smack of his shoulder as she scrambled for the wrap.

“Jesus Christ! You scared the shit out of me. What are you doing here?”

“Well, hello to you, too, Nat.”

“How the hell did you get in?”

Robert gestured to the french doors that were wide open. “Nobody answered upstairs so I came around back. It was … open.” His eyes traced her frame as his mouth curled up. “Do you always traipse around so scantily clad? Aren’t you worried about your neighbors?”

“Apparently, I need to be more worried about random English miscreants. And I was about to get into the hot tub.”  Nat cocked her head. “You didn’t answer my question, by the way. What are you doing here?”

Robert chuckled. “What do you mean, what am I doing here? I told you I was coming. You didn’t really think a simple phone call would do, did you? Not after the conversation we had.” Natalie opened her mouth, only to close it, and Robert narrowed his eyes. “Wait. You do remember last night, right? Our conversation? The things you were saying?” His voice cracked on the last syllable.

“It’s, um, kind of hazy.”

“Are you bloody serious? Fucking hell, woman.”

Her eyes widened. “What all did I say?”

Robert barked a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You likely wouldn’t believe it if I told you.”

“Was it bad?”

He expelled a breath. “No, I’d say it was rather good.” Robert nibbled his lip as she stared at him, bewildered. “Nevermind. Christ. Anyway, it seems that I’m here, I suppose unexpectedly. I can’t stomach another two hours on the train, and I’m bloody well starving so I’ll have to sort it out tomorrow. If that’s alright with you.”

The adrenaline from her initial fear had given way to that of elation. He’d come to see her. He was there in the flesh, just for her. But what was it she’d said to make him drop everything and come running? Flashes of the previous night flickered through her head as if his physical presence was jarring them, conjuring them. There had been the phone call, that she could recollect … she’d chastised him for not knowing about the fire … then she’d teased him about the article, losing her virginity, she’d joked, and then … Oh, my God. It all flooded back at once, a dam breaking in her mind. Jesus Christ. What had she been thinking talking like that? No wonder he got his ass on a plane. She fought the crimson burn that crept across her cheeks. It was true, though, every single word.

“Are you alright? I can, ah, make arrangements at the hotel if you-”

“No, no, you can stay here. Susan and Christian are in Vienna for a week. It would be nice to have company.” Nat adjusted the towel, the cool air from the porch a blessing for her tingling skin. “Maybe we could go into town for the Christmas market later.”

“I did see a big ferris wheel on the way up here.”

“It’s really pretty at night with all the colored lights. And there’s ice skating and games. It’ll be fun.”

“I’d like that.” Robert closed the gap between them, tucking a loose tendril behind her ear. “I am so happy to see you. I’ve missed you.”

Her breathing hitched as he cupped her chin. And just like that, she was lost. It was as if no time had passed. His touch riveted her, cloaking her in his magic spell. “I’ve missed you, too.”

Robert grazed her cheek with his thumb. “You’re not upset that I came, are you?”

“I hoped you would,” Nat replied, a devilish smile blooming on her face. “Why do you think I said all those things?”

His mouth fell open. “You little ... tart.” She squealed as he pounced, throwing her over his shoulder and swatting her backside. “You’re a dirty little girl. And do you know what happens to dirty little girls?”

Natalie giggled as he tossed her onto the bed, dropping over her. “Bad things?”

Robert shook his head, his eyes gliding along the line of her throat. “No. Very bad things.” He nipped her chin. “Extremely bad, as a matter of fact.” He slid his lips across hers, bound for her ear. “But not until I have a bit of snap and a look at the fair. We English take Christmas very seriously.”

*          *          *

A sea of hats and heavy wool coats littered the ice, swirling around them with wild abandon. As Robert gently tugged her through the throng, Nat’s knees buckled, and she reached for his shoulders, her grin matching his as he caught her.

“Christ, Natalie, you’re a resident of Switzerland, and you can’t ice skate?”

Nat wrinkled her nose. “You’ve got candy apple in your teeth.”

“So do you,” the singer shot back, his brow lifting.

“At least I have all mine.”

“Ouch.” Robert snickered. “I suppose one can’t be perfect. But I’m not far off.” Natalie yelped, gripping him tighter as he took a wide stride backwards, parting the pool of revelers behind him. “You need a proper lesson.”

Nat snuggled into the warmth of his chest, so solid and strong. She knew very well how to maneuver on the ice. In fact, she was a crack skater and loved it. But she loved his arms wrapped around her even more. “Just keep holding me, and I’ll skate along with you.”

“Is this a ploy to keep me close to you?” Robert asked, narrowing his eyes.

She batted her lashes. “Whyever would you think that?”

“Because you’re very tricky. My tricky little-”

“I know. Minx.” She pecked his dimpled cheek. “I like being your minx.”

Robert slowed to a stop. “And my muse?”

“Your muse? I’ve never been a muse before.”

“Not even your good friend David’s?”

She studied the tip of her boot. “He’s never mentioned it.”

Robert skimmed his fingers under her chin, reclaiming her gaze. “He’s a fool, then.” He could feel her swallow through the thin leather of his glove as he drew closer, his eyes dropping to her lips. “An absolute f-”

“Attention! Attention!”

The boy’s warning rang out too late, and Natalie clung to Robert as the child careened into them, depositing them into a twisted pile on the ice. He sprang up as fast as he’d gone down, muttering an apology before sliding away to wreak havoc elsewhere. She smiled as Robert stood, offering her his hand. “At least I’m not the worst one out here.”

“Something tells me you’re far from the worst.” He looped his arm through hers, guiding her to the side of the rink. “Let’s try an activity a hair less hazardous.”

While Natalie returned their skates, Robert was dispatched to procure tickets for the ferris wheel. A light snow filled the air as the last thread of dusk faded, and the market came alive. Strolling carolers roamed the network of booths, and bawdy laughter emanated from tents and too many helpings of spiked apple cider. The scents of pine and baked delicacies wafted endlessly around the twinkling tinsel-draped trees scattered about. It was one of her favorite things, a wonderful mix of spectacle and domesticity, convivial, but community, too.

“You ready?”

She nodded. “I’ve got to warn you. I don’t love heights.”

He gave her a squeeze. “I’ll protect you, my lady.”

“That doesn’t inspire much confidence.”

With more than a whisper of trepidation, Natalie boarded the car, which creaked mightily as the wheel began to turn. She instinctively grabbed Robert’s hand, her mouth curving as their fingers entwined. “This thing sure looked better from a distance.”

“It does seem to have seen finer days.”

The clamor from the festivities below them receded as they soared higher and higher, until they reached the apex of the circle. The cabin rocked back and forth as the motion suddenly ceased, and Nat’s smile disappeared. “Why did we stop? What’s going on?” She glanced to Robert, unimpressed with his mischievous smirk. “Wait. Did you tell them to? The other riders are not going to be …” The words were lost as she inspected the cars below them, all empty. “You bought all the tickets.”

“That and a healthy, ah, contribution should allow us a bit of privacy.” Robert guided her hand to his lips, caressing the back of it. “And a big view.”

A big view it was. Lights from the villages surrounding them danced in the distance. A bright full moon had peeked out from the clouds, sending silver shimmers across Lake Geneva and illuminating the snow covered peaks that abounded. “My God, I can see forever. It’s so beautiful.”

“Ah, but you put it to shame, Natalia.” Robert slid off her glove, kissing each of her fingers one by one.

He hadn’t used her nickname since his last visit to Montreux, and Natalie savored the intimacy of the moment. He was a hopeless romantic, and by default, had temporarily made her one, too. It was easy to get lost in him, his subtle smile and gentle gaze impossible to resist. So handsome, but there was far more to it than that. He had an aura, an air, a way that connected with her like no one else. She knew better than to let it happen, but that was just it. She’d no control. None whatsoever.

Robert skimmed his lips across her wrist. “You okay?”

Nat blinked, nodding. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“What are you thinking about?”

She took a breath, hesitating. That I’m in love with you. And I’m scared to death. “Nothing much.”

Robert’s brow wrinkled. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

The car lurched forward, hurdling them back against the seat. And her senses back to her. She cleared her throat, summoning a smile. “I, um, thought I saw my house, that’s all.”

“Where? Point to it.”

“I was wrong. Wrong direction.” She shrugged, slipping her glove back on. “We should probably get back. I don’t want to leave Duchess alone too long.”

“Who’s Duchess?”

“Our new kitten. I would have introduced you to her, but she gets nervous around people she doesn’t know. She’s probably still under one of the beds.”

“I bet I can coax her out. I’ve a way with the ladies, you know,” Robert added with a wink.

Natalie snorted. “Highly doubtful.”

“Shall we make a formal wager?”

Her gaze snapped to his. “What are the stakes?”

Robert pursed his lips. “If I win, I get to kiss you.”

“That’s it? No conditions?”

“Just one.” A wicked grin creased Robert’s face. “I get to do it anywhere I want.”

Natalie’s heart skipped a beat as sultry heat exploded in her tummy, slowly drifting lower. The things he could do to her with only words, the need he could summon with a simple phrase. It was nearly debilitating. She finally found her voice. “And if you lose?”

His dimple deepened. “Oh, darlin’, I’m not going to lose.”

[wolfpawn]

Once Bitten Twice Shy, Chapter 14

Previous Chapter

Chapter Summary -  after the awkward discussion on Paige's doorstep, she and Tom talk very little, until Tom has to ask another request of her.

Tag, @wolfsmom1 @sweetkingdomstarlight-blog @nonsensicalobsessions @damalseer   @standing-onthe-edge @hiddlesbitch1

anyone else who wishes to be added to the tags, just ask :)

Paige looked at the computer screen in front of her. The story from the male perspective still frozen by her inability to get past her plot issue. It frustrated her no end. She knew where she wanted it to go, she knew where it would end but not how to get there. She had set it aside, knowing no good could come from trying to force it. She had several stories on her computer drive that would never be completed as a result of over-forcing herself and she had deleted several more concepts through the years because of trying to force herself through only to feel it was rubbish after it all and that it would be best to simply get rid of them.

Feeling downtrodden, not just from that but because of Tom’s revelation that he was heading to New York for a few months, she didn’t want it to end, more than once since she cried behind her front door, she felt a terrible pang in her stomach and felt her eyes well up when she thought of it ending. How was this sensation possible? She had been with Derek for three years, he made her smile, laugh and though he stated after that she was boring, she had thought the sex, though slightly less frequent than she would have liked, was good, but Tom...Tom was an entirely different, he made her smile even when she was not in his presence. The mere thought of him caused her to feel better about herself and when they spoke, she felt there was something deeper to their conversations, not that he simply comprehended the words she said, but that he fully understood everything she was saying with regards to a topic, he saw her point of view as she saw it, even when they had differing opinions. That was something else, he didn’t dismiss her opinion when it differed from his, he spoke to her further on the topic. Derek was not like that. She also thought back to the night that created the situation they were in. The night she stayed in his and they had sex. She wasn’t going to lie, it was better than with Derek, a lot better. He knew more with regards how to tend to a partner’s wants but that was indicative of his entire personality. Tom was a more considerate person in general.

She had fallen for him, now it was over. She would lose the chance to be around someone so incredible. So many times through the experience where he acted the part of loving significant other and it made her feel incredible. She knew that she would miss it terribly, but it also taught her that should she be fortunate to have a chance of happiness again, what she should want from such. The little voice in her head told her that she wanted it with Tom, but she had to ignore it. She could not have him, he was merely trying to prevent further ridicule, something she could understand, since, after his remarks on his reputation as a result of a particular summer with a particular singer, she decided to look at it and realised just how horrible people were being with regards to him.

For a time, she mulled over her thoughts before her mind came to something. Her computer screen was dark in front of her as a result of her in activity on it, but with one flick of her wrist across the mouse pad, it came to life again and the blank document page was in front of her. She brought the computer closer to her, she pressed on the private document option and began to write. Not a story, not a plot, merely her thoughts regarding the actor she had been acting with for the past few weeks and how he stole her heart.

*

Tom went through the day as he always did. Up, tend to himself and Bobby, organise his food for work, deal with the few calls and emails he needed, check his mail for anything important and then go to the Pinter. Work on the play, speak with people regarding it there, do the play, see some fans, rest and eat, do the play again, see more people, home, decompress and bed. Only these days, it didn’t seem as pleasant. There was a reason for that, he had said nothing to Paige in three days. It had been three days since he informed her that he would be going to New York for a stretch and since then, she had avoided him like the plague. No calls, no texts, nothing. She had asked how they would deal with people seeing them part ways. She had wanted it all to end and with the manner in which she was harassed, by a radio host, by the photographers when she was getting sorted for her brother’s wedding, even by some that called themselves his fans on social media, he could not blame her for wanting to get away from it all. He only wished she did not want to get away from him.

Bringing Bobby out to the bathroom one last time before he had to go to the Pinter, Tom felt his mood remain somewhat sombre as he did so. Bobby, for his part, noticed his owner be less joyful than usual. When he was done, he waited for his car to the Pinter. As soon as it arrived, he called Bobby to him and went out, hoping the day would not remain so down.

Between the two shows, as he dealt with Bobby’s toilet needs, he looked at his phone. The sensation that filled his gut did not skip his attention. Seeing Paige’s name was one thing, he was terrified of its content. Clicking on it, he hoped it would not be negative.

Hey, I hope you are doing okay, I haven’t heard from you in a few days and thought rather than waiting, I would be better off messaging you myself.

He looked at the words on the screen. It was Paige in every aspect. Rather than wondering something, she came right out and asked it. He liked that confidence, her ability to not shy away from things.

Hello, I’m doing fine, thank you, I thought you were working through the book so I thought it best not to disturb you.

Sadly the book is shelved for now. I fear it and I may part permanently.

I thought you liked it?

I do, sadly, my brain doesn’t. Or at least this part. Anyway, I said I would say hello and check you were still going well. Bye.

Tom looked sadly at the screen. Though she was the one to initiate the messaging, her sudden change to cutting the conversation again was indicative of her not wanting to talk too much. He contemplated leaving her without a reply but thought it too rude, so instead, he typed one out.

You’re an incredible writer, you will get through it. I am always here if you want to talk or throw ideas at, I love to help if I can if only to talk to you.

He looked at it for a moment before thinking better of it, so he went to erase the second half of it. He went to press the button when Boby pulled on the lead, causing him to grip the phone tighter in case it fell, and much to his shock, having him press the “send” button instead of erase.

Cursing to himself, he looked at the words on the screen. It was sent and there was nothing he could do with regard to it.

He was unsurprised to get nothing back. He thought to apologise for saying it but then thought it would add to everything, so he did nothing.

*

When the final day of the play in London came, so too did his father. Unlike Diana, who had met Paige several times throughout the few months, she had never met his father. James Hiddleston was not like his ex-wife. Diana was far more outgoing, James was stoic in every manner. He feared to even mention Paige in his presence. But with the final show and his coming into London for it, he made the demand to Tom that he finally meet this girl he was after hearing about.

It had been a few days since their last few texts and technically, the lie was still in effect of them being together, so Tom thought of how to word it as he went to Paige’s name in his phonebook. Christian had informed him of how sales were projected for the US, and it was looking good. Luke was stating that he would be expected to bring Paige with him to an event in the following fortnight, he had informed Oscar of it also, who agreed it was a good idea for them to go together as Paige had received an invite also. With some juggling, it would be easily arranged, but that would all come after today, the day she would have to act his partner once more, in front of a man he never wished to lie to, if only to not have to deal with his ire were he to find out. Diana and his sisters would be disappointed and hurt were they to find out the truth, James would be livid. Since he was a boy, his father taught him that lying was unacceptable and this would be no exception. His want to save face would not be an acceptable answer to his father.

He pressed dial and waited.

“Hello?” Paige seemed slightly unsure on the other end of the phone. “Tom?” “Hello, Paige, is this a bad time?” “No, sorry, I just...I wasn’t expecting you to call. How are you?”

He could hear the apprehension in her voice, as though in truth, she was not overly interested in speaking with him. “Good, yes. It’s the final day of the play today.”

“I bet you are looking forward to a good sleep in tomorrow.”

He could hear her smile, a genuine one, in the way she spoke. Immediately, one came to his face as well. “In all honesty, yes, I am looking forward to it but I won’t get it tomorrow, I have to deal with a few things then.” “I bet. So, what’s up?”

He wondered if she simply wanted to be rid of him again by the manner she got to the point, yet he knew it was a mannerism of hers, not beating around the bush. “I need to ask something of you?” “With everything you asked so far and the way you’re talking now, I feel I should be worried. What is it, surrogacy, a kidney?”

He could only laugh at her apprehension, fully understanding her reasoning for such. “My father is coming to the play today, he is asking to meet you and Luke was saying about the get together in a couple of weeks, apparently Oscar mentioned something on it to you already?”

There was silence on the phone for a moment. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Well, I assume you are asking me to meet your father, I said okay. Where and what time?” Tom felt apprehensive, he could tell there was almost a sadness in her tone. “If you’re busy…” “Tom, if I tell you I will be there, then I will. Where and what time?” “Seven, outside the Pinter.” “Then I will see you then. I don’t have a ticket for tonight though, is that an issue?” “No, I will have one for you. I had gotten one for my dad and whatnot so I can get you one for next to him.” “Fine. Text me the details I should know that we never spoke about and I will see you then.” “Thank you. He will insist on dinner tomorrow also.” “I won’t be available tomorrow. I promised Nicola I would look after Alannah, she has a date with a guy she really likes and who is good to Alannah so I am not going to cancel, she deserves this. I can do lunch, though?”

“That is very fair. We will discuss it more later, but I will suggest accordingly to my father.” “I guess I’ll see you later so.”

Tom waited for the line to go dead immediately after, but it didn’t, the awkward moment of neither of them saying anything continued and in caused him to smile. “Bye, Paige.” “Bye, Tom.”

Again the odd silence came before he was called by the set hand to say there was a meeting on stage for warm-up. “I better go.” He was the one to have to hang up, but that moment of apprehension, to have that again felt somehow right, like they were as they had been before, not wanting to say goodbye. Looking at the phone for a moment, he thought over what the evening would entail and readied himself for his final performance in the Pinter before he would have to prepare for the other big role he was in at the moment, pretending not to be in love with the woman he was currently pretending was his significant other.

*

Tom stood, mouth agape at what he was witnessing. His father, though a stoic man, was not without a sense of humour, though he possessed a dry wit, yet here he was in constant laughter with Paige speaking with him the entire time with a large smile on her face.

He could not understand how his parents who were always very reserved around the women he brought home, what few he did over the years, who would take a considerable time to warm to any woman he was interested in, adored Paige within moments of being in her company. He knew the appeal due to knowing her, but his father, who always looked at everyone with a healthy level of disinterest, adored her. He spoke to her like he had known her all of her life, like some neighbours daughter or a niece or something, he was not acting as though she was his son’s partner, at least not how Tom recalled his father acting with women he introduced him to before.

When his driver brought Paige home, she bid farewell to his father and stepmother before Tom walked her to her door.

The evening had been incredibly pleasant. There was no sadness, no peculiar silences, merely laughter and smiles for the most part. The week of minimal contact seemed all the more horrid now that they spent the evening talking again. To think of not speaking to her all the time seemed unnatural.

“Thank you, for this evening,” Tom stated as he stood facing her.

“Thank you for inviting me. Your father is a wonderful man. He has a great sense of humour. My parents would love him.”

“My father never is like that outside of people he knows well,” Tom admitted.

“So why was he so jovial with me?” “I think, like Mum, he genuinely likes you.”

Paige a slight scoff. “Who were you bringing home before, junkies? Your parents don’t hold your choices in high esteem do they?”

“I am their only son, the only Hiddleston left to carry the name. My sisters married and their children carry their husbands’ names, if I ever have children, I carry the pressure of the name with it.” “No pressure then.”

“No, I want to be a father, when the time is right. But the potential partner thing has always been a stickler for them, especially since Thor.” “They don’t want you taken to the cleaners by some golddigger, that’s understandable.” “Yes, but it means they are wary of everyone, except you.” “Well, I am fabulous.” She smiled jokingly.

“You are,” Tom agreed, though there was no humour in his statement, he meant it seriously. “I better go and bring my Dad home.”

“Do. I guess we better talk tomorrow so, half twelve at Giovanni’s, right?”

“Right.” He stepped up to her to kiss her cheek. In her confusion at his actions, Paige moved her head to face him as he did so, causing their lips to meet, only for a moment. When Tom pulled back, having realised his error, he looked at her for a moment to see her reaction. Though she looked startled, he could see it was not repulsion in her features. “I better go.” “Yes. Bye.” She barely whispered back but as he walked back to the car, she waved at his father as she did. As soon as the car drove off, she walked inside, trying and failing to quell the sensation in her stomach as a result of the kiss. It had been an accident, but she could not help but not feel sorry for it, she wished to do it more, as much as she wished she didn’t.

*

When Tom got back into the car, he said nothing as he thought of Paige’s lips against his. His entire body felt as though every nerve ending in his body was on fire. Putting on his seatbelt, he said nothing and gave the nod to the driver to continue to his home, where his father would be staying.

“Well, finally. I was getting worried you would never pull your socks up and get a good woman for yourself. She is a fine young lady.” Jame declared.

“She is a lovely woman.” His wife agreed. “Very well suited to you Thomas, no wonder you are so good together.”

Tom nodded, not sure what to say, knowing he could not tell them the truth but like with his mother, disheartened they thought such of a woman that sadly was not truly his. “She is incredible.”

“I think you finally found the one for you, son, I truly do.”

Tom could not respond to his father’s words.

[kali-writes-meta]

You forgot "Teaching girls to be submissive is grooming." Actually, let's talk about that one.

Daughter #1 goes off to grad school. It's hard to get a room on campus, and she ends up sharing a campus apartment with a strict Evangelical Christian transfer student. According to the family members who were there on moving day, the transfer student and her mother were perfectly submissive and as timid as mice.

It's not long before Mouse-Girl is discovered by the frat boys. She's a good submissive Christian girl who can't say "No" to a boy. For the rest of the year, my daughter's apartment is a party pad, with Mouse-Girl cooking the frat boys food and letting them throw drunken karaoke parties that last until 4am every night and break the furnishings. Whenever my daughter confronts Mouse-Girl, Mouse-Girl is very apologetic and promises to stand up to the boys, but she never does. Being anything other than a doormat is completely against her upbringing.

That's not just grooming, that's child endangerment.

Teaching children to always obey adults is grooming them for abuse.

Teaching children to accept unwanted physical contact (spanking, required hugs and kisses from family, required sitting on Santa's lap, etc) is grooming them for abuse.

Teaching children to take "mature" as a compliment and "immature" as an insult is grooming them for abuse.

Ignoring children's struggles, which could cause them to idolize the first adult who listens to them, is grooming them for abuse.

And people who do that on a regular basis believe that teaching children that some people have two dads is grooming. They never actually cared about protecting children from grooming.

[lovemesomesurveys]

What is your favourite type of cat? I don’t have one.

If you could delete any word from existence, which word would it be and why? The c**t word. I can’t stand it.

What is your favorite swear word? I don’t have one.

What celebrity do you wish you looked more like? Any of the many gorgeous ones.

If you had your way, what color(s) would you dye your hair? I dye it red.

Do you like seafood? If so, what is your favorite? If not, what is your favorite type of food? Nopeee.

If you could master any sport, which one would you choose? None.

If you could meet any major political figure, who would it be? Mehhh.

Do you have a reason to hate anyone at the moment? No.

Unpopular opinion time. Be honest. The Beatles - overrated or not? I mean, a few songs are catchy but I’m not like “Woooo Beatles Mania!”

What religion were you raised in? Are you still that religion, if you had one? I wasn’t raised any religion by my parents, by my maternal grandparents were Jehovah’s Witnesses and my paternal grandparents are Christians, so I had both sets instilling things in me. That led to me being confused about the whole thing and not knowing was true or what was real, so I didn’t believe in any of it. Towards the end of my college career I started opening up to the idea a bit after taking a class that covered a section in religion and listening to what some of my classmates had to say. Then Ty came into my life and he’s a man of faith and he really opened up my eyes and it’s around then that I started to read the Bible and my faith my grew. I am a Christian now.

What religion/spiritual path intrigues you the most, if any? Well like I said, I am a Christian.

How many members are there in your favorite band and which is your favorite member? Well, there were 5 before the passing of Chester. :(

What’s a song that you remember from your childhood? Many from the 90s and early 2000′s.

Would you ever consider getting dreadlocks? No.

If you had a baby boy right now, what would his middle name(s) be? I wouldn’t have one because I’m not having kids.

What heritage does your last name imply? Irish.

Name a stereotype from your country/culture. Do you agree with it? Nah.

What was your favorite age so far? Childhood.

What’s your opinion on tattoos in the workforce? How about piercings? Well, depends on the job.

Do women breastfeeding in public make you feel uncomfortable? Why or why not? No.

In the last week, what’s the kindest thing that someone has done for you? My mom and brother who always get me Taco Bell. haha.

When was the last time you ate a pickle? I don’t remember.

What’s that you’re listening to? The TV.

Was the last thing you drank a Coke or Pepsi product? No.

How many times is your cartilage pierced in your ears? I only have my earlobes pierced.

Do you need to take a smoke break right now? I don’t smoke.

Have you ever had a pet bird? No.

Honestly, do you think that you’re going to be an overprotective parent?

What was the last kind of crisps you ate? Nacho Cheese Doritos.

Would you rather have ice cream, freeze pops, or popsicles in the summer? Ice cream, if anything.

Have you ever told a stranger that their barn door was open? No.

What colour are your toenails right now? They’re not painted. I never paint them.

When was the last time you clipped your nails? I pick at them all the time. :/

Does your mouse have a wheel to scroll with? I have a track pad.

What is one thing that you really wish you could understand, but don’t? Life.

What temperature do you like to keep your room at? I’d prefer it to be nice and cool. I can’t have it hot.

Would you rather wear necklaces, bracelets, rings, or earrings? Bracelets and rings.

Is everything you have on actually yours? Yes.

[ninallthatjazz]

Review - Tanz der Vampire Wien, 26.05.2018

And here we are again – I returned from my short weekend trip to Vienna, where I finally had the pleasure to see Tanz at the Ronacher.

Since it’s been only a few days since I saw the German production, I thought I’d write another little review, maybe talk about some differences I have noticed between the shows.

Overall impression and theatre:

First big difference is of course the size and type of building.

While the musical dome in Köln is a huge hall, the Ronacher is a cute little theatre with beautiful balconies. I’m not sure if that was the reason, but the next thing I noticed was that the sound was much better here than in Köln. It was not as loud and it was well balanced with the vocals, so you could hear every word they sang perfectly.

I also quite liked the fact that the theatre was decorated on the outside with huge banners and the almost famous huge fangs, as well as the tiny bats on the ceiling of the foyer.

What really impressed me from the get-go was, apart from the music, the stunning visuals during the Overture. The whole animated part of the show was much more detailed and instead of playing the same clip of the castle back and forth, there was a pretty landscape and a cool 3-dimensional effect.

The only thing I could criticise is the microphone malfunction of Drew’s mic during Tanzsaal – seems gluing a maxi pad under his wig is not enough to stop his sweat from defeating the technicians XD

But since that’s no one’s fault (except global warming), it’s not something I blame on the production team.

Another huge plus is the fact that they had English subtitles playing for non-german speaking audience members!

The ensemble was just as incredible as the one in Köln was, their performances were energetic and you could tell they were really happy acting, singing and dancing their way through Transylvania.

I paid a bit more attention to them than to the ensemble in Köln because I knew some of them from Instagram, and it was fun to recognize some familiar faces. Filippo Strocchi and Abla Alaoui really stood out for me, and the former singing the nightmare solo was really incredible!

I also quite enjoyed the slightly altered ending, the reappearance of the Graf and the modern city background tied up some lose ends and make the finale more powerful and polished.

The costumes:

As predicted in the last Tanz review, I definitely prefer the Vienna costumes to the German ones. The intricate details on them, the sparkly stones on the Krolock cape and Sarah’s dress, but most of all the authenticity. Especially with the Ewigkeit costumes, they looked like real, century old dresses that people ascending from their graves might wear. There is one outfit I prefer in the German production though, and that is Herbert’s bathroom outfit. I love the big shirt with the huge sleeves that are perfect for dramatic gestures!

The Vienna outfit is still gorgeous of course, but it looks more like a modern-day silk pyjama.

The main cast:

Drew Sarich – Graf von Krolock

Ever since I discovered Tanz back in January, I have seen gifs and videos of Drewlock all over tumblr, and he was one of the main reasons I wanted to see the Vienna production live.

And damn, I was not disappointed.

From the aforementioned videos I knew that Drew was very good at the grafly holy trinity: walking, hands and cape swishing. He is a master of all three disciplines and it was so much fun seeing him in his element. He has an enormous presence, stalking through the aisle with a stone cold facial expression. I was having a dopey grin on my face when he walked by and felt like a mouse entranced by a snake – he could’ve bitten me and I would’ve let him 😉

His voice is almost as captive, from the first lines of Gott Ist Tot I was his. He has a way of making each line sound natural and unrehearsed, you can tell he is really trying to tell a story with all the resources he’s got. For example I love how in the moment before Sarah ‘interrupts’ him with her line “ich hör’ eine Stimme, die mich ruft” he inhales and almost starts to speak, only to be ‘startled’ by her voice and turning his head, as you would when hearing an unexpected sound. It’s details like this that make him my absolute favourite Krolock.

He also has a great comedic talent, the few moments where he interacts with the Professor and is supposed to relieve some tension were hilarious and full of funny details that are too many to list them all (a few of them made it to the memorable moments section further down though! 😉).

And of course, one of the most important aspect of the role (at least for me), is his ability to seduce not only Sarah (and Alfred), but also the audience. The Graf has to pull you in and ignite your desire to follow him into the darkness after all. And that is Drews specialty. His tone of voice, his elegant movements and his soft gestures all seem to be designed for this purpose alone. Until he is alone at the graveyard of course, then the mask crumbles and reveals deep longing and despair. We get small moments of that in ToFi as well, and it is incredible how layered Drews performance is. Add to that his inner battle against his vampiric nature and urges (like him baring his fangs every now and then only to try and get back the control, or his fast and aggressive movements only to slow down as if trying to calm his inner beast) and you have the perfect Graf.

Charles Kreische – Herbert von Krolock

Charles is an incredible Herbert. Herbert is one of my favourite roles in this show, and he fits it perfectly. He is playful and flirty with Alfred from the second he sees him, sends him interested looks from the first moment and obviously enjoys the attention unwillingly given by Alfred and very willingly given by the audience. Charles has an amazing voice, and while I loved his softer singing during Wenn Liebe In Dir Ist, I was blown away by his powerful vocals during Carpe Noctem. And what I also quite liked was the fact that even in the nightmare scene he had a few sassy moves that I have never seen any other Herbert do, which was a nice touch. (don’t get me started on what that means since the scene plays in Alfreds head, or we’ll still be here tomorrow :P).

The only thing that was a little bit disappointing was the fact that, due to Charles’ and Raphael’s non-existent height-difference, the dancing didn’t look as smooth and effortless as it did with Christian and Tom in the German production and it seemed much more rehearsed because of that.

But that’s no one’s fault and not due to a lack of talent on their part.

Raphael Groß – Alfred

I am completely in love with Raphi’s portrayal of Alfred. He is such a sweet, loveable guy which makes him a perfect contrast to the dangerous vampire Graf.

He is also very good at putting a lot of details into his performance, for example: he was breathing heavily and chattering with his teeth during He Ho He.

He had great chemistry with Charles as well as Diana, and normally I am not a huge fan of Für Sarah, but he made me aww 😊.

Diana Schnierer – Sarah Chagal

This was another perfectly cast role – Diana is a sweet girl and a great actress. She was very good at playing the naïve girl at first, then being torn between choosing the Graf and doing ‘the right thing’, only to succumb to his charm at the end of ToFi. You could tell that the feelings she had for Alfred during Nie Gesehn’ were pretty much gone in the bathroom scene after Bücher.

I loved her voice, it was beautiful and clear, just a tad frail at times during the belting parts of Die Roten Stiefel. But I can imagine that’s due to her youth and that her voice will only get stronger. She also has a light accent, which is very cute.

Sebastian Brandmeir – Professor Abronsius

Sebastian is a great Professor, there is not much to say about his solid performance.

After playing this role in multiple productions, Sebastian is definitely a pro and matches Victor Petersens talent. The only difference I noticed was that Victor managed to sing the fast parts of Wahrheit and Bücher with even more ease than Sebastian. But Sebastian’s comedic talent is just as great as Victors.

Nicolas Tenerani – Yoine Chagal

What I loved about Nicolas as Chagal was his little gestures and quirks – he made me laugh out loud with silly faces and movements a few times. Also a very good singer!

Memorable moments:

Alfred going in for the kiss when him and Sarah are picking up the sponge

The Graf putting his leg next to Sarah’s shoulder and taking her by the hand, lifting her from the bathtub during Einladung

Drewlock being farsighted and holding the Professors business card at arms length to read it

Graf smelling the sponge during Vor Dem Schloss and later taking in Sarahs scent during ToFi

While entrancing Alfred, Krolock puts his finger underneath his chin to lift his head and look into his eyes *swoon*

Drewlock holding Sarahs head at the end of ToFi and laying it on his chest/under his chin at first, only to then press his cheek against hers (I died)

Nightmare!Graf biting Sarah hanging upside down from the bed

The Graf picking his teeth after biting Sarah, before confronting Alfred and the Professor

Him being ‘scared’ when Alfred attacks him with the candelabra

After this show I also managed to wait at the stage door for a bit – I met a few lovely people, including Drew Sarich, Charles Kreische and Abla Alaoui. They were all super nice and it was lovely to talk to them!

That’s all for now, if you guys want I can do another review for the next Vienna show, just let me know if you are interested! <3