#Royal Clipper

[ltwilliammowett]

The world's largest square-rigged sailing ship the Royal Clipper at Piran, Slovenia, photo Brane B. Vrankar

[colleybri]

I must go down to the seas again,

To the lonely sea and the sky.

And all I ask is a tall ship

And a star to steer her by.

From ‘Sea Fever’ by John Masefield

Probably my favourite of my photos from Royal Clipper on my trip of a lifetime transatlantic sailing last year. Only an iPhone on night mode. What a stunning ship she is.

On a broader level, the poem is also about living a life of freedom – or the dream of that.

Full poem:

I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by;

And the wheel’s kick and the wind’s song and the white sail’s shaking,

And a grey mist on the sea’s face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must go down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide

Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;

And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,

And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must go down to the seas again, to the vagrant gypsy life,

To the gull’s way and the whale’s way where the wind’s like a whetted knife;

And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover,

And quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick’s over.

[kreuzfahrttester]

Crew der »Royal Clipper« rettet Schiffbrüchige in der Karibik

Dezember 2024 – Ein beeindruckender Rettungseinsatz auf hoher See Die Crew der »Royal Clipper«, dem weltweit größten Fünfmast-Vollschiff, bewies kürzlich einmal mehr ihre Kompetenz und Hilfsbereitschaft. Auf einer Karibik-Kreuzfahrt vor Grenada rettete sie eine Gruppe von Fischern aus Seenot. Dieser Vorfall unterstreicht die Bedeutung von Wachsamkeit und Hilfsbereitschaft auf See. Passagiere…

[thinkingsmart]

Priscilla 🌞 18217 A flower doesn't love you or hate you, it just exists. ★★ 💫🌷💫   https://ift.tt/KhyiqZb

[seamusicpoetry]

Painting of the Cutty Sark by English Artist, Jack Spurling (1870–1933)

In November 1869, the clipper Cutty Sark was launched In Dumbarton, Scotland. One of the last clippers ever built, she was designed to sail to China for tea and remained in service until 1877.

Cutty Sark' is an archaic Scottish name for a short nightdress. 'Cutty' means short or stumpy, and 'sark' means nightdress or shirt. The name comes from the famous poem Tam O��Shanter by Robert Burns. It is about a farmer called Tam who is chased by a scantily-clad witch called Nannie, dressed only in a ‘cutty sark’.

She was capable of even outrunning the more advanced steam ships that had begun to take to the sea, however when the Suez Canal was opened the route was more suited to steamships and the ship was then modified for use in the Australian wool trade.

Now the only remaining in the world, it is restored and in dry dock at Greenwich in London.

[jamesfitzjamesdotcom]

Cutty Sark (1869)

Visiting the Cutty Sark and thinking about big lad James Fitzjames and how he probably had to duck his head all the time on ships. It all seems to be made for somebody of my height (1.62 m).

[keyaho]

.summary: terry and blaire are in shambles while aaron and brennan make things more official. .word count: 6k+ .co-writter: @zillasvilla

Blaire stood in front of her vanity toying with the zipper on her dress. The white dress was covered in red and blue flowers. She accented it with red jewelry and heels. Even Noah’s outfit for Sunday service matched. A red button up polo shirt and tan slacks. She had blown her hair out, the kinky texture creating volume. One side was pinned back in a twist. 

As she was getting dressed, Noah’s father, Terry, was getting him ready. He had brought over his clippers and it was his first big boy haircut. For the past seven years she kept Noah’s hair braided and she’d miss the way he fell asleep in her lap while she did his hair. He was already asking to spend more and more time with his Dad. 

Another frustrated grunt fell from her glossed lips as she tried pulling up the zipper, but once again, it caught on the inner fabric. She rolled her eyes and held the dress as she walked down the hall towards Noah’s room. Blaire could hear them talking and she called out to them as she came into their line of sight. 

Terry wasn’t dressed. His slacks were on and so were his shoes, but he was shirtless, holding their son’s head still as he lined up the back. Blaire looked at the sink. Her son’s curls in a dark brown pile. She turned around, the tears forming in her eyes. She hadn’t wanted to cry over his first hair cut, but seeing his hair gone sent her over the edge. 

Noah looked at his Dad after seeing his Mom walk back to her room. He knew she was going to cry over his hair. 

“Mommy cries a lot,’ Noah says. 

Terry stopped cutting and straightened up. “What do you mean?” 

”She cries a lot?” Noah wasn’t sure what else to say. “Sometimes I can hear her in her room.” He shrugged.  

Terry finished up Noah’s haircut and sent him to the kitchen for breakfast. Terry walked down the hall towards the main bedroom, where he used to lay his head. The door was cracked and he looked in to see Blaire trying to tug the zipper on her dress. Every now and then she’d sniffle; a sign she had been crying. He pushed open the door and slowly walked in. It was still decorated the same, earth tones. There was more green though he noticed. The wall behind her bed was painted in a rich emerald. The four poster bed was draped in green and brown sheets. There was a thick white comforter on top and tucked in between the pillows was a Lambchop puppet she had since she was a kid. It never left their bedroom. Her. Her bedroom. 

“You’re going to rip it,’ Terry whispers, coming up behind her to still her hands. She avoided his gaze as he looked at her in the mirror. “Blaire,’

"Not, now, Terry.” 

He placed one hand on her hip while the other zipped the dress easily. She moved to step away but he stopped her. His hands pulling her hips backwards. 

“Just listen to me, please,’ he asked. When she didn’t move he came to stand in front of her, his hands still holding her. 

There were moments when she trusted him enough to touch her, because he was quick to drop those hands where they shouldn’t be. However, when he wanted to be serious they stayed on her hips. He needed physical contact.  

“I miss my wife.” 

This had been the longest they went without being under the same roof. Yeah he was kicked to the couch a few times, or the guest room, but when she asked him to leave the house he knew he had fucked up royally. It’s been almost a year of him renting an apartment because she didn’t want him in the house. Not while he was still entertaining Summer from Rebel Ridge. And it was never like that. Blaire knew about his issue down there and what happened to Summer. She was a recovering drug user and he felt like he had to keep an eye on her. So much that it came between him and Blaire. 

“You haven’t divorced me and I think that’s because you miss me too.” 

Terry read her face and could see the truth in her eyes. He hadn’t been the only one to notice how they started to gravitate towards each other again. It wasn’t awkward at family dinners or when they had to sit beside each other. In fact, he had been able to rest his hand on her thigh. He remembered her curling her hand around his while she ate. Those moments of tenderness he missed. 

She hadn’t worn her wedding ring in months. Her hand felt light and odd without it. He still wore his. It hurt him a little to know he had upset her to that point, but she never explained how she was feeling so he was in the dark on what he himself had done. He apologized over and over to her, but he didn’t know what was holding her away from him. 

“Noah,’ she begins, shifting the focus to their son as she always did. 

“I’m talking about you. Noah is good. You’re not.” 

Blaire scoffs. “What are you talking about?” 

Terry got closer and her hands fell on his thick biceps. She could still feel the heat from his body and the bare skin was smooth to the touch, like it always was. He smelled good. He always smelled good. Blaire found herself relaxing in his arms, his scent, and the feel of his thick body against hers. He smelled like oak and pine, the outdoors, and something smokey. It was like smelling the earth after it rained. Terry knew just what to do to get her guard down. She let him do it every time. His hands rubbed her sides, pulling her back from the brink of crying again. She was such a crybaby. 

“There’s my girl,’ he coos. “Tell me why you’ve been crying.” 

“You need….,’ she stuttered, ‘you need to put on a shirt.” 

He let her go with a smile, but grabbed her hand as he was walking away. She followed him to the guest room and he made her sit on the bed while he finished getting ready. They could hear the tv going and knew Noah was waiting for them. As he did every Sunday. 

Terry was up to one night a weekend and he always picked Sunday night to stay over. It allowed him to see Noah off to school at the start of the week and he felt Sunday’s gave him more time with Blaire. 

“Why are you sitting there like that,’ he asked, frowning as she picked at the hem of her dress. 

She looked up and shrugged. “Because whenever you sat me on the bed you were scolding me for something. Acting like my damn daddy,’ she mumbled. 

Terry had been over protective since the day they met. He walked on the side of street when they were out, he opened her doors, held her hand when she wore heels because he knew she got tired, his jacket was hers while he was drenched in the rain, the list went on and on. Terry was what social media called a ‘traditional man’ or ‘masculine’ by their gendered stereotypes. Full on Daddy kink with him and he took it seriously. Despite all that, and despite her own independence, she liked that he made her feel helpless, she just hated when that turned into hopelessness. 

Blaire could go get all the jars in the kitchen and he’d stand there and open them for her, but she couldn’t tell him how much he had actually hurt her seven years ago. 

“Don’t leave out how much of a brat you can be.” He tsks. 

Blaire watched him pull a blue shirt from the closet, the material was stretchy but if it was the shirt she bought him, then it wasn’t going to stretch much. That shirt was sized perfectly. He slipped his arms into it with his back to her. She watched him tuck the shirt in and add a belt. 

Terry was rough around the edges. Always had been. He played football in high school, went to the Marines right after, she knows he does a few classes at the YMCA for boxing and still keeps up with his jiu jitsu training. When he wasn’t at those places he was hauling concrete slabs and shit with her father. He was blue collar through and through and at one point him coming home was the highlight of her day. She didn’t mind working and coming home to cook for him. He made her feel safe enough to do it. He never took advantage of it and when he would come home to her having forgot or was behind he’d step in and do it. 

Terry was damn near perfect. Except he was so damn helping. His morality being his vice. He would stretch himself thin trying to help and it would push her away. 

“I can’t begin to fix what I broke if you won’t tell me, dushi.”

“We don’t have time before Church to talk about this.” Blaire stood up and headed for the door. 

Terry would normally let her go, to not stir up another fight, but he was tired of her running. In a few strides he was in front of her, closing the door. 

“You can’t keep running from this Blaire.” 

“I’m not running.” 

Terry rolled his eyes. “We’re going to have this talk tonight. Or,’ he sighed. 

Blaire leaned back from him, crossing her arms at this point. “Or what?” 

“I’m done. No matter how much I miss you, if we can’t clear this up, I’m done.”  

The light from beneath their door shined through the cracks and her soft humming filled his ears. Aaron groans while stretching out his legs and swinging them over the bed. The morning sun was starting to peek through the windows as he squinted. He could feel when she wasn’t in bed, her side having been cold for a while. He reached for his glasses, the thin frames sitting on his nose as he stood up and stretched.

He sifted through large brown moving boxes–some of them labeled as clothes or shoes. They had yet to finish unpacking, living out of boxes in the shared bedroom. He and Brennan had been together for three years before finally moving in together. He finds what he needs in one of the smaller boxes, while picking his phone up. He checked his messages while peeking through the small crack of the bathroom. Her rich complexion shines in the mirror. Brennan’s hands were working the small black flat iron over a small section of hair.

Aaron: Come do Bre’s hair in two hours Nique: It's 4 in the morning. You're not about to sweat out her hair. Aaron: I will pay you. Nique: Text me a time.

Aaron shakes his head while putting his glasses back on the dresser. Her soft humming gets louder as he walks in the bathroom. Her eyes found him through the mirror.

“Gud mɔnin, ɔni”. 

Aaron’s morning voice was something Brennan had to get used to. It was deeper, raspier, and certain words just came out in that thick Krio accent that he husked in ear on the nights she used to stay in his town home.. Aaron’s lips leaned over to kiss her cheek. Brennan relaxes against him as his arms circled around her waist. This was their first Sunday morning together. They were used to parting ways the night before or she was already at her mom’s place. Aaron had become a nice change to her morning routine, usually sitting up with her, a book in hand while she did her morning routine–stealing quick kisses here and there. 

“What I say about talkin’ to me like that.”

Aaron only speaks in Krio when he wants to fluster her. She had learned what a few words meant.

“Oni.” Honey.

Brennan’s fingertips stroke lightly on his arms, the pads of them rubbing along the visible veins. The time on her phone reads four-thirty. Service started at 11, and she knew her momma was gonna have some words if they didn’t make it on time. She bites her lip. “Service starts at eleven, baby.”

Aaron turns his head into her neck, pressing soft gentle kisses along the length of it. “Mhm. then why are you up so early?” Her hair was already down, Nique had come over the day before and blown and pressed her hair–and here she was going over it when she didn't have to. He preferred it in its natural state, loving the way her curls bounced and framed around her face.

“You know how my hair is.” Her eyes closed at the feeling while he opened his eyes to watch her in the mirror. The curves of her body, and the swell of her breast covered in a thin silk material that stopped mid thigh. Her breast jiggled beneath the dress, he could see the outline everytime she moved. “Can’t be late for Church either.”

“We're making a baby.” Just as quick as he turned her around, he had her sitting on the sink, pushing his way between her thighs and making the nightdress bunch at the waist. His green eyes scanned over her features with a bit of his lip.

“Aaron.” She feels his fingers sneak up the material, his hands warm against her skin. She leans forward to wrap her arms around his neck.

7:30

Aaron sat up against the headboard with different hair products scattered around him as he adjusted Brennan's head in his lap. Their early morning session led to her hair getting wet in the shower. He had already texted a friend to come fix it, but decided to speed up the process by helping her blow dry and braid it. Brennan comfortably fell asleep during the process as his thick greased fingers parted and braided the last side of her head. 

He would've been done sooner but he found himself watching her sleep;  the rise and fall of her back, the way her nose and eyebrows scrunch together when she was dreaming about something. How she let out soft whines when he moved to grab some more grease into his fingers. 

Her hair soft between his fingers was braided down to the crown of her head He secured the last braid to the others with a clear rubber band.

“Didn’t I just do your hair?” Dominique asks. She had come over to fix her hair-having seen the braid down Aaron did, she sped through securing the wig for her. She spoke through the comb between her teeth. Her right hand held onto bonding spray–the left covered her eyes as she shook the can and sprayed wig glue across the wig cap. 

“A-a-ron thought it be a good idea to fuck in the shower.” Aaron in the guest room taking a shower. They had set up in the dining room–the only room set up with higher chairs. They only had an hour before they had to leave and now she was rushing to finish. 

“And you let him?” While she let Brennan’s hair air dry a little, she put up the stuff she brought, leaving out what she would need to style her hair. 

Brennan bites her lip, watching her face through the decorative mirror that she finally unpacked and made her Dad put up for her.. 

“Well this is our first morning in our first house.” Brennan was sentimental–everything always had a meaning for her and Aaron being the sappy man he was fed into that shit. The two were joined at the hip.. Dominique didn’t understand why they were hiding it. 

“Girl.” Dominique shakes her head–she has a blow dryer in hand on high heat to speed the drying process.

“What?” She bites back a smile. 

“You and him might as well be married.” She finishes, sectioning off the hair to curl the ends. “That man ain’t letting you go any time soon.” Dominique was the only one outside of her family that knew the two of them were really together–catching them both at the gas station down the street from Melanin Preparatory Academy.

Brennan stood between him and the car while he pumped gas in her car. His free hand rested on her hip as they talked–Brennan hid a smile behind the drink she was holding, whatever he was saying to her had her flustered. She had never seen Brennan so soft. 

“Kinda don’t want him to.” Brennan bites her lip.

Aaron had walked into the room fully dressed. He was simple when it came to fashion–especially when it came to church. The brown turtleneck shirt fitting loose around his frame-larger sizes gave his arms room to flex. A pair of black dark washed jeans that stacked a little at the ankles. She caught a whiff of the cologne he was wearing. Clive Christian. The wood spiced  scent made her wonder who else he was trying to smell good for. He glances at her frowning face with a chuckle.

He sets down their coffee to walk over to where she was sitting.

Dominique, having already finished the last curl, turned away to pack up her stuff. 

Aaron leans over Brennan to keep her seated in the chair. She had to tilt her head up to look at him. The smell of him was stronger than the moment before and she knew for sure it was about to linger on her. 

Their lips smack against each others in a quick, but lingering kiss.

“Fiks ya fes.” He whispers against her mouth before pulling back. 

Brennan’s mind was jumbled as he walked away. He grabbed the black mug and the caramel scent hit her nose as he sat  it on the table. Coffee–made exactly how she likes. He held his own while moving to sit in the den, the large tv playing several highlight reels and a few stack of papers and a stapler.

“Nigga-”

“You got until I'm done or we're gonna be late.” 

“I'm almost done.” Dominique curled the last few pieces of hair. Brennan was lucky she had bought a new wig. She didn’t like the length of it but knew Brennan would. “Are you dressed already?”

“Yeah, just gotta put my shoes on.”  

Brennan had already put on a black silk button up, and her own black jeans. The only thing she could get to with Aaron's clothes in the way. The closet was too small and she was really close to calling her dad to build her a new one. Brennan can feel the mist of hair spray being put on her hair, letting her know she was done. Aaron was half-way through with his task when she looked over at him. 

“You're stapling papers?”

“First day of school tomorrow and picture day.” He answers like she doesn't already know. He was the reason they were probably gonna be late. “Where's your shoes?” He looks back at her down to her pretty brown feet, toenails in a sharp white color- a small gold anklet peeking from the leg of her pants. The same one that dangled over his shoulder while he thrust–he closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. If it was him they would stay home, but her mama would beat his ass if she knew he was the reason they were late. 

“I'm going to get them.” She pulls Dominique in a quick hug and thanking.

Aaron shook his head, turning around to pack up the last stack of stapled papers. He could hear hear race up the stairs and Dominique packing the last of her stuff and jiggling her keys. 

“Alright, I want my money Aaron!” Dominique rushes to the door, pointing in his direction.

She expected he would Zelle it to her until his voice echoes to her.  He had looked up just as Brennan comes around to stand in front of him. She wore a pair of black wedges that he was sure she was going to pull off in the truck.

“It’s by the front door Dominique."

She spots the bills peeking out from under the key bowl. It looked like a good four hundred.

 “Oooh! And you tipped! I see you big spender.” She grabs the money, pocketing it into her purse. “Bye girl, I’ll see you tonight.”

Once the door closed he pulled Brennan into his chest as he stood up. “You look real good.” He kisses her cheek and moves around her to grab his keys. “Let’s go before your mama beat my ass.” 

Sunday Service had been particularly short compared to the long services they were used to growing up– but they weren’t complaining. The sun beamed down on them as they exited the church. Aaron and Terry had gone to grab the car, Noah going along with them so the AC could be running before they got in. Brennan and Blaire waited for their mom to finish talking to a few friends back inside. They probably wanted her to cook for the next church potluck. 

“Thank you, again Angela.” 

“Alright, see you,” She waves at one of the other church members while coming down the steps to stand in front of her daughters with a shake of her head, she follows Brennan’s gaze to Aaron who was tossing Noah, their nephew in the air and catching him. She places a hand on her hip as Blaire completely ignores Terry looking at her.

“That was Ms. Gladys.” 

“Mhm.” Brennan hums, eyes never leaving him even as he gets in the truck.

“She said she dreamt about fishes last night. Brennan, are you pregnant?” 

“Why are we talking about this on the lord’s steps?” She looks confused trying to figure out what she’s talking about. Blaire laughs from behind her. “And why are you asking me? Blaire could be pregnant.”

“Don’t put that on me.” Blaire stops laughing and points her finger at her sister. “He’s already been bothering me to talk all week.”

”When are you going to tell him?” Brennan asks, not caught up on the latest Blaire & Terry episode. “It’s been seven years, Blaire, the man has practically groveled at your feet.” 

She knew her sister was right, but, if anything, she was scared. Not of Terry, but actually losing him. His ultimatum from this morning was heavy on her. The sudden fear of not having him at all? 

“He’s not going to wait long, Blaire,’ their mother added. 

“I know!” She hissed. Brennan and Angela looked at Blaire with wide eyes. “He told me that this morning. Either we figure it out or he’s done trying.” 

The last thing she wanted to do was tell her mother and sister what Terry had said, but pretty much everyone was on his side and they didn’t fully understand how she felt. 

“Wait,’ Angela softens her tone at Blaire’s somber expression. 

“He said what?” Brennan chimed in. “Oh he’s serious this time.” 

They quickly changed the subject when Aaron and Terry came back. Noah was already in his seat. 

“Y'all ready,’ Terry asked, his eyes on Blaire and she rubbed her arm. 

“Hell yes,’ Brennan shouts, then covers her mouth when Angela smacked her arm. “Ow, my bad!” 

Terry held out his hand as Blaire reached for the rail. She took his hand and let him guide her towards his truck. Confused, she looked over her shoulder. 

“Where are we going?” 

Terry stopped at the truck and leaned her against it. “I need to know now.” He says. 

“What? You said we would talk tonight,’ Blaire replied. 

“I don’t want to wait. I don’t want you to have time to give me some politically correct answer. I want to know now.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Do you want to stay married?” 

“Yes!” 

Blaire looked up at him. The word falling from her mouth with little hesitation made Terry feel slightly better about where this was going. 

“Do you want me back in the house?” 

She nodded. “All the time.” 

Terry was confused then. She wanted everything he wanted but she was pushing him away. 

“Then why are you so upset with me?” 

“Can we talk about this with a bit more privacy?”  

Everyone was waiting by the other car, staring in their direction. When she looked over his shoulder and waved, they all jumped- pretending they weren’t watching. 

“I don’t want to be church gossip.” 

“Come on so we can eat!” Brennan groans from the backseat of her mom’s car. “Noah, tell your parents to hurry up.” She glances at her nephew.

Noah looked to his aunt with a ‘do you think I’m dumb’ expression. 

“We’ll just see them at the house.” Angela waves them off. “And why ain’t you with Aaron, Bre?” She looks at her youngest daughter in the backseat. "Why are ya'll always I my car?"

“He said he had to talk to Daddy about something.” she shrugs, pulling off her heels. “Men things.”

“What he got to talk to him for.” Angela shakes her head. “Markus better not be at my house, Brennan.”

Marcus parked the truck in front of Angela’s house. He cuts the engine while looking over at the passenger side. Aaron had been quiet the whole ride. His leg bounced nonstop and he could see the nervous posture he had.

“You gon speak or what?”

Aaron didn’t get nervous often. He usually keeping his composure in any setting, however talking to Brennan’s dad about something so important. He just couldn’t shake the anxiety he was feeling right now. His hands were clammy as he wiped them on his jeans.

“It’s about Brennan.”

“Yeah? Something wrong?”

“No. No.” He sighs finally making eye contact with Marcus whose face was etched with concern. “She perfect… I just wanted to ask you something.”

“You want my blessing.” Marcus asks him, seeing where he was going with the conversation.

Marcus had half expected for them two to elope or have a Vegas-style wedding. His youngest daughter was his wild child. He’s learned over the years that she was mini-Angela. He thought she would be the one to end up with Terry, the both of them were hot heads-however Brennan wanted Aaron. “Thought you two would elope.”

Aaron lets out a soft chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn’t look him right in the eye. Marcus takes that silence for an answer to a question he didn’t even have to ask. “When.”

“June 17th.”

Marcus thinks of the date, turning in his seat to look at Aaron, an oh wow expression on his face. “And on her Birthday too.” He has to open the car door and get out, confusing Aaron and making him get out to. He stuffed in his hands in his pockets. Marcus walk around the front, stopping in front of Aaron in disbelief.

“So why are you asking me for my blessing. You did it behind my back already.”

“I wanna do it right this time.” Aaron could see another car pull into the driveway.

The doors open, Angela, Brennan and Noah. The three of them heading into the house.

“Right my ass.” Marcus grumbles. “What are you gonna tell me next, that she is pregnant?” Aaron makes a face and turns around, he jogs up the brick steps just as Marcus yells out. “Yo, Aaron! She better not be!”

Angela and Brennan had set the table, Noah in the other room, watching cartoons. The food was catered from Cajun Station, the scent of fish that lingered from being warmed in the oven masked by a lit candle. Brennan had snuck pieces of of shrimp to snack on, sneaking a few pieces to Noah.

“You’ve been gaining weight Bre.” Angela says from the kitchen. “You sure you ain't pregnant.” She brings the conversation from earlier backup. She noticed a certain glow to her and it wasn’t because her and Aaron finally moved in together.

“No mama.” She groans wondering where her sister is. She moves to look out the window. Aaron and her dad were still talking. She watched as Terry’s truck pull in.

Blaire slid out the front seat having stopped by the house to change. She switched to a white sundress and sandals. She had a bag in her hand and Terry’s half smile could be seen from the front porch.

”Stop looking at me like that,’ Blaire says.

“It feels good,’ he replies, while shutting her door.

“What feels good?”

“To know my wife missed me.”

He leaned in as if he was going to kiss her but instead pulled the bag from her hands to carry. The front door opened and the screen smacked against the wall as Noah ran towards his parents. Their private moment was interrupted, but Blaire knew it was going to be a long night.

“Let’s get inside, Terry,’ she pushed at his arm, guiding the son back towards the door. He followed behind them. She sent Noah back to the table and grabbed Terry’s hand before pulling him to the kitchen.

Terry had sent Blaire upstairs once they got home. It was the night before picture day and with it being the first day of school Noah had been anxious. So much that he had been telling Blaire he didn’t want to go. Knowing Blaire, she’d keep him home until he was ready, opting to homeschool instead of helping him to grow up. 

Helping Noah, Terry sits on the floor by his son's bed, mostly to get his backpack and clothes ready for the next day. He did his full nighttime routine while they waited for dinner to be delivered. Neither parent wanted to cook and with their talk looming over their heads, their minds were occupied. 

Giving Noah a snack he had him sit in the den. TV time was rare in the house, but Terry managed to get Blaire to compromise on a few shows on the weekends. Finding Blaire in the same place he did this morning, Terry closed the bedroom door behind him as he walked in. 

“Alright,’ he says, ‘let’s talk.” 

She sat up on the bed, tucking her legs under. 

“I miss you being in the house and the routine we had, just all of what we had.” 

“So why am I in an apartment?” He folded his arms across his chest. “If you want me here.” 

Her bottom lip started to poke out and her eyes welled up. Shit. Terry thought. He forgot she was a bit of a crybaby. 

“What did I do, Blaire?” 

Seven years of pent up frustration had finally blown over. The resentment she held onto had no base to hold onto once she spoke. 

“It felt like you put Summer before me and Noah.” 

Terry’s shoulders rolled back as her words blew him. “You weren’t answering your phone.” She went on, telling him the same story, this time he had perspective. Hers. “Brennan called, my mom called, my dad, your brother!” The tears poured down her face as she hissed the words at him, trying to keep her voice low. “You just barely made it to see him be born.” 

“I apologized for that, over and over, Blaire. I’ve begged you to forgive me for that.” 

“I have!” 

“Then..” 

“You shouldn’t have been late.” Blaire threw up her hands. “You should have dropped whatever you were doing and came to me. Your wife.” 

“She-’

"Oh fuck her!” She snaps. “Labor was hell for me. I had to lie there knowing where you were! And you to have the audacity to give me an ultimatum.” 

There was no arguing her on this. She was right. He cut it close to Noah’s birth and he knew she had been upset with him over it, but to cling to it for seven years? He understood the bitterness now. He never apologized for putting her second, because that's exactly what he had done. 

“You missed that. It wasn’t your hand I was holding. It wasn’t you telling me to push. You just barely made it! Then you came in smiling like you had been there! I wanted to sock that fucking grin off your face.” She punches her hand for emphasis and Terry looks down. 

“Now,’ she says, plopping down on the bed, ‘how can you fix that? How can you fix my trust in you?” 

Speechless, Terry rubbed a hand down the back of his head. 

“I’ve never felt so vulnerable,’ she explains, ‘and alone, my husband somewhere-’

Terry slipped into the bed with her, carefully reaching out to pull her into his arms. She fought him at first and he held his hands up. She didn’t get off the bed so he tried again and successfully pulled her into his chest. She looked up at him, eyes drenched in her tears. She couldn’t even keep up with wiping them away as they fell. 

He’d known Blaire all his life. Having grown up a few houses away from her she was one of the few neighborhood families that welcomed the Richmond family when they moved in. Blaire had always been a cryer. Her emotions so big she couldn’t help but cry. Instead, this time she was crying because of him. That he didn’t like. Holding her, he rubbed his hands up and down her back. He brought his hand around, using his thumb to wipe at the tears on her face. Blaire sucked in a deep breath, trying not to cry again. 

“Are you mad at me?” She asked. 

“What,’ he whispered, ‘no!” His head shook. “I just didn’t know how much I hurt you. Now I do.” 

She noticed he didn’t have on a shirt and she pushed at his chest. “Why don’t you ever have on a shirt?” 

“I’m hot natured, you know that.” Terry cupped her face, his fingers stroking the hair on the back of her neck. “Are you going to let me earn your trust back?” 

“Yeah I can t-’

"Don't try anything." His thumbs pressed to her lips. “Just be my wife again. Let me fix it.” 

The tv was on pause as Aaron kept her in a heated kiss. The two of them had returned home after a day with their family, Publix, and a quick run to Men’s Warehouse for Aaron. School started back tomorrow and it was picture day–he wanted to get a shirt that matched her outfit for their pictures. 

“We’re supposed to be watching the movie.” She reaches over him to sneak some popcorn and move her legs across his lap.

His arms come down from the back of the couch. His hands warm against her thigh while rubbing her smooth skin. After getting takeout, and coming home to finish unpacking, she found some of his old high-school shirts. Her name was etched into one of the sleeves in black sharpie and it became the shirt she decided she wanted to sleep in. His lips press against hers, using the hand on her thigh to pull her closer. She’s almost in his lap when she giggles.

“You’ve seen this one a thousand times.” He mumbles, rubbing his hand up to grab her ass, massaging the flesh between his fingers. 

“So, it’s my favorite movie.” she pushes him back to get up. She slides her feet into the stitch slippers he randomly got her.

Aaron’s face drops in a ‘where you going look', the dark lighting making his hazel-coloured eyes look sharper.  “I’m going to the bathroom.” She points to the tv. “Restart it.”

“We ain’t gon’ watch it.” He lets her go to grab the remote.

“You probably won’t but I am.”

Aaron shakes his head and restarts the movie but pauses it on the opening scene of SharkTale. Once he hears the bathroom door close, he rushes to a small room just off the den. 

Brennan took her time in the bathroom, relieving herself while reaching into the sink cabinet to pull out a small black gift bag. She set it on the sink vanity, finishing up to stand and wash her hands. Aaron was still sitting in his spot, arms resting in the back of the couch, phone tucked in his left hand to scroll through messages. Her eyes trail up his fingers–they look naked.

“You gon’ come sit down or keep starin'.” 

“I got something for you.” She moves around the couch, forgetting that she was staring. How could she not when he looked the way he does? He gives her his attention–phone dropping somewhere on the couch. 

“What is it.” 

Aaron sits up with a cheesy grin, eyes flickering from the small bag in her hands to her face. She sits next to him and puts the bag on the coffee table. “Gotta open it and see.”

“I got you somethin’ to.” He reaches on the side of the couch to pull out a small blue bag and place it in front of her. “Open yours first.”

Brennan grabs the blue gift bag–reaching inside she pulls out a small black velvet box. “Aaron.” She pulls her lip between her teeth to hide back a knowing smile. The material was soft beneath her fingers. The pads of them over the name ingrained in it. He reaches over to open it for her. The round cut diamond shines in her face that was accented with smaller ones. “This is beautiful.” 

Brennan had her eye on the woodland wedding set since the moment they decided to elope. Aaron had seen her looking at the rings on a jewelry website a few months ago. In the midst of them deciding to elope they hadn't thought about rings. She had been dropping hints the past few weeks, not realizing he already had the ring sized and delivered to his brother's apartment. 

She holds her left hand out palm down, making him chuckle at the excitement in her voice. “Put it on for me?”

He gently grabs the ring and silver band between his fingers. It slid on her fourth finger like butter. The silver-leafed band fitting snug below her left knuckle. Brennan would have to get used to the new weight on her finger, but her heart swelled knowing Aaron paid attention to details. 

Brennan almost forgets about her gift. “Open yours.” 

Aaron kind of had a clue on what it was when he pulled out the small wood grained box. The material smoothed against his fingers as he opened the box. “Damn.”

Brennan grins at the appreciative look on his face-eyes squinting as he pulls out the black and gold band. “Do you need your glasses?”

“Nah, baby. This.” He blows out with a small laugh and a smile that reaches his eyes. “It's perfect.”

Tungsten Carbide wasn’t a cheap material. The gold interior and then cut around it accented the black texture. She pulls it from his fingers and grabs his left hand. She had to sneak a couple of his other rings just to get it sized right. He watches her grin as it fits snugly around his ring finger.

“Now them bitches can know you're married.” 

@liquourlaughslove @heytaewrites @wrestlingprincess80 @simplyzeeka @prettyfilmz @venusesworld @nayaesworld @peachbuttetfly @harmshake @heauxvibez @avoidthings @mymindisneverhere @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @eilujion @heytaewrites @nahimjustfeelingit-writes

@browngirldominion @insidefeelingofanadult @blackerthings @gwenda-fav @brandithecrystalgem @captainwithoutmakingitlove @dremmmm @kindofaintrovert @thegreatlibraryofalex @jimmybutlrr @beenathembo @kuromiish @virgomess @bbyxgall @theereina @randomhood @ash-ketchumzzz @dundienominated @mymindisneverhere

[strnilolover]

NNN - prince!matt - painting

Being outside was always something you had enjoyed, especially hanging out with the horses at the stables when you had the free time — or just wandering around the garden smelling the roses that bloomed beautifully.

Right now the quiet hum of the garden filled the air, the soothing melody of rustling leaves and distant murmurs of others voices filled the air. You stood near the rose bushes, carefully trimming the stems to ensure the flowers bloomed perfectly for an upcoming banquet. The gentle scrape of shears against thorny branches was the only sound until footsteps approached from behind you.

“Darling?” Matt’s voice called, soft but commanding. Your head shot up, straightening yourself immediately. Turning, you found him standing there, his royal attire slightly loosened as if he’d escaped a formal meeting just to find you. His dark eyes, warm and inviting, sparkled in the sunlight.

“Matt,” you greeted, bowing your head slightly, though a small, knowing smile tugged at your lips. “Shouldn’t you be inside preparing for the council meeting?” He chuckled, stepping closer to your frame. “I’d rather be here with you.” His hand grazed the edge of a rose bush, plucking a single bloom and holding it out to you.

Your face flushed, your hand coming out to accept the bright red rose, fingers brushing his for the briefest moment before you tucked it into the apron tied around your waist. “If someone sees us—”

“Shh don’t worry about that — no one ever comes to the gardens at this time. Besides, i don’t think they’ll find it weird if the prince is talking to his maid while she’s doing a task.” He interrupted, a small smile tugging at his lips.

There was a glint of mischief in his expression, but, he seemed nervous, almost hesitant—an unusual look for the ever-composed prince. “What is it?” you asked softly, tilting your head.

His brows furrowed, like he was deep in his thoughts. But the silence didn’t last too long. “I… need a favor,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve been working on a painting for weeks now, but it’s missing something. Or rather… someone.”

You blinked, confused. “Someone?” you asked, setting the clippers down on the small bench that was next to you, wiping your hands on your apron before tucking them into the pockets.

His gaze softened, and he stepped closer, lowering his voice. “You. I want you to be my muse.”

Your eyes widened, breath caught in your throat. Did you hear him right? — he want you to be his muse for a painting? you’d never done such a thing before for anyone. “Me?” you said, disbelief laced into your voice.

“Yes, you,” he said with a fond smile. “No one else could possibly inspire me the way you do.”

Your cheeks burned, and you glanced away, both flustered and wary. “Why would you ever want me as your muse? i mean — what, why?-“ you rambled. “-wouldn’t they find it weird if they found it?…a painting of your maid.” you finished.

“They won’t,” he assured, reaching out to take your hand gently. “I’ll make sure of it. But I need this, Y/N. I want to capture the way you look when the light hits your face. The way your smile makes my world stand still.” His voice dropped even lower, a tender whisper. “Let me paint you, my love.”

You hesitated, your heart warring with your head. Every rule you’d ever known told you this was too dangerous, too risky…that someone could find it and they’d start asking you both questions. But the way he looked at you — made you falter.

You took a deep breath, your mouth opening and closing a few times as your tried to find your words. “I’ll do it,” you finally said, voice trembling but certain. “But only if you promise to be careful.”

His smile was wide, his body practically thrumming with excitement as you accepted his proposal. His grip on your hand tightened slightly. “Of course i’ll be careful darling — no one ever goes into my studio without asking, or i’d have their head for it.” he joked softly. You rolled your eyes, giggling as you looked to the side.

“I should get back to my job, your highness-“ you mocked, watching as his face turned into a frown — causing a laugh to bubble in your chest. “-just uhm…come get me when it’s time okay?” you said, and he nodded — quickly blowing you a kiss before pivoting on his feet and walking away.

The next day, you found yourself in his private studio, hidden deep within the palace walls. The room smelling faintly of paint and wood, sunlight pouring in through high windows. Matt directed you to sit near the window, positioning you carefully in a chair.

“Jus’ sit here and try not to move a lot okay darling? this’ll be a long process, but if you need a break at any point — just tell me okay?” he said softly, pressing a kiss to your lips before pulling away and walking over to his stool on the other side of the canvas.

As he began to sketch, his eyes flicked between you and the canvas every so often, his expression one of intense concentration. Though you’d notice how his eyes would linger on you for too long instead of his canvas. “You’re staring,” you teased, though your cheeks flushed under his gaze.

He grinned, his charm peaking through. “Can you blame me? My muse is breathtaking.” he said, though he was undoubtedly flirting with you — this man was going to be the death of you one day. You laughed softly, shaking your head. Though he quickly turned his focus back to his paints and brush.

The Hours passed like minutes. The sun creeping lower in the sky, casting a golden hue through the windows, illuminating your features as Matt worked diligently. He paused only to adjust his position or step back and examine his progress, his gaze lingering on you longer and longer each time he looked at you.

“You’re too quiet,” you said after a while, shifting slightly in your seat. “What are you thinking about?” His brush froze mid-stroke, and a soft smile curved his lips. “You.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “You’re supposed to be thinking about your painting your highness.” you teased, chuckling.

His own eyes rolled in return. “I am,” he replied, setting the brush down and wiping his hands on a rag. He crossed the room to you, crouching slightly so he was at your level. “But when I look at you, it’s hard to focus on anything else.” he admitted, his hand coming up to cup your face.

His touch sent a shiver down your spine, and you leaned into it. His gaze dropped to your lips, and for a moment, you thought he might kiss you. Instead, he pulled back slightly, his hand dropping to your shoulder.

“Can I show you something?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. Your head tilted. “Of course,” you said, curious.

He stood, offering you his hand, which you took without hesitation. He led you to the canvas, stepping aside so you could see it clearly for the first time. Your breath caught in your throat as you took in the painting — a stunning likeness of yourself, bathed in soft, golden light. It wasn’t just a portrait; it was a masterpiece. Every detail, from the curve of your lips to the way your hair fell around your face, was rendered with such love and care that it almost felt like you were looking in a mirror.

“Matt…” you gasped, reaching out but stopping just short of touching the wet paint. “It’s… it’s beautiful.” your eyes were transfixed on the large canvas — how could someone be so talented at such a thing?

“It’s not finished yet,” he said, stepping closer. “But I had to show you. This is how I see you, Y/N. Not as a maid or a servant, but as someone who deserves to be admired, cherished. Loved.” he whispered, his arms encircling your waist as he held you against him.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you quickly looked away, embarrassed. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

Matt frowned. “And why not?” he asked, his tone almost defiant. “It’s the truth. I love you, darling. I’ve loved you from the moment I saw you, and I don’t care what my parents think or what the kingdom expects of me. I choose you.” he muttered into your ear, pressing a soft kiss just below it.

“Matt,” you said softly, placing your hands over his that rested on your stomach. “I love you too...” you whispered and before you could think better of it, you turned yourself in his hold, leaning in, and pressing your lips to his.

Matt grinned into the kiss, a hand coming up to cup your face as his other moved to rest on your hip — squeezing it. When you pulled away, you both were smiling. “You’ll always be the one i love.” He said, his breath fanning over your face.

And right now in Matt’s eyes — you were his queen.

© strnilolover

a/n : PAINTING DATE WITH PRINCE MATT ANYONE??

[anonmothgod]

Worldbuilding time! Today were looking at Mewf'ias!

Mewf'ias and werewolves are two side of the same coin. You can get turned into a Mewfia just as you can get turned into a werewolf, and they have their own version of the Ultima and creation myth.

Mewf'ias are found across the world, and what region they come from affects their coats! So one coming from the UK has a completely different coat as one from Eygpt. This also includes coat lenght too.

Those who have big cat coats are from Ancient Royal bloodlines, as well as their Ultima counterparts. For that reason it's incredibly rare to see someone out in the city with a cheeta print.

Similar to werewolves, Mewf'ia have alot of body lanuage to converse and talk without words.

Unlike werewolves, there are no heirarchy rules. You have people who get along and people you don't. These cliches form through socalization and interactions with other people. Big enough, they are called Clans.

Mewf'ias are nearly 70% furred. The entiretly of thier backs, arms, legs, hand, feet, and up the side of the face is covered.

Mewf'ia have glorious cat beans. They are pratically silent when walking around, and walk around barefoot since most shoes are ill-fitting. In fancy places, they will have paw-pad shoes or fancy footwraps

Claw-caps are the equivilent of acrylics for humans. Nail Salons offer them alongside other services, and there are some salons that are soley for Mewf'ia and Werewolf clients.

Piercings are unusual, as the ears are too thin for most piercings rather then small earrings. The nose is too sensetive and a majority of facial piercings are incompatable.

Tail rings are a type of jewelerly that Mewf'ias have. Similar to bracelets, they are mostly meant to have some bells on them and are usually an acessory for public events like going to the mall or parties.

Due to a lack of sweetness receptors, Mewf'ia cusine spans large. Often, you will find it a mix of country of orgin + raw meat for their meals ( i.e, a Mewf'ia curry has raw meat in it, and Mewf'ia tacos will have raw fish as the filling.)

tiny fangs. Very tiny fangs. They barely poke out when the mouth is fully closed.

Claws need to be trimmed like human nails, but files are much more popular rather then nail clippers.

[runwayrunway]

No. 55 - British Airways, Part One - British (European) Airways and British (Overseas) Airways (Corporation)

British Airways.

Starting this post was harder than actually writing it. It's hard to start a post about British Airways, because it's a deceptively weird airline. If you very precisely altered my memory, kept my knowledge of the United Kingdom and of flag carriers but erased all I knew about British Airways and asked me to speculate about the UK's flag carrier, what I came up with would look absolutely nothing like British Airways. British Airways is weird. It was weird when it came into existence in 1974. It's weird now. It's a completely typical airline in terms of things like...routes and safety and in-flight meals and...I don't know...contribution to human rights abuses. But that's not what I talk about here.

The story of British Airways' livery is interesting. It's messy. It's political. All of that comes in due time. More than most other airlines, it just can't keep to a livery for too long - and that's when it even has a livery. In its early youth, British Airways couldn't really figure itself out at all. And in its even earlier youth...well, actually, British Airways isn't that old. It's also not the UK's first flag carrier.

image: British Airways

There is a reason that two of British Airways' fleet of retro liveries wear wordmarks that say other names. To discuss the history of the British Airways livery, I have to first begin by discussing the fact that British Airways...is a weird airline.

British Airways. IATA code BA, ICAO code BAW, callsign SPEEDBIRD. Flag carrier of the United Kingdom.

Honestly a better logo than at least 40% of actual airlines.

Well, it's actually a subsidiary of the unimaginatively named International Airlines Group, Europe's third-largest airline holding company, below Ryanair and the Lufthansa Group but ahead of Air France-KLM. IAG is a member of the oneworld alliance and is the parent company of British Airways, Iberia, Aer Lingus, Vueling, and LEVEL, and just last year acquired Air Europa and began the process of absorbing it away from SkyTeam. To anyone who may have had the thought enter their head: yes, they do now basically have a monopoly on Spanish airlines. To any Spaniards reading, my condolences. At least you still have EasyJet.

Their largest shareholder is Qatar Airways, so when you really think about it British Airways is kind of a subsidiary of Qatar Airways a little bit. Their share is still only 25%, though, so that actually just completely isn't true, but in a vibes sense it feels that way from the outside looking in. Of course, all these airlines have maintained their own identities and operate independently. This is not a LATAM situation. British Airways adopted its present-day livery long before it merged with Iberia to form the IAG in 2011. I'm still not totally sure why they did that. Maybe they wanted to one-up Air France. Iberia's not exactly KLM, but - no, this is not that post.

British Airways. I've always thought it was a little bit strange that it was called that. Few places love reminding the world they're at least nominally still a monarchy more than England. KLM isn't the only airline with 'Royal' in the name - Royal Air Maroc, Royal Jordanian Airlines, and Royal Brunei Airlines are just a few other examples. And yet the United Kingdom has never had an airline, at least not a major one, named anything like The Queen's Royal Air Fleet, which is what I would have expected of them. No. British Airways.

There's not much gravitas to that, is there? Not really any punch. Nothing making it better than Air France. 'British Airways' is a pretty sterile name for a flag carrier.

Their callsign is SPEEDBIRD, though. And that's not sterile. That's awesome. That's Europe's equivalent to Pan Am's CLIPPER or China Airlines' DYNASTY, just pure style. But what is a speedbird, other than a really cool name for a jet?

This is a speedbird. Rather, this is the logo for Imperial Airways. Not to be confused with the very strangely named 1964-1986 Californian commuter airline Imperial Airlines, Imperial Airways was a very early precursor to what British Airways is now. In the inter-war years it served destinations like South Africa, Hong Kong, and Australia - the sorts of places two dozen or so wealthy individuals of power might have reason to go quickly. Unlike Imperial Airlines, Imperial Airways had a very fitting name.

So here's another weird thing about British Airways: it's young. Really young for what it is. Most flag carriers are pretty old, and the few exceptions are airlines founded in the 21st century to replace flag carriers which went defunct in the 90s and on, like Brussels Airlines or ITA Airways. Even when you discount centenarians like KLM and Finnair, most of the names you'd recognize in the rest of the world (and plenty you probably haven't heard of) existed by the 1940s, with the major Axis powers being forced to reboot theirs in the 50s. Even the places Imperial Airways served, despite not having the resources of an empire at their disposal, have far older flag carriers. British Airways didn't exist until 1974, making it younger than my mother, the Boeing 747, the Twin Towers, 2001: A Space Odyssey, and the moon landing.

The primary reason for this was, as far as I can tell, bureaucratic shuffling about, but I'm not especially well-versed or interested in the history of UK corporations so that's where I'll leave this bit off. It is possible, and indeed likely, that someone reading this has the urge to say that I'm being uncharitable and that British Airways is functionally just BOAC or BOAC is just functionally Imperial Airways (or maybe nobody thinks that - I simply don't know enough about the corporate side of it to confidently dismiss the possibility of this indeed being the case). It's just not relevant because I'm ultimately here to talk about the airline as an entity in the public eye that has a livery, and in this sense Imperial Airways, British Airways, and the intermediate steps are fully distinct. So, for my taste, British Airways began operations less than a month before the release of the novel "Carrie". That's strange. British Airways is strange.

Still, even though in most other cases the process was significantly faster, very few flag carriers we'd recognize today were founded outright in their current state.

This timeline, compiled by Yesterday's Airlines, documents the 'family tree' of airline mergers that has built up today's British Airways. It actually goes back far earlier. Debatably it began with manufacturer Airco and its subsidiary airline Aircraft Transport and Travel, founded in 1916. Though it went under in 1920, its assets were repurposed by Daimler Airway (singular), which was one of the four airlines (mostly all subsidiaries of aircraft manufacturers) which in 1924 became Imperial Airways. That's right, even the building blocks on this chart are themselves built from blocks!

There are plenty more long-forgotten airline mergers beneath where this graphic cuts off, but this is all to say that the speedbird emblem originated with Imperial Airways, and it has floated to the top of this soup of assorted vaguely British brands, many of which nobody has thought about in decades. Speedbird aside, British Airways resembles basically none of its component parts in any ways that aren't just explained by them both being British, and Airways.

The speedbird was created by notable art deco designer Theyre Lee-Elliott, who created several pieces of iconography and many graphics and posters for the UK government, among other things, like the first-edition cover of "A Farewell to Arms" that an English teacher of mine once had as a poster on her wall. Much of his early work was for airlines, and the speedbird happened to stick.

Left poster isn't anachronistic - 'British Airways' was the name of a late-30s airline, itself merged from three other airlines, which would go on to join Imperial Airways as one of the components of BOAC.

Airlines didn't really have liveries as we know them now back when the speedbird was invented, so it would lie dormant as an emblem used on posters and signage for a little while. It was the only part of Imperial Airways' identity which survived when, in 1939, it merged into the British Overseas Airways Corporation.

'British Overseas Airways Corporation' has the same nostalgic punch to it as 'Pan American World Airways'. It was almost always just called BOAC, though, even in the wordmarks of its airplanes. When BOAC came into being the airplane livery was not what it is today. They began with just a painted tail and cheatline, scarcely worth showing or commenting on.

image: RuthAS Okay, I'll show it, but I don't think it needs any further comment.

There's only one BOAC livery that was really recognizable a BOAC livery. It was still fairly boring. More like BOA(rin)C(g). (That one needs work.)

The only interesting thing about the BOAC livery, to me, is the way that sort of face mask shape combined with the tail almost gives it a sort of diagonal symmetry - the front with a blue dip below the white center, the end with a peak above it. It is a very efficient and deceptively effective, potentially unintentionally, use of geometry. I also appreciate the restraint of sticking to blue and white and leaving out red. The minimal nature of it increases the geometric feeling, really saving this livery from my complete disdain. The speedbird logo is really well-centered on the tail, feeling almost like a diagonal slash cut right through it, and I like the use of greyish gold instead of white, which makes it appear less jarring while still being clearly visible. For its day, these positives are certainly not to be fully ignored, though saying that this is a pretty alright 60s white-and-blue cheatline livery is not that high of a compliment. It is cleanly done but in no way exceptional, with a neat bit of art deco angularity to it that you really only notice if you stare at pictures of airplanes as a hobby.

On the other hand, it has a nothing wordmark that honestly just irritates me by breaking up that big clean white block in the same way an old scratch breaks up the flatness of an iPhone screen and it does that thing I hate where a cheatline sort of just...trails off under the tailplane that a fair number of 747 liveries do. It feels like they just couldn't think of anything to do with the end of the plane, which is never what you want from a livery, especially not from an airline that takes itself as seriously as BOAC did. It also uses the isolated tail block, which is a design feature I dislike. At least the extreme matteness of BOAC's midnight-blue-on-white makes it a bit less awful, and the white forward trim is a nice touch.

On balance, I'll give it a BOAC-. That is referring, of course, to the face mask livery, which I think is straddling the fence between 'adequate' and 'forgettable'. I truly have so little to say about the earlier liveries that I'm not going to even give them a grade.

The BOAC livery briefly flew again in 2019 (which British Airways claims to be centenary based on the foundation of Aircraft Transport and Travel, except I've mainly seen that said to be 1916 and most people's consensus is that British Airways was founded in 1974 and no earlier) when it was painted on the 747-400 registered G-BYGC. She was the last 747 to fly for British Airways, just a year after the livery was applied, and there were plans to preserve her in the heritage livery which never materialized. Sadly, she was scrapped in late 2023.

But there was that speedbird on the tail! The speedbird was so damn iconic that it was even BOAC's callsign. So where did it go?

We'll get to that. There's more to British Airways than BOAC.

BOAC was state-owned, and it held a place of national prominence...so it was the flag carrier, right?

Sort of. It was a flag carrier. BOAC was the UK's Pan Am, specializing in long-distance international flights (hence 'overseas' in the name). There was also British South American Airways, a short-lived national carrier which was absorbed into BOAC after two years, with its most notable contributions to history being the disappearances of its planes Star Tiger and Star Ariel, but a significantly more enduring brand was BEA.

This initial logo, also the work of Theyre Lee-Elliott, had a key motif to accompany BEA's slogan, 'the key to Europe'. I adore it. I like BEA a lot.

While initially founded as an offshoot of BOAC (which I suppose was the singular flag carrier from 1939 to 1946), British European Airways Corporation specialized in, as the name implied, flights within Europe (and other relatively nearby destinations). It was something of a VASP-and-VARIG situation. Nobody ever called it BEAC, though, even though it sounds like 'beak' and birds are a whole thing, because...flying...well, look, we can all understand, in retrospect, that one of the great tragedies of aviation history is that I wasn't there to have ideas. That said, maybe it's a good thing I never planted this seed, because their callsign was BEALINE, which is...just the most adorable thing I think I've ever heard. It genuinely makes me smile. It may be my favorite ever callsign.

They did eventually change their official name to just British European Airways. Sort of a shame, if you ask me - you could have been twinsies. Ah, well. Also a shame is the perplexing choice to shelve their rather nice and meaningful original logo and replace it with what I can generously describe as 'a square' in 1957. I think SAS did it better. I can't rule out that I just hate it because the old one was so much better, though. I've seen far uglier, but again - this is a square.

image: Adrian Pingstone

When it's on the livery, it's not even well-aligned! And it's difficult to imagine negotiating this onto an aircraft tail, even when dealing with a generously square fin like the Trident's. (BEA loved their Tridents, which were essentially designed for the airline's operations, and operated 70 of the 117 airframes completed. This makes me like them, because I love the Trident too.) That said, I think that if you're using a logo that is just the name of your airline, putting it on the tail rather than the front side fuselage is a bold move. Today it rarely pays off, but in the era of cheatlines and half-bare planes it actually avoids the issues of legibility and vertical space that a lot of other contemporary liveries struggled with.

Still, the square. It will simply never not look strange to have two straight vertical lines on a fin that's more or less diagonal to them, and I'm not sure how that could be fixed. They did the best they could, I think, but this was just doomed from the start.

On the other hand, I do enjoy its placement within the cheatline. It helps keep a sense of pace but doesn't break up the line, and it just feels like it clicks into place in a way I love. I like the continuity with the black line at the tip of the horizontal stabilizer, and I like that the white paint doesn't extend down as far as on a lot of liveries of the time, leaving the cheatline to taper above the Trident's rear-mounted engines instead of underlying them as many other airlines' did.

This logo and livery were designed by Mary de Saulles, who was trained as an architect rather than a graphic designer. I think it shows in the very simple shapes and lines present here, and it also shows in the fact that despite it technically not doing anything too unusual the BEA livery was very distinctive when actually on the apron.

BEA's liveries weren't terribly more innovative than BOAC's at first glance. But their black-and-red 60s livery was actually, deceptively, a standout of the era.

images: Ralf Manteufel | Adrian Pingstone

The red wings on BEA's aircraft were absurdly stylish. There are dozens of reasons involving weight and heat and aerodynamic properties that prevent airlines from painting the wings on their airliners anything but a very dull drab, and I despise it, but when even the all-black Air New Zealand plane has white wings it begins to feel like it's just not possible to do anything else. Actually, it is hypothetically possible, though expensive, as long as you avoid the leading edges, though I'm sure the margins for shape and weight of a wing are far more precise on a 787 than they were on a Viscount. Still, I can't help but wish airlines would swallow the costs of painting wings (not like liveries aren't already a needless expense if you're trying to really optimize), because just look at this. It's absolutely stunning. It brings BEA's livery all the way from completely forgettable to by far the most eye-catching in the approach pattern.

And, you know what? I'll give them a BEA for that.

It might seem like a bit of a strange evaluation when I spent two paragraphs complaining about that square, but just imagine being on the ground and seeing a Comet landing, the lack of underwing pylons leaving that big red wing, like the lining of a cloak. That's a real Riyadh Air first impression. So while yes, the square is a square and certain aspects of the livery's implementation on various models range from forgettable to clunky, I am disregarding all of that, because this is like Dracula showing up to a board meeting. They are literally flying Louboutins.

BEA's livery and branding evolved over time in a way BOAC just didn't. BOAC never had anything I would identify as a 'rebranding' - it sprang fully formed from the Queen's (or something) head and stayed in its pristine state until the day it abruptly vanished. This was not quite the case for BEA.

image: Adrian Pingstone This is a preserved airframe, hence the very anachronistic car models in the foreground. Still, the livery is accurate.

Their final livery, introduced 1968, was this - the 'speedjack' livery. The speedjack is, more specifically, that delightfully pointed Union Jack emblem on the tail. I do like the speedjack itself, being one of the only decent uses of a Union Jack base I've ever seen. It feels obvious yet brilliant to turn the intersecting lines of the flag into an arrow shape. Unfortunately, far more was changed than just the logo.

My beloved flying Louboutin was gone. They still sometimes had the red wings at this point, but in every other way it was a new livery. I actually find that something is lost here, because the old BEA livery had red but not blue, and the BOAC livery had blue but not red, so they were sort of a matching set. Also, um, that wordmark is legitimately hideous.

It's a bit less horrible when it's not red letters on a white background, at least. And it does have a forward slant, a continuity...but this lacks the brilliance of Lee-Elliott's key or the charm of the de Saulles square.

The speedjack, logo, and livery were created by FHK Henrion, whose work has appeared on this blog before, though I failed to mention it. He designed the KLM crown logo!

...a logo I used to think was fine until learning about the absolute beauty they had from 1930 to 1938. Henrion designed the totally palatable 1961 version, and further modifications were made by the firm Henrion, Ludlow & Schmidt, with at least the 1991 change being the work of Ludlow. It's certainly gone downhill, but maybe I just think that because of how much I adore the 1930 iteration.

image: Piergiuliano Chesi

As for BEA - at the very least they kept the red wings. This is sort of a double-edged sword, though. This livery was, overall, far less distinct from its surroundings than the de Saulles livery, and the addition of the lighter blue to the fuselage really dulls the impact of the red against the stark black it used to share the airframe with. It just feels...flat. Neutered. Like an interim livery when one airline has bought out another and the paint jobs are changed out piecemeal. (And I think a red-only speedjack on a black tail would look fantastic, for the record.)

The details aren't much better. The cheatline feels almost too thin for the cockpit windows and the tiny wordmark makes the white fuselage feel as empty as it is without the little BEA logos making sure that isn't what you're focused on. Some models, like the Trident Three and Super One-Eleven, get their status indicated by text on the tail that looks like the default font of a word processor. It's just sloppy. Henrion's effort went to the speedjack, where a firm which specializes in image identity generally would be directed, and some interest was taken in the wordmark, but the livery itself feels like a pieced-together afterthought.

This gets a grade of...please just go back. I want to say D+.

How much of that grade comes from genuine dislike of the Henrion livery versus just thinking it's worse than what came before, I don't know, but it's one of the most immediate downgrades I've ever seen and the attempt to keep the most striking feature of the old livery while sapping it of its power feels almost insulting. It feels messy and pieced-together, and it's angling dangerously close to having the same approximate color layout as the old SAS livery - you know, the only thing that's ever failed the Star Alliance Test.

And, at least from the side, and from farther away, it really doesn't fail the Star Alliance Test. It's serviceable, and I wouldn't be nearly this harsh on it if I didn't know what came before. But I've committed to a chronology of what would become British Airways, so I have to mention both, and that includes looking at them, reading about their design processes, and forming detailed opinions of them. This livery was just doomed by its predecessor.

Even British Airways seems to agree with me, given that when they painted an A319 (G-EUPJ) in a BEA retro livery they chose the older black-and-red. Some liveries are simply iconic. Some simply aren't.

And, yes - the wings are red. At least, the bottom is. The top was forced to remain grey for reasons of 'reflectivity', which is fairly vague. Still, this should be a sign to other airlines - your planes will make an impression from below, and that impression could be as powerful as the one BEA used to make.

image: Ben Brooksbank

BEA, at its height, flew more passengers than any other airline in Europe. It had subsidiaries, including...Cyprus Airways. (Yes, the same one that's still the flag carrier of Cyprus. That's its own story.) They even operated helicopters.

image: RuthAS Cursed? You decide.

And then, as the 70s began, the decision was made to merge the two state-owned airlines - something which I would personally have done earlier, and apparently people did try to do earlier but were prevented from doing by...politics. You know, just a couple people with titles that begin with 'Secretary of' passive-aggressively fighting over financial things. In 1974, what was probably inevitable finally became a reality.

image: Piergiuliano Chesi

It takes a while to repaint a full airframe. When two airlines merge the change is often done bit by bit, making sure the wordmark's right but not bothering with the rest. In 1975, G-AWZA, pictured here, still wore the speedjack, but the wordmark above her cheatline said something new entirely, and a new airline was using the callsign SPEEDBIRD.

And this is where I will conclude today, thwarted by image limit. Of course, being the person I am, I couldn't help but make my return for the new year not just a two-parter but a three-parter. Having dispensed with the British Airwayses that weren't British Airways, part two will cover the British Airways of the surprisingly recent past.

In the meantime thank you to all readers, old and new. I'm thrilled to be back from my break, and I hope you'll stick around for another year of Runway Runway.

[ltwilliammowett]

The Royal Clipper - Passing Propriano Lighthouse, by claudegailemin

[midnightmuffingay]

Rating the pets of EAH based on what is on the EAH wiki and my limited knowledge:

Adelita - Rosabella's butterfly. I have never heard of this. Also apparently Adelita translates to 'noble'?? 3/10 I don't think it suits her and also how do you keep a butterfly as a pet.

Barber - Poppy's squirrel monkey. I guess squirrel monkeys are cute and I can see it as a pet for her but I have yet again no memory of this. 5/10

Clipper - Holly's lion cub. Apparently it is 'charmed' to stay a cub forever?? Don't know how that work or why she has a lion or why she would name it Clipper?? there are better names girl. 3/10

Carmine - Cerise's dire wolf. Okay so technically they're part of the same pack or something but it's the daughter of Littler Red Riding Hood and the big Bad Wolf. You can't go wrong with giving her a wolf friend whose name is another shade of red. 6/10

Carrolloo - Kitty's caterpillar. A sneaky little guy. From what we saw of him he compliments Kitty's personality and you know, a caterpillar with a wonderlandian? It's not like I can be mad. 6/10

Clockwork - Cedar's wooded cuckoo. Okay I do actually like this a lot. Even if we never really saw him it's a great concept for her pet to be wooden like her. Especially when you consider it would probably have to been made specifically for her. I love it 8/10

Clydesdale - Farrah's pet mouse. Don't recall and there are better mice. 2/10

Divacorn - Briar's unicorn. Absolutely slayed so hard I don't care about the name which is an astonishing feat. I mean of course Briar would have a pink unicorn it just makes sense. 8/10

Drake - Hopper's dragonfly. Drake. 2/10 Only getting extra points because it is a literal DRAGONfly. He breathes fire.

Earl Grey - Maddie's dormouse. Perfection. Best dressed of all of the pets. Is a silly little guy with a silly little hat that lives in her hat. Impeccable. 10/10

Gala - Apple's snow fox. Gala is a great name just because of the fact this it is not only a type of apple but also a fancy party. Very royal, on brand, like to curl around her neck. Iconic. 8/10

Grizz - Blondie's baby bear. Blondie. Girlie. You are a reporter. Please get original. A bear for goldilocks' daughter is fine but it's just like. I'm bored girl. You can do better. 3/10

Jelly - Ginger's gummy fish. I. Love this. A sentient gummy fish she accidentally made? So iconic I'll ignore the basic name. It's like naming your goldfish 'Goldie'. Anyway, I love the concept, love the execution. 8/10

King Benedict - Humphrey's chicken. No. 2/10 for egg related name.

Mr. Cottonhorn - Dexter's jackalope. Guys. Guys. look at him.

He's just a little guy. 10/10.

Moustro - Melody's rat. I like the idea and the pun name but I feel like I'd need to see a picture to be impressed. 5/10

Nevermore - Raven's dragon. There is no need for discussion. 10/10

P-Hawk - Daring's peacock. I think I remember him being kind of terrible so uh 1/10 because Daring I don't think that's how you say peacock honey.

Pesky - Hunter's squirrel. I love how even though they're like enemies they have the same haircut and Pesky has a little acorn bag that Hunter definitely made for him. Lives up to his name. 7/10

Philia - Cupid's Pegasus. Apparently 'Philia' is one of the ancient greek words for love that is often translated to friendship. soooo, even though I didn't know about her she gets a 6/10 because I think that's sweet.

Pirouette - Duchess's swan. Queen. Icon. Slay. Need I say more? 10/10

Sandella - Ashlynn's phoenix. The fact that Ashlynn has a phoenix because it rises from the ashes is so hardcore and I love it. Even if her name is Sandella. 7/10

Shuffle - Lizzie's hedgehog. The bestest and cutest little croquet ball. I don't have much to say but love you dearly. 7/10

Sir Gallopad - Darling's horse. He can change colour and camouflage which is THE coolest thing. Horsegirl Darling. 8/10 Also Daring officially has the worst pet out of the Charming siblings.

Spindle - Faybelle's pomeranian. Of course an evil fairy you have such an unassuming evil little dog. And of course she named it after her evil destiny. Iconic. 8/10.

[kreuzfahrttester]

Kreuzfahrt: Star Clippers segelt über den Atlantik in die Karibik

Im Oktober 2024 beginnt für die Segel-Kreuzfahrtschiffe der Reederei Star Clippers eine der faszinierendsten Reisen überhaupt – die Atlantiküberquerung. Die Großsegler der Flotte setzen von Europa aus Kurs auf die tropischen Gewässer der Karibik und die Pazifikküste Costa Ricas. Diese 14 Tage auf offener See, ganz ohne Land in Sicht, bieten ein unvergleichliches Erlebnis und laden zur völligen…

[dove-da-birb]

Meet William Chaloner

Picrew | Picrew does not belong to me | I decided to give Chaloner a glow-up since I accidentally deleted the OG photos ; - ;

"Issac Newton's nemesis. Mischievous, outgoing, and has a knack of getting into and out of trouble. Throws apples at Newton /j If you know the thing about the Mint, then you know how petty these two are." - My OG description of him.

A conman at heart, Chaloner is willing to do just about anything to make some money all while pertaining a mask of innocence. He can read people fairly well, and use that to his advantage. Despite his cunning ways, he does let his pride get the better of him, especially when it pertains with that Warden of the Royal Mint, Issac Newton.

He doesn’t live with the other vampires and bites his thumb at Issac whenever he sees him out and about. Even after all these centuries, those two hate each other and they still fight in public.

Voice Claim; Atsushi Tamaru [yes, they will all be TWST VAs, sue me]

Birthday; November 27

Height; 183 cm

Past Occupations; Counterfeiter, coin clipper, confidence trickster, quack doctor

Current Occupation; High end clothing boutique owner

Hobbies; Counterfeiting coins and mocking Newton 

Dislikes; the authorities, Issac Newton

Specialty; Getting away with schemes

Weakness; His own pride

Favourite food; Figgy pudding

Hated food; Herring

Vampire type; Lesser vampire

Animal Companion; a rough collie named Thatcher

Some History [all Wikipedia babey, I did my time writing academic papers and this is for fun]

William Chaloner was many a thing during his most active years. A nailing apprentice. A bawdy pocket watch seller [among other things]. A quack doctor selling faux cures to plague victims. And a ‘fortune teller’ who would tell patrons where their stolen belongings were, for a price of course. And a used clothing seller.Tried conning the Bank of England as well. But what he’s best known for is his rap sheet with the Royal Mint and its warden, Sir Issac Newton.

Within his first year of producing counterfeit coins, he had already amassed a fortune and bought himself a house, a carriage to ride in, and clothing befitting a gentleman. He was briefly married for a short stint, but had to flee town due to being a person of interest in a robbery.

He repeatedly tried conning the Royal Mint. His first ploy was to pretend to be just a concerned citizen and bringing up questions about the Mint’s reputation with the amount of counterfeiting. But in January of 1696 he was taken in for questioning and he pointed the finger at the Mint for producing counterfeit coins, questioning the integrity of the people working there. “I never made a guinea in my life,” but he had, and had gotten rich because of this. He also tried to persuade the Mint to hire him, but never was accepted. 

Issac got tired of Chaloner escaping justice and eventually had a watertight investigation done on him. He even made sure a ‘hanging judge’ was the one overseeing the trial to ensure that Chaloner didn’t get away from him again. While in court Chaloner accused everyone of perjury, and thus put the blame on him in order to save their own necks. He also pretended to go mad while locked up, but that didn’t fool Newton. In the end, William Chaloner was found guilty of treason, for the act of counterfeiting coins.

"Present" [aka when MC gets teleported to the mansion]

He mainly makes an honest living nowadays, but he still has that mischievous streak in him. Once he sees Issac out in the street he goes back into counterfeiting currency, and it's an entire benny hill scene, and you're caught up in the middle of this mess. Chaloner hates Newton because 'the bloke' tried to get him executed, whereas Newton hates Chaloner because the man tried to make a fool out of him. He throws apples at Newton, and Issac throws rope at Chaloner; it's a mutual relationship.

Tagging; @azulashengrottospiano [and also jackdaw anon I hope you see this too ^v^]

[lovelyrocker]

Like Me Part Thirteen

Bones & All AU

Characters: Lee, Reader

Pairings: Lee x Reader

Warnings: Pining, Angst, Language, Intimacy, Self-Loathing

Word Count: 1,962

She woke the following morning before Liam, believe it or not. The sun was barely over the trees as she blinked her eyes open. Turning over she was met by the warmth of Lee. He was lying there in a deep sleep, his eyes moving quickly beneath his eyelids. His eyes were still red rimmed from crying so much the night before. His slim body curled in around itself as he breathed out heavily. 

Reaching up she pushed his faded red curls from his face. The long curls were growing out from his last run in with the clippers. She liked his curls long, but she never admitted that to him. 

She pressed a kiss to his forehead before climbing out of the bed and heading to the kitchen. She was halfway through her second cup when the lean frame of Lee came from the stairs. Scratching his head with a yawn Lee walked over to the counter, grabbing a mug from the cabinet. He poured the steaming liquid into the cup and leaned against the counter. 

He watched her as she looked through the paper in front of her on the table. “How’d you sleep?” He asks finally, his hands gripping the mug.

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Fine. What about you?” 

“Okay.” He walked over to the table and sat across from her. “About last night,” She looked up at him and she saw his eyes fill with fear. “I- I know-”

“Lee, It’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay but,” She exhales and shakes her head. “Look, I love you, Lee. I don’t think I ever stopped.” She reached, taking his hand. “But you scared me. Do you understand that? You need to give me time to be okay with what you did to me.” She wiped a stray tear from her eye. “I know you love me and I know you didn’t mean it that way but you still scared me. You still did it. There is so much about this that I don’t understand and that's on you leaving. You never gave me to chance to-”

“I know and I’m sorry.” He tells her, wrapping his other hand around hers. “I know I sound like a broken record but I am. Just tell me what I need to do.”

“Just being here is a start.” She tells him with tears in her eyes once more. “After that, I don’t know.”

“I understand. I just-” He looks down at her hand between. His brow is furrowed together in thought.

“What?” She asked, seeing him nibble his lower lip in worry. “What is it, Lee, talk to me.”

“I know I fucked up. I royally fuck up-” He blinks trying to keep his tears from falling. Looking up the tears fall anyway. “I really don't want to lose you and Liam. I'm terrified that I am. Slowly I’m-”

“Stop running.” She tells him sternly. “Act like you don’t want to lose us. Stop running every time you get scared. Show you want this as much as you say you do. Be here, Lee.” She can feel the heat in her face and the warm tears falling down her cheeks. “Even though it’s hard, stay. Work through this with us. Don’t leave us behind because you think it's better. You are what’s best for us. You being here.”

Lee stands and walks over to her and kneels in front of her. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere else. I swear.” He places his hands on either side of her face. “I’m here to stay.”

“I can’t do this without you, Lee.” She sobs as she buries her face in his shoulder, her arms wrapped tight around him.

“I’m here. I swear. I’m here.” He tells her over and over again. “I only left this time to give you time. I knew I’d fucked up and I knew it wasn’t something I could just apologize for.”

“I know, but I need you to stay anyway.” She pulls away, looking at him. His own tears running down his face. “I need you to be here this time. That’s the only way this will work.” 

He nods his head as more tears fall. She wraps her arms around him, kissing his head. She tried to fight how she knew she felt. Tried to make herself believe that how she felt was because he was the father of her child. Because Liam needed him. But the reality was that she loved Lee. She never stopped loving Lee. And she needed him there. 

“Is Lee leaving again?” The small voice came from the stairs.

 Lee and Y/N pulled apart and looked over at the little boy standing there with a pout on his face and big tears in his eyes. 

“Why would you think that, buddy?” Lee stood going over to Liam, scooping him up. 

“Because you’re sad. Mommy is sad when you leave. And you’re sad.”

“Oh, no, baby.” Y/N walks over to her son. “We were just talking about things. I just missed him a lot when he was gone.”

“So, you’re not leaving?” Liam’s big green eyes go to Lee. 

“Nope.” Lee hugs Liam. “ I’m not going anywhere. And even if I do have to go for a bit, I’ll always come back.”

Liam smiles and throws his arms around Lee’s neck, hugging him tightly. “How about some Cheerios?” Lee asks him with a little bounce. 

Y/N watched as Lee ate breakfast with him and they laughed. She left for work a while later and felt a breath of relief knowing Lee was with Liam instead of a babysitter. She didn’t have the worry sitting in the back of her head like before. The feeling of dread when she would get him afraid to see blood stains and a missing babysitter. 

Lee kept his distance the next few weeks. Knowing she needed to wrap herself around him, having done what he did and his reasons behind it. Sure, she understood and it made complete sense. But that didn’t change the fear from it all.

When Lee came up behind her she would jump. When he would appear in the dark she would gasp. He didn’t do it on purpose, but it still got to her nonetheless. He tried. He would take her hand at night while watching TV. He’d look at her from across the room with daydreaming eyes. She saw it in his eyes how he felt and it settled her heart.

“Liam is asleep.” Lee told her, walking into Y/N bedroom. 

“That was quick.” She chuckled, sitting in the bed, rubbing the rest of her lotion into her hands. 

“We spent most of the afternoon at the park.” He sat on the edge of the bed near her feet. “Always wears him out.” He smiled. 

“You two are such a little team of craziness.” She ran her hand through his wild red curls. “Letting the hair grow?”

“You love it.” He smirked, kissing her hand. 

“I do.” Her smile fades a little as she sits back against the pillows.

“What?”

“Did you- did you leave in the middle of the night last night?”

Lee looked down at her hand in his. “Yeah.”

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just, I couldn’t sleep. Needed to clear my head.” He kissed the back of her hand again. “I came back, though.” He gave a tight lipped smile. 

She sat up, her face even with his. “What’s going on in your head, Lee?” She runs her hand through his thick faded red curls. She notices his eyes going everywhere but her. “Lee?” She dips her head, finally catching his eyes. 

“Why do you love me?”

She was taken aback by the question. She just stared at him for the longest time. His green eyes searching hers, waiting for an answer.

“I- why would you ask that?”

“I just don’t understand how you can love someone- something like me.”

She lets out a sigh. “Lee, you are a good man. Just because you have this…illness, doesn’t make you any less good.”

“I think back-”

“Don’t. Don’t think about what you did. Look at what you are doing.” She takes his face into her hands. “You are taking care of us. You are there for him and you are here for me. It’s been a heel of a few weeks but you stayed. You’re here.” She pulled his face to hers and kissed his lips gently. “You’re where you need to be.”

“Am I?”

“Do you doubt you belong with us?” She asked, dropping her hands, looking him in his eyes. 

Lee shrugged his shoulders. “I know I want to be with you and Liam, but-”

“No buts, Lee. If you have any doubt that being with us is right, if you think that you can’t, that you without a doubt can not do this, then walk away.” Lee watched as tears filled her eyes. “But if you do choose to walk, stay gone.” The tears started falling from her eyes. “Because I can not handle this. I can’t-” She shakes her head wiping her tears. “I just can’t.”

Lee lifted his hand to her cheek, the fresh tears were warm as they slid down his fingers. He leans forward pressing his forehead against hers. “I don’t know how to let anyone love me.” He whispers as a tear slides down his cheek. “It scares me how much I need you.”

“Me too, Lee.” She whispers. “But I'm trusting you with my everything.”

Lee lifts his face just a little, his breath ghosting over hers. “You are my everything.” 

With their eyes still shut he presses his lips gently against hers. Since he’d bitten her, her usual instinct has been to pull away from him when he is this close. This time it was the last thing she wanted to do. She leaned into his kiss. When Lee parted his lips to break the kiss she leaned into his mouth again, pressing another, more firm kiss to his lips. 

He brings his hand to her cheek, pulling her even closer. Heat rushed over his body as he smelled the rose scented body wash she used. She felt his fingers gripping at her. She didn’t push him away or move from his touch. She let him slowly lay her back against the pillows. Although his movements were unsure and scared she could feel the emotion and yearning behind them. She could feel his desperation for her and the raw need to have her. It only made her own feelings and desperation for him grow. 

She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, gently gliding up his back. His muscles flexed beneath her fingertips as he steadied himself on top of her. He pulled away breathlessly. “Wait- are you sure?”

“I am.” She tells him, running her fingers through the faded red curls. “I want you, Lee.”

He leans his forehead on hers. “What if-”

“No what ifs.” She leans kissing his lips. “Just now.”

WIth that Lee pressed his body to hers, melting into one another. They undress each other, feeling every inch of one another’s skin. He hadn’t touched her like this since they were teengers. The emotion of having the person you yearned for most and never could have. Lee was surprisingly overcome with emotions he wasn’t sure what to do with. So he held her as he loved her. He moved carefully making sure she felt every bit of his love, every ounce of his need for her. It wasn;t until they were both panting, shaking, sweaty messed between the sheets that they even parted an inch.

“I love you.” Lee whispered to her. “I love you so much.”

[ziipzeepzop-eez]

hey zeepie! HIHIHIHII!!!!

ermmm

irl bestie headcannons? why the hell not, happy Valentine's season (or smt) a lot of this is purely imaginative, as im cautious about ppl online. I hope you feel better ❤️

if we were irl besties, I would prolly be afraid to text you a lot. id send u shitty memes and funny shit id find on Pinterest and think you would judge me about it, before seeing you happily text me back.

we would text about things happening, like gen alpha slang, or about our future. lots of intrusive thoughts from my way with frightened commentary from you

while I may be busy often, I try to fit my friends with my schedule, even if they don't match often (they go to public school) so youd be invited to Mexican parties, bday parties, skating hangouts, or even the once-in-a-life-time boy girl party.

and other times, I just want to spend time w/ you. sometimes I would invite you to the park to simply interact, or we would visit each other's house for a self care day. Everytime I see you, I just tackle you in a giant hug, as you struggle to hold me a bit.

id bring all of my favorite masks, along with the best snacks possible. you would prolly have the blankets and towels. imagine me loading up fortnite on my Nintendo as I make you an account for your tv 💀💀💀

like the 'its my first time' adult x 'imma protect you no matter what' 16 yr old trope. you'd call me cringe as I finish setting you up, and invite to my party for 3 rounds of battle royale.

we lost all three 😭.... but! but- we did get at least 9 kills on average per round, that's a win for me 👀 the opps were too strong for us 😞🫴🏾

id steal your remote as i press the tubi app, choosing some trash iteration of the monkey king. you'd laugh so hard about it the whole time, while id be rambling about the quality of CGI and the differences between modern movies.

while we talk I may poke you a bit, you swatting my hands threatening to fight. it's just smt abt tickling that makes a blk person wanna throw hands 🫠 👊🏾💥👊🏾💥other times id sooth through your hair in a spaced out silence, not really minding anything.

you'd ask about my locs sometimes, and my haircare routine. (thinking abt it now, I haven't gotten my hair done in almost a month 💀) so you'd prolly ask why my roots are so fluffy instead of rolled up. a smile would com across your face as I continue to explain, telling you about the palm rolling + clipper process, the dangers of water, and oil buildup. you laugh as I tell you about my dream to dye my roots neon green, keeping my tips pink.

(fun fact: [and this could apply to every hair type, but especially locs] when you leave water in locs w/o drying properly, you could literally grow matted mold. it can become very smelly and strong, because hair in general ESPECIALLY CONJOINED HAIR soaks up water like a fuckin towel. and if you arent careful about the products u use/what products you use, and how often you wash your hair, it can cause oil buildup pretty easily.

im not sure why, but when I add water to my hair, my scalp dries up and it starts to shed 😭😭 I SWEAR I USE OIL-)

and sometimes ill disappear for a month. it won't be on purpose of course! as soon as I get my phone in my hands, I'm racing to send you my entire meme bank, making you cackle during the early hours of the morning.

and when we can't meet up, well just ramble to each other over call, or play shitty Roblox obbies on discord. throw writing ideas, communicate, au's fictional and irl, existential dread, carpet fuzz. anything really!

and we would be really good friends too- like, top tier verbalization, positive affirmations, and happiness all the way ❤️

the only thing I could think of you and me arguing about is the use of my n word tendencies for stupid things. or my procrastination-

but other than that, being your irl bestie would be awesome! id make sure of it ❤️

ohh uhym

just, uh, aha- gimme a second? chippy?- babe– ,,

[scampers away behind a conveniently placed bush, curls down into a squatting ball so only the back of my head is visible] Guueuuueeeeeeeeghehehgehegheeeghhhh,,, gaaaaasp– ghhhhhuuuuuuueeeerrrrrghhhhgehegeheeeeghehhhnngh 😭😭😭

THIS IS!! SO!! 😭😭 THIS!! 💥☝🏾 CHIP. 😫 CHIP. 😭 CHIPPY?? CHIPPYYYYYY 👹

I read this groggily after waking up from my sadness-induced nap and it immediately, IMMEDIATELY !!! ... made me smile. Like, so so big. SO, so BIG!!!

Aaaand I am so, MAD, that we don't know each other irl because?? I need this?? In my life??? I've,,, ALWAYS needed someone like this??????? & to finally have her!! But she is not here IN FRONT OF ME FOR ME TO HAVE AS THE BESTEST BESTIE EVER??? IT SHOULD BE A SIN PUNISHABLE BY INSTANT LIGHTNING STRIKE DEATH FROM GOD HIMSELF JKHHJHJHDJBSHDJHJ 👹😭🤬💔💔 LIKE I AM- FEENING FOR THIS ☝🏾 FRIENDSHIP EXACTLY GRUUURAGAHAGAAAAAAGHHHH

Like why are you not here in front of me rn?? WHy, *chokes* do you not live across from me in my lil ghetto ass neighborhood where the only thing that'd motivate me to go outside is you calling to me from my window?? Like it's not fair it simply isn't fair as a matter of fact, i think it's racist that we aren't irl friends like and ALL OF THIS DURING O U R MONTH likeeee. *sucks teeth* seems sketchy to me bro 😤💔 [I continue to ramble if only to shield the sounds of my heart shattering quite loudly in the background]

THE TUBI PART DID IT FOR ME 😭😭 HOW DO YOU KNOW I'VE SEEN THE CRUDDY REITERATIONS OF THE MONKEY KING??? I'd palette it MUCH more easier if it were you watching it with me instead of my parents :'')) I'm the type to crack up obnoxiously during movies and shows - our chaotic energy would bounce of e/o seamlessly and we'd be our own movie fr 🎬🤣

I ain't no gamer but I'd do it for you bookie. even if the opps did get us in the end. we did our best, trust 😞✊🏾 magic of friendship always prevails, feel me?

And !! Girl !! Black girl hair knowledge 😍💅🏾✨ AAAAAAAAAA!!! FROTHING AT THE MOUTH FOR IT SJDKDJ (/ns btw ksjsjsj just as a forewarning 😭😭💀 you get me girl) PLEASEEE I don't have thoroughly kinky hair, since i'm mixed so i never got the whole concept of it and anytime I'm bein made aware of afro-centric hair care i EAT THAT ISH UPPPPPPP. u're my new knowledge plug. like, this was edumacational. AND HONESTLY I THINK YOU HELPED ME TOO??? 🤣 I get reeeally bad buildup sometimes but I think it's because I air dry my hair, not really much at all!! :')) yes yes i know, cue the screams of horror. 💀 I SWEARRRR I'M LEARNING AND GROWING I JUST NEED TO USE MY BLOWDRYER JKJKS

AAAAAAAA we'd dye our hair together!!! 😍 that's honestly such a cute color combo, wholly underrated !! my tenderheaded self, but I'm a sucker for people stroking my hair/head bcuz it rarely happens nowadays 😭

sitting in comfortable silence? casual healthy platonic affection? posting up when you tryna start somethin with them pokes and tickles?? 😔✊🏾 yes please yes to all of it.

fr tho you can catch this fade if you keep tryin me bbygirl i be screeching like a banshee jsjsjsjss

UGHGHHHHHHHGGGGGGHHHHH the ✨positive reaffirmations and 🩷verbalization of love🩷✨

Like this a whole dream.

,,,real images of me caught in 8K UHD surround sound 32 Gigs ram, HDR GEFORCE RTX, TI-80 texas instruments, Triple A duracell battery ultrapower 100 Cargador Compatible iPhone 1A 5 W 1400 + Cable 100% 1 Metro Blanco Compatible iPhone 5 5 C 5S 6 SE 6S 7 8 X XR XS XS MAX GoPro hero 1 2 terabyte xbox series x Dell UltraSharp 49 Curved Monitor - U4919DW Sony HDC-3300R 2/3" CCD HD Super Motion Color Camera, 1080p Resolution Toshiba EM131A5C-SS Microwave Oven with Smart Sensor, Easy Clean Interior, ECO Mode and Sound On/Off, 1.2 Cu. ft, Stainless Steel HP LaserJet Pro M404n Monochrome Laser Printer with Built-in Ethernet (W1A52A) GE Voluson E10 Ultrasound Machine LG 23 Cu. Ft. Smart Wi-Fi Enabled InstaView Door-in-Door Counter-Depth Refrigerator with Craft Ice Maker GFW850SPNRS GE 28" Front Load Steam Washer 5.0 Cu. Ft. with SmartDispense, WiFi, OdorBlock and Sanitize and Allergen - Royal Sapphire Kohler K-3589 Cimarron Comfort Height Two-Piece Elongated 1.6 GPF Toilet with AquaPiston Flush Technology:

......,,,, SOmeone should hELP her. 🧍👀

[clears throat and composes myself]

Ahhh, my Chippy Choco Chip girl. You are already such bestie material online, I can only imagine how viscerally that translates to in person :'')))

If I can get a little personal here?? Ever since I was young, I wished and prayed and begged, for a friend. Like, a GOOD friend. A best friend. Someone who'd be there for me and actually want to spend time with me; oh you have no idea how much you healed little me typing this out, Chips (´；ω；｀) Tumblr, our moots as a whole have also healed the little Lilo in me and have simultaneously become my Stitch. :'))

This is the bestest thing I could've received for Valentine's (and yes I'm considering it as my valentine's/galentine's gift from u 🤨 problem?? *chkt chkt* ???..... yeah i didn't think so 😌. thank you.) and I am just. BLESSED. 🙏🏾😫

THANK YOU JESUS. JEHOVAH. GOD. ELOHIM. FOR, AT USER ITSYAGIRLCHIP. MY CHIPPY CHOPPY GIRL.

I love you pookie. ❤❤🫶🏾🫶🏾 Thanks for making me smile so hard my face almost stayed permanently that way today.