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dreamings-free · 3 years ago

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Harry Lambert is the man who put Harry Styles in a dress. The stylist talks to Morwenna Ferrier about fame and how men’s clothes are changing

The Guardian | 26 May 2022

Walking down the narrow corridor towards stylist Harry Lambert’s studio, I can’t be the first person to wonder if Harry Styles – Lambert’s most famous client – has trod the same blue carpet. Not that Lambert would tell me. Getting him to talk about Styles is like getting blood from a stone. “OK, look,” he says. “When it comes to questions about Harry, I just consider our relationship too private to go too deep. You have to remember I am there in the most intimate times with people I work with. I’m often the last person they see before they go on stage. It’s an intimate space! I’m aware that a lot of the attention I get is because of him, but I want to be very careful. But let’s try. OK. Go.”

Harry met Harry around the time of One Direction’s 2014 album, Four. Rumours of a solo career were circulating, and Styles was going through his “Jagger period”, wearing black Saint Laurent suits, Chelsea boots and leonine hair tamed by bright bandanas – fashion filtered through NME rather than GQ.

Lambert was mostly styling magazine shoots and fashion shows when they were introduced to each other. He presented a wardrobe (“playful stuff, Gucci and JW Anderson, stuff like that”), and Styles agreed to give it a whirl. What emerged is best described as 1970s man, resurrected – flares, with a side of camp. Styles was always game, he says, “but when it happened, it was still like: ‘Fuck, this is wild.’”

The fashion industry gobbled it up. From the sheer black blouse and single pearl earring at the 2019 Met Gala, to the tight crimson Arturo Obegero jumpsuit in the video to As It Was, Styles became mainstream pop’s most determined subverter of gender stereotypes.

Lambert has been central to this, a sort of Thomas Cromwell to Styles’s Henry VIII, but dissolving binaries instead of monasteries. Not that that’s how he sees it: “Look, when it comes to this [gender stuff], I wish I could be all: ‘I wanted to change the world!’ But it’s more that it’s a byproduct of what we’re doing,” he says. “If you look at pop icons over the years, fashion is such an integral part of their image, like Björk in the swan dress, Britney in the schoolgirl outfit. I’m aware that what I do is having an impact, but is that top of the agenda for me? No.”

We’re sitting on a bench in the communal garden behind his two-room studio in Hoxton, east London. In one room, platform shoes spill out of an Ikea Kallax unit. In the other, rails of clothes sit. Lambert, 35, is warm and chatty, with a gentle East Anglian accent and short bleached hair. He’s wearing wide-legged Marni trousers in chequerboard brown, large black pearls and a T-shirt lightly stained with breakfast.

Celebrity stylists are relatively new. In Hollywood’s golden age – Lambert’s favourite era – actors were styled by costume designers from the studios. By the early 70s, the studio system was over, so stars dressed themselves, which didn’t always go well (Google any Oscars ceremony in the 1980s).

It wasn’t until the mid-00s and Rachel Zoe – who turned her cadre (Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan) into avatars of her stick-thin self, and is rumoured to have commanded $10,000 a day – that stylists became as famous as their clients.

Today, the red carpet is an economy unto itself, built on the (often false) idea that what celebrities wear is an extension of their personality rather than, say, a mutually beneficial marketing tool brokered between label, celebrity and stylist. No one knows how much money changes hands, but given that many celebrities require stylists as much off stage as on (the walking-to-the-car-holdinga-juice outfit can be as considered as what is worn to the Grammys) the celebrity stylist has never been more powerful. Which explains why some of the big Hollywood ones – Law Roach, say, who put Zendaya in a hot pink breastplate, or Karla Welch, who put Justin Bieber in extra-long sleeved T-shirts – are household names, if you live in that sort of home.

Unusually for a stylist, Lambert has just four clients: Styles, Everton footballer Dominic Calvert-Lewin, and The Crown actors Emma Corrin and Josh O’Connor (each of whom has a body double who tries on outfits the day before). Lambert gets approached a lot, but usually says no. “I only style people who – sorry to sound all LA – I connect with, or who I can transform. I once styled Kylie [Minogue] – but what do you even do with Kylie?”

It’s reasonable to say that O’Connor’s look is the most conventional. Standouts include a navy double-breasted sailor suit with ceramic buttons by SS Daley, worn to last year’s TV Baftas, “but there’s always a little twist, or flourish”, says Lambert. “It can never be conventional – I hate that.”

Corrin, whom he met through a friend, came out as queer last year, and uses clothes to communicate this. “There’s a pressure on girls in acting to be sexy, to be a bombshell, to have [their] boobs out. Emma is sexy, but it’s about playing with people’s perceptions of what is beautiful,” says Lambert. I say the Loewe dress and balloon bra she wore to the Olivier awards in April certainly felt like an in-joke. “The Oliviers are a bit stuffy, so we thought: ‘Let’s do something that most people aren’t going to get,’” he says with a laugh. “It’s a

Back in the day if you were into clothes you were gay. Now caring about your look is almost normal

conversation, but in a dress. Even the Daily Mail loved it.”

As with all stylists’ muses, there is an obligation to wear designers if they are linked with them – Corrin was the face of Miu Miu, Styles of Gucci and O’Connor of Loewe. But in using vintage pieces as well as pushing smaller designers such as Daley, Edward Crutchley and Harris Reed, whose gender-fluid designs have since ended up at the Met Gala, Lambert is attempting to redress the power balance.

Earlier this year, he turned down the chance to appear on the cover of the Hollywood Reporter. “I didn’t get into this job to be on a cover. Fashion is scary, fashion week is scary,” Lambert says. “There are ‘faces’, like Anna Wintour, and then there are people like me.”

But because of his job – and because of social media – he is a face of sorts. “Someone took my picture on the bus and tagged me this week. So I’m famous to a particular group of people.” The Harrys have nicknames for each other (Lambert is Susan, and Styles is Sue) and the internet has fun with their relationship, with Reddit threads devoted to unpacking what these names mean. Again, Lambert won’t comment, but it seems an efficient way to differentiate between two people called Harry.

I want to be remembered for men being able to wear necklaces and it not be a thing

Growing up in Norwich, Lambert was into clothes, not fashion. He cycled through trends familiar to a millennial (the skateboarding emo phase, the Abercrombie & Fitch ripped loose jeans phase) and, at school, drifted towards art. He studied photography at Rochester University and while he loved the narrative side, he tripped up on the technicalities, and instead spent his summers interning at various magazines.

He then moved to east London, just at the end of nu-rave. “I got into the industry right at the end, just after [the recession], when everyone had money, but also just before styling became a thing,” he says. He got work as a commercial stylist – including a stint at fast fashion “factory” Asos, and later Topman, but his Damascene moment was “bejewelling Little Boots’ roller skates on a shoot”.

His most recent client is CalvertLewin, one of the few footballers who doesn’t dress as if he has been vomited on by a bank. Last winter’s Arena Homme+ cover, in which he wears a flared short suit and a glittery pink Prada handbag, was a blue-tick Lambert look – high fashion with an androgynous twist. Is Lambert a football fan? “No. I had to do half a season at Norwich City – Delia Smith’s team – when I was a kid, but only to escort my little brother.”

You only need to look at Little Richard, David Bowie or Prince to see that androgyny has been part of pop since the beginning. Yet in football, outward expressions of so-called femininity are few and far between. Is Lambert trying to drive a conversation about gender by introducing this fashion to the Premier League? Lambert laughs again. “I didn’t bring the handbags to Dominic. He has three or four Chanel handbags of his own. But just because someone is a masculine straight guy in the football community, and has a handbag, it shouldn’t be a big deal.” But it is a big deal, I say, in a good way. “OK, yeah, I understand how toxic the [football] industry can be, so to see a man with a Chanel handbag is … something. But everyone is trying to tap into that market,” he says of fashion and sport. “Back in the day, if you were into clothes you were gay. Now caring about how you look – it’s almost normal.”

It’s unsurprising then that Gucci recently signed pomade-loving footballer Jack Grealish to front a future campaign. At the mention of his name, Lambert shifts around, then denies all knowledge of the signing. I’d put a tenner on him being involved.

“I think how men dress is changing,” he says. “The Loewe aesthetic is going to be the next super-brand for youth in the way that Balenciaga and Vetements [two of the brands responsible for luxury logo streetwear] rewrote what was cool. You can see it happening.” To translate, Lambert means clothes that are pretty and surreal, logo-free knitwear and lots of colour. Like Styles’ famous rainbow cardigan – effeminate and fun. “It’s the vibe shift, yeah.”

“When I’m gone,” Lambert says, “I just hope it’s silly things such as putting Harry [Styles] in pearls and that men can wear necklaces and it not be a thing – that’s the stuff I want to be remembered for. That and when people dress up as Harry for Halloween.” He claps his hands. “It means that we’ve done something that has had cultural impact. It means we’ve got through.”

#this was great #love it when non annoying people talk abou the boys :)#harry lambert #harry styles #harry's fashion choices #article #the guardian #26.05.22 #harry #mine #m

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goldie-fairbank · 2 years ago

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have you heard about [ GOLDIE FAIRBANK ]? [SHE/HER] lives at the qz. I think they’ve lived there for [ TWENTY THREE YEARS ]. they’re [ FOURTY TWO ] yrs old and seem very [ CREATIVE ]. i’ve also heard they can be very [ SPOILED ] as well. they’ve been assigned as a [ TEACHER ]. they often daydream about [ GUCCI SHOPPING BAGS PILED ON A MARBLE FLOOR ].

Full bio under the cut

Goldie grew up surrounded by luxury. Her parents were both movie stars who earned more than enough money to give Goldie everything she could possibly wish for. They paid for her designer clothes, a private education, and when she was old enough they opened doors for her to make it into the industry. By the time Goldie was nineteen she even had some fame in her own right although that was largely because she had started dating a well known actor, and not the overproduced pop album she had made under guidance from her agent. Her pop career never truly took off, something Goldie didn’t mind. She was perfectly content living under her parents’ shadows so long as she could always afford the latest Dior collection. Goldie adored fashion and glamour and anything creative. When her parents and agent finally accepted that Goldie wasn’t destined to be the next big pop diva they allowed her to shrink back into the shadows and pursue a degree in art history. If she wasn’t going to be a success in the entertainment industry at least she could get a world class education, her parents had told her. They didn’t care what degree she chose so long as she was studying, and out of their way.

Fresh off a well publicised break-up with her famous boyfriend, Goldie felt free to pursue her true passions away from the watchful eye of the press. She flourished at university, finding her true creative streak. She’d never been much of an artist herself, but she appreciated the beauty of all forms of art. She attended museums most weekends (before going off to party in the evening) and her interest in fashion and particularly fashion history was piqued. She was good at pairing colours and knowing what looked good, and it felt like she was finally discovering who she was supposed to be. And then it happened. A zombie outbreak. It was like something out of a nightmare.

Being the rich, eccentric types, her parents already had a bunker prepared for emergencies such as this and they sent a private jet to pick up Goldie and bring her back to them. Only the jet never arrived. To this day Goldie doesn’t know what happened, but after days of waiting in the airport for her parents to save her she finally had to accept that she was alone now. They weren’t coming for her. Maybe they were dead. Maybe they just didn’t think she was worthwhile keeping around. Afterall, she was just another mouth to feed with no discernible skills that would be useful in a situation like this. Fending for herself wasn’t something Goldie did well, but she at least had some sense and while the world was disintegrating her money and valuables were still worth something. If the world truly was ending she knew Gucci handbags wouldn’t be worth much for much longer and so she traded away those she could bear to part with for protection, food and water, and even a ride to Pittsburgh where there was word of a camp having been set up for survivors.

Goldie struggled to fit in at the camp. She still clung to remnants of her old life. Despite everything that had happened she insisted on curling her hair every morning, and when she was accused of wasting electricity for such trivial matters she found new ways. She used rags to twist her hair in curls and set them overnight. She mixed drops of oil in with her lipstick just to make it last that much longer. She still took great pride in the way she looked, dressing up as if she were going to the red carpet whenever she was given an excuse to do so. She contributed very little to the survival of the camp, but Goldie truly did not see the point in her survival if she wasn’t able to experience the joy of admiring her freshly painted nails.

Finding a job for Goldie there was difficult. She had almost no practical skills. Goldie had never even had to cook for herself - even throughout university she’d had a home chef hired by her parents to ensure Goldie wouldn’t be living on a diet of take-out and cocktails. She found a good fit finally, as a teacher. Goldie was well educated in history and the arts, she even spoke some latin, and so it was decided she could provide the children of the camp with an education of the world before everything broke down.

Goldie loved her job. She preferred the company of the children of the camp more so than the adults - the children seemed to understand her. They too missed the silly little things of their lives. While Goldie longed for a new pair of black heels, the children in her classes cried about missing their favourite video games, or toys and so she did her best to provide substitutes. For a child who had complained about missing his Pokemon game she had spent her entire weekend creating her own version of Pokemon cards, drawing what creatures she could remember (but mostly making up ones of her own) and assigning them statistics to battle with. And when she couldn’t create a substitute herself she’d trade with the supply runners to get it.

She’d always seen the value of the smugglers, and most of them knew just how much she would give for something so seemingly trivial. While they were out searching pharmacies for medicine, if they happened to pocket a tube of lipstick, they’d be well rewarded by Goldie. At first she traded some of the few valuable things she still had - an expensive watch or scented candles - but when they ran out she would trade food or water or even sex if the item were valuable enough to her. She’d get things for the children too, and fill her classroom with toys and interesting things from the outside world. She liked to think her classroom was an escape from the horror outside, and a place to discover the luxuries of the old world.

#about

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kookie-doughs · 4 years ago

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Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything is now ruined.

Chapter 22: Then It Ended

As soon as we came, Annabeth ang Grover tackled me. We were the first heroes to return alive to Half-Blood Hill since Luke, so of course everybody treated us as if we'd won some reality-TV contest. According to camp tradition, we wore laurel wreaths to a big feast prepared in our honor, then led a procession down to the bonfire, where we got to burn the burial shrouds our cabins had made for us in our absence.

Annabeth's shroud was so beautiful—gray silk with embroidered owls— Percy told her it seemed a shame not to bury her in it. She punched him and told him to shut up. Percy being the son of Poseidon, he didn't have any cabin mates, so the Ares cabin had volunteered to make his shroud. They'd taken an old bedsheet and painted smiley faces with X'ed-out eyes around the border, and the word LOSER painted really big in the middle.

As I was still unclaimed, Hermes cabin had made me one. (Just... IDK go crazy with your shroud IG) It was fun to burn. As Apollo's cabin led the sing-along and passed out s'mores, Percy and I was surrounded by my Hermes cabinmates, Annabeth's friends from Athena, and Grover's satyr buddies, who were admiring the brand-new searcher's license he'd received from the Council of Cloven Elders. The council had called Grover's performance on the quest "Brave to the point of indigestion. Horns-and-whiskers above anything we have seen in the past." The only ones not in a party mood were Clarisse and her cabinmates, whose poisonous looks told me they'd never forgive us for disgracing their dad. That was okay with me. Even Dionysus's welcome-home speech wasn't enough to dampen my spirits. "Yes, yes, so the little brats didn't get themselves killed and now they'll have an even bigger head. Well, huzzah for that. In other announcements, there will be no canoe races this Saturday...." Going back to the cabin I finally had time to talk to Luke. Who just expressed his relief of me being fine, and how he was scared when Annabeth told everyone about me. No wonder everyone was so shocked seeing me come back with Percy. On the Fourth of July, the whole camp gathered at the beach for a fireworks display by cabin nine. Being Hephaestus's kids, they weren't going to settle for a few lame red-white-and-blue explosions. They'd anchored a barge offshore and loaded it with rockets the size of Patriot missiles. According to Annabeth, who'd seen the show before, the blasts would be sequenced so tightly they'd look like frames of animation across the sky. The finale was supposed to be a couple of hundred-foot-tall Spartan warriors who would crackle to life above the ocean, fight a battle, then explode into a million colors. As Annabeth, Percy and I were spreading a picnic blanket, Grover showed up to tell us good-bye. He was dressed in his usual jeans and T-shirt and sneakers, but in the last few weeks he'd started to look older, almost high-school age. His goatee had gotten thicker. He'd put on weight. His horns had grown at least an inch, so he now had to wear his rasta cap all the time to pass as human. "I'm off," he said. "I just came to say ... well, you know." I tried to feel happy for him. After all, it wasn't every day a satyr got permission to go look for the great god Pan. But it was hard saying good-bye. I'd only known Grover a year, yet he was my oldest friend. Annabeth and I gave him a hug. She told him to keep his fake feet on. I asked him where he was going to search first. "Kind of a secret," he said, looking embarrassed. "I wish you could come with me, guys, but humans and Pan ..." "We understand," Annabeth said. "You got enough tin cans for the trip?" "Yeah." "And you remembered your reed pipes?" "Jeez, Annabeth," he grumbled. "You're like an old mama goat." But he didn't really sound annoyed. He gripped his walking stick and slung a backpack over his shoulder. He looked like any hitchhiker you might see on an American highway. "Well," he said, "wish me luck." He gave Annabeth and I another hug. He clapped Percy on the shoulder, then headed back through the dunes. Fireworks exploded to life overhead: Hercules killing the Nemean lion, Artemis chasing the boar, George Washington (who, by the way, was a son of Athena) crossing the Delaware. "Hey, Grover," Percy called. He turned at the edge of the woods. "Wherever you're going—I hope they make good enchiladas." Grover grinned, and then he was gone, the trees closing around him. "We'll see him again," Annabeth said. July passed. I spent my daysplanning out strategies with Luke for capture-the-flag and making alliances with the other cabins to keep the banner out of Ares's hands. I got to the top of the climbing wall for the first time without getting scorched by lava. From time to time, Percy and I would walk past the Big House, he'd glance up at the attic windows, and think about the Oracle.

I tried to convince him that its prophecy had come to completion. "You shall go west, and face the god who has turned." "Been there, done that—even though the traitor god had turned out to be Ares rather than Hades." "You shall find what was stolen, and see it safe returned." "Check. One master bolt delivered. One helm of darkness back on Hades." "You shall be betrayed by one who calls you a friend." Percy recited. "Ares had pretended to be our friend, then betrayed us. That must be what the Oracle meant.... Or maybe Nereid?"

"And you shall fail to save what matters most, in the end." He sighed. "I had failed to save my mom and lost you..."

"So why are you still uneasy?" The last night of the summer session came all too quickly. The campers had one last meal together. We burned part of our dinner for the gods. At the bonfire, the senior counselors awarded the end-of-summer beads. Percy and I got our own leather necklace, and when I saw the bead for my first summer. The design was pitch black, with a sea-green trident shimmering in the center.

"This is so beautiful..." I smiled to Percy. "The choice was unanimous," Luke announced. "This bead commemorates the first Son of the Sea God at this camp, and the quest he undertook into the darkest part of the Underworld to stop a war!" The entire camp got to their feet and cheered. Even Ares's cabin felt obliged to stand. Athena's cabin steered Annabeth to the front so she could share in the applause. I'm not sure I'd ever felt as happy or sad as I did at that moment. I'd finally found a family, people who cared about me and thought I'd done something right. And in the morning, most of them would be leaving for the year. * * * The next morning, Luke called me. He gave me a paper, telling me to fill it out, and asked me to meet him as soon as I could. I knew Dionysus must've filled it out, because he stubbornly insisted on getting my name wrong: Dear (WRONG NAME) , If you intend to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, you must inform the Big House by noon today. If you do not announce your intentions, we will assume you have vacated your cabin or died a horrible death. Cleaning harpies will begin work at sundown. They will be authorized to eat any unregistered campers. All personal articles left behind will be incinerated in the lava pit. Have a nice day! Mr. D (Dionysus) Camp Director, Olympian Council #12 That's another thing about ADHD. Deadlines just aren't real to me until I'm staring one in the face. Summer was over, and I still don't know what to do. I had no where to go to. The only option I had was Percy's or maybe Hades was not joking about inviting me back to the Underworld. Sighing I decided to just meet Luke before filling it for second opinions. The campgrounds were mostly deserted, shimmering in the August heat. All the campers were in their cabins packing up, or running around with brooms and mops, getting ready for final inspection. Argus was helping some of the Aphrodite kids haul their Gucci suitcases and makeup kits over the hill, where the camp's shuttle bus would be waiting to take them to the airport. I was walking around looking for Luke. I jumped when I felt someone tap me from behind. I instinctively unsheathed my knife and turned only to see Luke with his hands raised.

"Whoa! Calm down just me." He laughed.

"Kinda weird seeing someone laugh at a knife pointed at them." I smirked sheathing my knife.

"I only laugh since its you." He smiled and ruffled my hair. "Are you done with everything?"

"Not really. I don't know whether to leave or not yet. That's why I came. Help me?" I asked him.

He turned to me and to the forest. "How about you hear me out about something... important and private... then decide?" He gestured towards the forest.

"Not planning on killing me are you?" I squinted at him.

He gasped. "Not you. Never. I would never hurt you."

I let him lead me to a shrouded area of the forest.

"How serious is this thing that you can't let anyone see? I am blindly trusting you here Luke." I laughed nervously. But when he didn't reply I felt something was off. "Luke, okay this isn't cool. How deep into the forest do we have to go?"

"Y/N remember when you said... You want to be the person I trust...? How you promised to help me?"

"Luke?" He took my hand and pulled me sharply. I winced at how hard he pulled me. "That hurts! Let me go!"

He snapped back and let go of my wrist. "I-I'm sorry... Y/N..."

As much as I knew I had to leave, I couldn't I was worried about him. I reluctantly placed a hand on his shoulder. "What's happening?"

"I did it..." I said and sat on the ground. "I swear I didn't mean to get you hurt. But, I confess to everything. I stole bolt and helm, I summoned the hound, I gave Percy the cursed shoes... And just now, I tried to kill Percy Jackson." He looked at me with empty eyes.

I shot up and looked at him in emotions I couldn't put in words. "W-Wh---" I wanted to leave and check on Percy. But once again, seeing him right now... I need to stay with him. "Why are you telling me this...?"

"Join me... please?" his voice was weak. He sounded vulnerable. "Let's serve my Lord together..."

"L-Luke... no. I-I can't do that!" I took his shoulder, "Y-You should stay with me instead. How about that, huh? L-Let's explain to Chiron and the others... come on please. I could help you!"

Nothing was working.

"Come with me..." He muttered.

"Luke, I won't join you. You have to change your mind. You can't do this."

"I can't change my mind."

"I can help you with that? How about you go with me huh? I could spend all my time doing this and that. Please, just change your mind."

He didn't reply for a while until he whispered, "Promise me."

"Promise you what?"

"You'll stay with me."

"What? Luke I wo--"

"You won't join... Just...don't stay here for the year... and stay with me."

"I-If I stay with you... what would that mean?"

"Yo-You... might change my mind."

"I'll go." I replied with no hesitation. "I'll leave camp for the year. And I'll find my parent to prove to you that Gods and Goddess aren't all bad. We'll find my parent together."

"I do my lord's bidding--"

"You can still do it. If you want to. But whatever happens... stays only between us. I'll stay with you until I change your mind. And I'll bring you back to camp."

"I would never do anything to ruin your trust in me." He knelt down. It was kinda awkward but hey... "I need you."

Worry not hero. We shall stay.

"Please..."

We'll meet again. Wait for us, we shall join you soon. Now leave.

I had no idea what happened since when I came to Luke was gone and there was no sign of him anywhere. How were we going to st---

We will meet him once we leave. Now go as our hero needs us.

I suddenly remembered Percy's state that Luke had told me about. So I ran. I ran to the Big House

***

Percy finally opened his eyes. He was propped up in bed in the sickroom of the Big House, his right hand bandaged like a club. Argus stood guard in the corner. Annabeth and I sat next to Percy, I was holding his nectar glass and she was dabbing a washcloth on his forehead.

"Here we are again," Percy said. "You idiot," Annabeth said, "You were green and turning gray when we found you. If it weren't for Chiron's healing..." "Now, now," Chiron's voice said. "Percy's constitution deserves some of the credit." He was sitting near the foot of the bed in human form. His lower half was magically compacted into the wheelchair, his upper half dressed in a coat and tie. He smiled, but his face looked weary and pale, the way it did when he'd been up all night grading Latin papers. "How are you feeling?" he asked. "Like my insides have been frozen, then microwaved." "Apt, considering that was pit scorpion venom. Now you must tell me, if you can, exactly what happened." Between sips of nectar, he told them the story.

I bit my lip trying to keep what happened between Luke and I private. It was a risky move that would not be approved by anyone after all. The room was quiet for a long time. "I can't believe that Luke..." Annabeth's voice faltered. Her expression turned angry and sad. "Yes. Yes, I can believe it. May the gods curse him.... He was never the same after his quest."

Percy was looking at me as if checking what was my reaction to his story. "This must be reported to Olympus," Chiron murmured. "I will go at once." "Luke is out there right now," Percy said. "I have to go after him." Chiron shook his head. "No, Percy. The gods—" "Won't even talk about Kronos," Percy snapped. "Zeus declared the matter closed!" "Percy, I know this is hard. But you must not rush out for vengeance. You aren't ready." "Chiron... your prophecy from the Oracle... it was about Kronos, wasn't it? Was I in it? Y/N? And Annabeth?" Chiron glanced nervously at the ceiling. "Percy, it isn't my place—" "You've been ordered not to talk to me about it, haven't you?" His eyes were sympathetic, but sad. "You will be a great hero, child. I will do my best to prepare you. But if I'm right about the path ahead of you..." Thunder boomed overhead, rattling the windows. "All right!" Chiron shouted. "Fine!" He sighed in frustration. "The gods have their reasons, Percy. Knowing too much of your future is never a good thing." "We can't just sit back and do nothing," He said. "We will not sit back," Chiron promised. "But you must be careful. Kronos wants you to come unraveled. He wants your life disrupted, your thoughts clouded with fear and anger. Do not give him what he wants. Train patiently. Your time will come." "Assuming I live that long." Chiron put his hand on Percy's ankle. "You'll have to trust me, Percy. You will live. But first you must decide your path for the coming year. I cannot tell you the right choice...." I got the feeling that he had a very definite opinion, and it was taking all his willpower not to advise me. "But you must decide whether to stay at Camp Half-Blood year-round, or return to the mortal world for seventh grade and be a summer camper. Think on that. When I get back from Olympus, you must tell me your decision." "I'll be back as soon as I can," Chiron promised. "Argus will watch over you." He glanced at Annabeth. "Oh, and, my dear... whenever you're ready, they're here." "Who's here?" Percy asked. Nobody answered. Chiron rolled himself out of the room. I heard the wheels of his chair clunk carefully down the front steps, two at a time. Annabeth studied the floor. "What's wrong?" Percy asked her. "Nothing. I ... just took your advice about something. You ... um ... need anything?" "Yeah. Help me up. I want to go outside." "Percy, that isn't a good idea." Percy slid his legs out of bed. Annabeth and I caught him before he could crumple to the floor.

I said, "I told you ..." "I'm fine," He insisted.

He managed a step forward. Then another, still leaning heavily on me. Argus followed us outside, but he kept his distance. By the time we reached the porch, his face was beaded with sweat. But we had managed to make it all the way to the railing. It was dusk. The camp looked completely deserted. The cabins were dark and the volleyball pit silent. No canoes cut the surface of the lake. Beyond the woods and the strawberry fields, the Long Island Sound glittered in the last light of the sun. "What are you going to do?" Annabeth asked us. "I don't know." Percy replied. "I got the feeling Chiron wanted me to stay year-round, to put in more individual training time, but I'm not sure that's what I want. I also don't want to leave you both with Clarisse only." Annabeth pursed her lips, then said quietly, "I'm going home for the year, Percy." He stared at her. "You mean, to your dad's?" She pointed toward the crest of Half-Blood Hill. Next to Thalia's pine tree, at the very edge of the camp's magical boundaries, a family stood silhouetted—two little children, a woman, and a tall man with blond hair. They seemed to be waiting. The man was holding a backpack that looked like the one Annabeth had gotten from Waterland in Denver. "I wrote him a letter when we got back," Annabeth said. "Just like you suggested. I told him... I was sorry. I'd come home for the school year if he still wanted me. He wrote back immediately. We decided... we'd give it another try." "That took guts." She pursed her lips. "You won't try anything stupid during the school year, will you? At least ... not without sending me an Iris-message? Both of you?" Percy managed a smile. "I won't go looking for trouble. I usually don't have to."

"You already know my plans."

"When I get back next summer," she said, "we'll hunt down Luke. We'll ask for a quest, but if we don't get approval, we'll sneak off and do it anyway. Agreed?" "Sounds like a plan worthy of Athena."

She held out her hand. Percy shook it. She gave me a hug. "Take care, Seaweed Brain," Annabeth told Percy. "Keep your eyes open."

"You too, Wise Girl."

Then turned to me, "Good luck on your own quest Droopy."

"Of course Peabody." We watched her walk up the hill and join her family. She gave her father an awkward hug and looked back at the valley one last time. She touched Thalia's pine tree, then allowed herself to be lead over the crest and into the mortal world. "I made my decision." Percy said. "What's yours?"

"I'll be leaving camp... I'm going to look for my parent..." He looked at me in shock. "I'll be back next summer," I promised him. "I'll survive until then."

"Alone?"

I smiled at him.

"Don't you want to stay with us? Mom said---"

"I want to find my parent. I need to. I'll be fine Percy."

I helped Percy to his cabin so he could pack and went to mine. To my surprise I see a middle-aged man with an athletic figure slim and fit with salt-and-pepper hair, and a very familiar sly grin. He had bags at his foot.

"Delivery for Y/N L/N."

"Uhm..."

"Hermes." He said.

I froze and looked at him with wide eyes.

"Personally packed. As a thank you for what you're about to do." He smiled softly and handed me the bags.

"H-Huh...?"

"For helping Luke."

"I..."

Don't forget her mail!

Ooh! And tell her to bring us snacks next time we meet since it'll be often now!

No it wouldn't be often! She'll be with Luke!

"Both of you keep quiet." Pulling out a mail he handed it to me. "Luke... prayed to me telling me about your plan. He asked me to help you. I don't know what or why he did it. But I know he'll change thanks to you. So do guide him."

"Sorry you lost me at the talking air..." I blinked.

Hermes laughed and showed a caduceus. "It's just George and Martha."

"Hi?"

Hello!

"I just wanted to let you know. No god or goddess could see you. No matter how hard they tried. So your secrets.. are really secrets. Good luck on your travel."

Next time we meet you should have snacks.

Then he vanished.

Staring at the letter on my hand, I was stunned seeing it was from... my mom and dad.

Sweetie,

You've made quite a friend here.

-Mom and Dad.

I immediately knew where to look. I hurriedly took my bags not bothering to check the contents. I ran to Percy's cabin and helped him out so we could leave.

Percy got a cab and looked at me worriedly.

"I'll write you. Stay safe Arthur Curry." I ruffled his hair and watched him go.

I didn't know where to go so I just went to the first secluded area I saw.

"You have more stuffs than when you arrived." I heard someone behind me.

"You prayed to your dad. I hope he knows how to pack." I sighed turning to him. Turning around I barely made out Luke from the few days I last saw him. "You okay?"

"Do you know where to look first?"

Call upon our hound.

I whistled, I don't know why. But when I did, D/N came out of the blue. Luke looked at me and my dear dog, who was probably bigger than the hound he'd summon back then. "How do feel about L.A?" I said riding on D/N and making space behind me for Luke.

~~~END OF BOOK 1~~~

Previous | Book 1 Masterlist | Series Masterlist

END OF BOOK ONE!!! THANK YOU FOR READING YLATHB I HOPE YOU ENJOY!! I'LL PUBLISH BOOK 2 WHEN I'M DONE OR EVEN AT LEAST HAVE WRITTEN 5 CHAPTERS OF THE BOOK 2 ;))

I HOPE TO SEE YOU NEXT TIME!!!

Taglist?

@gayer-than-the-gayest-gay @the-natureofme @booknerd-3000 @katara720 @ynfics

#percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #y/n l/n #x y/n #x reader #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #Book 1 #Chapter 22 #Ending of book 1 #completed #y/n l/n and the halfblood #lightning thief #fanfictions #fanfiction #pjo

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nijimarii · 3 years ago

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Cyberchase season 13 premiere thoughts:

The duck episode just solidifies my thought that regular ass animals can and do exist in cyberspace and it really fucks me up sometimes. I like the wing machine designs for the kids. The little duck is cute and so is baby Digit. I like how Matt had to literally lasso the light back down. Farm boy moment. Delete needs to seriously decide whose side he’s on though.

The great outdoors was..... great. (BA DUM TSHHHH) I love the camping/outdoors episodes. Missed opportunity to have Matt and Jackie go together but that’s a personal preference. Hacker is still a crybaby and I hate it but the “un-pretzel me” bit was funny. Cool to see Gigabyte again!

Coral grief. Yeah our reefs are dying and if you’re brave enough to confront the big huge companies about pollution then you at least better have some cool shades. Inez mentioning that she’d bring something to her aunt was weird. Writer’s oversight? I like the tough crab lady. I wish she would have fought Hacker for real but it’s a kids show so they reasonably cannot show that.

Sustainable by design - YES I LOVE JACKIE DOING HER THING YOU GO GIRL!!!!! She has big ideas and wonderful designs. I hope she grows up to be a fashion star. The next Gucci. Hacker threatening that “this isn’t over” and then taking over the show was fantastic (but could have been written better). I love the flashy ass feathers. I also hope that Jackie is getting paid for her designs and her time.

Overall - the animation took a step up I think. It isn’t anything compared to pre-flash, but it looks a lot more varied and less bland. They’re still obviously using puppets but a lot of stuff also looks hand drawn. Decent enough for the budget. Writing still is kinda iffy but that’s how it’s been for years, so I don’t think that will change. Motherboard’s 3D model shading looks very off and very dark for some reason, I hope they change that in future eps.

#cyberchase #i finally figured out why my posts werent showing up. fixed it guys #AT LEAST I HOPE SO

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dweetwise · 5 years ago

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yes hello i am back on my bullshit again, presenting you yet another felix x ace! (also i’m taking the creative liberty to call the ship riconti because it sounds like a cheese or something and i found it funny) anyways, this one is just me thirsting over the oktoberfest skin through ace, ft. some suggestive language but no nsfw!

word count: 2781

Felix X Ace: Clothes make the man

The whole thing starts as an offhand comment.

"—I mean, it's clearly tailored. He pulls it off,” Ace is telling Meg, who has been complaining about Felix's stuffy suit and even stuffier attitude for five minutes straight. “But it's so impractical!” the girl argues. “Wasn't he on some kind of field trip when he was taken? What kind of guy wears a suit to that?” “I don't know, but I'm not going to complain about free eye candy,” Ace smirks, and Meg rolls her eyes. “Oh yeah, I forgot rich snobs are your thing. Sucks you can't scam him for his money in here,” Meg snarks. “Excuse me for having taste,” Ace shoots back. “I wish I had a suit like that. Do you think it's Gucci?” “Burberry,” an increasingly familiar voice answers from behind him and Meg whips her head around to look at its owner, eyes wide in shock at having been caught gossiping. Meanwhile Ace, liking to think he has more self-control, schools his face into a pleasant smile and slowly turns around to face Felix. “Would have been my next guess,” Ace says, trying not to let it show that he's mentally slapping himself for essentially thirsting over Felix when the other was within earshot. “I like the cut. You've got good taste.”

He’s feebly trying to save some of his wounded ego, but probably ends up laying it on too thick. Felix fidgets a little, maybe not used to getting compliments, before he seems to catch himself. He meets Ace's eyes and the hint of a smirk tugs on his lip.

“Wish I could say the same,” Felix says, pointedly looking at Ace's flamingo sweater, before turning around and walking away and leaving Ace to gape at the unexpected sass from the normally serious man. “I take it back, I like him!” Meg snickers beside him.

The Entity seems to share Ace's enthusiasm for Felix's fashion sense, and only a few trials in Felix is already in a different suit, this one a grey plaid.

“Hmm…” Ace pretends to mull over when they're working on a generator together. “Did you see something?” Felix asks, hurriedly glancing over the top of the machine to try, in vain, to spot the killer. “I think the navy blue suits you better,” Ace smirks at his own pun. “Though the plaid certainly makes a statement. Shame that statement is ‘I'm a grandpa at thirty years old’.” “You know, in my job, gold is really only used for trims. Any more than that is just tacky," Felix deadpans, not even sparing a glance at Ace's obnoxiously golden silk outfit. “And it's thirty-eight.”

Ace doesn't bother suppressing his grin over the fact that Felix seems happy to go along with his silly banter.

It becomes sort of an inside joke between them, and when Felix shows up to the campfire in a porn stache and driving gloves, Ace chokes on a laugh.

“I’m sorry, is this an 80's theme party?” Ace jokes. “Careful you don't end up on a propaganda poster with a stache like that.” “Why are you wearing an eye patch?” Felix immediately shoots back. “Is this the 16th century? Should we break out the rum and set sail?”

Ace hears Quentin snort beside him.

“It's a pilot outfit,” Ace argues, pulling his jacket with the pin-up print tighter against himself defensively. “No, mine is a pilot outfit,” Felix deadpans, and Ace can't really argue, not when the other is wearing a bomber jacket and pilot glasses and leather gloves. “Yours is a blind truck driver.”

Bill coughs out something akin to a laugh on the other side of camp and Ace bites his lip to stop himself from doing the same.

“Can I borrow the shades some time?” Ace forfeits the argument, and Felix smiles just the tiniest bit. “Sure.”

And Felix actually follows through with the promise, switching sunglasses with him when Ace later complains his own don’t go with his outfit. It’s a pretty cute gesture, like they were close friends or even a couple, and when Felix snorts and tells him he looks ridiculous it just serves to make Ace smile brighter.

It’s not like the exchange or the ones before it mean anything, it’s just harmless joking with the occasional flirt. Ace still thinks Felix is attractive, but he doesn’t have any illusions that the man would be into him like that, with what having a girlfriend and unborn baby back home, not to mention Ace having a good ten years on him in age. Still, he appreciates that Felix goes along with his cheeky comments, at least not grossed out by or taking offense to Ace’s flirting.

He only gets to keep the shades for one trial, because the Entity has blessed Felix with another outfit for Ace to offer his unsolicited opinion on.

“Oh my god,” Ace comments when he spots the horrendous, grease-streaked mop in place of Felix’s normally expertly styled hair. “Are you a closet hipster? Is an avocado smoothie going to fall out of the hat?” he quips, eyeing the fedora that is, in Ace’s humble opinion, vastly inferior to all of his own hats. “I needed a disguise to lay low for a while, and what better way to hide in plain sight in a big city?” Felix defends his unkempt hair and dirty t-shirt. “What’s your excuse?” he shoots back.

Ace glances down at his generously open shirt—gold again, just to annoy Felix—and tacky sequin pants.

“Vegas, baby,” Ace grins. “If you’d ever been, you’d know.” “I’ve never been happier to say I haven’t,” Felix chuckles. “I don’t think I could handle more of… whatever this is,” he says, gesturing to Ace’s outfit. “When we get out of here, I’m definitely taking you,” Ace quips. “I just want to see you cry over all the flashy satin and fake gold.”

Felix doesn’t roll his eyes or make a sarcastic comment like Ace expects. Instead, he stares blankly in confusion for a few seconds, before his expression settles into a smile Ace can’t quite place.

“Alright,” Felix simply says, and combined with the soft smile it’s enough to make Ace nervously look around camp for a distraction. “Hey, Kate!” he hollers, spotting the songstress braiding Meg’s hair. “You got a hairband for our friend and his questionable hair style over there?”

He ends up regretting the question as soon as Kate insists on braiding Felix’s hair and the normally standoffish man, somehow, goes along with it. He can’t believe he’s jealous for someone getting to touch the grimy, unkempt strands, and it sure as hell doesn’t help that Felix seems to like it. Kate looks thrilled to get to spend some quality time with the man, chatting about this and that and taking way longer than necessary to make the hairstyle, and Ace ends up walking away and pestering Dwight to play some cards with him so he can at least win at something.

His win streak over the poor boy is interrupted when Felix later sits down with them, gesturing for Ace to deal him in, and Ace can’t quite hide his pleased grin that Felix would rather spend time with him than the beautiful girl who just played with his hair for half an hour.

“Better?” Felix asks him, turning his head to display the most pathetic French braid Ace has ever seen, ending in a ponytail that’s barely an inch in length. “Much better,” Ace says, definitely referring to the company and not the state of his hair, and even the normally diplomatic Dwight gives him a weird glance over his cards after taking in Kate’s handiwork.

Only a few trials after the incident, Ace has the pleasure of spawning together with Felix in one of the Yamaoka maps. When he sees a horrendous checkered pattern from the corner of his eye, he knows he’s in for a treat.

He quickly turns to face the man, nearly tripping over some shrubbery as the Entity decided to place him in some inconvenient bamboo. He meets Felix's eye, opening his mouth to start a snarky comment, when his thoughts come to a complete halt upon seeing the entirety of the outfit.

“Well? Get it over with,” Felix demands, crossing his arms self-consciously and—lord have mercy—blushing a little.

Ace's brain is reduced to white noise in the equivalent of ‘hhhHhhHHhh’ while he just stands there, feet still in the stupid bamboo, and stares.

Felix's hair is now an impeccable undercut, a few loose strands framing his features beautifully, and the perfectly trimmed stubble adds a rugged charm to his handsome face. The vest is stylish, a navy blue similar to the suit Ace likes, and the checkered shirt shouldn't work with it but it does, and there's even a matching handkerchief in his breast pocket. Ace's horny brain immediately goes to hanky code and shut up brain it's in the wrong pocket—

Ace mentally shakes his head and looks at Felix's pants instead. And that was a bad idea, because he’s wearing fucking. Leather. Pants.

Again, it should look ridiculous, but Ace feels himself start salivating at the idea of them hugging Felix's ass—ugh, focus!

The pants have small ribbons on the sides and the entire ensemble is so goddamn adorable and sexy that he can't even deal. And Ace has seen a lot of handsome men during his life, mostly in the mirror, but right now, Felix takes the cake.

Felix's attitude shifts from embarrassed to curious when Ace isn't immediately opening his big mouth like usual.

“If this is how all Germans dress, it’s a tragedy I’ve never been,” Ace flirts, his dick having taken over his brain and his mouth running on autopilot.

Instead of insulting Ace's panama hat and favorite pink shirt, Felix clears his throat and averts his eyes.

“You don't look too bad yourself,” Felix mutters, cheeks heating up again as he twiddles with the cuff of his shirt.

Ace idly wonders if the bamboo bush is big enough for them to make out in without being spotted—brain, focus! The guy is just being polite, no need to jump his bones!

They've got the usual back-and-forth out of the way, but Felix still isn't moving to start the trial, regarding Ace warily and fidgeting, and he's just so fucking hot—ugh, he needs to say something, doesn't he?

“God, the things I'd let you do to me," Ace thinks while he says ‘We should find a generator’ because he's not going to creep Felix out any further—

Felix chokes on nothing and his face flushes bright red, and Ace belatedly realizes his brain got its wires crossed and he definitely said the first bit out loud. Shit, that was definitely out of line, and if Felix hasn’t been offended before he sure as hell should be now.

There’s a screech from his left and Ace has never been so glad to take a bonesaw to the shoulder as when the Nurse teleports next to him and interrupts their awkward conversation, Ace finally running out of the goddamn shrubbery while clutching his injured shoulder. Strangely enough, the Nurse doesn’t follow him as he runs up to the temple, and soon after he hears Felix yelp instead, the killer chasing him around the shack.

Damn, now he somehow needs to make it up to Felix both to apologize for his foot-in-mouth syndrome and for him taking the Nurse off Ace’s back.

Unfortunately for them, the Nurse isn't playing around this match, and when she returns to tunnel Felix right off the hook, Ace barely even gets the chance to yell out a “Move!” and throw himself in the way of the attack, much less talk to him about what happened earlier.

Soon Ace is walking back into camp, the second to last to have been sacrificed, only Claudette remaining in the trial and trying to find the hatch. He's already prepared an apology, and hopefully he'll be able to joke it off and Felix won't be weirded out by him. Well, at least not more than usual.

But then he spots Felix talking to Dwight by the edge of the camp, and Dwight freezes mid-conversation upon seeing Ace, before his face twists into a—smirk? Since when has Dwight smirked?—and he says something to Felix before taking off, walking over to where Steve and Ash look to be engaged in a game of tic-tac-toe.

Ace doesn't even have time to ponder why Dwight suddenly seems like he knows way too much, because Felix is approaching him and he knows this is a make or break it situation.

“Dwight seemed awfully smug, huh?” Ace jokes to buy himself some time after his carefully crafted apology flies out the window when he sees Felix’s serious expression. “We need to talk,” Felix says, looking and sounding every bit the stern businessman Meg thinks he is. “Yeah, alright,” Ace agrees and tries not to deflate too much upon essentially being shut down before he can even try to make things right.

As he follows Felix out into the woods away from prying eyes, he considers whether it's even worth apologizing if their friendship is done with anyway. He just hopes this won't cause unnecessary drama within the group, the others sure as hell don’t need to get involved.

His train of thought is interrupted when he's suddenly pushed against a tree, letting out a startled yelp that he’ll later vehemently deny. Shit, is Felix going to beat him up?

An arm wrapping around his hip is finally enough to pull Ace out of his racing thoughts, and when he looks up at the man he finally realizes that Felix is definitely not upset with him, and his eyebrows shoot up into his hairline upon seeing the clear bedroom eyes thrown his way.

“Is this not okay?” Felix asks, his dark gaze faltering from insecurity. “Naw, baby, just took me by surprise,” Ace practically purrs, a lazy grin spreading over his face as the familiar confidence returns, his hands running over Felix's shoulders appreciatively. “I thought you were upset with me from before, not that you'd take me up on the offer.” “Well, I—” Felix starts, clearing his throat self-consciously. “I've wanted this for quite some time, and Dwight said you probably wouldn't be opposed, so…”

That's what they were talking about? And Dwight convinced Felix that Ace is down to fuck? Shit, he needs to get the kid a fruit basket or something to thank him.

“He's definitely not wrong,” Ace says, trying for a seductive look but probably ends up leering stupidly from the anticipation instead. But apparently it gets the job done, because Felix pulls him tighter against him and leans in for a kiss.

And okay, wow, apparently he wasn't lying about really wanting this, because there's an urgency in the way he practically devours Ace's mouth, letting out an appreciative groan when Ace parts his lips and encourages him to deepen the kiss.

So maybe he should be worried about Felix's girlfriend or his sudden interest in men or whether he's looking for more than a casual fuck. But Ace has never been good at thinking certain things through and he's not about to start now, not when he has a breathless and flushed Felix pulling away from the kiss and looking at him with lust-blown eyes.

“I've wanted to do that for a long time,” Felix breathes, the corner of his mouth quirking up into a half-smile. “You really should have just asked,” Ace smirks, a little amazed that he managed to miss all the signs, because there’s nothing subtle about the way Felix looks at him now. “I was working up to it,” Felix argues. “But then you started practically eye fucking me—” “I was looking respectfully,” Ace corrects, causing Felix to snort. “You stood in a bush and drooled, and then propositioned me,” Felix points out. “Yeah, and you liked it so much you blushed like a virgin and started flirting and took the killer off of me—which, thanks for that, by the way—” Ace starts. “You're welcome.” “—and… why did I think you were mad at me again?” Ace realizes. “No idea. I thought it was pretty obvious why I dragged you here to ‘talk’,” Felix emphasizes, gaze roaming appreciatively over his body. “Well, what are you waiting for?” Ace encourages, flashing his signature smirk in challenge.

And Ace learns that no matter how much he likes Felix's outfit, getting to help Felix out of it is even better.

#dbd fanfic #felix richter #ace visconti #felix x ace #riconti #dbd #dead by daylight #dweetwrites

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sir-silly · 4 years ago

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TWDG S4 First Playthrough

E1 - Ohh how I’ve missed these characters. S4 isn’t flawless, but I love it so freaking much. The collectables are one of my favorite parts, tbh. I’m such a simp for Louis and that’s never gonna change, ngl. He’s so cute and caring and ugh. I need me one of those. Clem is so damn lucky.

Unsurprisingly, I’m the worst at controlling this season in particular. I’m not used to the mouse sensitivity being so high with the camera when you’re walking around but I can’t change it because then it’ll be different when I’m picking choices and stuff. I freaking suck at all of the kill walker scenes, I seriously died like 5 times clearing them out to help the hunting party. I’m concerned about when I have to help James at his camp lol.

The confrontation with Marlon at the end is so damn good. I just always find it so perfect and well done. Also, Louis helping AJ up when he gets pushed down is so fucking sweet. I love him so much. Appealing to him really hit hard and seeing that “Your relationship with Louis has changed” is just oof. I know what CJ has been talking about all this time now lol.

E2 - All of the cuts when Clem and AJ are talking at the beginning are freaking gorgeous. Like, with them standing in the same exact position with the background flashing are just MMMMM. That was really, really well done.

Fuck Lilly. Fuck her trying to help Clementine stand up. She makes me so damn angry. And Abel twisting AJ’s arm and Clem begging for him to stop just breaks my heart. It makes me wonder how much of these interactions Violet and Louis saw, because they would have known to turn around the second they heart that first gunshot. Like, while they were sneaking up, what all did they hear? I told Vi to shoot Lilly because, once again, fuck her.

I’m still so damn bad at the walker killing scenes. It’s honestly sad how terrible I am at them, like, I don’t know why I struggle so much. I think a part of it is that in previous seasons, it would only be like 2 or 3 walkers, meanwhile in S4, it’s like 5 or 6. It’s also probably the fact that we have to control both the camera and Clem’s movements. I just can’t do both.

James is cute. I love him. He’s a sweet boi. Louis carrying AJ in is cute. I love him. He’s a sweet boi. When they get upstairs and AJ calls for Clem, he just sounds so scared and it hurts me. He’s still just a little kid and I couldn’t imagine my cousins that are his age going through these kinds of things.

The banter between Clem, Ruby and Mitch at the greenhouse is so cute and wholesome. Like, Ruby saying that condensation is a big word for Mitch and him daring Clementine to drink whatever is in the vials with her saying “not in a million years.” It’s just so sweet and so similar to modern jokes between friends, it just makes me so happy.

Also, Mitch is one strong boi. Like, Clem is strong, don’t get me wrong. She fuckin chops down trees and pushes adults off of balconies, but she couldn’t get that damn propane tank to budge, meanwhile Mitch comes over and picks it up with one hand. It reminds me of Peeta in The Hunger Games with how he could throw bags of flour over his shoulders super easily.

Another also, the way Mitch says propane annoys me lol. He puts the emphasis on the O instead of the A, so it’s prOpane instead of propAne. It’s just always bothered me and I had to complain about it lmao. Ruby is cute. I love her. She’s a sweet gorl.

AJ asking to sleep in Clem’s bed, her saying she’s still little, and him saying he slept better with her are just so damn cute. I freaking love their relationship so damn much. They’re just so sweet together and I can’t help but gush over them.

Louis talking about Marlon while shooting arrows is just a great scene to me, no matter how short it is. I don’t understand how people can still hate him so much when he explains how close they were and how guilty he feels, not just about kicking Clem and AJ out, but his role in Marlon’s death.

In the previous seasons, I think players became really desensitized to a character losing someone. 1 was honestly pretty good with Kenny’s loss of Duck and Katjaa with his anger and hyperfixations, 2 was a mess with Luke losing literally everyone he knows and being like “meh”, and 3 was also really bad with how Mari, Gabe and David can all die and three days later, Kate’ll still be like “let’s start a family uwu.” I think because of all this, people were really hard on Louis when he reacted like a normal human being over Marlon, which really sucks.

During the card game, when Louis reassures AJ about not being there for the old world and he and Clem kinda nod at her, is so ffffucking cute. I’ll never get over that. They shared a similar look their first night when he gave AJ the rest of his soup even though he was clearly super hungry. I cherish these looks between them and for once, it almost seems unbalanced with Violet lol. Like, I don’t feel like you get those looks with Violet no matter what you choose like you do with Louis those first two episodes. And Louis teasing Aasim about Ruby is really adorable.

And of course, helping him tune the piano is just UGH. He’s so damn cute and I can’t get over it. The scene has some of my favorite interactions between him and Clem. One, where he’s like “How do you feel about our imminent deaths?” and she doesn’t say anything and he says, “You know I’m here for you.” and it’s so CUTE. Two, he has her blow on the strings, she says “I can’t believe I fell for that.” while laughing and he goes, “It’s good to see you like this.” Like, how damn sweet is this boy? He sees that she puts on just as much of a cold exterior as he does with a humorous one, realizing that they both let their guards down around each other. Three, Clem calling Louis a weirdo and him saying that she likes that so in reality, they’re both weird.

Another thing I’ll never get over is Mitch’s death. It makes me hella salty and just grrrr. LOOK HOW THEY MASSACRED MY BOY!!!!

E3 - Willy crying over Mitch’s body is oof. Louis holding Clem’s hand is oof. I wish there was a third option during Abel’s interrogation where you could tell AJ that you don’t want him to watch rather than saying he doesn’t have to.

Again, unsurprisingly, I sucked at James’ camp with the walkers. I had to kill some of them because I literally couldn’t stay alive, so that made me angry. I also missed some of the collectables at James’ barn which also made me mad. AJ and Clem’s interactions with the salt lick are super cute. Talking to James about walkers is much more of an oof when you actually let Lee turn.

So, here’s my thing about the scene in the barn with the walkers and the chimes. No, I don’t think there’s anything more inside of walkers and I agree completely with the dialogue choice that it sounds like hell if that’s true. So James is saying they’re at peace when you go in and touch the times, but that isn’t accurate. They walk up to the chimes because it’s noise. You can’t hear them growling and moaning because the audio switches to music to try and make it more meaningful. James then proceeds to say that when walkers are alone, they’re innocent and harmless which is so inaccurate it hurts. What about Sandra in Clem’s house almost killing Lee? What about the walker that bit Duck? What about the one that bit Lee? Or the one in the shed while Clem stitched her arm? The one that dragged Luke to the bottom of the lake? It’s bullshit.

Louis’ date with Clem makes me hella salty only because he doesn’t get to give her anything like Vi gives her a pin. That’s also bullshit. He’s fucking cute though with being unable to light the matches and saying, “Have you met you?” and shit. Ngl, the first time he said he saw some magazines in the headmaster’s office, I was like LOUIS NO, but they were just about dating so it’s ok lmao. AJ and Clem with the ball and the “I love you” are so fucking adorable.

The hootenanny is cute. Ruby is cute. Louis saying “a woman after my heart” is cute. Him saying leprechauns are too hard to explain to AJ is cute. It’s all cute. Clem tells Ruby that purple was her dad’s favorite color, but it also was her favorite color in S1. If you stand around her and Katjaa for long enough, she’ll tell her that it’s her favorite. So, it’s apparently changed, and it makes me wonder what it is now.

I don’t believe Willy’s reason for getting sent to Ericson. I think that the real reason he was sent was really upsetting, so he never told anyone why he was actually sent there. So, when he learned about masturbation, he thought it was funny and used that excuse instead to make it funny.

I know that the shit with Louis’ parents really hurt him, but I always laugh so hard over the meme that’s like, “violet: my grandma killed herself in front of me 😔. louis: my parents got me the wrong gucci flipflops 😭😭😭.” It’s really tempting to say the dialogue option “worst party ever” but I never do lol.

The dream sequence with Lee always gets to me. Specifically, when we hear “Hey, sweetpea” and Clem looks up in shock, when she runs to hug him, when he’s like “Just look at you,” and when he leaves saying, “It’s time to go. There’s people that need you.” And goddammit, wHERE IS MY OPTION TO TELL HIM THAT I LOVE HIM??!?!?!!! I DON’T JUST WANT TO SAY THAT I MISS HIM!!!!!! I WANT IT ALL!!!!

I’m not even going to get into all of my problems with Violet’s scene in the cell because it makes me too salty and mad. There were some issues with Louis’, too, but not nearly as many. Just grrrrr.

I suck at the fighting sequences as well lol. Like, I got Clem punched so many times lmao. Also, where is my option to be like, “Hey AJ give me the gun” so Clem kills Lilly. Because I want her dead and I want James alive, but I don’t want him to be the one pulling that trigger again. Angery. Where are my choices, choice based game?

E4 - AJ’s talking for the previously on TWD gives me chills when he’s like, “But I remember all the rules. And the first one...is never go alone.” So good. If you can give me chills with just audio and screencaps, you did a good job. Y’all, everyone’s gotta be so damn sore after that explosion. Like, they running around a limber and shit but nah, everything’s going to hurt. And Clem’s climbing all over all this metal with fire literally right next to it, that shit would be so damn hot you’d burn your hands.

Fuck Lilly and her trying to make you feel bad as she’s getting away on the raft. Fuck the fact that you can’t shoot her afterwards. I make the choice three damn times to shoot her, and you still don’t let me have my choice. Bullshit. I hope she eats shit and dies.

Louis and Clem hugging on land is so cute. Violet getting blinded is dumb. It’s like they had to even the levels since Louis got his tongue cut out, which is just stupid. If they wanted to have them both hurt, they should have just set that they pulled out her eye or something instead of her getting blinded after the fact. I find it really dumb. I can’t even tell you how many times I died on the damn beach trying to get through the walkers. It shouldn’t be this hard to control your game.

As much as I hate James’ character flip in the cave, I do love that scene and I prefer it over the one without him. AJ really does have a lot of problems and if I didn’t know that not trusting him would kill Louis, I would have picked that. But I love Louis too damn much for that. He’s still so young and none of these are choices that he should have to make. And the fact that he chose to shoot Tenn in the neck adds to that. He doesn’t know to aim for a non-kill shot to stop someone like Clementine does, so his first real friend ended up dead. And his perspective on things after the game is still messed up, which you can tell by the “What Clem taught me” segment at the end.

The reunion with Louis is adorable. Him saying “longest damn minute of my life” is adorable. Him talking about his skylight and the house they’re going to build is adorable. I love all of it. I always have a hard time with the final touch, because I love that he wants a new piano, the nostalgia of a treehouse, and the dialogue “Thanks dad” for the skylight lol. Tenn’s face when Louis tells him he can help with painting is so fucking cute.

Minnie coming up to the bridge is so well done. It’s so ominous (I think the French version is the creepiest) and the look Louis and Clem share is just like “wtf, do you hear that too?” I died a million times during their fight scene as well because I can’t play this game for shit. I don’t know why, but I find Louis jumping the gap really attractive lol. Like, our boi woulda killed it in long jump lmao.

Y’all got an axe. You shoulda broke the damn lock off that gate. Smh.

As always, the whole process of Clem getting bit and her talking with AJ in the barn is heartbreaking. It gets to me every damn time, just like her and Lee’s does. It’s honestly hard for me to decide which one is sadder because while Clementine raised AJ his whole life, Lee became her family so quick and was cut so short. I prefer the choice of killing Clem just because you get more dialogue between her and AJ before he cuts her leg off, but I didn’t have it in me to tell him that, so I told him to leave her.

I have mixed feelings about the placement of the flashback to McCarroll Ranch. Part of me thinks it belongs in a different episode, but another likes it where it is. It just doesn’t seem to fit well where it was placed.

Much like 9 year old Clem being able to drag an unconscious Lee into the jewelry store, it would be impossible for 5 year old AJ to get her thicc ass into that wheelbarrow and push her to the school. I enjoy the headcanon that James arrived not too long after the amputation and helped get her back, but decided to stay in the woods because he didn’t want anyone to see him.

I missed another collectable in the damn shed which I’m salty as hell about. I love the reuse of Take Us Back, as many of us do. I just had to bring it up because it makes me emotional. Clem pushing AJ on the swing is adorable. The dinner scene is adorable. Violet’s voice is adorable. Louis kissing Clem on the cheek is adorable. It’s all adorable.

When Clem asks if she did a good job, I will always and forever pick the “Is she crazy?!” option because everything she did was incredible. She never had to take care of AJ. She wasn’t stuck with him. She could have left him behind so many times, but she never did. And like Javier said, not everyone is like her, not everyone wants to take care of a baby. And she fought like hell for him day after day, no matter what.

And you can see, especially in the cave scene when AJ brings up the fact that she’s still just a kid too, that she still has so much bottled up inside. She grew up so damn fast and became a goddamn powerhouse. Anyone that got in the way of her and AJ was going to end up dead. She never knew what it meant to be a parent before the world ended. She didn’t get to the age where you understand the choices parents make when raising their kids. And yet, she still raised a child all while raising herself in the middle of an apocalypse.

Clementine, you did a better job than anyone else ever could have.

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wheresmynaya · 5 years ago

Text

Two Ghosts Ch. 27 | Brittana

I must’ve been in a Soft!Riz mood when writing this so enjoy that.

Also available on ff.net (x) ao3 (x) & below the cut!

Everyone – mainly Quinn – said she wouldn’t last a day, but here she is a whole week later still going strong! Well technically, she’s starting to slowly lose her mind but with all things considered, she thinks lasting this long without spontaneously booking a flight to San Francisco is actually pretty good! She has done well by keeping her mind busy and revisiting some old hobbies.

Surprisingly, one of those hobbies involves the old piano she inherited from her Abuelo that’s been left untouched for months now. She kept it and the record player he left to her here at Maribel’s until she was ready to settle down somewhere permanent and move them properly but she hasn’t felt like settling down anywhere yet. It felt weird to do it alone, but things are changing now that she has found Brittany again.

It’s a surprise she even remembers how to play the thing, but there’s something about it that makes her feel a little closer to her Abuelo. Maybe it’s the holiday season and Brittany’s absence and the loneliness settling in, but Santana finds herself reminiscing a lot lately.

As a little girl, she use to sit on this very bench next to her Abuelo and watch him play. Always so captivated by him and the way his fingers danced along the keys so effortlessly, Santana would watch with a child-like curiosity and try to mimic his movements. He would smile proudly and encourage her to sing along, even when she didn’t know how to control her voice just yet.

They were quite the pair and sometimes Santana thinks that maybe she got her musical genes from him too. He cultivated her passion for music without even trying. When he introduced her to the glorious sounds of Fleetwood Mac, it was like an awakening. She loved her Abuelo dearly; he would always be first in line to congratulate her after a performance, a giant bouquet of flowers in hand and a proud smile on his face.

Santana finds herself wishing her Abuela could look at her like that again before she shoves the thought away. She doesn’t want to think about her, about someone so quick to judge. Her Abuelo only met Brittany in passing once the night Santana performed Valerie, but Santana’s convinced he would’ve loved her if there was more time to get to know her.

He would’ve loved that Santana was loved by Brittany too.

It’s that thought that causes a tear to roll down her cheek. With everything that happened with her Abuela and her dad, Santana just wishes her Abuelo was still around. She just needs one other person from her family to be happy for her and what she has found in Brittany, because that’s what family is supposed to do. They’re supposed to love you and celebrate with you and when she marries Brittany one day, she doesn’t want Maribel to sit alone at the Lopez table.

If her Abuelo was still around, he would make sure Maribel wasn’t alone. Santana is certain of that.

She misses him and a part of her will always regret not visiting more before his health started to turn. She regrets not talking to him about her feelings for Brittany before –

Santana wipes away another tear and continues to play. She can almost hear his voice telling her how beautiful she sounds and that she should play for him more often.

She thinks now is the perfect time to do just that.

It’s a couple hours later and Santana has maxed out on watching reality tv. She has now ventured into the Hallmark movie territory which is nothing but straight people doing holiday things and all the sappy, cheesy love stories that have been set to Christmas music play on all of Santana’s feelings.

Like if she wasn’t a little emotional before, she is now. But like, don’t tell anyone.

She just really misses Brittany, okay? They’ve done a pretty good job of keeping in touch through phone calls and texts and the occasional video chat, but Santana has been trying to limit how often they talk. She doesn’t want to intrude on the time Brittany is meant to be spending with her family, but it gets hard sometimes. Especially when she keeps subjecting herself to watching hetero couples fall in love over and over again.

Honestly, it’s so cringe-worthy but she can’t take her eyes off of the screen. Though, she’s certain of one thing: her and Brittany’s love story is so much better than the crap Hallmark churns out!

Santana’s already camped out on the couch with a cozy blanket and she’s having an entire carton of coffee ice cream for lunch while she watches re-runs of Chopped: The Holiday Edition. She’s really into it to be honest – it’s way better than A Christmas Prince – and even starts shouting at the tv when a chef forgets to include a basket ingredient.

“See? Didn’t I say?” Santana shakes her head after another spoonful of ice cream. She listens as Alex Guarnaschelli points out a contestant’s technical error then starts to nod along with her, “Exactly, Alex, I completely agree with you. Marcus is such a dumbass for that.”

Another ten minutes go by and it’s time for tasting. Santana eagerly awaits the judge’s criticism, it’s her favorite part of the whole show. Sometimes she thinks she could do this one day for a living – she wasn’t gifted with impeccable wit for nothing – but she’s sure she’d probably get fired pretty quickly for making a contestant cry.

Aarón Sánchez starts to complain about lack of spice and Santana shakes her head disappointedly, “You should’ve used the gingerbread in the stuffing like I told you. Maybe it would’ve helped out your bland ass dish! Pathetic. Where did you even go to culinary school?”

“Like you even cook,” Quinn smirks which causes Santana to nearly jump out of her blanket burrito.

“What the fuck, Q? How’d you get in here?” Santana gasps at the sight of Quinn dressed in her soft grey peacoat standing near the front door.

“The door was wide open?” Quinn quirked her brow as she untied her scarf, “I literally said ‘Hey Santana!’ did you really not hear me?”

Santana tried to backtrack but ended up shaking her head, “Does it look like I heard you? Jesus…can’t just roll up on a girl during a Chopped marathon. Have you no respect?”

“A what marathon?” Quinn glances at the tv then to Santana’s set up on the couch and frowns, “Uh…when’s the last time you’ve left the house?”

Santana ponders, “How long has it been since Britt’s left?”

“Oh my God...” Quinn laughs, “Seriously?”

Santana rolls her eyes, “No. I went out to get this ice cream.”

Quinn shakes her head as she rounds the couch to swipe the remote off the coffee table and turns off the tv.

“Excuse me, I was watching that!” Santana huffs, “I needz to know if Cecile makes it to the next round, she’s the underdog!”

“Get up, we’re going out.” Quinn says with no room for argument, but Santana tries anyway.

“I don’t feel like going out, hence the pjs and ice cream.”

“Right,” Quinn smirks, “And this is why Brittany wanted me to check up on you.”

Santana rounds on her, “She did not.”

“She totally did,” Quinn assures her, “So go get dressed, we’re going out. I know just what you need.”

Santana snorted, “I highly doubt that.”

Quinn rolled her eyes and ripped the blankets from Santana, “Move it, Lopez. I don’t have all day.”

Santana let out a heavy sigh and thrust her carton of ice cream into Quinn’s hands before stomping up the stairs to her room. Through the echo of the staircase, Santana yelled out, “You suck!”

“Drama Queen!” Quinn smirked then she stole a spoonful of ice cream.

“I’m…oddly impressed,” Santana comments as she and Quinn sit on a bench in front of Old Navy with their lattes in hand. They had been people-watching for awhile now, alternating with what shops they wanted to observe.

It was Christmas Eve in Lima and people were stressed the fuck out.

It was great.

“Yeah, I thought you’d like this,” Quinn says before taking a sip, “You love watching people suffer.”

“In theory,” Santana grins. They had seen about three instances now where a fight nearly broke out over something ridiculous like a scarf or the last cable knit sweater that was on sale. Santana was loving every minute of it but she didn’t want the compliment to boost Quinn’s ego.

“Uh-oh, check that one out,” Quinn nods over to another argument breaking out.

“This is awesome,” Santana smirks, “I wouldn’t fight over anything Old Navy has to offer, but if it were like Gucci or Prada then I could understand. I’d cut a bitch for some Burberry.”

“Of course you would,” Quinn chuckles and they knock their coffee cups together in one swift motion. They sit there captivated by all the action for a moment longer before Quinn turns to Santana, “So how are you holding up while Britt’s away?”

Santana’s smile falters slightly before she shrugs, “It’s hard and it brings back some shitty memories of when we did long distance once, but I’m okay. We’re okay. We talk often so it’s fine.”

“That’s good. She’ll be back soon enough.”

“Yeah, it’s only temporary,” Santana agrees, “I don’t want to make it about me. I know she has missed being near her family so I’m just keeping busy.”

Quinn just nods and they go back to watching the drama unfold before them.

It totally beats sitting on the couch and watching it through a tv screen, that’s for sure! And although Brittany can’t be here for this, Quinn isn’t so bad to be around. In fact, it’s kind of nice to hang out with her. Maribel’s been so busy with work lately, Santana’s had to spend a lot of time alone and we’ve seen what happens when she’s left alone with her thoughts for too long.

“Oh look who it is!” Quinn jabs her pointy elbow into Santana’s bicep.

“Ow! Watch where you shove that thing,” Santana grumbles and looks to the direction of where Quinn’s pointing. Her eyes widen at a familiar face and watch as the blonde makes his way over to the pretzel stand. Santana almost forgot how much of a small town Lima was and how it’s almost impossible to go out anywhere without running into someone you know.

“Is this weird? Do you want to leave?” Quinn asks when Santana doesn’t say anything more.

She shakes her head, “No, it’s okay. He’s Britt’s best friend.”

Just as she said that, another familiar face joins his side and her jaw drops.

“Is that,” Quinn gasps and she’s on her feet before she’s finished her sentence.

Santana scrambles after, also happily surprised by the other Glee Club alumni.

“Mercedes!” Quinn squeals and it makes her and Sam jump at the sound, but soon their faces fill with delight as they see who it is.

“Quinn! Hey girl!” Mercedes beams and pulls her into a tight hug, “Is that Satan with you too?”

Santana smirks, “Hey ‘Cedes.” And then she’s pulled into a bone-crushing hug along with Quinn. It’s nice, she secretly kind of likes hugs like these.

“Hey guys,” Sam chuckles as he holds a pretzel in each hand, “I’d get in on that group hug too but…pretzels.”

For some reason that makes Santana laugh and she’s reminded of a time before everything happened where she actually didn’t mind Sam too much. Afterall, they sort of dated once but it was purely to hide the fact that she was brokenhearted. He was a dork and a nerd but he was alright in her book for the most part. She also remembers the time he and Quinn dated and it makes her smirk, to think she was the reason they broke up in the first place. Yikes!

They’re all just funny memories now though.

“Hey Sam,” Santana greets as Mercedes finally pulls away.

“Sorry! Hi Sam,” Quinn waves too before looking to them both, “What are you guys doing here? Last minute shopping?”

“Yeah,” Mercedes’ rolls her eyes, “Someone didn’t get his own mother a gift yet so we’ve had to brave the crowds which is exactly how I want to spend my Christmas Eve.”

“Hey,” Sam frowned, “How am I supposed to figure out what to get a woman that deserves everything? It’s hard.”

“Trouty has a point,” Santana nods and thinks about her own gift for her mother. It’s not nearly enough for what she actually deserves but she hopes she’ll like it anyway.

“I’m just messing with you,” Mercedes teases and presses a kiss to his cheek which makes Santana and Quinn’s brows rise.

They didn’t know they were a thing still, it kind of makes Santana swell with pride. She always liked those two together and genuinely hoped that they’d work it out at some point. Mercedes was her Troubletones home girl and Santana remembered how she use to light up around him.

She’d never admit it aloud, but it was kind of cute or whatever.

“Is Brittany with you somewhere too?” Mercedes asks Santana while Quinn talks to Sam about some jewelry store sale that he might find luck in.

“No, she’s visiting her family in San Francisco for the holidays this year,” Santana tells her with a shrug.

Mercedes looks surprised, “And you didn’t go with? I’m shocked.”

Santana chuckles at that and wonders if Mercedes thinks she and Brittany have been together all this time. She can’t remember the last time she even spoke to Mercedes, maybe the last time she was back in Lima for Thanksgiving? She isn’t sure, maybe Sam told her something. Either way, she likes the fact that Mercedes still thinks they’re joined at the hip.

“Couldn’t leave my mom alone for Christmas,” Santana replies and quickly changes the subject, “How about you? Have you been living here this whole time or are you just visiting?”

Mercedes sends her a look of disbelief, “Girl no, I’m only here visiting my family and my man. L.A. is my home now. I’ve been trying to get Sam to move out there with me for awhile but it really is a different pace out there.”

“That’s awesome,” Santana says and she’s genuinely happy for her, “You know, Nationals are in L.A. this year. Might see you around!”

“Nationals? You take over the Glee Club?” Mercedes asks.

“No way, Mr. Schue is still all over that,” Santana laughs, “Britt, Quinn and I coach the Cheerios now. It’s a long story.”

“Ah, that’s right,” Mercedes nods, “Sam did mention something about it. I couldn’t make it to Sue’s funeral. How are you liking it? The coaching thing? Make anyone cry yet?”

“Maybe,” Santana smirks devilishly, “You know me.”

“Unfortunately I do,” Mercedes chuckles, “Well, when you guys make it to L.A. let me know! I’ll show you around or something.”

“Deal!” Santana grins before Quinn’s interjecting about scheduling a day to catch up before Mercedes heads home. Of all the people that Santana could possibly run into at the Lima Mall, she’s happy that it was Mercedes and Sam. Well, mostly Mercedes.

“So Trouty, hitting up a jewelry store for your mom?” Santana asks once Quinn and Mercedes get to talking about some church service they want to attend together. Sam looks a little surprised that Santana’s making small talk with him, but he just wipes away the pretzel salt with the back of his hand.

“Yeah, Quinn was telling me about it. I hadn’t even thought about jewelry,” Sam answers, “How about you? Got all your shopping done already?”

Santana nods, “My list of people I needed to shop for was pretty short. Just needed to get things for my mom, Q and Britt.”

“Awh, you got me a present?” Quinn teases and reaches around Mercedes to poke at Santana’s shoulder.

“Yeah so you better have gotten me one too,” Santana quips making Sam and Mercedes chuckle.

“Well, we better get going. Don’t want be here when all hell breaks loose,” Mercedes says and hooks her arm with Sam’s.

They all exchange hugs again and bid each other a Merry Christmas. Santana even hugs Sam in the end which she’s sure would make Brittany so proud if she was around to see it. She’s just chalking it up to the Christmas Spirit though.

“I can’t believe they’re still together!” Quinn gasps once they’re far enough from the couple, “I wonder if Britt has known this whole time and just didn’t tell us?”

“Look, probably…she’s sneaky like that,” Santana replies, a small smile creeping up at the mention of her name, “She’d probably say well you guys didn’t ask so…”

“Ugh, she so would!” Quinn groans playfully.

They spend another hour or so people-watching before Quinn drops Santana home again and tells her she’ll be checking up on her in a few days.

“Yeah okay, whatever,” Santana brushes her off but then they both go in for a hug, “Merry Christmas, Q.”

“Merry Christmas, Santana,” Quinn says with a pat on her back before Santana heads inside.

She’s surprised to see Maribel home relatively early and calls out to her, “Hey Mami!”

“Hi mija!” Maribel greets and her voice is coming from the kitchen. Santana follows after it and finds a collection of various Chinese takeout boxes.

Santana is in awe, “Woah, did you order everything on the menu?”

“We have to keep our tradition alive, right?” Maribel laughs.

“Oh yeah!” Santana beams and they both dive in and pile their plates high before wandering into the living room to watch Love, Actually. It’s something that they usually do when Maribel visits Santana in New York, but she’s glad that the tradition has carried over to Lima too. It’s something that’s just for them and Santana sits contently through the movie with her mom at her side.

Maribel had said goodnight awhile ago, but Santana decided to finish the movie in the living room while she awaited Brittany’s nightly phone call. She doesn’t realize she has fallen asleep on the couch until she feels something vibrating at her side. When she blinks her tired eyes open, she finds the fleece throw draped over her and the tv turned low. The Christmas tree lights cast a warm glow around the room and she feels so comfy cozy that Santana almost forgets why she woke up in the first place.

She reaches for her phone tucked under her hip and quickly swipes the screen before the call goes to voicemail.

“Hey Britt,” Santana chuckles with her voice a little raspy from just waking up.

“Hi Santana,” Brittany’s cheery voice greets down the line. There’s a soft gasp, “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

Santana stretches and cranes her neck back to rest against the decorative pillow, “No, I was just resting my eyes.”

“Are you sure? I can call back in the morning?”

Santana smiles softly, “Talk to me. How was your day?”

“Well, my day…it was so much fun. I got to hang out with my cousins – who aren’t as mean as when we were younger – and we helped my grandma bake cookies for tomorrow,” Brittany tells her excitedly, “Did you see the pictures I sent?”

Santana smiles and remembers Brittany’s text she received while she was out with Quinn. It was a picture of a very colorful pair of gingerbread women that she was holding up proudly by either side of her head, a great big smile rounding out the adorableness.

“Yeah I saw it,” Santana tells her, “It was very cute. Sounds like you’re having a great time over there.”

“Yeah, but it’s not all that great since you’re not here too,” Brittany answers without missing a beat, “How about your day? Did…you have any visitors?”

“Ah so you did enlist Quinn to kidnap me,” Santana smirks.

“What? No. Wait, did she kidnap you because that’s not what I asked her to do?”

Santana laughs at that, “No she didn’t, but she did interrupt my Chopped marathon. I never did find out who won the dessert round…” She could hear Brittany snort as she continues, “But it wasn’t so bad hanging out with her. We actually ran into Sam and Mercedes at the mall.”

“No way! I thought Mercedes was only going to be in Lima for New Years?”

“Well I didn’t know she was going to be in Lima at all,” Santana jokes, “Have you known they’ve been dating this whole time?”

“I wouldn’t say whole time…they’re on and off. You know how tough long distance is, but they always end up back together.”

Santana ponders her words, “Huh, sounds familiar. Can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me all this time.”

Brittany chuckles, “Honestly I didn’t think you’d care, but I don’t want to talk about them. What are you doing right now?”

Santana notices a shift in Brittany’s tone – something mischievous – and it makes Santana sit up a little straighter, “Uhh…I’m just lying on the couch watching tv.”

“Right…” Brittany drawls out and suddenly Santana’s intrigued to see where this goes because she might have an idea, “Same couch we made out on on Thanksgiving?”

Santana’s suspicions are confirmed when she hears that, “We’ve made out many times on this couch, Britt, not just Thanksgiving.”

“Mmm, and we’ve done a lot more than make out there too.”

Santana feels a flush cover her cheeks at the memory but she presses further, “You should see what I’ve got on right now too.”

She thinks she can hear Brittany audibly gulp which is hilarious because in reality, she’s just dressed in leggings and Brittany’s sweater from Homecoming. It’s nothing too risqué, but who is she if she doesn’t play along and paint Britt a lovely picture?

Brittany’s voice is husky when she says, “Tell me.”

“I don’t know, Britt, Santa’s coming to town any minute now,” Santana teases, loving how easy it is for them to turn their conversations flirtatious, “Wouldn’t want to get a free show and risk missing out on my presents. I’ve been a very good girl this year.”

“Fuck a present, I can give you something better.”

Santana has to bite her lip to keep from snorting at the sound of Brittany cursing. It’s rare but when it happens, it’s the greatest thing ever because Britt kind of has a potty mouth during certain situations.

It’s kind of hot actually.

“Hmm…I’ll hold you to that, Britt-Britt,” Santana says just as the grandfather clock chimes from the other room, signaling midnight. At least, for Santana it is. Brittany still has a few more hours to go with the time difference.

“It’s officially Christmas!” Brittany cheers excitedly – the huskiness completely gone – and she’s so loud about it that it nearly deafens Santana. The lusty tone has been replaced with a child-like delight as a familiar ringtone replaces static.

When Santana looks down at her phone, she sees Brittany requesting a video call. She swipes at it and soon her screen is filled with a rosy-cheeked Brittany wearing an elf hat.

“Merry Christmas!” Brittany sings accompanied with this cute shoulder shimmy that would put Kurt Hummel to shame. She’s all kinds of adorable and Santana really can’t help but feel smitten.

“Merry Christmas!” Santana replies breathlessly and watches as Brittany’s eyes scan her up and down. She tilts her head at the way Brittany is not-so-subtly checking her out and asks, “Uhm, can I help you?”

“You’re wearing my sweater again,” Brittany points out through a smirk, “Not as risky as what I was imagining you wearing, but I’m not mad at it. You’re cute.”

“Do I even want to know what you were imagining?” Santana asks and watches Brittany wiggle her brows.

“Let’s just say it didn’t involve a sweater…or any clothing for that matter.”

“You’re a horny mess,” Santana giggles.

“Can you blame me?” Brittany jokes, “My girlfriend is hot and all I want for Christmas is to put my – ”

“Hey, don’t start something you can’t finish,” Santana cuts in and suddenly her eyes feel heavy again.

“You’re right. You look tired,” Brittany comments through a soft smile, “You should head up to bed.”

“I will, just wanted to talk to you for a bit more before I did. I’ve missed you today,” Santana says shyly as she picks at the fabric of the blanket across her lap, “Well, I’ve missed you everyday but a little more so today.”

“Awh, look at you,” Brittany coos and Santana’s cheeks instantly flush.

“I’ve been playing the piano again,” Santana tells her then suddenly she feels a kind of sadness, “It reminds me of things and makes me miss people.”

She knows she’s being really vague but she also knows Brittany gets it.

“Oh honey,” Brittany says tenderly and there’s this apologetic smile on her face, “I’ll be home before you know it, only one more week left now. Maybe you can play something for me?”

Santana melts at the sound of home and wonders if Brittany considers that to be Lima or her or both. It’s a silly thought because she thinks she knows the answer to that already. It’s just nice to hear her say it out loud and it makes Santana rethink who or where she considers home too.

“Maybe I will,” Santana beams but just as she was about to continue, a yawn escapes her.

“San, go to bed…” Brittany says and she’s giving her this cross between a smile and a pout so of course Santana has to listen.

She rubs at her eye and nods, “Yeah okay, I’m going. You think…we can stay on the phone tonight?”

There’s something familiar about the request and it seems like they both pick up on it because Brittany nods and soon she’s up too. A moment later and they’re both doing their nightly routine together.

It’s something they use to do when they were doing long distance just to make them feel a little closer together although it was never as good as the real thing. Back then, Santana hated that feeling but now she doesn’t mind it so much. She knows it’s only temporary and soon Brittany will be here in person trying to leave toothpaste-coated kisses on her cheek again.

A moment later, Santana is tucked away in bed with her phone propped up next to her. She watches Brittany through half-lidded eyes as she tells her more about the day she has had with her family. There’s this warmth or softness or something that surrounds Santana while she listens to Brittany gush over her cousin’s two year old daughter. Santana’s really biting her cheek, hoping nothing slips out like it did with Maribel but imagining Brittany with this toddler does something to Santana’s fluttery insides.

She’s blaming the lack of sleep for this one.

“You should’ve seen it, San. She was so cute! Sprinkles were going everywhere,” Brittany giggles, “Then I had to clean up after her which was a little less exciting, but I didn’t mind. It was her first time decorating cookies, it was bound to get messy.”

“Sounds like fun,” Santana replies. She’s shocked that she’s managed to say just that although her head fills with images of what their family would look like a little ways down the line. She imagines a little blonde with Santana’s complexion and Brittany’s smile toddling around their living room. She imagines coming home from work to that same little blonde head curled up at Brittany’s side as they nap on the couch. She imagines the first words and first steps and she realizes something: she can’t wait to have a family with Brittany.

She also realizes that she’s about to be caught in her daydreaming.

“What are you smiling about over there?” Brittany asks, her smile matching Santana’s

Santana feels like a deer caught in the headlights, but she manages recover before her truth comes tumbling out on her again. Letting her thoughts on marriage slip out is one thing, but talking about a family? Way too soon, Lopez!

“Just thinking about how cute you would’ve looked decorating cookies,” Santana says, “There’s this face you pull when you’re concentrating really hard…just adorable.”

Brittany rolls her eyes as she smiles bashfully, “I don’t know how anyone thinks you’re so big and bad when you’re actually the gushiest and mushiest person I know.”

“You take that back,” Santana narrows her eyes playfully. She ends softening a moment later, “You bring it out of me, I can’t help myself around you.”

“I know,” Brittany replies as she tucks her hand under her pillow, mirroring Santana’s position, “It’s my favorite thing.”

Santana sighs and snuggles deep against her pillow as their conversation lulls. She’s really feeling the heaviness in her eyelids now, but she finds herself trying to fight to stay awake. She just wants to be present and listen to any and every story Brittany has to tell, she doesn’t want to miss anything.

“You wanna know something?” Brittany whispers a bit later and the sudden sound of her voice has Santana struggling to look up. She finds Brittany’s eyes closed and if she didn’t know any better, she would’ve assumed she had fallen asleep already.

Santana’s not sure she’s coherent enough herself to form actual words, so she just hums out in response.

There’s a long pause and Santana almost falls asleep while waiting when Brittany begins to mumble sleepily, “We’re gonna make some cute babies.”

Santana’s eyes go wide at that.

Here she was, forcing herself to stay quiet in fear that she was going to scare Brittany off or something. She looks back to her and finds she’s still lying there with her eyes closed which makes her wonder if that was the sleep talking or if it was Brittany? She doesn’t know, but she finds comfort in at least being on the same page about something like this. She wants to laugh, but stifles it so she doesn’t wake Brittany. It makes her heart swell and nearly burst free from her chest though, because if Brittany’s thinking about what their family could look like then maybe Santana’s on to something here.

She hadn’t considered proposing anytime soon, but if Brittany keeps this up she doesn’t know how long she’ll actually last. If anything, she can at least be a little prepared. Right?

“One day, Britt-Britt.” Santana says and it’s the last thing she does before she falls into a deep sleep.

Maybe it has something to do with the New Year just around the corner, but in the days leading up to Brittany’s return, Santana does a lot of thinking.

She thinks about the conversation she had with Maribel the night before Brittany left for San Francisco. She thinks about her family, her Abuela and Abuelo, and the difference in the ways they showed their love for her. She thinks about her father and how easy it was for him to vanish from her life. She thinks about the people in her life at this very moment who love her unconditionally and have repeatedly come through for her, whether it has been all of her life or again in only the last year.

She thinks a lot about love and remembers a time long, long ago when she didn’t think she was worthy of it. She was harsh and tore people down with her vicious words without a second thought so she didn’t think anyone would ever break through that and attempt to understand the real Santana Lopez.

Then Brittany came into her life and everything started to change.

She was still harsh and tore people down with her vicious words, but with Brittany it was different. Brittany accepted all of the parts that Santana was made of and she never shied away, she only ever wanted Santana to be herself and embrace all of her awesome.

It makes her think about something her Abuelo once said to her a long time ago. She was only in middle school when she first experienced heartbreak, her boyfriend of three weeks had broken up with her for someone more popular and Santana was wrecked. Maybe not so much because a boy broke up with her, but more so because he didn’t want her anymore. She felt replaceable and it sucked.

She had cried with her Abuelo during their weekly piano lesson and he said, “Santana, the easy part of life is finding someone to love. The hard part is finding someone to love you back.” He reminded her of how she still had so much time and that she was better off without that stupid boy. Those words always stuck with her throughout her life.

Little did they both know, Santana would find her person just a couple years later.

She remembered standing in the hall in front of her locker, tears in her eyes, begging Brittany to love her back. She had been so sure this time, she had found her person, but things didn’t come easy for them at first. She thought she had made a mistake again and gave her heart to the wrong one, but then something crazy happened…

“I do love you! Clearly you don’t love you as much as I do or you'd put this shirt on and dance with me!”

Brittany was pissed – probably the most pissed she had ever seen – but it was in that moment that Santana realized something: Brittany just wanted Santana to love herself first. She could see straight through Santana’s bullshit and even after that she wasn’t afraid to call her out on it. Even more importantly, Brittany still loved her anyway.

A lot of their relationship had been full of moments like that, like sudden clarity where all the drama and hurt suddenly made sense because on the other side of that was this…happiness.

She wouldn’t trade it for the world.

It’s New Year’s Eve and Santana’s desperately trying to ghost Quinn.

A couple days ago, Quinn got word of a New Year’s Eve party being hosted at Breadstix and has been trying to convince Santana to go ever since.

“Come on, it’ll be fun! Mercedes is going and she’ll perform at midnight, you have to go.” Quinn had urged but Santana wasn’t budging. She didn’t feel like celebrating when her person wasn’t going to be there to celebrate with. She didn’t have to say that for Quinn to pick up on it though, “You can’t ring in the New Year alone, San. I know Maribel will be working.”

“What? How do you know that?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just come! There’s a dress code and everything, since when do you turn down any excuse to paint on one of your hooker dresses?”

Santana rolled her eyes, “I have no one to impress so there’s no point.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this but, you can always take pictures and send them to Brittany.”

“Please, as if a picture could capture all this hotness.”

“Well it’s all you can eat breadsticks – “

“It’s always all you can eat breadsticks if you talk to the right person.”

“Ugh, why are you like this? Can’t you just go with me? I don’t want to third-wheel with Mercedes and Sam…”

“You really aren’t going to drop this, are you?”

“No. So you’ll go?”

Santana stewed on the question for awhile until she ultimately gave up and agreed to go. It would be a little depressing being stuck home alone on New Year’s Eve and she knew Brittany wouldn’t want her to miss out on a chance to party with her friends.

And it’s that kind of thinking that has landed her in the current situation she’s in, wedged between Quinn and Sam in a booth in Breadstix while they watch Mercedes sing. All in all, it’s not the worst situation she’s ever been in – she’s totally being dramatic – but it does feel off to hang out with everyone without Brittany there.

“She’s so good,” Sam compliments as Mercedes belts out a high note. Santana looks to him from the corner of her eye and he’s completely fixated on the woman on stage. There’s this dopey smile on his face and love hearts beaming from his eyes and for the first time maybe ever, she knows exactly how Sam feels. To be so enamored by someone, so filled with love for them, that you can’t help but to stare in awe.

“Amazing,” Quinn adds breathlessly as the final note rings out.

The entire place stands as they applaud Mercedes. She bows graciously and waves, even blows a kiss to Sam before she makes her way down the steps and rejoins her friends at their booth. A jazzy cover band takes over while dinner is served.

“You killed it up there,” Santana says as the salads come out.

“Thank you,” Mercedes replies with a flip of her hair, “I’m glad you made it out tonight, would’ve missed the surprise.”

“Surprise?” Santana wonders before she catches her usual waitress’s eye. She sends her a look and soon an additional basket of breadsticks appear on the table. She slaps away Sam’s hand as he goes for a stick and the girls all laugh.

“You’ll see later,” Quinn says, “I’ve been practicing my runs so I can keep up with this one.”

“You’re going up there?” Santana asks then glares at Mercedes, “And you didn’t ask me?”

“It was a last minute thing,” Mercedes explains, “And I was already talking to Quinn at the time.”

“I’m deeply offended that I wasn’t your first choice,” Santana quips in between bites of her breadstick, “Could’ve brought back River Deep, Mountain High.”

“Girl, you know this place couldn’t handle all that..” Mercedes laughs.

Dinner goes on without a hitch. It actually is kind of nice chatting with her old friends and she’s glad she made it out of the house for this. She couldn’t imagine spending the night at home getting wine drunk alone while watching the ball drop, if she even stayed up that late to catch it. She has an alarm set for midnight in Brittany’s time zone just incase she did end up falling asleep early though.

“When’s Britt back again?” Mercedes asks as the last course came around, “I hope I can catch her before I go back to L.A.”

“Two more days,” Santana replies and just uttering the words aloud make her heart race, “This has been the longest two weeks of my life.”

“I’m sure,” Mercedes chuckles.

“When are you heading back?” Santana asks.

“Thursday,” Mercedes replies, “So I might be able to see her before I go. We’ll see.”

Santana nods and looks to Quinn who has been oddly quiet all of a sudden, “You’re quiet. What are you plotting?”

Quinn cracks a smile, “Plotting? Can’t a girl eat in peace?”

“I guess,” Santana chuckles and they return to their meals while listening to the band.

Sam’s in the middle of telling a story about this guy he was working with at the gym he works at part-time when Santana checked her phone. She hadn’t received a new text for a few hours now, not since she was modeling different outfits she had been considering to wear tonight for Brittany earlier. It was getting closer to midnight now – just thirty minutes away – but Santana was getting anxious. She kind of missed Brittany and just wanted to hear her voice.

“I’m gonna go call Britt,” She whispers to Quinn.

Quinn nods and slides so that she could let Santana out of the booth.

Santana made her way to the bathroom, opting that it was warmer than outside and quieter than the lobby, and made the call.

At least, she tried to but the call went unanswered. Santana checked the time again and converted it to what it would be for Brittany and it started to make sense. This was usually game night time and the Pierces were probably deep in a very competitive game of Monopoly. Brittany was always pretty serious when it came to that particular game so Santana didn’t think too much of it and instead sent her a selfie and a text.

Santana L. – Thinking about you xo

Santana rejoins the gang just as Mercedes is getting up to perform again. She looks to Quinn who moves to sit back down and asks, “You’re not going up too?”

“Not my time yet,” Quinn shrugs and scoots in so that she’s the one sitting in Mercedes spot next to Sam now.

Santana slides in too and goes for her wine glass as Mercedes greets the audience again. She’s such a natural up there and Santana is actually really proud of how successful she has become and still manages to stay true to herself.

She thinks about her future career and what she wants but it’s all so spotty. She loves to sing, but she doesn’t know if she’d ever do it professionally. She has this business degree yet she’s not putting it to use and before she randomly took over a co-coaching position, she was a singing waitress.

She’s young but seeing Mercedes up there really gets her thinking about getting serious when it comes to her future. Afterall, it’s not only affecting her, it’ll affect Brittany too. She wants to make something of herself, maybe make a difference in people’s lives, but she doesn’t know where to start.

Those thoughts are cut short when suddenly Mercedes is speaking to the audience again, more specifically to her. Santana was kind of zoned out so she only catches Mercedes saying, “Let’s end the year with this little throwback since I’m surrounded by such talented friends.”

Before Santana knows it a familiar tune begins to play, the God Squad’s version of Cherish/Cherish. Santana starts to laugh as Quinn and Sam pull out their hidden mics and sing to Santana as they accompany Mercedes on the number. They slowly emerge from the booth and join Mercedes on stage, leaving Santana behind in nothing but smiles.

She claps her hands and dances along to the beat from where she sits while memories of the first time they sung the song came to her.

She remembers it from her high school days and how Brittany lit up when their friends began to serenade them. Brittany had been so surprised that Santana would gift her something like that, something so public which she was still struggling with at the time. When it came to Brittany though, Santana endured a lot to make sure Brittany knew she was loved.

Santana felt so carefree that night, she barely even noticed any of the talks or looks. She doubted Sugar would’ve allowed anyone in if that were the case, but hearing the song being performed now is a little bittersweet without Brittany here to experience it.

Santana goes to grab her phone in hopes that Brittany will answer this time just so she can hear this awesome performance. She’s about to press call when someone stops before their table.

A familiar voice asks, “Is this seat taken?”

Santana snaps up to find Brittany – her Brittany – standing there before her with her long blonde hair cascading off her shoulders, blue eyes twinkling, and the smuggest grin on her face.

“Oh my God, Brittany!” Santana just about squeals as she scrambles out of the booth and launches herself into Brittany’s arms, “You’re home early!”

Brittany’s angelic giggles fill her ears as she wraps Santana up in a tight hug, “Missed you too much so I caught an early flight home. Came straight here from the airport.”

“What?”

Brittany shrugs casually, “I figured we’ve had such an awesome year, I didn’t want to spend the last moments of it apart.”

Santana stares back almost speechless and instead leans in for a much-needed kiss. It’s like her body has been on pause ever since the last one they shared at the airport and when their lips touch it’s like she’s finally herself again.

“You like my surprise?” Brittany asks when they pull apart and glances to the side.

Santana’s jaw drops as she follows Brittany’s eyes to where she looks. Santana sees her wave to their friends on stage. Mercedes and Sam wave back while Quinn sends them a wink.

“You did this?” Santana’s wide eyed, “I…how did you – “

Brittany leans down and cuts her off with another kiss before saying, “I’ll tell you later. Come dance with me.”

Santana doesn’t even respond, just gets whisked away to the makeshift dancefloor. It’s all so reminiscent but new at the same time to be dancing with Brittany in almost the exact same spot to the exact same song. Santana thinks she might just be the luckiest girl in the whole world, to be loved by Brittany and their friends, it’s so much.

And the feeling only intensifies when Brittany whispers out an, “I love you.”

It makes the question begging to be asked so much harder for Santana to conceal, especially when Brittany smiles down at her the way that she does while they sway to the music.

“I love you too,” Santana says but it’s filled with so much more, so much promise.

Maybe Brittany doesn’t pick up on it, Santana hopes she doesn’t, but that I love you means more this time. It’s a vow that she’s never going to stop loving her and one day she’ll have a ring to prove that.

For now though, she’s content with dancing the night away with Brittany but only until the clock strikes twelve. She’ll ring in the new year with her girl, surrounded by their friends, but after that she’s taking Brittany home to spend all night making good on a different promise.

A promise that doesn’t involve quite so many people and a lot less clothes.

The heated look Santana earns when Brittany catches her eye tells her that she and Brittany are definitely on the same page. It’s barely 12:03am when the two are hurriedly telling their friends goodbye and rushing to the car with their hands already starting to wander.

#Two Ghosts #brittana #brittana fanfiction #fanfics

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scige · 5 years ago

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「madelyn cline & cis female」⇾ beaumont, saige, the senior radcliffe student’s records show that she is a cancer and 22 years old. she is studying linguistics + criminal psychology, living in noland and can be blithe, energetic, evasive & irrational. when i see her i am reminded of the familiar riff of an old song, skinned knees with laughter following, and wishes on eyelashes stuck to your cheekbones. ⇽「james & 21 & est & they/them.」

N HERE IS MY LAST CHILD FR NOW ... both happy n sad ... god ... bites fist. alright. let’s go!

TW CHILD ABUSE, DRUG USE, ALCOHOLISM, ADDICTION, DEATH, HIT & RUN CAR ACCIDENTS, GRIEF, GUILT

aesthetics.

stick n’ pokes at 2am – when your drunk and giggling too much in between purposeful stabs, avoiding the cracks in the sidewalk because they’re bad luck and they’ll break your mother’s back – even if your mother doesn’t love you, because you love her, the familiar riff in an old song – one that’s got you strumming along silently; there is no guitar, only empty air lit by the christmas lights you haven’t taken down. it’s may. swallowing down shots, and by default, swallowing down problems. laughing quick, easily, constantly. skinned knees from skateboarding, despite being rubbish at it. wishes on eyelashes stuck to your cheekbones, glitter sticking, running into the ocean at sunrise; feeling at home. excuses, and the many forms they come in. telling people you love them through hand squeezes and fresh muffins, sideways glances and soft, eager grins.

basic info.

full name: saige alouette beaumont

nickname(s): n/a :/ give her some

b.o.d. - july 7th, cancer

label(s): the hedonist, the icarcian, the reveler, etc.

height: 5′7″

hometown: thibodaux, louisiana

sexuality: bisexual w/ a very slight preference towards masc-presenting folks

stats

inspired by: serena van der woodsen (gossip girl), aimee gibbs (sex education), alexis rose (schitt’s creek), elle woods (legally blonde), rapunzel (tangled), clementine (eternal sunshine of a spotless mind), angela montenegro (bones), tinkerbell (peter pan), late 2000 / early 2010s kesha… i don’t know because she’s not actually inspired by anybody i made her when i was like 13 HDSJBKFNGHJLDS

biography.

the fallible daughter of two very infallible people: robert beaumont, US lieutenant general (soon to be US general), and manon lévesque, world renowned fashion designer on levels par with gucci and versace. both cold, calculating, and purposeful.

no matter how much she wants to believe otherwise, saige is sure that she was not created out of love. it was an action with a purpose, intentions to create the perfect child. the hybrid of both military genius and fashion extraordinaire. a proper socialite. a 1% citizen. molded to their will.

born in thibodaux, louisiana (surrounded by her father’s family - a long line of old money southern magnates & moguls with a history of beauty pageant winners in each woman) - it took them no more than six months after her birth for her parents to up and move, thus beginning a cycle of packing and unpacking, flying and driving, state-to-state and country-to-country. the longest saige had ever stayed in one place was two years, until radcliffe. even then - conditioned to never become truly attached to a place, she has the urge to up and run away at any given moment, onto the next adventure.

she was kept on a short leash, home-schooled, and learning skills she had no interest in (from cooking to sewing to ballroom dancing - to fencing and firearm safety and self defense) - more like a pet, a project, than a child. the world moved all around her, but she was bound to what her parents allowed her to see. a bird in a cage of thorns.

it was hard to keep and maintain friends - there one day, gone the next. a ghost you could see, clear as day, but never touch - never fully, at least. even if she tried with all her might.

would run from bodyguards (their version of nannies - robert beaumont is a paranoid man with too many enemies to count) into festival crowds and climb out of windows in the middle of the night to swim in lakes with the locals she’d met only hours earlier - as soon as she realized that there was something wrong with the way she lived.

even if it resulted in punishment, military exercises in the form of her own personal boot camp (she’d been forced to do chin-ups, once, when she ripped an expensive gown at the tender age of seven. not since, however, after she wound up sobbing on the floor - instead they moved on. delicate teacups stacked across her back as she did push-ups, the more she did the more that slipped & broke)

she absorbed as she could, as much as she could get; an intense, undying love for a world she always craved to see.

this was the start of something dangerous - a phase that never seemed to end, rebellion coursing through her veins. a wild child in the making, unknowing of limits. she landed herself in any crowd she could squeeze into - bad crowds, in particular and more often than not - they introduced her, the sheltered girl, into a world she hadn’t quite known existed until then.

ran away briefly at the age of fifteen with a man three years older than her & nearly ended up in a tabloid magazine because of it - if it hadn’t been for her parents’ money. though guilt from her parents’ disappointment weighed on her, the thrill fueled something much worse.

from there on, she’d been labeled as a ‘problem child’ - from public intoxication to vandalism, it was clear their daughter was unraveling and nothing could possibly contain her.

boarding school had been an attempt to stop it, enrolled her freshmen year in hopes that she’d come out a proper woman. but being located in new york with easy access to the upper east side of manhattan - it’d been futile.

there’d only been a few significant events during her time there - the death of a classmate (one of her closest friends’ boyfriends) and a ski trip that nearly resulted in her own death, skiing while drunk on a closed off course, in memory of him and the traditions they’d had. the first time she fell in love, and months of pining - running in circles, fights and hiccups and confessions in the dramatic manner all high school relationships seem to be like. they’d finally gotten together - officially, no more sneaking around or pretending - when her parents paid a surprise visit. a rare occasion, nerve-wracking. dangerous. to keep a story short - she’d accidentally exposed her own drug use in their presence, the simple act of pills falling from a purse - and that’d been it. she was gone the next day, with no word to anybody and hardly a word since.

they told family she needed a change of pace, and rumors in her old school said that she’d been expelled, that she’d been sent to the french countryside to live with her grandmother.

she’d only gone to washington, that was all. france was too good, and she was too undeserving. instead she was enrolled in public school, only a quarter through her junior year. her parents rarely spoke to her - rarely in town, the only eyes kept on her were security cameras and the occasional check-in by family friends (the new word for bodyguards, apparently)

but as always - when left alone, saige scrambled to find somewhere she fit, somewhere to tuck herself away in the comfort of other people. a small group, but a loyal group - harmless minus a few miscellaneous charges that they said every small town kid had, at some point. they were safe, they were family - as close as she could get. at least, she had thought so. had really believed it.

she hadn’t intended to go to university after graduating high school, not yet eighteen - not for another month or two, at least. she wanted to travel, meet new people and learn new languages (she’d learned four, already, but had always been a glutton. craved to know more, as if she unlocked secrets with every phrase she could speak) and just. exist.

maybe she should’ve. should’ve left as quick as possible, and never turn back.

saige mysteriously disappeared from the public eye for an entire year, the entirety of her 18th year on earth, before promptly showing up at radcliffe university, ready to learn.

it’d been a year of legal cases & lawsuits & avoiding prison with expensive lawyers and a lot of money.

the getaway driver for an armed robbery at a bank, an unknowing accomplice until her supposed friend ran out from the building and jumped in her car, screaming for her to drive, drive, drive. it had only supposed to have been a quick stop before a road trip to the coast. nobody was supposed to get hurt. but scared, and high, saige had obeyed - and by doing so, led a police chase and, of course, a hit & run that eventually led to saige crashing the car midst breakdown.

the sole victim survived, thankfully - and the beaumonts have been paying the medical bills since. her friend - the one who started it all - was charged & sentenced. but saige got off relatively scot-free. just a year of community service, a slap on the wrist (and the growing wallets of all involved in handling her case). it would’ve made national news if her parents hadn’t stepped in - favors called, resulting in only local headlines.

they hadn’t spoken to her since then. three years of radio silence. she’d think they were dead if it hadn’t been the steady flow of money in her bank account. their silence only feels like a threat of what’s to come if she fucks up again.

ever since - she’s avoided causing too much trouble, still very much the party girl she’d like to be, but staying out of headlines and tabloids. partially in fear of her parents finally cutting ties, permanently, and partially in fear that she’ll end up costing someone else their life with her own selfishness.

UPDATE: she did not avoid trouble n got disowned after a high speed yacht chase it was. a lot. anyways she’s lying to everyone n pretending she’s still rich while rapidly losing money to lawsuit bills n hospital bills n just <3 a whole lot <3 has had to sell her favorite cars and her favorite bass guitar. sheds the smallest tear. spent the summer couch-hopping bt pretending she wasn’t couch-hopping and being :/ really messy. not a good fun look! sucks ... disappeared fr like a straight week n then popped up like hehe wat’s up :D. sighs sm.

personality.

she is so … bubbly. so fucking bubbly. she’s has so much energy in her. goes running every morning and every night and swims almost every afternoon and she’s never tired, even if she hasn’t slept the last night and even if she’s been dancing for five hours in a club in high heels and nothing but vodka in her system. the personification of a coke bottle shaken up, if the coke bottle in question could laugh and smile at you and make you feel, somehow, at home even though you’d only met her in the bathroom queue.

tries her hardest to be the happy fun friend, the cool friend, the one who can hook you up with whatever you need because she sleeps with her drug dealer and gets discounts, but like, it’s totally okay because they’re also friends.

generally comes off as very confident of herself, and fearless, and reckless but like - fun reckless. the kind of reckless you wouldn’t mind to be around because she takes your worries and acknowledges them and reassures you that it’s fine, that it’s grand, even when it may definitely not be.

takes a lot. so much. could ramble for days, hand gestures and all. never stops talking. never.

if she wants to do something, she’ll do it and there’s not very much you can do to stop her. stubborn, but at the same time easy going? very go go go. mischievous. even if she’s trying to do something stupid you kind of just like … have to let her do it, or otherwise she’ll mope for three hours and pout at you and then you’ll feel questionably guilty, which is admittedly a little manipulative on her end and isn’t the best thing, but i never said she’s the best person ever because she’s most certainly … not.

a vegetarian because meat makes her physically sick, like, she’s got a weird intolerance to it and it’s not quite an allergy because it’s really just red meats but she’ll get a tummy ache.

her vocabulary consists of a lot of ‘likes’ and ‘ums’ and ‘yknows’, y’know? her statements always sound like questions.

99% sure she has adhd but she’s never been diagnosed because her parents simply would not allow her to go to therapy so if she does have any neurological disorders, mental illness, and the likes of those - she doesn’t know and doesn’t know where to even begin to find out. her parents? fucking suck.

like i said, she’s currently not on speaking terms with them. more of their decision than hers. she still loves them, a lot - and there’s a part of her that believes that they still love her, that they have to, because she’s not disowned yet. even though they haven’t said more than ten words to her since she was eighteen - as long as they keep sending her money, they still care - right?

owns four cars … bad idea considering her past, but alas. spending her money is a coping mechanism and she likes to drive because it’s a form of freedom. anyways. all her cars are on campus and she’s probably not allowed to have them all on campus but she does. one’s a sleek sports car, the other is a jacked up pick-up truck that’s decked out in like … LED lights and shit, the third one is the same exact fucking mustang from the princess diaries because she’s obsessed with the movie & usually gets what she wants. the fourth is a mini cooper.

she’s a photographer (for funsies) and the walls of her room in noland are covered in photographs and art and taped-down plants. her room in general is really cluttered. like, it’s super homey. super cozy. but it’s a mess. clothes everywhere, she’s got a pile of instruments and other miscellaneous hobbies that she wanted to do and then either never did, or did for a few days and got bored of and haven’t touched since.

i mentioned earlier that she was taught a bunch of skills when growing up - and like, she doesn’t really utilize any of them? knitting, sewing, cookie, three different forms of ballroom dancing - all gone to waste and she’s pretty rusty on most of it, but it’s there. in her mind. it’s kind of neat and i promise she’s not a mary sue it’s just her upbringing HBSJKDFNLG she’s really nuanced i swear. anyways she can also work a gun and a car engine but hates half of the things she knows how to do because she was forced to learn these things.

she plays bass guitar. loves it, loves her guitar. treasured item. she knows violin & piano too but she fucking hates piano & is mostly indifferent towards violin. she can hold a note in other instruments but it’s like. not great.

got really into languages at a young age due to her constant traveling and started learning them unprompted. her mother is like. literally french. a french citizen. so she grew up learning english & french but from there on she’s gotten fluent in spanish (similar 2 french) and latin (dead languages are fun) and then she’s working on a few others like mandarin and german and scottish gaelic specifically but she mostly just knows a few phrases here and there. like, enough to get her through a city if needed.

like she’s super smart and very talented but she’s also ditzy as hell. big dumbass energy to the point where maybe you don’t realize that she’s actually really good at a lot of things because it’s not like she really flaunts it either?

she’s just very reckless, and very much a party girl. has quite the collection of drugs & uses socially, but also alone and throughout the day. rarely sober.

high functioning alcoholic and at this point she doesn’t really know what she’s like when she’s completely sober? which is really bad but she’s convinced that if she goes sober she’ll just be miserable and horrible because at her very core she believes she’s like. the worst human being alive. like very deep issues of self loathing covered by baileys in her morning coffee and 23 crystal lite packets in her yeti cup that happens to be filled with vodka.

this has been a budding problem that was developed since she was a young teenager. the ehem. situation that happened when she was eighteen only amplified it.

is essentially wearing a mask of confidence and giddiness and flirtatiousness because she doesn’t want people to think she’s not doing well, because she isn’t.

loves so much. loves everything, so much. everything, everybody. falls in love like five times a day but nothing really sticks to her either, for the most part. i hate to say it but she does flock to shitty people / general assholes because that’s just … how she is, that’s what she’s surrounded herself with her entire life. even her high school boyfriend was an asshole - just like, not to her, which made it Okay in her mind. she finds these kind of people like … super interesting which is really questionable but y’know what? we’re fine. it’s fine. i’m fine.

she sleeps around often, to be frank. she hates being alone and she rarely sleeps in her own dorm unless someone is in there sleeping with her. otherwise she’s at different houses. could be a friend’s bed, could be a stranger’s. has slept with the entire baseball team, probably. she’s also the type of person who’ll try and maintain a positive, good friendship with whoever she sleeps with because she hates the idea of having a regrettable encounter and just. refuses.

this is kind of a problem because she blurs the lines between friendship and Something More too often, and with too many people. wants to be loved but it’s never enough. probably ends up hurting people without realizing it because they think they have something super special but she does this with a lot of people and it’s super :/

does stick and pokes a whole bunch. she can’t draw for shit so they’re not great but she thinks they’re fun and she’s been doing it for a while so like, who cares, right? let her give you one :)

gets sent dress prototypes and like. drafts of designs & articles of clothing from her fashion lines that aren’t out yet and won’t be for a while by her very own mother. saige absolutely gives them all away, for the most part. or it sits in her closet, and stays there. her go-to gift for birthday presents, or christmas gifts, or whenever she feels like it. like, feel free to raid her closet?

ok that’s all. love her.

wanted connections.

a best friend… someone who sticks by her side even though she is a certified Mess.

a ride or die… is it the same as a best friend? maybe. but it’s got a fancy name and i want both so :)

close friends… she’s really friendly and the kind of girl to have been really popular in high school but didn’t care for it and talks to everybody like she’s known them her entire life, so. she’d have a good amount of these!

grumpy friend… to balance her happy friend. she’ll fuck them up in a friendship way. with her cheerfulness.

party pals… they don’t talk much outside of parties but they’re practically glued to the hip when they’re at them. hold your hair back kind of close.

frenemies… or fake friends, toxic friends, people who use her for money or like … sex, or whatever? anything? people who barely tolerate her because she gives them stuff sometimes.

bad influences… they just encourage her to do more, be worse, never get better.

good influences… like … YOINK! stop being an idiot! do your homework! idot!

a tutor… because she’s like…smart…but she’s also stupid…super bad at math & science. help her.

hook ups… friends with benefits, a one night stand that is a little? awkward? since then. past & present tenses. :)

exes… she’s noncommittal so they likely wouldn’t have lasted very long but? yolo? she can be a heartbreaker, as marina said, as a treat? whether they dated or were fucking … either works. but i do love angst :)

one-sided hatred… someone who just fucking … despises her. but she doesn’t realize because she’s an idiot and thinks they’re just like. joking around! like they’re best buddies!

annoyance… but she’s the annoyance. she’s the thorn in their side.

ex-best friend… where something happened between them, like, anything, and it ruined their friendship forever. very sad. angst potential, though.

but like. i’ll take anything.

steals your mail… who knows why?

cat escape… he keeps running away and she keeps letting him inside her room even though she’s allergic…

married old couple… the kind of friendship where they always bicker like they’ve been together for fifty years, but it’s purely platonic (or is it? slowburn BAYBEY. DENIAL babyey.)

off and on again… i think that one that’s not good for them because they enable each other & only get like … angry at each other, and it’s like, messy. but it’s super hard to stop. probably reminds her of high school so that’s why she tries so hard to stick around, but alas. it’s not good. it’s toxic. stop it.

the drug dealer… the one she sleeps with… even though she can just pay for it because she’s rich but like. it’s funner this way.

blurred status… like, it’s just really confusing of what they are? are they, aren’t they? the relationship status is just … muddled. she’s a mess and gets involved with too many people without intending to. potential to hurt feelings. :)

please. take her. give me connections.

#ruhqintro #child abuse tw #drug abuse tw #alcoholism tw #addiction tw #death tw #hit and run tw #car accident tw #grief tw

13 notes · View notes

jawllines · 6 years ago

Note

hey bub don't forget to post the met gala fic! xoxo ur reminder anon

tHANK YOU FOR REMINDING ME :D

“Holy shit.”

Y/N had seen Harry in a lot of things -- being his best friend meant experiencing his wardrobe, including but not limited to getting pictures of outfits laid out for something with question marks for her opinion, entering expensive boutiques with eyes averting from price tags in attempt not to panic, marveling as she walks through his closet to see pieces he’d purchased unbeknownst to her (plucking a few things from his drawers), and sending him links to things she think he ought to like just to see him in a photo online in it a week or so later. Despite how familiar she was with his taste in fashion and what he looks like in items of different colors, cuts, and fabrics, she is still often blown away with what he could conjure up. There was just something so. . .alluring, about the way in which he wore things with confidence without oozing any sort of cockiness that might turn someone off from him.

So when he’d invited her to come with him to New York for the Met Gala (in which she would not be attending, given she didn’t have thirty grand lying around to spend, but she got to sleep in a fancy hotel and eat like a King for a few days so she was happy), she’d been more than ecstatic. Was keen on seeing his outfits, hearing what he would do, what he’d have to say, and hope that he explain to her what even happens at the Met Gala apart from the red carpet. Even had fun with his impromptu ear piercing that she helped with (she’s got steadier hands than him). Her plan was simple -- to enjoy the luxuries of being rich without actually having to be rich, dawning one of the expensive hotel robes, slipping her feet into slippers and watch a livestream of the carpet while simultaneously pretending she would be willing to spend more than twenty dollars on a top as she scrolled through various clothing websites. Maybe take a bath or something and wait for him to come back, wondering what food they served at those kinds of events, if Harry would even like it, and if she should order room service (to which she would pay him back for even if it meant sliding money into his wallet when he wasn’t looking) and get him something in case he didn’t.

Though as the night continued on, picture after picture being released, videos and live streams from the event, everything seems so exciting and entertaining, she began to feel a small pit of. . .of something in her chest. She couldn’t quite tell what it was -- she was so proud of him and so happy to see him happy, that her cheeks could burst with a smile from it, but her heart weighs heavy. Harry makes good to rarely seem like he’s famous. Apart from the occasional fan picture or paparazzi hoard, he’s just normal Harry, who snores way too loud, has awful gas after eating jambalaya, picks off people’s plates without so much as a question to, and cannot sit still or keep quiet through a movie if he wasn’t interested in the subject matter. He was the Harry that shoved his head under her hand as his formal request for her to play with his hair and gave her drunken, emotional kisses because he’s “never felt so close t’a someone before”, and would rather sleep on her dingy old couch in her worn down flat than sleep in his multi-million dollar home if it meant that he didn’t have to be alone.

This Harry though -- famous Harry -- appeared to be completely in his element. Floating down the pink carpet with the man responsible for all things Gucci, dancing to Cher, mingling with celebrities, hosting the fucking event. It was like a whole different world he was apart of; one of glamour and opulence that she could only ever dream of. At that moment, for the first time, she’d felt as if she’d been holding Harry back somehow. She’s more than aware that she does not have that kind of power to do it on her own, but what about what he does for her? The nights that she wants him to come over, is he turning down plans with someone who might be more beneficial to his career? Or with someone who has much better, more interesting stories than what her professor tried to pull in her lecture? Maybe he was passing on drinks with stylists and people of greater importance because he’s far too loyal to pass on a romantic comedy movie night with her?

He deserved all good things; nothing but great, wonderful things and she feels endlessly guilty that she is unable to cater to that side of him.

That’s why when he returns a little earlier than he had expected, showing off the second garment he had changed into, his eyes wide and bright, “Get dressed, you’re comin’ with me to an after party!” He chirps after bursting through the door, walking towards the closet without a second thought and swinging the door open to reveal what she had presumed was a bag for one of his suits. Instead he pulls it from the closet, tosses it onto the mattress that she was sprawled on and points his finger at it, “Loads of people I wan’ you t’a meet, yeah?”

Her heart kicks up in her chest, not only because he is even more ethereal in person, nor was it just the fact that he had literally scared her phone out of her hand when he’d plowed in through the door, but because what in the hell? People he wants her to meet? At a met gala after party? Is she even allowed at those?

“Am I even allowed at those?” She mirrors her confusion and he shrugs his shoulders.

“Don’t see why not; m’the co-chair, so I think I get a bit of leeway with a thing or two,” he pulls the zipper open to the bag, uncovering a beautiful glittery, chain detailed silver slip dress that she only distantly remembers stroking her fingers against on the mannequin, checked the price tag, and pretend it didn’t happen. Y/N couldn’t believe he’d remembered it let alone purchased the damn thing and now it was just sat on the mattress, waiting for her to put it on, “If anything everyone will suspect your just some smarmy socialite who doesn’t a hundred percent what Camp is and that’s’ okay. Hurry on then, I don’ want them to have too much fun without me.”

Her eyes were wide, “Holy shit,” sbe begins, placing her fingers to her temples, “Holy shit, Harry,” she shakes her head, “I can’t go! I’m not even -- I don’t even -- I took like a half assed shower at best!”

“And you look marvelous, Darling,” he took the liberty of withdrawing the dress from the bag, thrusting it out towards her with his fist around the sleek dark wood of the hanger, “I’ve been gushing about ya all night, and y’know I hate to be made a liar.” He motions towards the piece in his hand, brows furrowed as he becomes impatient, “S’been like two months since I bought this so if y’don’t like it anymore then --”

“Shut up, you know I love it,” she takes it from him, trying to ignore the way her heart swells when his mouth pulls up in a big, triumphant smile, “But it was at least one month’s rent, you’re asking me to go to a party with a ton of famous people and that’s something that I need to like prepare for mentally weeks beforehand.”

As soon as she’s got the dress in hand, he takes her by the shoulders and guides her towards the bathroom, “Yeah, yeah, Lovie, listen -- they’re all jus’ like me, yeah? Normal, dressed a bit fancy,” he squeezes her where his hands lay, “Loud as all get out, just like a good chat, will absolutely adore you if you get your arse ready in the next twenty or so minutes.”

He’d managed to close her in the bathroom, leaving Y/N to stare into the large floor to ceiling mirror illuminating every flaw she could’ve possibly thought to have all at once. She looks disheveled -- like someone who had only been planning on lounging around on a hotel bed and living simultaneously through Met Gala Twitter. Not somebody who was meant to get ready in twenty minutes. However, somehow Harry was incredibly persuasive without even having to be persuasive and she was sliding the robe from her shoulders, letting it pool to the floor.

She could get ready in twenty minutes -- she’s had worse time constraints in the past.

. . .

Y/N’s head is spinning.

Too much had happened in such a short amount of time; she’d met more people than she would have thought to be imaginable in a night than she’d ever met in her entire life. People of such fame and opulence she was certain that they would never cross paths, no matter the fact that she’s Harry’s right hand for most things. However, she realizes tonight as she’s mingling and meeting these people Harry has known for a long while and had never let the situation arise in which Y/N would meet them. Harry kept his personal life separate from his public life and if he could, she realizes, he kept her personal to him which simultaneously made her heart soften and ache all in the same.

She doesn’t think it would hurt too bad, until she had fluttered around the room with him and he had left her to her own devices for a moment so he could get them both something to drink. That’s when someone had turned to her (she wishes she could remember their name but after meeting so many people in a night, most of them escaped her) and said with a look of bewilderment on their face, “So you guys have been friends for how long? You seem so close, I wonder why he hasn’t really mentioned you before.”

It’s not like she expected him to be speaking on her twenty four seven, that definitely wasn’t the case! However, she talks about him a healthy amount to her other friends, and not even in a way where he’s Harry Styles -- again, just the boy who gets drooly when his face is smushed up against a shoulder -- they know that he’s around and is aware of his presence and their friendship. It makes her wonder if he’s ashamed of her or something. . .was being friends with a college student considered unclassy? Would it be better if she was some socialite who had infiltrated the world of celebrities and shared all their gossip at the first breath of their names? Because those are the friends of his that these people know about.

But he had brought her tonight, so that meant something didn’t it? It had to have, right? Was this a test to see how she would do in a situation where she was placed amongst people of such high regard? Or did he just feel guilty for inviting her then leaving? Or was he just riding off the high of the night and was making hasty decisions that he otherwise wouldn’t dream of?

There’s too many possibilities, it makes her head spin, more so than the apple flavored vodka she’d been sipping on. She needed to get out of her head -- she knows she does -- but it feels impossible when she so clearly doesn’t belong. And without Harry at her side, she felt even more misplaced than she had to begin with. The judging glances from people who couldn’t seem to decipher why she was there, why she was silent unless spoken to, and why it appeared like she wanted to jump from her skin. She had never been more uncomfortable in her life, and she decides then that maybe Harry keeping her away from this was best.

When she’d sought him out to tell him she was going to head home -- make up some excuse about a migraine or something -- she sees him speaking with Kendall, which only seems to further the wrench in her heart. All those teenage glimmers of hope that she could be his right hand are squashed because she’d only proven tonight that she couldn’t handle this side and this was such a large part of him. Not the only part, but big enough that she could understand if he didn’t want to bother trying to acclimate her to it. Why would he want to be with someone who he couldn’t bring to events without them starting to doubt themselves? And why the hell is she even thinking about being with him right now?

She retreats to the bathroom -- just for a little space, at the very least, to calm her down. Tears threaten to crawl up her eyes but she won’t let them. God! Why is she being so melodramatic? What’s her deal all of the sudden? She’s about three minutes from kicking her own ass -- surrounded by celebrities and idols she’s had for years, just to go to the restroom and sit still on the toilet long after she finished peeing? Just because she plummeted herself into her feelings about a boy? It’s like some twisted form of movie high school prom that she’d never, ever wanted to encounter.

Y/N isn’t sure how long she’d been sat there, until her phone dings a bright noise and startles her from whatever reverie she’d thrown herself into. She’s surprised to see Harry’s contact be what she sees, considering she didn’t even think he had pockets to keep his phone, so she swipes right on it quickly.

Where are you? Is everything okay?

And then the bastard had to be so damn sweet! Why should he care if she’s okay? He’d just hosted the damn Met Gala for Christ sake, she should be the last thing on his mind.

She feels her eyes well; here she was in the bathroom, feeling sorry for herself when it was Harry’s night. How could she run off to the hotel? She was here to support him and praise him because tonight is about him and she almost feels selfish for letting her emotions have her feeling like it was even remotely about her.

Deciding to no longer feel sorry for herself, she answers him back letting him know she was in the bathroom, stands up, finally wipes like she should have about ten minutes ago, and goes to wash her hands. She looks at herself in the mirror, very seriously tells herself to buck the hell up only to jump some when she realizes that Katy Perry is beside her in a burger costume. She nods politely, pulls a paper towel from the dispenser and pushes her way out to see Harry was standing and waiting for her, a dopey smile on his stupidly cute face.

“Are ya havin’ fun?”

Y/N musters her best smile and nods, “Loads,” she responds, “Are you?”

He nods enthusiastically, reaching out for her arm and giving her a small tug, “C’mon then, ‘ve been DJ-ing with Mark and I want you to have a go.”

. . .

By the end of the night it is very well apparent that celebrities party like college students. After the first afterparty he had taken her to, they went to a smaller one that he co-hosted, and it was a bit slower paced. Y/N felt more comfortable there at the very least -- maybe too comfortable, because several times she caught herself slowly fading to sleep, only brought back to full alertness when the coolness of her glass is pressed against her thigh. She’d done her fair share of mingling here too and met a handful of people that made her mouth dry, but by the time the sun started to rise in the sky, she was curled up on a couch and scrolling through her phone absently, waiting for Harry’s cue that they could go back to the hotel. He’d come to check on her a few times, asking if she wanted to meet someone (she would say yes), or if she just needed company but she urged him several times to go have fun (“You and I will be together for the next few days anyway, y’might as well enjoy your time without me hovering,” she had told him to which he replied with a pout of, “But I like when you hover.” that made her heart flutter more than it should have).

She was in the weird state of drunk-ish but slowly sobering; the last shot she had was an hour or so ago but she still felt buzzy and light. Still drunk enough to think that considering trekking downstairs and hitching a taxi by herself when she wasn’t all too sure of where their hotel was, might be a good idea -- but of sound enough mind to recognize that her feet ached too much to even think about trekking anywhere.

Around 7-ish, a gentle hand lies on her shoulder and nearly has her spring from her skin. Harry’s soft, low, sleepy chuckle is her first indication that it’s him before she turns around and sees his bow is a bit askew, his hair has been tousled and combed through to high heavens, and his eyes were puffy and red from his own weariness. “Jumpy,” he’d murmured, and she could tell he had sobered up considerably and was probably far soberer than she was, as he holds his hand out for her to take, helping her rise and leaning over to grab the heels she had kicked off and lied beside the couch, “Y’should’ve told me you were tired. Would’ve gotten you back to the hotel.”

“And what, miss out on some rich hot shot celebrity falling in love with my drunken sleeping form?” She stood, wincing and pouting, taking her heels from his fingers and sliding them back onto her foot, “Speaking of, m’pretty sure Taron Egerton is bringing me home actually, so I’ll send for my things.”

He furrows his brows at her and waves her along, “Yeah, yeah, and Alessandro is signing Gucci over to me -- c’mon now.”

“That’s actually not so unbelievable,” she replies.

The ride home, Y/N demands Harry work through his jaded brain to tell her about his entire night. She hypes him up even after the fact, reveling in his stories with him, all the new people he meant, how invigorating it was to be hosting the very first Met Gala that he attended, how freeing it was to have his nipples out at an event of this high stature, and how much fun he’d had even afterward. Though he still shies from her praise, blushing a pretty pink when she tells him he’s a legend and, “You’re literally doing such great things at such a young point in your solo career, m’surprised you aren’t floating from ego bloat,” makes him shake his head through a laugh.

She had thought she had made a brilliant recovery from her previous, mid-party panic, and was actually patting herself on the back for having it go unnoticed by him (because he notices absolutely everything; people could call Harry a lot of things, but one of them wasn’t dense). This is why she was so blindsided by how he approaches her when she’d plopped down on the hotel bed, kicking the heels off once again and flopping back against the mattress.

“So are you going to tell me what had you bent out of shape earlier?”

Y/N’s brows furrowed, heart sinking to her stomach, “Hm?” She plays dumb but he gives her that look -- that “don’t for a second think that you can trick me” look that almost makes her visibly shudder.

“You know what I mean,” he responds, “Y’think I don’t notice when you’re gone quiet? Or when you disappear for twenty minutes? Did someone say something to you?”

She opens her mouth to deny it but he shoots her that look again and she crumbles beneath it, shaking her head, “It was nothing,” she tells him, “I just got in my head, is all but it doesn’t matter and m’fine, so everything is good.”

“Don’t say you’re feelings don’t matter, because they do,” he responds almost immediately, peeling himself from his outfit and revealing the creamy smooth skin beneath -- Y/N has to tear her eyes from his torso so that she’s listening -- “Tell me what was wrong.”

“You’re awful demanding,” she grumbles, reaching up to take her earrings out, “It was just new and weird; I was surrounded by people I only ever see on a screen and then there were some people that just -- I just realized I didn’t really fit in, and I got in my head, but I got over it.”

His brows furrow, crawling up onto the bed, “Why didn’t you say anything to me?”

“Because it was your night idiot!” She all but snaps at him, not out of anger with him, but from pure frustration with herself, “I wasn’t going to hold you back because I felt weird. That wouldn’t be fair to you, n’I just -- I’m not apart of that world and it was very apparent and I just realized that I could be holding you back from something better when you’re hanging out with me or even that you have to take me places with you ‘cos you feel guilty. And if. . .and someone just -- I said we were best friends and they made a face and I -- it just feels weird. . .I felt weird.” Pushing the heels of her palms to her eyes, she shakes her head, “But it doesn’t matter, stop prying, me head hurts enough and I’m not letting this ruin how amazing tonight was.”

Harry’s fingers are gentle as they loop around her wrist, pulling it at it delicately so he could draw her hands from her face, “Okay,” he murmurs gently, “Okay, okay, I’ll stop, I just --” he pauses for a moment, like he’s trying to pluck the right words from his brain, “You’re so important t’me, y’know that? Right important and I wanted to bring you with me t’night, because I wanted to experience this amazing night with you.” His thumb carefully caresses her skin, and she can feel his eyes boring into her though she doesn’t look up at him, “Y’don’t have to be apart of that world, yeah? I like that you aren’t ‘cos -- well, as selfish as it is, I just want you all to myself. You’re my person. And don’t ever think you’re holding me back, Lovie, if I wanted to hang out with a ton of snobby rich celebrities all day then I would.” He leans in, pushing a kiss to her forehead, “I love you Dummy.”

Her heart pulls in her chest, “I love you more,” she murmurs.

They finish getting ready for bed (despite it being close to 9AM) and Y/N returns from the bathroom to see that Harry had planted himself on her mattress opposed to his own, snuggled up beneath her covers with only his eyes peeking out at her, “Get in,” his words are muffled by the blankets and Y/N rolls her eyes, climbing up into bed beside him. He wriggles his way over to her almost instantly, lying his head against her chest and sighing contentedly as his eyes flutter shut.

“You looked really hot t’night,” she murmurs idly as she combs her fingers through his hair and he hums, nestling closer to her, “Especially in the first outfit. You’re lucky I didn’t jump your bones.”

Harry laugh comes as a soft puff through his nose.

“You should’ve.” He responded.

Y/N stays up for an hour after thinking about it.

#bLURB #Anonymous

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altscige · 5 years ago

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『MADELYN CLINE ❙ CIS FEMALE』 ⟿ looks like SAIGE BEAUMONT is here for HER JUNIOR year as a LINGUISTICS student. SHE is 21 years old & known to be BLITHE, ENERGETIC, EVASIVE & IRRATIONAL. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ JAMES. 20. EST. SHE/THEY.

hi sorry this took so long i ws on hiatus bt turns out thts exactly how long i need to churn out these new blogs so BJKSADNKFJG also r i p babe bt i miss saige ... she’s an old muse of mine n she’s rly grand i think pls love her ok thank u pls LIKE this if u’d like to plot

TW CHILD ABUSE, DRUG USE, ALCOHOLISM, ADDICTION, DEATH, HIT & RUN CAR ACCIDENTS, GRIEF, GUILT

aesthetics.

basic info.

full name: saige alouette beaumont

nickname(s): n/a :/ give her some

b.o.d. - july 7th, cancer

label(s): the hedonist, the icarcian, the reveler, etc.

height: 5′7″

hometown: thibodaux, louisiana

sexuality: bisexual w/ a very slight preference towards masc-presenting folks

stats

inspired by: serena van der woodsen (gossip girl), aimee gibbs (sex education), alexis rose (schitt’s creek), elle woods (legally blonde), rapunzel (tangled), clementine (eternal sunshine of a spotless mind), angela montenegro (bones), tinkerbell (peter pan), late 2000 / early 2010s kesha... i don’t know because she’s not actually inspired by anybody i made her when i was like 13 HDSJBKFNGHJLDS

biography.

it was hard to keep and maintain friends - there one day, gone the next. a ghost you could see, clear as day, but never touch - never fully, at least. even if she tried with all her might.

she absorbed as she could, as much as she could get; an intense, undying love for a world she always craved to see.

from there on, she’d been labeled as a ‘problem child’ - from public intoxication to vandalism, it was clear their daughter was unraveling and nothing could possibly contain her.

they told family she needed a change of pace, and rumors in her old school said that she’d been expelled, that she’d been sent to the french countryside to live with her grandmother.

maybe she should’ve. should’ve left as quick as possible, and never turn back.

saige mysteriously disappeared from the public eye for an entire year, the entirety of her 18th year on earth, before promptly showing up at radcliffe university, ready to learn.

it’d been a year of legal cases & lawsuits & avoiding prison with expensive lawyers and a lot of money.

personality.

she is so ... bubbly. so fucking bubbly. she’s has so much energy in her. goes running every morning and every night and swims almost every afternoon and she’s never tired, even if she hasn’t slept the last night and even if she’s been dancing for five hours in a club in high heels and nothing but vodka in her system. the personification of a coke bottle shaken up, if the coke bottle in question could laugh and smile at you and make you feel, somehow, at home even though you’d only met her in the bathroom queue.

takes a lot. so much. could ramble for days, hand gestures and all. never stops talking. never.

if she wants to do something, she’ll do it and there’s not very much you can do to stop her. stubborn, but at the same time easy going? very go go go. mischievous. even if she’s trying to do something stupid you kind of just like ... have to let her do it, or otherwise she’ll mope for three hours and pout at you and then you’ll feel questionably guilty, which is admittedly a little manipulative on her end and isn’t the best thing, but i never said she’s the best person ever because she’s most certainly ... not.

a vegetarian because meat makes her physically sick, like, she’s got a weird intolerance to it and it’s not quite an allergy because it’s really just red meats but she’ll get a tummy ache.

her vocabulary consists of a lot of ‘likes’ and ‘ums’ and ‘yknows’, y’know? her statements always sound like questions.

owns four cars ... bad idea considering her past, but alas. spending her money is a coping mechanism and she likes to drive because it’s a form of freedom. anyways. all her cars are on campus and she’s probably not allowed to have them all on campus but she does. one’s a sleek sports car, the other is a jacked up pick-up truck that’s decked out in like ... LED lights and shit, the third one is the same exact fucking mustang from the princess diaries because she’s obsessed with the movie & usually gets what she wants. the fourth is a mini cooper.

she’s just very reckless, and very much a party girl. has quite the collection of drugs & uses socially, but also alone and throughout the day. rarely sober.

this has been a budding problem that was developed since she was a young teenager. the ehem. situation that happened when she was eighteen only amplified it.

is essentially wearing a mask of confidence and giddiness and flirtatiousness because she doesn’t want people to think she’s not doing well, because she isn’t.

loves so much. loves everything, so much. everything, everybody. falls in love like five times a day but nothing really sticks to her either, for the most part. i hate to say it but she does flock to shitty people / general assholes because that’s just ... how she is, that’s what she’s surrounded herself with her entire life. even her high school boyfriend was an asshole - just like, not to her, which made it Okay in her mind. she finds these kind of people like ... super interesting which is really questionable but y’know what? we’re fine. it’s fine. i’m fine.

ok that’s all. love her.

wanted connections.

a best friend... someone who sticks by her side even though she is a certified Mess.

a ride or die... is it the same as a best friend? maybe. but it’s got a fancy name and i want both so :)

close friends... she’s really friendly and the kind of girl to have been really popular in high school but didn’t care for it and talks to everybody like she’s known them her entire life, so. she’d have a good amount of these!

grumpy friend... to balance her happy friend. she’ll fuck them up in a friendship way. with her cheerfulness.

party pals... they don’t talk much outside of parties but they’re practically glued to the hip when they’re at them. hold your hair back kind of close.

frenemies... or fake friends, toxic friends, people who use her for money or like ... sex, or whatever? anything? people who barely tolerate her because she gives them stuff sometimes.

bad influences... they just encourage her to do more, be worse, never get better.

good influences... like ... YOINK! stop being an idiot! do your homework! idot!

a tutor... because she’s like...smart...but she’s also stupid...super bad at math & science. help her.

hook ups... friends with benefits, a one night stand that is a little? awkward? since then. past & present tenses. :)

exes... she’s noncommittal so they likely wouldn’t have lasted very long but? yolo? she can be a heartbreaker, as marina said, as a treat? whether they dated or were fucking ... either works. but i do love angst :)

one-sided hatred... someone who just fucking ... despises her. but she doesn’t realize because she’s an idiot and thinks they’re just like. joking around! like they’re best buddies!

annoyance... but she’s the annoyance. she’s the thorn in their side.

ex-best friend... where something happened between them, like, anything, and it ruined their friendship forever. very sad. angst potential, though.

but like. i’ll take anything.

steals your mail... who knows why?

cat escape... he keeps running away and she keeps letting him inside her room even though she’s allergic...

married old couple... the kind of friendship where they always bicker like they’ve been together for fifty years, but it’s purely platonic (or is it? slowburn BAYBEY. DENIAL babyey.)

off and on again... i think that one that’s not good for them because they enable each other & only get like ... angry at each other, and it’s like, messy. but it’s super hard to stop. probably reminds her of high school so that’s why she tries so hard to stick around, but alas. it’s not good. it’s toxic. stop it.

the drug dealer... the one she sleeps with... even though she can just pay for it because she’s rich but like. it’s funner this way.

blurred status... like, it’s just really confusing of what they are? are they, aren’t they? the relationship status is just ... muddled. she’s a mess and gets involved with too many people without intending to. potential to hurt feelings. :)

please. take her. give me connections.

#radintro #child abuse tw #abuse tw #drug abuse tw #alcoholism tw #addiction tw #hit and run tw #grief tw #ok wow this is a lot. HBJDNFKGH

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theydontknowaboutusimagines · 6 years ago

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Behind The Marriage - Harry Styles Series (Part 23)

Part 22

“You’re killing me, Harry,” Harry groaned at his stylist as they were doing his final fitting for his Met Gala outfit. “Just a little sneak peek is all I’m asking here.”

“No can do,” he responded. “Your missus told me not to tell you anything about what we’ve chosen for her to wear.”

“Then fucking show me!” He pointed out. “Telling and showing are two very different things.”

“You know what I mean you fucker,” Harry laughed. “Now, stop moving before I poke you with this.”

Harry rolled his eyes, “You know, you’re supposed to be my stylist...”

“Yep, but ever since you married Y/N, what’s yours is her’s,” he smirked.

“Can you at least give me a color?” Harry asked.

“If it will make you shut the hell up about it, yes. I’ll give you a color. Black,” he said.

“Well, that could be bloody anything,” he mumbled. “Is it going to form-fitting or loose?”

“If you’re asking because you want to know if she’s going to try and hide her baby bump, the answer is both,” he said.

“Excuse me?” Harry asked looking over at him.

“Let’s just say we’ve designed something that’s sexy and also hides her bump, just a little. People will only catch it if they look close enough,” he said.

He groaned, “Now, I wish you hadn’t told me all of that shit because it makes me want to know what she’s wearing even more.”

“That’s why you should have just waited,” he smirked.

The Met Gala was a few days away, which meant you and Harry would be going to NYC soon. You were currently in LA, doing some work for a bit, but also to get a change of scenery. Your baby bump was starting to be a little more noticeable, but you could still hide it fairly well for a few more weeks at least.

Knowing the Met Gala was something highly publicized and tons of photos would be taken prior and after the event, you knew the chance of your pregnancy getting out was huge. You and Harry still hadn’t really talked about when or how you would address it when the time came for the world to start noticing, so you weren’t quite sure how you would handle the Met.

When it came to your outfit, you really wanted to make sure you felt your best and looked your best, but also not making it super obvious that you were pregnant. Which part of you felt a little ashamed of it because you were sure the majority of pregnant women couldn’t wait to show off their baby bumps. But your situation was also different from theirs.

It’s not that you didn’t want the world to know you were pregnant, it’s just you knew what would happen or at least, what could happen, once the news broke. It would be featured on every news outlet and social media website. Fans would flood your mentions with either happy congrats, or something far worse.

And you weren’t ready for that.

Not, that you would ever really be ready for it, to be honest.

But you wanted just a little more time for you and Harry to bask in the excitement of future parenthood with just you, your families, and close friends knowing.

When Harry L approached you about if you wanted help finding something to wear, you quickly and happily jumped at the opportunity. You two met with some of the designers at Gucci and were able to design the perfect outfit. Not only did you feel absolutely beautiful in it, and that was without proper hair and makeup, but it also complemented Harry’s outfit well, however, it was still something of your own.

You wanted to surprise Harry by not showing him or telling him about the outfit prior to the event. He was annoyed because he had shown you his outfit as soon as it was finalized. It was sort of cute how he was so desperate in finding even the smallest amount of clues, he had looked through your closet.

As if you were actually keeping the outfit there. You also made Harry L and the people of Gucci to not utter a word to Harry about it. And as far as you knew they all kept their word.

“Oh my god what are you two doing?” You groaned walking into the bathroom of your NYC hotel room.

Harry L was standing there with your Harry sitting in a chair with a needle.

“It was his idea!” Harry L defended.

“You’re the one that suggested an earring for pierced ears,” Harry scoffed.

“True, but I was leaning more for you getting it professionally done, not you sticking your own ear in the fucking bathroom,” Harry said.

“Oh my god are you seriously watching the scene from the Parent Trap as your tutorial!” You shook your head.

“Hey! It was the first thing that popped up on Youtube,” he shrugged.

“You do realized there are probably like hundreds of legit professional piercers in the city, right? And you just like couldn’t go to one of them because?” You asked.

“Not enough time. I’ve got the dinner tonight and the Met is tomorrow,” he said removing the ice from his ear.

“I can’t watch this,” you mumbled. “And I swear if your ear gets infected because of this, I will severely hurt you Harrys.”

“Hey! How did I get thrown into this, I’m not doing it,” Harry L said.

“You’re in the fucking room with him and assisting his stupidity, so yes you are very much a part of it,” you said. “Now, excuse me while I go get ready like a normal fucking person.”

Once you left, Harry L looked down at Harry, “Guess I should have locked the door, right?”

You were putting on your earrings in your black velvet floor length dress with a sweetheart neckline. It was quite form-fitting, but the way it hung over your belly bump made it only noticeable when you stood to the side. Your hair was in a high ponytail with big curls that framed your face.

When you looked in your mirror, you saw your husband staring at you. You turned around smoothing out your dress.

“What do you think?” you asked.

He walked over to you, not saying a word, putting his hands on your hips.

“You look fucking gorgeous,” he smiled. “And if tomorrow’s outfit is better than this, then the rest of us should just stay the fuck home.”

You laughed, “I wouldn’t go that far,” you smiled.

“I would,” he smirked.

He placed his hand on your belly, “How are you feeling about this?”

“The world is going to find out eventually,” you said. “I’m only going to get bigger and then we’re going to have a baby tagging along with us.”

“I know, but I want you to know I’m not going to let anything or anyone get near you and our baby,” he said.

“I know, “ you smiled putting your hand on his cheek. “You do realize your ear is as red as your suit jacket, right?”

“It’s fine,” he rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, when pus starts oozing out, it’s not going to be,” you stated.

“Well, it’s not going to do that because we were safe,” he smirked.

“Pretty sure an at home piercing with a sewing needle is not safe,” you said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, come on we’re going to be late,” he laughed.

The Pre Met Gala dinner went great, even though it was pouring rain both on arrival and departure. You were a little uneasy being surrounded by different celebrities and those that were huge within the fashion industry. You most sat back letting Harry mingle around, which you didn’t mind because this was his event. You were super proud of him and you knew you would only be more proud the next evening.

When you saw the pap photos of you and Harry, you couldn’t help, but smile. You felt and looked beautiful and couldn’t have been happier. You zoomed in on some of the photos to see if your bump was noticeable, and even though you knew it was there, you couldn’t really find it. You thanked Harry being at your side, the umbrellas being held, and the off lighting.

The photos at the Met Gala, however, would really be put to the test. Especially since your outfit would be a little bit more daring than the previous night. You were currently getting your hair and makeup done in a different hotel room from Harry because you wanted to keep him waiting on your entire look.

Once your hair and makeup was finished, it was time to get into your dress. The dress is technically a two piece, but appears as a full dress. The top is an off the shoulder midnight black crop top with lace bell sleeves from the shoulder down. The same lace covers the skin of your belly and stops just at the top hem of your high waisted midnight black skirt with a slit up to your mid-thigh.

There was a Robin’s Egg colored fabric on the underside of your skirt that matched your small backpack. Your shoes were black platform sandals that were much more comfortable than any pairs of heels, which you were super grateful for.

Since your top left your neck bare, you were able to wear a massive, gaudy pearl choker with matching earrings. Your hair was up in a updo, with different strands of pearls, glitter, and matching pinks and robin’s egg strands braided in your hair.

Your makeup was mostly simple, but you still had elements of glitter and color’s used in your eye makeup and lipstick.

You texted Harry when you ready for him to come in and see you for the first time. You were nervous on what he would think and if it really fit the look the theme was asking for. Plus, you didn’t want him or anyone else think you were trying too hard.

As soon as you heard the knock on the door, you felt your stomach drop. Well, it was now or never. They opened the door for Harry, who was already wearing his black ensemble.

“Where’s my missus?” He said eagerly.

“Right here,” you said before walking out into the living area.

“Holy shit!” he whispered. “Holy fucking shit.”

“Um... is that a good thing?” you asked confused.

“You look... wow.. bloody fucking wow,” he said. “I can’t... wow. You look I’m so fucking speechless right now, baby.”

You smiled, “So I take it you like it?”

“I do,” he smiled. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” you smiled. “When Harry told me you were going to wear lace, I asked about incorporating it with mine and we found a happy medium. And then when I found out what you were painting your nails... I was happy that I had already chosen that color for outfit.”

“Well, we’re just two peas in a fashionable Camp pod,” he joked.

“Please, tell me you did not just say that,” you giggled.

“I did and I’m proud of it,” he smirked.

“So, are you going to go ahead of me?” You asked on the way. “I know the Co-chairs usually go first.”

“What? No, you’re going with me,” he said. “Yes, we go first, but you’re going to be with the while time. I’m not going to let you walk the carpet by yourself.”

“Are you sure? This is your moment,” you said.

“And you’re my wife, it may technically be my moment, but it’s also our moment,” he said.

“I love you,” you smiled. “And I’m so proud of you.”

“I love you, too,” he smiled. “Now, are we ready to do this?”

“I’m ready if you are,” you smiled.

You felt nervous the closer you approached the Pink carpet and the venue. Harry squeezed your hand in reassurance and you it was like your nervousness lessened. You could see and hear the camera’s flashing and the nearby fans screaming. It was a little overwhelming and you weren’t even on the carpet yet.

When it was finally time to get onto the carpet and walk. Harry kissed your cheek before both of you walked out behind Alessandro. Everyone was shouting Harry’s name and the flashes of light were pretty blinding. But you were holding your own.

When Harry was taking photos of just himself an with Alessandro, you were taking your own photos, which felt a little weird, but also pretty liberating. While you were perfectly fine being Harry’s wife or plus one for the night, it was nice to be able to stand out and show you were more than that.

Halfway through the carpet, Harry wrapped his arm around you waist, “You okay?” He whispered into your ear. “We’re almost done.”

“I’m perfect,” you smiled.

The rest of the time, Harry never left your side only talking photos with you before walking off and standing where he needed to to greet the other guests.

“You can on inside, love, and sit down. Harry’s in there and if you need me, let me know,” he said.

You nodded kissing his cheek before heading inside.

Once the Gala was over, it was time for the After Party. Harry kept asking you, if you felt up to going since it was so late, but you reassured him you and the baby were fine. You had changed into a more simple, colorful dress for the afterparty and spent your time dancing around and eating sandwiches was because baby was hungry.

While you were shoving yet another sandwich in your mouth, thanks to Harry bringing an entire tray of them up to the DJ booth, you were started scrolling through social media looking for the photos from the carpet.

So, far everyone loved your outfit and you were super happy about it. And then... came the speculations of your baby bump... all ready.

That didn’t take long.

“I swear she looked fat or pregnant!”

“I bet that’s why they got married”

“She should have covered up more!”

“DADDY HARRY IS HAPPENING!”

“Nothing is more Camp than wearing a fake baby bump to “prove” a pregnancy is going to be real.”

And of course, that meant articles were starting to appear as well.

“Met Gala Co-Chair Harry Styles’ Wife Shows off possible baby bump on Pink Carpet.”

“Could it be yet another former One Direction star is about to be a father?”

“Life After One Direction Equals Fatherhood.”

“Harry Styles’ Wife Wore a Different Accessory at this year’s Met Gala. A Baby Bump.”

You didn’t even click on them because you didn’t want them to gain views. You knew this would most likely happen, but you didn’t think it would be within only a few hours of the event. You didn’t want to show Harry the speculations or what was currently being said because you didn’t want to ruin his night.

So, you simply put the phone away, grabbed another sandwich, and danced the rest of the night away with your husband before all hell broke loose the next day.

HEY EVERYONE!!!

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR BEING SO UNDERSTANDING WITH MY LACK OF POSTING THESE LAST FEW WEEKS. I PLAN ON POSTING MY REGULAR AMOUNT OF TIMES PER WEEK NOW, BUT BARE WITH ME AS I GET BACK IN THE FLOW OF WRITING.

ALSO, I REALLY HOPE YOU ENJOYED THIS UPDATE! LET ME KNOW!

#ONE DIRECTION IMAGINES #HARRY STYLES IMAGINES #BEHIND THE MARRIAGE

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aussie-em · 6 years ago

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Well This Can’t Be Good

Camp Half Blood Genderbend Chapter 1

Read on A03

Read on FFnet

In which the demigods of Camp Half Blood have their genders changed. And the Hunters of Artemis. Did I mention they're mad at Dionysus? Remember when everyone was safe and alive and happily living at Camp Half Blood after Heroes of Olympus with Leo and Solangelo? Nope, I don't either.

First

All

*Annabeth*

Annabeth woke up to the sound of screaming.

She raced out to the Athena Cabin's porch, ignoring the sick feeling in her stomach. After a second of searching for the culprit of the screaming, she wasn't surprised to find that the Aphrodite cabin was running around, as fast as their Gucci high heels could take them.

What she was surprised with, though, was that the rest of the camp was running around in the fray.

Annabeth hurried back inside, absentmindedly stepping over one of her brothers who was asleep on the ground and grabbed some of her clothes to change before dealing with this mess. As she closed the door she finally took a look at herself through the mirror.

Wait.

Her hand floated up to where her hair used to be. She scanned over herself in the mirror.

Hades...

She quickly changed and bolted into the main cabin. "Uh... Anyone else feeling different?" She called.

"ANNABETH!" Her youngest brother, Riley, screamed. "I'M A GIRL!"

The ten-year-old most certainly was. His usually short blonde hair was now styled into a bob, and he had a more feminine shape to his frame. She looked over the rest of her siblings, noticing Hannah, Riley's twin, was now male, her long hair gone.

She cursed as Malcolm walked over, looking uncomfortable. "Any ideas?"

He shook his head then paused. He had seemed to come to the same conclusion as she had.

"Dionysus... last night." She groaned.

"He is the Greek god of gender." He nodded.

Annabeth sighed as she ran her hands over her face and pushed the new hair covering her forehead out of her eyes. "C'mon. We gotta tell Chiron."

Seconds later, a certain son of Poseidon swung open the door to the Athena cabin the same time she was pulling it open.

"Annabeth." He sighed, slipping his fingers through hers as she pulled him and Malcolm along to find Chiron.

"So... what happened?" He inquired, trusting she would have the answer at hand.

She didn't.

"I- I don't really know." She blinked. "The gods' powers are hard to understand. But think about it; Dionysus is the god of gender."

He whistled lowly. "Last night." He guessed.

"Yyyep." Annabeth pulled a face.

They stopped as Chiron cantred up to them.

"Annabeth?" He guessed.

"Yes. We think our genders have-"

"Changed." Their teacher finished gravely. "I suspected that much."

Percy raised his free hand tentatively, looking around at the panicked state of the camp. "Just wanted to let you know; the Aphrodite cabin is having a full-on panic attack. Drew fainted, but at least she is out for the count. On the other hand, Piper is probably using a bit too much charmspeak."

"Got it." She stressed, then turned back to Chiron. "We were just coming to find you. Counsellor meeting?"

"Yes. Percy, can you run and find Piper? I hate to pull her away from her cabin and their... panicked state, but we'll need her charmspeak to calm down the rest of the camp if Drew is unconscious. I'm worried that we won't be able to calm everyone down without her. Malcolm, Annabeth; go find the cabin counsellors."

"Already on it. Malcolm; I'll do one to twelve; you get everyone else."

Percy and Malcolm ran off ungracefully to find their respective peers.

Annabeth turned to him and sighed. "And to think we only had nine days until school was back in and no drama."

Chiron chuckled sourly as she ran off to find the remaining eight head counsellors of the Olympian gods.

An hour later, the demigod head counsellors of each cabin had communed in the Big House rec room. Ten minutes later, Dionysus had communicated (through his sons, of course, because he wouldn't speak to anyone else) to the demigods the idea that they might have to get used to their new bodies.

Clovis even woke up from his chair in the corner when Nico screeched, "HOW LONG?!"

He was already sulking in a corner, Will rubbing his forehead as he tried to coax his boyfriend out of the shadows.

"Calm. Down. Nico!" Will placed a hand on his boyfriend's shoulder. "It might actually be interesting!"

"And wait until Hazel finds out you're a girl!" Piper finished. Nico and Will glared at her simultaneously as she and Leo laughed. "She might even want to come over and stay a bit."

Nico's hair was even longer than before. Annabeth stifled a laugh at the thought that Piper purely wanted to braid Nico's hair, now that she had more to work with. Even Annabeth rarely escaped that.

Nico just groaned and buried his face in his hands.

Dionysus' son chuckled sourly. "Well, at least we didn't change."

Leo laughed. "What do you mean? You're missing out!" He cackled as he threw his head back and set his mass of curly hair on fire. Annabeth didn't like how this was going. He was definitely enjoying this way too much.

"Well!" Annabeth directed a soft glare at Leo which made him sit up and pat the flames out of his smouldering hair. "I guess we just need to go back to our cabins and..." she blinked. "Well, any questions before that?"

Samantha from Hebe raised her hand and didn't wait before she called out; "Should we change our names? You know, so they're similar but respective genders?"

Annabeth considered this. "No. That would be too confusing. Keep your names."

"Pronouns?" Someone under the table asked.

Annabeth grimaced. She knew this would be difficult to explain. "Well... let people know what pronouns you go by. We can get wrist ties in pink, blue and green, maybe. I know the pink-blue idea is sexist but it'll be the easiest way to silently communicate the pronouns across. If someone uses the wrong ones, just correct them, please."

"How will we get different clothes?"

"I guess we could trade clothes with our siblings, or close friends," Miranda Gardener shrugged, "Or the camp store. How about getting the camp store to give every camper two outfits? That should be enough if everyone else swaps, or you can just wear the clothes you have now."

"Perfect, Miranda," Annabeth nodded. "No more questions?" She inquired, looking around the room. When nobody spoke, she continued, "Well... let's just be grateful that the Hunters left last night. During the night... oh no." She groaned. "Does anyone have a drachma?"

Percy passed her one, and as she was about to throw it into the fountain on the wall, a perfectly timed Iris Message came through from Thalia.

There was almost as much screaming there as there was at camp this morning. Thalia stood in the front of it all, looking almost unchanged.

"Annabeth!? Explain."

*Piper*

The Aphrodite Cabin was in shock. Piper needed all of her influence over her siblings and some other panicking campers. Fortunately or not, Drew was still unconscious.

"PIPER!" Dianne screeched, "I have nothing to wear, my hear is completely ruined, and I can't wear makeup, because I AM A BOY!"

Piper sighed and held out her hand in a 'stop' motion. "Dianne, we all have problems with this. Take a deep breath, exhale, inhale, calm down." She didn't even notice she was using charmspeak until the rest of the cabin seemed to stop and breathe a louder.

"Listen, everyone. No screaming, please. And Lacy, can you write this down for Drew? I really don't want to explain this to her." Piper breathed a long sigh of relief as Lacy, the cabins resident secretary, nodded and grabbed a notepad from the chest at the bottom of her bunk.

"This curse has been given until the next Summer Solstice. That's in about nine months time."

She took a sharp breath, expecting Drew to raise up from the dead, or someone to override her charmspeaking powers. Thankfully, nobody did and Drew remained unconscious.

"Dionysus issued the curse, so there's really no way to reverse it. We're not going to change our names, but you can change your pronouns if you so wish, and we'll have bracelets or anklets made with your pronouns written on it if you want it. You're getting a free outfit from the camp store, you could swap clothes with your siblings, and you can obviously fund your own shopping antics if you choose to buy more," But knowing her siblings, Piper muttered, "Which you can sell or donate or something at Summer Solstice."

She tried to remember what else Annabeth and Dionysus' son had mentions regarding this situation.

"Oh yeah. Also, because Dionysus is ever so merciful, the mist will change you back to your normal selves outside camp borders, or really when you aren't near any mythological beings. So you won't have to be worried about your school, or parents." Piper grimaced, hoping none of her siblings' parents or their siblings could see through the mist. But Aphrodite wasn't really one for telling her lovers about the whole 'the Greek gods are alive and thriving' thing.

She rolled her eyes, remembering that Annabeth mentioned quietly to her afterwards that the real reason Dionysus had more control over the mist inside the camps barrier and he was pretty powerless in the outside world. She wasn't about to mention this to her siblings though.

"The Hunters of Artemis are going to be especially annoyed, so if they come over in the next three quarters of the year please try not to pick any fights with them. Any more questions?"

Nobody called out, and Lacy scribbled on her notepad for a second more before adding a dot to the end of her sentence and nodded, "Is Artemis male now?"

Piper shook her head. "Dionysus doesn't have that sort of power over another god, especially another one more powerful than he is, and Artemis can always change her form anyway."

Nobody else called out, so Piper took that thankfully as no more questions for her to answer with her limited knowledge of the situation.

"Great. Well, it's time for breakfast. Quickly, get changed and we'll go. We still have the next nine and a half months to survive and to figure this out."

#chb genderbend #annabeth chase #annabeth #percy jackson #Piper McLean #camphalfblood #rick riordan #hey look i wrote it early

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