#i feel like half her wardrobe is stuff she likes to wear out bc its her style (more comfort or grunge focused shit)

[miscellaneous--bones]

some basic stuff for gal's wardrobe. i tend to think that because of how the legs move three piece clothing is the easiest and most comfortable to put on and otherwise move in. i think the hardest part is figuring out what she would have style wise and what shed be able to get tailored vs what shed have scrounged. other than hoodies and tshirts pretty much everything has to be tailored, unfortunatly.

[mandoalorian]

hi i’d like max x reader where he’s having very stressful day at work like everything that can go wrong does go wrong and the reader is his gf and bc of all this stuff going wrong he forgets that she’s supposed to visit him at work so she comes in and starts talking about her day and how great it was and then he just shoots up and goes to hug her and starts kissing her and playing with her hair and she’s like ??? cause this never happens and he just lays his head on her lap and he rants about his day and she listens and she tries to comfort him as best she can thank u 🥺

Rough Day At Work [Maxwell Lord x Reader]

Author's note: Oh. my god. This is a long one. I write a lot of Maxwell fluff but this one is by far one of my favourites. It's a journey of pure, unadulterated sweetness with a sliver of comedy. And it's set at Christmas— perfect to get you in the festive mood! Reblogs appreciated because this isn't showing up in tags.

Word count: 6.5k

Warnings: food mention, drink mention, brief allusions to sex, Maxwell is ~stressed~.

Rating: PG-13

Masterlist in pinned! Requests open x

Maxwell Lord had his fair share of bad days. Things almost always went wrong in his line of work, but it was almost never his fault. He could always squander up an excuse or find someone else to blame. But today it was one thing after another.

He was late. He had a meeting with the board team first thing but as the Christmas traffic filled the bustling roads of DC, he had already missed the first twenty five minutes of the conference. He practically fell out of the black limo that drove him to work every morning, plodging his feet through the thick layers of snow. It was so deep this morning, the ice cold water seeped through his leather Armani shoes and even through his favourite cashmere socks. The ones with little purple polka dots. He shivered uncomfortably as the clumps of ice sat in between his toes, melting, and so every footstep made an obscene squelching noise. He didn't have the time to fuss around and change his shoes. The bottoms of his tailored pants were dripping. He bolted through the glass revolving doors of Black Gold Cooperative, trailing a pool of water behind him. His receptionist Anna, and his assistant Raquel, stood up abruptly, their eyes widening as they saw their boss in such a hurried frenzy. 

"Mr Lord! You have your nine o’ clock meeting and it’s now nine twenty-” Raquel raised her hand and called for him, but he didn't bother to stop in his tracks.

"Yes Raquel, I know!" Maxwell yelled after her, already tapping his feet impatiently as he waited for the elevator. "Cmon, cmon…" he grumbled as it slowly made its way down from the 25th floor to the ground floor. 

When Maxwell entered the board meeting, his cheeks were a rosy pink from the cold winter weather. His eyes were glazed and the waves in his dark blonde hair were falling out of place. He had styled it perfectly this morning, the same way he did it every morning. You had even helped him, brushing through his locks when he had hopped out the shower. But now he looked as though he had just run a marathon, breaking out in a cold sweat. He swore if he caught a glimpse of himself in a mirror, he'd have a heart attack. But surely, the day couldn't get any worse. Right? Maxwell had made it to the meeting, albeit late. At least he was there.

Wrong.

"I am so sorry." he scrambled, plopping his briefcase down on the table and slipping past the many occupied chairs. He slumped down in one eventually, pulling out in a notepad and pen. "Bad traffic," he huffed. "Can someone give me the lowdown?"

He eventually looked up to see his company. Twelve older ladies in pink button down dresses and white frilly aprons, their hair tied back into matching low buns.  Maxwell froze up, his gaze wandering from woman to woman as it slowly began to sink in.

"Mr Lord…" the woman at the head of the table said cautiously. She looked just as baffled. "It's a pleasure to meet  you. I've worked for Black Gold Cooperative for five years now but never did I expect to see you in person." 

Maxwell looked back at the other girls who were all nodding in agreement, beaming with excitement. "Uh." He didn't know what to say, but instead, he placed his pen and notepad back into the inside of his suit jacket pocket and stood up. "I think- I think I'm in the wrong meeting." he announced.

"We are the body of staff who are responsible for the cleanliness and hygiene of your company sir. We spend ten hours a day washing and tidying every surface, every inch of this building. We take great care of it." one of the ladies spoke up and Maxwell became even more confused. Although clearly, on a day like this, it didn't take much to confuse him.

"The cleaning staff have meetings in here?" He wondered out loud, immediately regretting the words as soon as they left his lips. He didn't want to come off as rude. "I mean, I'm your employer. Pft, of course I know that you have meetings. And I'm glad you do so. It's good to take direction!" he was doing that motivational voice he used on television, making the 60 year old cleaners swoon with admiration. "I- I should get going but. Uh, yes. Lovely to meet you all."

"Mr Lord!" A lady with ebony hair and crinkles by her eyes stood up, handing Maxwell his briefcase. He nodded appreciatvely and walked to the door where her hand met his arm and stopped him in his tracks. "Could I get your autograph, please? I'm just a huge fan of your infomercials."

Maxwell checked the time on his wristwatch. Almost half an hour late, but he couldn't deny one of his cleaners. Once upon a time he wouldn't have bothered giving them a second glance yet he leaned over the table and signed his name on a sticky note. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Pamela," she beamed brightly.

"Nice to meet you Pamela, have a good day." he pat her shoulder and went open the door when another voice yelled his name.

"Mr Lord!" a woman with white hair stood up, a grin pinned on her face. "I'm Doris," she introduced confidently, but her voice was shaky with her old age. "I remember when your father was on the television. I used to clean for him too, you know? Oh, he was such a lovely gentleman. And you look more and more like him every day. Such a handsome man, you are."

Maxwell stiffened up, his hand grabbing the door handle so hard he was sure his knuckles might've turned white. "Oh," was the only thing that could really leave his lips. He wanted to leave.

"Mr Lord, your father I mean-, every Christmas he'd give little old me a kiss," she recalled, her heart blooming at the memory. "Of course I wasn't old then. I was young. And beautiful."

Maxwell exhaled and nodded his head, unsure of really what to say or where this conversation was going. All he could think about was the board meeting that he was already extremely late for. Maxwell pushed down on the door handle and Doris let out a long dramatic sigh, making Maxwell pause once again to hear what she had to say. "I haven't been kissed like that, by a man as attractive as your father, in years." she sighed longingly, fluttering her eyelashes.

That was when Maxwell realised. He sighed quietly, his eyes scanning the room. All the cleaners were staring at him, expecting him to make his move on poor old Doris. Then, he turned back to Doris and offered her that familiar Hollywood smile. The same smile that the whole world was used to seeing on five o'clock television. He took her hand and brushed a soft kiss over her wrinkled knuckles before gently dropping her hand again. There was no denying the pink blush that coloured her cheeks. The action earned a few squeaks and squeals around the room and while they were all babbling with excitement about what they'd just witnessed happen to their friend Doris, Maxwell took the opportunity to run.

He did finally make it to the meeting. He squeezed past his business associates, trying to locate his chair around the table. In the process, he knocked over a cup of coffee. It spilled all over Maxwell, and one of his colleagues. Maxwell's pale blue suit jacket was now stained with brown espresso, and he knew it would take more than just a few washes to get the stain out. He muttered a small 'sorry' before finding his seat and taking out his notepad and pen. Just as he finished writing the date at the top of his piece of paper, the director of the meeting called it quits and everyone flustered out of the room.

All this had happened and it was only ten in the morning.

Luckily, that was the only meeting of the day and he knew he was going to be spending the rest of the day in his office doing paperwork. That was easy enough. Maxwell padded into his enormous office which took up the entirety of the top floor at Black Gold Cooperative headquarters. He shut the double doors, finding peace in knowing that there was no need for anyone to come in and distract him. Maxwell tugged off his blazer and hung it on the back of a chair. He unclipped his suspenders that held his tailored pants up, and threw them to one side, along with his shoes and soaked socks. He padded into the closet at the back of his office and shuffled out of his pants, changing into some grey sweatpants. 

He smiled, beginning to feel warm again. Wearing the sweatpants reminded him of you and it made him feel like he was at home. He remembered a few weeks into your relationship; your surprise when you caught a glimpse of his wardrobe. Not a single piece of casual wear in sight. You wondered if Maxwell Lord had ever known the comfort of sweatpants and so, that afternoon, you went out and bought him a pair. They changed his life. Maxwell would always favour his suits, that's just who he was, but he would love to wear the sweats when he wanted to lounge about in the house.

He was tired. His hair was still damp, the dark blonde waves curling at the nape of his neck and falling out of place every time he tried to remedy it. He still smelled vaguely of espresso, and was still haunted by the interaction of Doris the cleaner. He pursed his lips together into a thin line at the memory of kissing her hand.

Maxwell walked over to his desk and sunk into his chair, holding his head in his hands. Finally some peace.

Until there was a loud knock at the door. Maxwell swung his head back and groaned. "Come in!" he shouted, quickly composing himself for whoever wished to see him. It was his blonde assistant, Raquel.

"Hi sir!" she beamed, waving her free hand and placing a glossy catalogue on the table.

"Raquel." Maxwell nodded politely, sitting up and looking at the catalogue she had positioned before him.

"For the Christmas gala," she explained, flicking open the pages and pointing out different things. She'd carefully highlighted and labelled everything she wanted to show him, making it easier for his conveience. "I was thinking huge black and gold balloons with the company name on. Gold confetti. Banners and streamers hanging from every corner. A buffet, and every table cloth will also have the company's name on, printed in small, glitter ink." Her loud and chatty voice was giving Maxwell a headache.

"Yeah, balloons with Black Gold Cooperative written on really scream ‘Have a Very Merry Capitalist Christmas’." he sighed, slowly looking up at her. She blinked a few times. "Well Raquel?" he quizzed, growing irritable. It wasn't her fault, it's just everything was beginning to build up. She blinked again, dumbfounded by his comment. "Is that what Christmas is about to you?"

"W-what do you mean?" she asked nervously, removing her hand from the catalogue and taking a step back from his desk.

"What about red and green balloons? We'll have a Christmas tree in the ballroom. We could even make it family friendly and hire a Santa Claus for the kids to meet." Maxwell suggested. "And no weird company merchandise."

Raquel blinked, not saying a word. It had never really dawned on Maxwell how much you had changed him. His staff realised practically instantly— from the moment he came into work after the first time you had spent the night, it was like he was a changed man. He held the door open for people, he wished people a good morning. And as your relationship with him developed, you opened up a brand new side to him. He became more affectionate and caring for those around him, a feeling he had shut off from the world for his entire life.

He had never cared for Christmas, never cared as much to host a Christmas gala either. His father died during the festive season and it hadn't been the same without him. His mother didn't do much to celebrate. Maxwell had everything he always wanted; all the new toys and fanciest designer clothes. But it meant nothing to him without his father. Christmas meant nothing to him without love. That's why it all changed when he met you. You finally brought love back into his life, and everything felt whole again. You completed him. You taught him how to enjoy events and celebrate. You taught him happiness but most importantly, you taught a cold and broken man how to love and be loved in return.

The Christmas gala was your idea. One night, around a month ago, you and Maxwell were both lying in bed together. Maxwell had expressed to you that he wanted to do something special for his staff at work. Over the past few years since he had met you, he'd slowly been softening with the people around him. Christmas time was no different and his staff were always jolly to receive a hefty bonus from him. But they didn't expect anything more.

You came up with the idea of a gala, and Maxwell couldn't help but smirk a little when you mentioned it. He knew that your suggestion was deeply rooted into the fact you had always wanted to attend a gala, wear a beautiful dress and have your hair and makeup done. More importantly, you wanted to go to a gala with Maxwell and have him by your side looking as handsome as ever. The prospect excited you so much. With Maxwell, you knew that you wanted for nothing. That he could give you anything and everything. But you would never ask. You wanted him to know that for as long as he was with you, you had everything you needed.

Normally for Maxwell, gala’s were a place for adults only. Bars that served the best alcohol and a place where men who were just as rich as him would meet and schmooze. Before you, gala’s were a fine opportunity for Maxwell to meet a lady and take her home. That's all he enjoyed them for. But you had taught Maxwell that there was more to life than wealth, women and good champagne. He was so sure you'd love the idea of turning the gala into a family friendly party, and he was certain that his employees (the likes of the cleaning staff, for example) would love the ability to bring their families to such a high class event.

"Don't worry Raquel," Maxwell smiled. "Forget about the party planning for now. I know someone who would love to organise the Christmas gala." Today was tough, but everytime he thought about you, he couldn't wipe the grin from his face. He was one lovesick puppy. "Could you bring me a coffee?"

Raquel nodded and picked the catalogue back up, padding out his office without saying another word.

At around twelve o’clock, Maxwell was about to take his lunch break- but the phone on his desk began to ring. "Maxwell Lord." he introduced himself, holding the phone to his ear. It was the CEO of Powergrid Electrics, an electrical company in Rome. Rude and unhinged, the boss man reminded Maxwell of a version of himself that he had left in the past.

Maxwell had almost sealed an amazing deal with the company, but it had seemed that the CEO hadn't received a vital part of the contract. Trying to regulate the anger that was building up inside of him, Maxwell shakily put the phone back on the hook and called his second assistant, Emmerson, into his office.

"It's impossible," Maxwell furrowed his eyebrows together in bewilderment, after explaining the situation. He scrambled amongst the papers that were stacked mountain high on his desk. "I put it in the envelope and had Raquel send it off to Rome last week. I remember… I know I didn't forget. I never forget." he said, trying to sound as composed and confident as possible. There was no mistake in the worried little warble in his voice, though.

Emmerson, Maxwell's second assistant, wasn't sure if he was going to regret his next move. "Sir," his voice was timid and small. Maxwell's eyes snapped up to meet Emmerson's and Emmerson felt his heart rate increase rapidly. Emmerson reached over Maxwell's desk, picking up a folded piece of paper with a sticky note on top that read 'For Raquel: give to Rome'. "Is it possible that this is the missing part of the contract? That maybe, you might have just, forgotten to give it to Raquel?" he said slowly, trying to beat around the bush as much as possible.

Maxwell slowly reached over to the slip of paper, unravelling it like he was scared to see what the contents would reveal. He sighed out loud when he realised he had, in fact, forgotten to give Raquel the document, and there was no one to blame but himself. He ran his fingers through his hair, contemplating what to do next. He didn't want to believe he was out of options. He wasn't one to give up, especially when it came to the sanctity of his business.

"I need you to go to Rome." He said immediately and Emmerson's jaw dropped.

"I- I'm sorry?" Emmerson quizzed, confused and still slightly afraid of how impulsive Maxwell was being. "With all due respect, can't you just call Rome and ask for an extension on the deadline?"

Maxwell scoffed. "Call Rome? I can't just call a country," Emmerson was about to interject to explain that wasn't exactly what he meant but Maxwell didn't allow it. There was something about the way Maxwell's brain worked… he didn't get where he was today from taking the advice of his assistants. "You will go to Rome and give Powergrid Electrics the remaining part of the contract yourself. I trust you."

"But sir-" Emmerson raised a shaky hand.

"Oh, I see, you're worried about accomodation," Maxwell assumed, chuckling lightly. "I'll get you a five star hotel and give you a spending allowance of three hundred euros a day, how does that sound? No need to fret. Hurry along now."

"Mr Lord," Emmerson deadpanned finally, causing Maxwell to look up at his assistant in bewilderment. Emmerson was still afraid of his boss, of course, but he knew he had to stand his ground. "I can't go to Italy."

There were a few beats of silence. "What?" Maxwell questioned. "Don't be ridiculous. It's a free trip of a lifetime. You have an easy job to do. You can spend the rest of the day souvenir shopping. I don't care. Just get the contract delivered." He ordered.

"No." Emmerson put his foot down.

"No?" Maxwell repeated, raising his eyebrows like he was due an explanation.

"Mr Lord, I didn't want to say anything because it seems… you've had a lot going on today. But my girlfriend, Katherine, she's due our baby. See, we're having a son. I'm not sure if you knew… I mean, you probably didn't know. But, I promised Katie- uh, Katherine, that I'd meet her at the hospital after my shift. I wish I could help you sir, I really do. But I love my girlfriend and I've been waiting nine months to meet our son so if you please-"

The old Maxwell Lord would've burned red with rage, firing poor Emmerson on the spot, right then and there. How dare he question Maxwell. How dare he deny Maxwell. How dare he choose his love life, his family over his job. But right now, Maxwell couldn't help the small smile creep upon his lips. He was overjoyed, just wishing Emmerson had told him of the amazing news before now.

"Congratulations," Maxwell said, his voice quiet but his eyes gleaming. "On the addition of your family. That's really great."

Emmerson stood as still as ever, blinking a few times. He waited for Maxwell to snap and finally lose it. He was waiting to get the sack. But nothing. "Uh, thank you, sir." Emmerson replied hesitantly, like he wasn't sure what to expect from Maxwell.

The following few moments of silence, Maxwell spent thinking about you. He thought about how radiant you glowed this morning and how he wished he didn't have to leave your side. You were the love of his life and quite frankly, since meeting you, he understood the priority of choosing love over wealth. He finally had someone he could hold onto during the dead of night, someone to ramble to about his feelings, someone he could kiss and love and cherish forever.

Maxwell Lord finally loved something more than his business and that was you. Emmerson coughed awkwardly, breaking the silence and Maxwell flicked his wrist up, checking the time on his gold Rolex. It was almost twelve thirty.

"Why are you still here?" Maxwell grinned, swinging his hand to point a finger towards the door. "Go! You have a son to meet!" 

"Sir, I don't finish until five o’ clock." Emmerson replied, stiffening up.

"No no no! Go home, go see your girlfriend, please." Maxwell stood up and shook his assistants hand. "I have no doubt you'll be an amazing father," he said genuinely. "And I'll have Y/N send over some flowers and a donation after the birth."

"You- you're really letting me off work early?" Emmerson beamed and Maxwell nodded his head enthusiastically. "Oh how can I ever thank you?"

"I hear Maxwell is a popular choice of name for baby boys right now," the CEO charmed and Emmerson let out a small but genuine laugh. "Now go! Tell Katherine I send my love."

"I will do, thank you sir." Emmerson grinned, grabbing his jacket from the coat rack and merrily running out of the office.

Maxwell sunk into the plushness of his leather chair, still unable to escape the smile that played on his lips. He imagined the possibility of you, the love of his life, carrying his child. He thought about how beautiful you would look, how you'd glow, and how he'd simply give up everything to take care of you. Make sure you had everything you needed during your pregnancy. He imagined building the nursery with you and picking out some books on parenting, studying with you so he could ensure that he'd be the best father ever. He'd never wanted kids. In fact he hated the idea of having little mini Maxwell’s running around and causing fuss and torment, but the idea of you raising them alongside him made his heart flutter. He was certain of the unconditional love you’d have for them. Similar to the unconditional love he had for you.

His eyes darted back to the unsent report on his desk and he sighed. Guess I have to call Rome after all. He thought.

Maxwell was counting the minutes until he could go home and see you. He wanted nothing more than to curl up on the sofa with you, the fire on, and watch one of those cheesy Christmas movies you liked so much. He heard the doors to his office open, frustration racing through him as he prepared himself for the next bout of 'things going wrong'. He'd normally yell at someone if they entered his office without knocking but he was so tired. So so tired.

When he saw you, he swore his heart stopped. There you were, his blessing in disguise. His angel. You were wearing your red winter coat and knee high brown boots, and you plopped your purse and a bag on one of the many side tables in his office. You took off your gloves and pulled off your wooly bobble hat, stuffing them lazily in your pocket and offered him a happy smile. He scrambled to his feet, not taking his eyes off you for a second and ran up to you, sweeping you off your feet and spinning you around. You squealed, grabbing onto him for your life and he put you down, pulling you into a tight warm hug.

"You're freezing cold." he grimaced, pulling your hands into the pockets of his grey sweatpants in hope they'd warm up. 

"It's snowing again." you whispered happily, smiling into his neck. He was delighted, having you in his arms and being able to smell the familiarity of your shampoo and perfume. He knew for sure now, he was going to be okay.

"I can see." he replied, moving one of his hands up to your face and padding out the pearly snowdrops that were balanced in your hair. "I am so glad to see you sweetheart." he hummed, sending vibrations through your body. You felt your heart blossom in your chest at his sentiment.

"I told you I was coming this morning," you giggled, eventually pulling away from him and taking your arms out of his pockets. You cupped his face and ran your fingers through his dark blonde hair, fixing it as best as you could. "I brought us lunch." you told him, fishing into the bag and bringing out boxes of pastries and cakes. "From that bakery we like."

Maxwell gasped and you looked up at him confused. "Baby, I completely forgot you were coming." 

"I hate to say Max but you do look a little disheveled," you folded your arms across your chest and checked out your boyfriend's appearance. "What's with the sweats and… where is your tie and suspenders?" Your eyes met his feet on the floor and they widened almost comically. "Max! Where are your socks and shoes?"

He sighed, shaking his head. "Long story." he took your hand and pulled you over to the couch, pulling you onto his lap. You wrapped your arms around him and he placed a hand on your thigh, pushing under your skirt and rubbing comforting circles into your skin.

"Tell me everything." you replied and he looked up at you with nothing but adoration in his brown eyes.

"Traffic jam on the way to work because of the snowstorm last night, and the streets were so busy with it being so close to Christmas. We couldn't get parked out front so I had to get out of the car and walk through five inches of snow to get into work. I was already late for my meeting. Soaking wet and uncomfortable," you let him ramble on, watching intently at the way his expression would change as he recalled different events in his day. You began to play with his hair, seeing that he was getting flustered at the memory of it all. "I was late for the meeting, I ended up in a whole different meeting. I didn't know the cleaners in this building even had meetings!"

"The cleaners?" you chuckled, shaking your head in disbelief. "You sat in on a meeting with the cleaners?" Maxwell nodded sollemnley and you nudged him playfully. "I love that." 

"Well, I didn't. They're all lovely women. But this one cleaner, Doris…" he fumbled around with his fingers. "I ended up kissing her." you pulled away quickly, knotting your eyebrows together. "No! No not like that," Maxwell said quickly, pulling you back onto his lap and wrapping his arm around you. "She's like 90, said she used to work for my father and every Christmas he'd give her a kiss. She'd start talking about how she's never had a kiss from someone as handsome as my father in years. So I gave her a polite one, on her hand. And baby, I ran. As fast as I could, I had to get outta there."

You smiled. "Max, you probably made her day. That was really sweet of you."

He brushed off your comment, taking a dramatic exhale and continuing his story. "Finally got to the meeting, spilled coffee over myself and one of my associates. But by the time I had finally settled, the meeting was over. So I went back to my office and changed out of my wet, cold, coffee stained clothes and sat down. Raquel came in. She was planning the Christmas gala but it all sounded so… corporate. Not what Christmas is about at all," he explained and you nodded in agreement. "Anyways I suggested that we change the gala this year so it's family friendly. In the spirit of Christmas."

"Oh Max!" you beamed, snuggling into his chest. He smiled to himself proudly, knowing that he had made you happy. 

"You good with that?" he chuckled, running his fingers through your hair.

"Yes!" you squeaked, pushing yourself back up and giving him a quick kiss on the lips. "I have so many ideas."

"That's great honey," he laughed. "Because I told Raquel to forget about the gala. I figured you could plan it. You're great at stuff like that, and I know how much it means to you. I want the gala to be perfect for my staff and their families, and I trust you more than anyone else in the world."

"I can't wait," you smiled merrily, already weighing up the different ideas you had in your head. "Was Raquel okay with you taking the party planning duty away from her?"

"I think so," Maxwell replied. "She has a lot on her plate, being my assistant and all. It's a busy time of year and I think she'd appreciate having less to do."

"Well, it really does sound like you've had an eventful morning."

"Oh, I'm not finished," Maxwell grimaced and you braved yourself for the impending chaos. "Rome called and told me that the CEO of Powergrid Electrics only received half of the binding contract. So I was going to send Emmerson to Rome because I needed that contract in the hands of the CEO by midnight tonight. But Emmerson told me he couldn't. His girlfriend is having his baby today. A little boy. So I let him go home early."

"Emmerson's going to be a father?" you gasped and Maxwell nodded. "That's so wonderful! I should send him some flowers."

"I already told Emmerson you would." Maxwell grinned. 

"Oh a baby boy too! How lovely. We have to go meet the baby when he's born. Please please please." you whined, fluttering your eyelashes. 

"Okay darling." Maxwell pressed a kiss into your cheek.

You stood up and brought the bag over to the couch, taking out the little boxes and handing them to Maxwell. You opened them up and started to eat, as you told him how your morning had gone.

"After you went to work, I cleared up and did the dishes that you had left from breakfast. Max, I was soooo tired from last night," you blushed and his mouth twisted into a proud smile. "So I went back to bed and slept for another hour. Then I got up and took a bubble bath. Oh!" you scrambled around in your purse, taking out a fresh Polaroid and showed him it. It was a photograph of his white long haired cat, Lady, with bubbles balancing on her head. "She kept me company while I was in the bath." you smiled and Maxwell laughed.

"She looks so funny with the bubbles on her head." Maxwell took the Polaroid from your fingers and admired the cat. He was never particularly fond about animals, or having pets, but you loved them. In the first year of your relationship, Maxwell asked what you wanted for your birthday. As always, you told him that you didn't want anything materialistic, that he was all you needed. But you did tell him about an animal charity that you were so passionate about. He remembered leaving you at home and telling you that he was simply 'heading out'. He had planned on visiting the charity and making a donation in your name, as part of your birthday present. But he didn't leave the shelter empty handed.

A white fluffy cat with long whiskers and big blue eyes. Her eyes reminded him of sapphires. She mewled and padded towards him, her tail waving happily as she rubbed her cheek on his leg, circling around him. "Ah, she's a darling," the lady who was showing Maxwell around told him. "Unfortunately, she's been here with us longer than any of the other cats. She's not that good around people. But I must admit, she likes you a lot. In fact, I've never seen her so confident around another person before."

Maxwell dropped to his knees and tickled her head. She began purring erratically, rubbing her face along the edges of the rings on his fingers. "Nobody wants her?" Maxwell asked, not taking his eyes from the happy kitty. He picked her up, ignoring the white cat hair that malted onto his suit. She rubbed her soft face against his cheek and sniffed his cologne.

"No." the lady replied sadly. Maxwell smiled.

"I'll take her."

And that night, Maxwell came home with a new addition to the family. You were overjoyed, but no one was happier than little Lady Lord who had found her fur-ever home.

He placed the Polaroid on one of the side tables, promising you he would find a frame for it. "How was your bath darling?" he cooed, pressing his lips along your jaw.

You giggled, nuzzling your head into his shoulder. "Relaxing, lit some candles, done a little reading. After my bath I got dressed and tidied up the bedroom. I turned on the radio and they were playing Christmas songs. Oh! WHAM have just brought out a new one, it's really good. Hmm, me and Lady played for a little while and she let me brush her hair. Jeeves offered to drive me to the bakery but I really wanted to walk in the snow. Get some fresh air. And now I'm here! With you!"

It was safe to say Maxwell's morning was a lot more chaotic, but he was comforted knowing that you had been relaxed while he was going through all the antics.

"Your morning sounded amazing, darling." he kissed your forehead and you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You let his lips brush over your skin, fall down to your nose, and eventually take place on your own lips as he leaned his forehead against yours. You giggled, his hair falling out of place again slightly and tickling you as he kissed you. You pulled him closer, encouraging him to deepen the kiss and laced your fingers in his hair. He pulled away to catch his breath but peppered small yet passionate kisses along your jaw and down your neck.

“You’re being so affectionate,” you smiled, eyes sparkling with love.

“What can I say? I like to kiss you.” Maxwell exhorted and leaned in again, pressing another kiss into your lips. This time he swiped his tongue along the plumpness of your bottom lip, begging for entry. You pulled off him and he moaned. “Whaaat?” He pouted playfully and you rolled your eyes, earnestly laughing at how cute your boyfriend was.

“We shouldn’t do this at work,” you giggled.

“Baby we’ve done a lot worse than just kissing on this sofa, if you remember.” Maxwell charmed and you felt your cheeks heat up as you nodded slowly.

"The highlight of my day though, is being here, with you." you promised.

"Yeah," Maxwell hummed. "Me too."

"I'm proud of you." you said out of the blue, putting your sandwich down and wiping your mouth. Maxwell looked at you, confused. "You've had a bad morning. But you acted so selflessly today. Everything from signing autographs in your office to kissing that old maids hand, giving Raquel less work to do and letting Emmerson be with his girlfriend. You… you surprise me everyday Max. And I fall in love with you more and more everyday." 

"I remember when we first met… I would've never dreamed of doing any of this." Maxwell admitted sheepishly.

"I know, I remember," you recalled. "I fell in love with the man you were then, but I somehow think I love you even more now."

And with that, Maxwell pulled you into a kiss. The curve of his nose nudged against yours and his hands pulled you into his lap, knocking the boxes of food onto the floor as you straddled him. "I love you so much." he announced.

Maxwell rarely said I love you's. But that was okay because you knew he loved you from his actions. You knew he loved you from the small kisses he'd give you on a morning, and the way he'd pull you into a hug every evening after work. You knew he loved you from the way he'd shelter you from paparazzi and squeeze your hand tight whenever you felt overwhelmed. Actions spoke louder than words. But coming from Maxwell Lord, hearing those three words struck you like a bolt of lightning. They were just words, but they meant everything to you.

He meant everything to you.

Permanent taglist~let me know if you want to be added: @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first

[babysizedfics]

Umm, if you still want more headcanons then how about about how each of the cg's tend to dress vee when they're small? (That is if they dont pick out their own clothes when they're tiny. Idk what they do sorry if I got it wrong) like would Patton dress him cute while logan dresses him practically and Janus . . . Dresses him in smthn? Idk.

oh oh cute !!!!!!

patton loves dressing vee in anything ADORABLE i'm talking her paw mittens her paw footsies her cat ears her fluffy my sweet piano onesie, he's the one responsible for dressing her im her hello kitty dress half the time, anything that makes her look like a cute lil babydoll! and she looks like one too because patton just throws anything cute on her and lets the baby choose too and she just ends up with a mish mash of layers and accessories and stuff that in twenty mins she will be fussy about bc its too much to feel all at once

logan is actually such a sap and he always dresses vee in his own clothes :'3 just bc the first time he saw vee drowning in one of his sweatshirts, flapping the sleeves like wings, and the way it falls almost to her knees but when she curls up you can see her diaper peeking out - he literally can not get over how adorable that was and likes to see it over and over again.. literally dudes logan just loves dressing vee in his clothes it makes him feel like super protective proud mama bear AND ir is one of the only things that can push him into his relatively rare cg headspace

janus prides himself on his sense of style and claims (lightheartedly) that no child of his will be caught wearing either patton's uncoordinated mish mash outfits or literally just a grey sweatshirt and diaper, so janus actually goes through vee's whole wardrobe and coordinates pieces. ngl janus has style, he dresses the baby very well. he knows how to make an outfit thats comfy for vee and also has a good silhouette and colours and one piece thats standout and the rest muted - he takes it VERY seriously okay

[elsanna-shenanigans]

February Contest Submission #14: Valentine Vesuvius

words: ca. 4700 setting: mAU with accidental time travel lemon: no cw: homelessness

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

I turned to look at Elsa in confusion. Wasn’t this museum date her idea? She looked mischievous, her left eyebrow arched.

I opened my mouth. Shut it. Opened it. I glanced at the other families gathered in a loose arc around the museum tour guide who was currently droning on about some old emperor or another.

“Hell yeah,” I whispered.

Moments later we were giggling as we ran through a deserted hallway like school girls skipping class. Never mind that we were two adults in our upper-twenties who chose as well as paid to be at the museum.

We rounded a corner and found ourselves suddenly immersed in a dim room void of people, filled instead with spotlights on old pottery from Ancient Rome or something. Elsa spun to face me and took my hands in hers. I dragged my gaze from a vase depicting a mountain with people at its base, and met Elsa’s eyes.

“I’m so lucky to have you as my wife,” she said, gently squeezing my hands.

“I’m the lucky one,” any more words would have been cut off as Elsa cupped my face and kissed me.

She pulled away slightly and rubbed her thumb in a soft circle on my cheek. “Anna…”

My eyes were still closed from the intimate sensation, but I blinked them open. Why did she sound so sad? “Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked.

She took a deep, slow breath and let it out in a shaky sigh.

“I just… I want kids so bad, Anna.”

My heart broke. I nodded. “I know, Els. I do too.”

“I thought this tour would be a fun valentines date. I just didn’t expect there to be so many families. So many kids. I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand to be around them another second.” She shook her head. “It hurts too much.”

We had been trying everything we could the past couple of years, but the IVF wasn’t working and every adoption had fallen through. It was all getting so expensive, and even more frustrating.

I rubbed her arm. “Why is it so easy for straight people to accidentally create life, but when a couple of lesbians want kids it costs twenty thousand dollars and two left kidneys?”

“It’s not fair,” Elsa sighed.

“It’s not,” I said. “But hey,” I touched her chin, lifting her head up from its sad slouch. “We’re strong as fuck. We’re not going to give up.”

Elsa nodded.

“And until we do become parents,” I continued, “we are still perfect, and whole, and completely the best family I could ever imagine. Just the two of us.”

She smiled. “You’re right, Anna. With you by my side, there’s nothing else I could ever need. I hope I’ve never made you feel like you aren’t enough. You’re my everything; so much more than I deserve.” Pulling me close, she started sounding more like herself again.

“Don’t be silly,” I kissed Elsa quickly. “You deserve everything good in the world.” Another kiss. “And I love you.” Another. “So much.”

The last kiss was deepened by way of Elsa’s grip on the back of my neck. She took my lower lip between her teeth and flicked the tip of her tongue across it playfully, sending a shiver up my spine and heat shooting down my stomach.

I gasped as Elsa grabbed my waist and kissed my neck while she walked us toward a wall. Throwing my head back, I was relying on her to guide us. I couldn’t function when she was sucking on my neck, my pulse point like — that, ah! Jesus!

“Oops.”

I barely registered that my back hit something wobbly, but the last thing I heard was the unmistakeable sound of pottery crashing on the floor. I felt a flash of cold air run over my skin and then - nothing.

————————————-

When I came to, the first thing I felt was a piercing headache. I hadn’t even opened my eyes yet and I wished I could close them. Gripping my skull, I rolled around in the darkness behind my eyelids, wishing the high pitched shriek in my ears would fade. Then I noticed the bumpy texture digging into my back. Uhh… Why did the museum floor feel like it was made of rocky ground?

Perhaps more pressing: why was the rocky ground …trembling?

I stopped moving altogether and sure enough, the ground I was laying on was shaking. I cracked my eyes open only to be blinded by bright sky. This was definitely not the museum exhibit. Blinking rapidly, my eyes started to adjust to the light even as my headache pounded and begged me to close them, or better yet, knock myself back out.

While I waited for my vision to make sense, I scrambled to get my feet under me. This was easier said than done, the way the ground wouldn’t stop moving beneath my legs. Finally I was at least on all fours and stable enough to look around.

“Jesus Christ.” Was that a motherfucking volcano? I arched my neck to see the top of the mountain I was extremely close to. Pluming dark clouds surrounded its peak. What the hell happened to me?

I whipped my head around, swaying from the dizzy fit the motion sent me into. I was in sort of a vast, empty field of rocky, grassy terrain. There looked to be a bustling town just down the hill. No one else was around, except —

“Elsa!” I shrieked. I scrambled to my right, getting to my feet as I gained momentum. Rocks kept shifting under my bare feet and I tripped a couple of times before I reached where she was laying. I fell to my knees by her side, and rolled her onto her back.

“Elsa?” I tapped her cheek with my palm, patting it several times. “Els! Wake up!”

She groaned.

Relief washed over me. I kept nudging her until she came to. She groaned again. “Ugh… my head.”

“Shh, I know, it sucks.” I said, more to myself than to her, as I pulled her head into my lap. “Wait. Are you wearing a fucking toga?” I looked down at myself. “Am I wearing a fucking toga?!”

We were both wearing cream colored fabric gathered at the shoulders and the waist. As if being at the base of a volcano wasn’t enough of a wake up call, for some reason the wardrobe change was what pushed me over the edge. It felt like my throat was closing up as I started struggling to breathe. My lungs couldn’t fill; I took breaths faster and faster, but too shallow to help. Perfect time for a panic attack, Anna.

Slow down. I closed my eyes, gripping Elsa tightly to me. Breathe in.

I felt the fabric under my fingers, it was thick but soft. Breathe out.

I heard birds chirping their alarms in the distance, wind sweeping past, and small rocks settling into new places all around me. Breathe in.

I smelled… fresh, salty air, tainted by something like smoke or dust. Breathe out.

“Hey lady! Is she dead?”

My eyes snapped open. There was a young girl, about eight years old approaching us from down the hill. She held a basket and wore a similar tunic, but hers had been through a lot. It was tattered and dirty. The words she spoke were so strange - I understood them in my head but at the same time, they sounded… foreign to my ears.

I cleared my throat. “No, she’s just waking up,” I responded. My own words had the same strange quality to them when I spoke to the girl.

“Oh. Who are you? My name is Cassia.” She had dark hair chopped unevenly at her shoulders.

“What a pretty name!” I said, a million thoughts racing through my head. “I’m Anna, and this is my… this is Elsa.” I didn’t know where, or when, we were so I didn’t want to get us into any unnecessary trouble. “Where are your parents?”

“I don’t have any. I was just gathering some berries when the ground shook again. Did you do it?” She squinted at me suspiciously.

So there are earthquakes here often. “No, of course not,” I laughed, hopefully convincingly, even though I had never felt less like laughing. “Elsa and I are traveling from afar, but …we got lost and hit our heads when the earth shook. Can you tell us where we are, exactly?”

Cassia gave me a strange look. “This is Pompeii, silly. What other city is at the bottom of the volcano?”

Pompeii?

….Holy fucking Vesuvius…

———————————————————

Once Elsa was fully conscious and aware of our situation, we decided to take Cassia up on her offer to show us to her home, which turned out to be more of a fort in the outskirts of town. It was about midday and the kid was generous enough to let us hang out in her home while she went back out to keep foraging, now that the tremors had slowed down enough.

We sat on the dirt floor after Cassia left, both staring off into the distance, in shock. How the fuck did this happen?

“So…” Elsa began.

“We’re in fucking Pompeii!” I exclaimed.

“What the fuck!” Elsa said.

And then we laughed, because, honestly, what else could we do at that point? We laughed uncontrollably. We laughed at our clothes. We laughed at the earthquake, at the damn volcano, at the funny way all of the words sounded.

When we couldn’t laugh anymore, I fell into Elsa’s torso and we sat, half snuggled up on the dirt floor of this impoverished orphan’s dwelling place.

“What year do you think it is?” I asked.

“I don’t know,” Elsa said. “Does it matter?”

“I mean,” I glanced at her sideways, “I sure hope it’s not 79 AD.”

“Is that when it happened? How do you even know that?”

“I told you I always liked that section of art history.”

“Hmm,” Elsa sighed. “Well how do we even figure it out? We can’t just ask someone. Do they even use that system right now? Like the AD and BC stuff?”

I shrugged. “I almost don’t even need to be told though, you know? Just by the way that smoke looked above the volcano… I have a bad feeling.” Elsa looked concerned too. “Maybe we could ask around to find out if it usually does that when there’s an earthquake here. We could get a sense for how much we need to panic.”

“That’s a good idea. And if it’s the worst case scenario, then there’s the question of, do we worry about evacuating or do we figure out how to get us the fuck back home before this place is history?”

Elsa rubbed the bridge of her nose. “I wish we had a clue how it happened. I don’t know how we’re getting back if we don’t know what sent us here in the first place.”

“Yeah,” I nodded. “We should try to think back on everything that happened in those last few minutes we can remember.”

“Well, we were in that room with the… what was it? Pottery?”

“Mhmm,” I continued, “And you were kissing the life out of me until we bumped into something and it fell. Oh! I wonder if it was that vase I was looking at.”

“What vase?” Elsa asked.

I rubbed my head, “Think think think. Um, it was clay. It had people on it. Oh! And a mountain! A volcano! It had to be that vase. It must have been found in Pompeii, and when we broke it while we were making out, it sucked us into its original time. Or something like that.”

“Sure, that sounds about right for how today’s going,” Elsa said. “But then, why didn’t it come through with us? I didn’t see any clay fragments where we landed on that hill.”

“Me neither,” I frowned. “Or maybe it couldn’t come along because here in Pompeii it already exists! Maybe we just have to find where it is now and recreate what happened before.”

“There’s a thought…” Elsa said. “So we just have to search the entire city for a vase with a volcano and people on it.”

“That sounds fun! Can I help?”

Elsa and I both turned to the doorway, startled. How long had Cassia been standing there?

——————————————————————-

Too long. Cassia had been standing there too long, and she had as many questions for us as we had for her.

Before long she knew we were accidentally-time-traveling wives from almost two thousand years in the future and Pompeii was doomed; and we in turn knew it was indeed the 79th year, no the dark volcano clouds were not normal for an earthquake, and the entire city was already scrambling to evacuate. I had a terrible feeling that Elsa and I caused the earthquake through our rough landing, effectively dooming Pompeii. Also, Cassia was eight years old like I had guessed, had been living on her own since she was five and a half, and she wanted nothing more than to help us find the vase we needed.

“That’s really sweet of you,” I said, placing a hand on her arm, “But you have to promise that as soon as we find the right vase you’ll get yourself to safety.”

Cassia glanced to the side as she said, “Promise.”

I was a little concerned about the validity of that promise but decided I’d try again later. First we were off to a shop that sold souvenirs for all the rich vacationers that visited Pompeii.

It was a short walk until we made it into the more touristy, upscale part of the city. Here, everyone was running around like chickens with their heads cut off. In and out of homes, carrying personal possessions, yelling for neighbors, yelling at the sky.

We almost lost sight of Cassia several times but we managed to follow her to the shop she talked about. We ducked under the arched doorway into the small space. It was dark, and seemed to be usually lit by candles like the lonely one over to the side that hadn’t been extinguished. Elsa went to retrieve it for us.

Using the single flame to see, we wandered around the space as a little pack, checking out all kinds of little trinkets made from stone and clay. Many were volcano-related, but it all seemed so small compared to the vase I remembered.

“Cassia,” I said, “Do you think this place has any vases that are… this big?” I motioned my hands around to describe the size.

“Oh. Why didn’t you say so? This place has nothing that big, but it could be…” she tilted her head in thought. “Oh, it’s probably Oaken’s! Duh.”

More winding through the chaotic streets behind Cassia. This walk actually went very fast, and before we knew it we had arrived at another shop. This one was bigger and well-lit inside. We all walked in. I immediately noticed that there were many vases of a familiar style and size, making my heart leap in hope.

“Not open for business or looting!” A voice called from deep in the shop.

“We just have a question!” I yelled back. “It’s urgent!”

“And we mean no harm!” Elsa added.

The man grumbled as he made his way to us, accompanied by the sound of sandals crunching on clay shards. Poor guy must have lost some of his pottery to the earthquake earlier.

“What’s the question?” A very large man appeared from behind a display wall. “Oh Cassia, dear. Why didn’t you say you were here?”

Cassia was standing half behind me. Was she suddenly shy or something?

I spoke up, “Cassia led us here. We think you can help us. We’re looking for a certain vase. We… saw it on a recent vacation but didn’t buy it, and then…”

“Then later we realized we lost a ring,’ Elsa chimed in. “We think it might’ve fallen in this vase.”

The pottery man sighed, “Well that’s a long shot, but what did the vase look like?”

“It was about yay-big, and it depicted the volcano with people underneath,” I explained excitedly.

He raised an eyebrow, “That’s about half the vases I make. You know this is a tourist town at the base of a volcano.”

I thought harder. There was a chip of color I could almost see in my memory. “Um, well, it might’ve had a sort of turquoise color by the rim?”

“Oh!” The man stood up straight. “In that case, I know the exact vase. Unfortunately I sold it about six months ago. Real rich family. Their vacation home is at this address,” he scribbled onto a small stone. “I don’t think they’ve been in town the last few months. With all the chaos out there, nobody would notice if you slipped in to look for the ring. Just make it quick.”

Soon we were walking again. When we entered an empty alley I spoke up, “Hey Cassia, why were you so quiet back there?”

She turned to face us while she kept walking, backwards, “Oaken is nice, but I have to act shy and sad around the people with money, so they’ll feel bad and give me food. I learned pretty fast that they don’t care about a mouthy troublemaker as much as a helpless little girl.”

Wow. I couldn’t imagine having to learn something that depressing as a homeless five year old. Cassia was a strong kid, and she somehow managed to seem happy and nonchalant about her struggles.

Elsa looked around at the quiet homes we were walking between. “Why are some parts of the city so calm while other ones are in chaos?”

Cassia shrugged. “Only the richest people will get to evacuate in time. The rest of us have learned to stay in our homes and hope we make it through whatever comes. There’s no point in panicking around the city because we would never make it onto a ferry anyway.”

The rest of our walk was completed in silence. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for this girl. I wished there was some way we could help her before we (hopefully) escaped the city ourselves. Judging by the look on Elsa’s face, her heart was breaking for Cassia, too. I met Elsa’s eyes and we shared a look. We definitely had to do something for the girl.

Suddenly we were standing in front of a grand structure made of stone. It was no little hut; more like an ancient mansion. This was somebody’s vacation home? Jeez! These people in 79 AD sure knew how to live lavishly.

“Looks like he was right,” Elsa said. “There’s no one around.”

“Wow!” Cassia was already walking through the front door. “Check this out! They have a river in their house!”

Elsa and I stepped inside and saw what the kid meant. There was a decorative skinny pool of calm water that stretched in a line from the front room of the house to somewhere beyond the next doorway. Pompeii style skylights illuminated the open space with the ashy, dreariness of the sky above.

We passed the minimalist entry room into the next space. Here, there was a staircase to the left, a gathering area, and more doorways.

“Hey Cassia, why don’t you head upstairs and see if there’s any vases up there while we finish looking down here?”

“Okay!” the girl was excited by her solo mission and took off up the stone steps.

Once she was gone, I rushed to Elsa. “Come ‘ere, baby,” I said as we hugged each other close.

She let out a sigh of relief. “I was gonna lose it if we didn’t get to talk soon. Alone.”

“I know,” I said. “This is a lot to go through without being able to actually talk.”

She nodded. “About Cassia…” I knew exactly where she was going.

“We have to take her with us,” I finished.

“She has nowhere to run. If she’s left here she’ll be dead by tomorrow night.”

“I know, Els.” I grabbed her hands. “You don’t have to convince me. It’s what we have to do.”

Elsa continued, “And I’m not saying that we have to adopt her or anything, but I just want her to be safe. Once we’re back we can find somewhere for her to—”

“We are fucking raising that child, Elsa.” I interrupted.

“Oh thank god,” she said, as I pulled her in close once more. “Do you think we should tell her?”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

“What if she doesn’t want to come? We’re running out of time, so maybe we shouldn’t give her the option if she might fight it,” she explained. “This is the only way she’ll be safe but if she doesn’t want to leave Pompeii, there’s no way we could make her.”

“Given that she’ll have to hold onto us while we kiss and break the vase…” I added.

“Or we grab her at the last second.”

“Right,” I said. “Either way, you have a point. We shouldn’t give her the option in case she would choose to stay.”

Elsa’s face suddenly went pale as she pointed behind me. I turned to see Cassia standing with her arms crossed.

“If you two wanna have a kid you’re going to have to learn how to talk quieter. It’s so easy to eavesdrop on you!”

My mouth was stuck open while I tried to form words.

“What did you hear?” Elsa asked in a low voice.

Cassia’s demeanor changed from snarky to… almost shy. “Um… Well, if it helps you to know, I’d really like to go with you. Away from here. Please.”

“Of course,” I stepped forward and wrapped her up in a big hug.

“We’re going to get you out of here,” Elsa joined in. “And if you want, you never have to be lonely again.”

A soft voice came from the middle of the hug, “I’d like that.”

“Now let’s find that damn vase,” I said, pulling away from them.

“Language.” Elsa looked at me pointedly, with a glimmer in her eye.

Cassia laughed at Elsa. “I already know how to swear, weirdos.”

This kid was going to be an adventure.

——————————————-

A few minutes later, we found the vase in a bedroom. It was sitting on a side table near a window, which was actually just a square cut out of the wall. We were going to have to hurry with the way the sky was looking out there. I was not about to let us get buried in burning ash right after vowing to expand our family to include our new little Pompeii friend.

“Alrighty!” I said, clapping my hands together and rubbing my palms. “So… now what?”

“What did you do to get here?” Cassia said. “Kiss a bunch? Ew.”

Elsa cleared her throat. Yeah this was a little more awkward than I hoped.

“Um, yeah, so,” I began, “maybe you can stand right next to the vase here, Cass. And then Elsa and I will…” I glanced at my reddening wife, “do our thing, and when we bump into the vase, at the last second, you grab onto us.”

Cassia stared at me.

“Does that makes sense?” I asked. “We only have one shot at this.”

She blinked. “Oh. Yeah, that sounds easy. You just… you called me Cass.”

Shit. “Sorry, was that ok?” I grimaced.

“I like it,” she grinned. “I like it a lot.”

“Awesome!” Phew. I didn’t want to fuck things up with our kid before we even got home. “So, you stand right here and just ignore everything about what we’re doing except for where we are. Then grab us as soon as—”

“As soon as you hit the vase, yeah. Got it.” Cassia pushed us toward the doorway. “Go be gross.” Elsa and I stumbled over to the open entryway of the room. We ducked out of Cassia’s view for a moment.

We both leaned on the wall and took a second to breathe. I gazed over at Elsa. She had a lot of emotions running across her face; embarrassment, relief, worry. I took her hand, causing her to look at me. “Hey.” I said. “Whatever happens this time… we did everything in our power to fix things.”

“I know,” Elsa sighed. “There’s just so much to process. We probably caused the deaths of everybody here, but at least we could save one person - and that’s if this even works to send us all home, which if it doesn’t, means we’re all going to die the same fate, which maybe we deserve—!”

I cut her off with a kiss: short, but long enough to send my message. “Shhh babe. It won’t do any good to obsess over that right now. If we survive, we will absolutely be marching ourselves to therapy, but for right now, we gotta get in there and get our butts back home.”

She nodded, her shoulders relaxing a little as if some of the tension eased away.

“Now, you gonna kiss me or what?” I asked with a smirk.

——————————-

I flung my arm wildly about, searching for the bottle of Tylenol on my bedside table. Would that even be strong enough for the fierce pounding in my skull? Instead of my familiar nightstand, I felt cold linoleum floor. I blinked my eyes open. Dim yellow spotlights gave a soft glow in the dark space around me.

Oh.

It all came back, just like that. I rolled over and saw Elsa sprawled out next to me —why am I always the first to wake up?— and the small form of a girl just beyond her. Cassia! She was clothed in a very sensible t-shirt and leggings combo. Thank goodness she didn’t pop into the museum in her old tattered cloth.

It didn’t seem like anyone had noticed our little …blip, so I quickly slid my two girls across the floor to keep us out of view from the hallway. As I pulled Cassia by her wrists, I noticed the vase sitting on a podium, looking exactly as it had back in Pompeii. It had bright colors and no evidence that almost 2,000 years had passed, or that it had technically shattered twice. Huh. Isn’t that the weirdest thing?

I sat on the floor next to Elsa and Cass while they continued to sleep off their travels, and I wondered how the vase actually did what it did. Was it a magic vase? Did that guy Oaken know he made something so powerful? Did he make other enchanted pottery? Something told me I would never have the answers to those questions. I certainly wasn’t in any rush to go back and ask him. Nope, ancient time traveling wasn’t really my thing after all.

It wasn’t long before Elsa woke up, and Cassia wasn’t far behind. We probably should’ve prepared her a little for life in the 21st century, as the simple museum lightbulbs were freaking her out. Just you wait, little lady. You have no idea how much your world has changed!

Once we calmed her down a bit, Elsa and I held hands with Cass, and began walking out of the room that changed our lives. Well, we took a few steps anyway, before I halted.

“What’s that noise?” I asked. “That jangly noise?” It was coming from the kid. I raised my eyebrow at her.

Realization dawned on Cassia’s face as her hands found her pants pockets… and pulled out fistfuls of glittering jewelry. “Oops?” she said, nervously.

Elsa’s jaw dropped. “Did you take those from the mansion?”

“I found them upstairs,” Cassia said, looking down at her clean black tennis shoes. “It was all just laying there, and the world was ending.”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly, not wanting her to think we were upset. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

I wondered if those pieces of jewelry had ever been recovered from the archeological site. I could see the headlines now: Priceless Ancient Pompeii Artifacts Vanish from Museum! I chuckled to myself, shaking my head.

“Hmm?” Elsa prompted.

“Ah, nothing,” I said with a smile. Then I pointed to the red, glowing Exit sign above a nearby doorway. “Hey, you wanna get out of here?”

[phoebehalliwell]

Yo et’s talk next gen fashion like let’s go!!! I’m sorry but if Warren and Sheridan aren’t fashion disaster I can’t 😂 Also for some reason I see Dency as a Hawaiian/vintage print shirt kinda gal

okay okay okay so warren is bi and definitely dresses in a way that is just like. insanely bisexual i am talking those printed button up shirts but like you wear em tits out y’all know what i’m talking about he looks very california for the record like he’s got the long blond hair the print shirts definitely has like those sweatpant shorts shorts that are sweatpants i would say warren is simultaneously big on color but like also like. all his kind of jackets and stuff are going to be like monotone pullover hoodies in like white and grey and black. he’s wearing a super loud pattern underneath, but it’s giant hoodie, so you can’t really tell. and it’s not like he’s fashion conscious or whatever it’s mainly like the rule of thumb you look in the mirror and say okay do i look fuckable today and if the answer is yes u r ready to go!! he’s also definitely 100% worn this outfit before

like beat for beat sunglasses included wood bead necklace included. there was a brief period somewhere in high school when he found jack and jeff’s old clothes from the 90s and they were all like o shit yeah we should give them away and warrens like u don’t understand i will 100% take all of these

sheridan on the other hand is definitely more boring because warren is ready to take these fashion risks dress 90s vintage tacky go into the world tits out a force to be reckoned with and sheridan’s like what. what. what. like he does not get it he does not do bright colors he entire wardrobe is gonna be like grayscale blues and then like band t shirts. he doesn’t even julie and the phantoms then where he slices them into fun slutty tank tops because the thought does not even cross his mind because he is Not a fashionista. also he didn’t watch julie and the phantoms : ( warren did and then immediately got an old t shirt and scissors king. and then the one true wardrobe staple for sheridan halliwell is an oversized denim jacket i am telling y’all denim jackets are so slept on i am tired of guy in a rock band in a leather jacket it is too easy but denim jackets. the oversized ones got the largest pockets known to man you can transport like. five deli sammies in those bad boys And imo it is the perfect norcal outerwear bc like its warm enough that you can wear it in the winter (tho u might want to like layer a zip up hoodie under it) but also cool enough that you can wear it into the summer. like, yes, once it it’s a hundo you’ll be toasty but like you can still swing it you can not do a hundred degrees in leather it is sweaty it is uncomfy and the outside of your jacket will burn anything it touches this is my longwinded way of saying: oversized denim jackets ♥. also i feel like it’s very 90′s/aughts to do denim on denim so we’re paying homage to the origins of charmed not consciously tho because you know sheridan has never heard the phrase denim on denim in his life

dency i have so many thoughts on dency okay because so let’s talk like. like!! for starters she’s phoebe halliwell’s daughter okay Thee Phoebe Halliwell who brought us looks like 

like!! so i feel like dency should dress absolutely nutz obvi she’s gotta have low rise jeans obvi But! i feel like there’s a whole nother added element bc she is the source’s heir right she’s half demon so she’s never really fit into the magical world bc she’s you know. a demon. so there’s definitely an element of self-ostracization here like dressing in a way that denotes her as separate from the magical community isolating herself before they can isolate her i’m loving the idea of hawaiian/vintage prints something where she’s just like i’m weird i’m a weirdo i don’t fit in and i don’t want to fit in like that vibe but i also really really love the idea of punk dency like um lost boys. lost boys the movie from the 80s. big moment fashion wise for dency. she’s like yes im a freak im gonna dress like that. where it’s like. kinda like. it’s punk fashion it’s still bright and colorful and ridiculous because she’s phoebe halliwells daughter

[thereal-linh-cinder]

Cinder’s Notes on Harry Potter & the Chamber of Secrets

We’re back with CoS!

Again, massive spoilers for the entire HP series (obviously)

Woo the hell plans where theyre going to stand when dinner guests arrive? you seem so unbelievably inhuman, which, i suppose the Dursleys are, but still...

DUDLEY’S COMPLIMENT FOR MRS. MASON

Because Harry is an unreliable narrator, is it possible that the Dursleys treat him slightly better than is described? Unlikely, but something to consider

Harry is so humble?

He’s also hilarious “[Voldemort] hasnt got a brother, has he?”

bars on the window are a bit extreme

the twins ooze chaotic energy

are the owls that wizards use magical? they always seem to understand humans VERY well...or is it just magic that gives magic folk a better connection w animals? Or is that just how owls are? Or do I just not understand how carrier birds work? 

rather convinient that only the bottom stair creaks and not like. the 13th from the top or something

“Draco made Dudley sound sweet” i mean. childish bullying at school  vs physical abuse for years but ok go off jkr

the twins are 14 and driving a car. in Britain. where you have to be 18. chaos

Mrs. Weasley reminds me way too much of my own mother

Percy wears sweater vests confirmed (are we surprised)

Please take a moment to imagine Percy’s reaction to Hermione becoming Minister

Lockhart + Rita Skeeter (idk what this means but its in my notes)

“got the impression that Snape could read minds” 👀

Lockhart is just gonna go through the whole rainbow huh

Lockhart really compared Harry almost DYING to him winning that stupid smile award. Bruh.

Lockhart has 7 books

I feel bad for Nick :(

There’s so much about the Vanishing Cabinets in this book!

that moment with the salamander and the firework is a gem

Do Ron and Hermione at least hear hissing in the walls?

so Lockhart is basically running the Hogwarts theatre department huh

why was Ron’s first thought toenails

Scarhead? Thats the BEST insult you can come up with, Malfoy? 

Yeah, let the 12y/o deal with the rogue bludger on his own, y’hear? (can you tell I’m a lot older now)

Honestly, Madame Pomfrey? Kinda a savage

If Voldemort was 70 when he died in ‘98, and he went to school with Lucius, how old is Lucius? 

Technically, if all purebloods are related, Harry IS a descendant of Salazar Slytherin. Not the heir obvs, but you know

honestly when you think about it, Fawkes’s death is hilarious. Like Harry’s just chillin and sees a cool bird and then it spontaneously combusts 

Did Crabbe and Goyle ever get their shoes back? 

Ron has REALLY good intuition

Why do they still have Riddle’s trophy on display? Like yeah not many people know that he’s Voldemort but that just feels like the equivalent of like...keeping up a trophy for the kid that turned out to be a sch**l sh**ter

Ok but the younger Weasleys have this knack for bullying Voldy. Twins pelted him with snowballs, Ginny flushed his diary down a toilet, Ron barfed slugs all over his special award....

well Harry if its a DIARY where you conventionally write personal stuff about your day or your crush, why are we surprised that it doesnt even have stuff like “dentist” and “aunt mary’s birthday” or “half past 3″ written in it

RON’S INTUITION BRUH “[the diary] coud be dangerous” “maybe [Tom Riddle] murdered Myrtle] yall know that theory abt him being a seer? yeah

I adore these characters so much bc theyre so real?? Lke we truly watch them grow up. Something about the way 11y/o Ginny covers her face and runs away vs how she acts in the later books just. I adore it. 

So this is where I broke my own heart and froze for a solid 15 minutes. I was beginning to write “I hope the twins sang ‘His Eyes Are As Green As A Fresh Pickled Toad’ at their wedding” before I realized that only one twin got to attend Harry & Ginny’s wedding. I trailed off at the S in twins and you can see how shaky my hand got in the writing (i wrote all of this out in a journal)

Riddle’s personality is so well preserved. (and then I remembered that he made his first horcrux that year and THATS why bc this is 16/17 y/o voldy’s soul)

In Riddle’s memory, he stops by the potions room after speaking to Dumbledore on the staircase. Slughorn is teaching that year. Harry says he is stuck outside that room for “what felt like an hour.” Is this where Tom asks about horcruxes? Technically at this point, Myrtle has already been murdered and its been a while but I’m p sure he asks about horcruxes after class one day. But idk. It really seems plausible, and It’s possible that he altered the memory to show Harry...

this is my least favorite book so i just wrote “this is the most boring book. I’m skimming.”

ah forcing 12 y/o to choose a career path

Quidditch mathces are EARLY (im used to sports matches in the evenings but i guess soccer matches are early and such so it makes sense) (my american is showing)

Is sitting at any table allowed? I never understood that and it used to bug me in the movies. Is it only required to sit at your House table during important feasts? Is that how a lot of inter-house relationships come to be? 

Fudge’s wardrobe was ROBBED in the movie. They really made him look like an established businessman when when we first meet the man, he’s wearing a pinstriped suit, scarlet tie, POINTED PURPLE SHOES and honestly woud it have been so hard to at least give him the lime green bowler hat? Such a staple of his personality

i feel like we tend to forget that hagrid has been to Azkaban

Ron saw Draco being racist and had to be physically held back by his friends. Mans was ready to THROW HANDS. 10/10 absolute icon

The prejudice against werewolves is very prominent.They clearly dont know a lot about them/arent taught (constantly expecting to find them roaming the forbidden forest EVERY NIGHT)

literally WHAT would they do without Hermione

still shocked that Hermione Jean Granger would willingly rip a page out of a book, especially a library book. But maybe thats just the fact that I’m the daughter of a librarian.

is the basilisk page from Fantastic Beasts? They really called it “a page from an old book” its literally in ur first year curriculum but ok boys

Why did Ron toss Lockhart’s wand out the window? He couldve used it instead of his spellotaped one. Granted, it wouldnt have been very good later on if he had, but. You know?

if this Tom is just an imprint of Voldy’s soul at 16/17, how does he even know who Harry is

he already has voldy’s laugh

OH Ginny told him about Harry that makes sense

Voldemort is SO dramatic. Imagine your buddy Tom one day says “hello dearest closest friends, I’ve decided I hate my name so I tried to make an acronym. Please only refer to me as Voldemort from now on. Also I could spell Lord with my name, so I am claiming my new status as a Lord.”

Also he’s holding Harry’s wand. Why is he sending this ginormous, super sow snake after this tiny scrawny 12y/o? Just kill him yourself. Even when Harry gets poisoned Tom’s like “take ur time bro imma watch u die i have nothing better to do” and only when neither of those first tow extra af options DO NOT WORK does he think “oh well guess i gotta use this WAND now ugh” like was he just not corporeal enough to actually use the wand yet or???? Buddy. If you really wanted Harry dead I feel like you could do better.

the fang SPLINTERED in Harry’s arm????????????????? uhm

Harry gets covered in ink a lot in the series

Dumbledore is such a simp for Voldemort honestly

I forget that Harry & Ron get trophies for special services too bro

did Arthur create the Muggle Protection Act???

...why DOES Lucius have Voldy’s old school things? 

Harry and Ron got a total of 400 points for this. But only 10 FOR TAKING OUT A TROLL AT AGE 11 

Lucius is LITERALLY on the PTA hes a school governor 

[peachymhaechan]

“Trust me, it isn’t just for the camera.”

Genre: fluff, babey !! nothin like a good ol idol au, am I rite, laid ease??

Warnings: bad words (like everything else I've written ever lol)

Pairing: Taeyong X female idol reader

A/N: junior year is almost over, thank god. I am so tired. writing this was such a good break from studying for my ap exams and cramming for finals. thank u, Taeyong. also, im working on something for the superhuman comeback, stay tuned, yall :)

you had been a model for sm for a few years now

well within your first year you had gained so much popularity that you became the company’s most hired model and had received a nickname from your employers and fans

you were their Golden Girl (hhhhhffk listen,,, we been knew I ain’t creative), and everyone was dying to work with their Golden Girl

most notable for your bubbly personality and striking looks, every employer was fascinated by your ability to pull off any look 

very similar is lee Taeyong, another artist signed to your company

with his stark beauty, it was no understatement to say that you would not have minded working with someone as pretty as him

so, when your manager told you about an upcoming project where you’d be working with Taeyong and a few of the other nct boys you were #sh00k to say the least

“wait..... WHAT?!” was all you could say in response to your manager telling you the good news

“Yeah, I know. I know how long you’ve wanted to work with him. Well, get ready. For this photoshoot they need you to have bubblegum pink hair, and.....” 

for the next few days, you tried to mentally prepare yourself for what was about to happen

yeah, you guys were signed to the same company but that doesn't mean you saw him all the time

you had only seen him once, and that was when you had just become a trainee and were walking through the halls to try and find the recording studio on the third floor

you accidentally went into the dance studio and found yourself interrupting a dance practice for nct u

“Sorry, I have to find someone in the recording studio, where-” 

“You’re fine, don't worry about it! If you go out this hallway, make the next left turn and it should be the second door on the right,” Taeyong said, giving you a small smile 

that was the ONLY interaction you had with him, but boy even when covered in sweat was he gorgeous

and you got to WORK WITH THAT 

the day finally came where you got to work with him yayayay

you woke up at 4 am after having only 1 hour of sleep, thriving

you got up and took a quick shower, did your skincare routine, and changed into comfy clothes for the day

on your way to meeting your manager you grabbed a few coffees for the staff as a thank you for the opportunity

you met your manager at the company building and it started to hit that 

//ohmygod this is really about to happen//

your manager tried her best to calm your nerves but damn, you were not having any of that

scrolling through Instagram, you anxiously awaited the company van that would take you to the photoshoot set

when it pulled up after about twenty minutes of waiting, you and your crew piled in and then you heard your manager tell the driver to hold the van for a few more minutes, seeing as Taeyong and his people were running a little behind

that only made your heart beat even faster

hgjaonfnwnw anxious from waiting, you just wanted to get it over with and rip it off like a bandaid

five minutes later, you saw three people walking over to the van

one of which was wearing sweats, sneakers, a hoodie, and a mask

you automatically recognized who that was despite the baggy clothing and half hidden face

oh fuck oh shit

one of the other two men talked to your manager, who had gotten out to speak to taeyong’s manager and the other person there

Taeyong climbed into the van and made eye contact with you in the back row, spotting the empty seat beside you

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, nodding to the spot right next to you

you felt a blush creep into your cheeks and your throat started getting closed up from nerves

so all you could do was shake your head no

he sat down and gave you a small smile, then started yawning and stretching out his arms

you had one extra coffee left from earlier and you figured it’d be a great ice breaker maybe 

“I have an extra coffee from a coffee run I went on earlier, do you want it? It’s not super hot or anything, but its still a little warm, and its caffeine,” you said and his eyes immediately lit up

“Oh, yes please!!” 

you grabbed the last cup from the drink carrier and gave it to him, and he thanked you right away

“How did you have enough time to go on a coffee run this morning?” Taeyong asked in shock

“I got up at four and am running on one hour of sleep,” you explained, not even trying to seem like you have it together

that's what its like being a hot mess, babey !!1

“That’s not good, you need to get more sleep. Were you out late last night with your schedule or something?” 

concerned mom? yes

“I was out until about eleven pm, yeah, but in all honesty... I couldn’t sleep because I was very nervous to meet you.” 

bro you need to get some sleep and get your filter back in place

bc when you get no sleep?? a bitch has NO filter whatsoever

Taeyong was genuinely surprised that you were nervous to meet him

“Really?? You were nervous to meet me?? Why, am I really that scary or something??” 

“Its not that you’re scary, exactly, but... I have wanted to work with you for a very long time, and it still hasn’t fully set in that this is my reality.” 

he nodded after you spoke, and it seemed to both impress and confuse him

no matter how popular him and his group got, he never got used to having people look up to him

and to hear it from someone as successful as you, someone he has constantly seen in the media for so long?? mind boggling

it kind of made him nervous tbh

before he could reply, the managers and everyone piled in and the van started moving to the photoshoot set

as soon as you guys left the company building, your head leaned onto the window and you passed tf out

when you woke up, Taeyong was tapping you on the shoulder and telling you that yall got to the set finally

taeyong’s face greeting you when you woke up? shocking, but not an unwelcome sight

“Alright, we need to get you guys into hair and makeup, then we will send you both over to wardrobe and they'll make any last minute touchups and then you can get to work. Sound good?” your manager told you two, and when you both nodded, she immediately directed you to the makeup studio

your artists were very excited to work with you, which made everything much more pleasant

“The feel we are going for with this shoot will perfectly fit your aesthetic and your features, I’m so excited!!” and “You’re naturally this pretty? And after only one hour of sleep? Oh my god, my under eye bags are permanent and it looks like you don’t have any at all!” or the occasional “I wish I could be as stunning as you without even trying...” 

it sounded like Taeyong was going through the same thing, as you could hear some of the other makeup artists gushing about his sharp features

“Wow, your eyes are so beautiful!” and “Your smile is stunning!” and “I wish I was half as pretty as you are!” 

you could tell it made him a bit uncomfortable because he sat there with a :} face 

(unrelated but: that face looks like the grinch lowkey, ok sorry for interrupting lol, back to the fic)

you two made eye contact in the mirror and you could practically read his mind

I want this to stop, they’re making me uncomfortable, oh my god. 

to which your eyes said, Same here, and I am used to dealing with this on a daily basis.  

luckily, they finished putting shadows and liner on your eyelids, and then they sent you to the hair department

for hair, they teased and curled your hair, giving you a tired and just woken up look

well, a styled just woken up kind of look

Taeyong came in halfway through your hair and all they had to do for him was throw some gel in his and make it a little messy and he was good to go

by the time you made it to wardrobe Taeyong was already on set and getting individual pictures for the concept

they threw you in clothes, and by clothes you mean a men’s oversized white button up, short shorts, and a bright red bra

and before you could even leave to head to the set, they made sure that the first few buttons were undone on the shirt

to say you felt a lil bit exposed and cold was an understatement

the second he saw you, Taeyong had a glint in his eye and he couldn't stop staring at you

naturally, that made you blush and get really self conscious

?? wot

“Hello, I am your photographer for the day. This shoot is supposed to be sort of a couple, romantic fashion shoot, so I hope you two know each other very well and are comfortable with being close to one another. Do you two have any issues with that?”  

you both looked at each other, 

and then lee Taeyong, 

while staring dead in your eyes, 

said

“No, sounds perfect!” 

bitch

what the fuck was that supposed to mean ?! 

“sounds perfect” uhhhhhhhhhhh lemme get a mcfuckin explanation 

he gave you a small smile before you managed to get out, “No issues here.” 

that only made him smile more

njsdncvcaehcfabcafcb bitch!! you were whipped for him already

“Great! Let’s get started, then. Y/N, I will have you stand over here, and...” 

let’s just say that the photographer had you two start with basic stuff, like you two standing next to one another with Taeyong putting his hand on your shoulder and things like that

it quickly escalated though, and he had you doing things like laying your legs across his lap and running your hands through his hair

“Sorry if this is a little too intimate for you,” you whispered into his ear during another shot, where you were draped over his sitting form and your hand caressed his cheek

“Don’t apologize, it’s not. If anything, I’m a little flustered to have someone as pretty as you staring at me the way you are, Y/N, even if it is just for the camera,” he told you, shifting so that you were turned with your back to the camera and chest flush to his, your hands delicately placed on his upper arms, his hand resting on your lower back and you staring up at him

faintly you could hear the photographer say,  “THIS IS IT, THIS IS THE ONE!”

“Trust me, it isn’t just for the camera,” you mumbled, not able to filter yourself due to sleep deprivation

you thought he didn’t hear you, but then a smirk formed on his face and you knew you #fucked up

the end of the shoot was arriving, and there were a few more pictures the photographer had in mind, but he wanted to let you guys do your own thing and see where it ended up

“You guys can do what you want for these next few pictures, just do what feels naturally and I’ll angle it well.” very encouraging, right

making use of the pieces of furniture on the set, you decided to lay on the bright red couch and Taeyong looked down at you from behind it

“I couldn’t hear what you said earlier, can you say it again please?” he asked, trying to fish a confession out of you

Oh, Mr. Lee Taeyong, it won’t be that easy. 

“Hmmm, what do you mean?” you asked, purposefully trying to be as close to him as you could, so you sat on your hips to the side more and pulled him down so your hand rested on his cheek and your face was //right there, you could feel his breath on your lips//

(the photographer would have fainted there if he could get away with technical time theft while on the job)

taeyong’s breath hitched and a blush crept onto his cheeks and you knew you got him

ladies and gentlemen.... we got ‘im

even still, he tried to get it out of you

“Well, I thought I heard you say something under your breath before the photographer spoke to us,” he coyly explained, sitting down and pulling you onto his lap

at that point it became a game of who could get the other to blush more

and lemme just say, mama didn’t raise no lil bitch, so you were NOT about to lose

grabbing both sides of his face in your small hands, you leaned in and whispered, “I hope it’s okay that I’m going to kiss you now.” 

his eyes went wide, and then he said, “MORE than okay.” 

and the next thing you know, your lips were planted on his and the photographer was sobbing genuine tears

“THIS IS PEAK PROFESSIONALISM, OH MY GOD, IT’S BEEN YEARS SINCE I’VE WORKED WITH MODELS AS GOOD AS YOU TWO, OH MY, THIS IS THE SHOT THAT WILL MAKE IT BIG, I’M-” 

of course his enthusiasm made you start giggling, and you could feel Taeyong smiling into the kiss

when you two broke apart you leaned your forehead on his and stared into his eyes

“I think we both know what I said earlier,” you told him, throwing your arms around his neck

“Good, because I hope we are both on the same page,” he said, smirking slightly

“And that is?” 

and all he did in response was kiss you again, but this time not smiling from the photographer’ s goofy remarks

the photographer gave the okay after he got that shot and told you two that he wish he’d gotten to work with you sooner

the ironic thing here is that you and Taeyong wished the same thing

you headed back to the dressing rooms, hand in hand, getting stares from the staff but not caring much

or at all, really

#bad bitch club: RISE

“I hope you know that as soon as those pictures get released, people will assume we are dating, right?” you said, wiping the makeup off and combing through your hair

you quickly ducked into changing room, throwing on the clothes you were wearing when you arrived

you heard him chuckle from the other little makeshift room

you exited your changing room and found him waiting for you

“Why let them assume when we could tell them the truth ourselves?” 

and somehow, despite the crazy hectic schedules you both had, 

and all the crazy ups and downs of being in the public spotlight,

a few months later, when the magazine finally hit the shelves and the cover image was you two kissing each other and looking like the happiest couple in the world,

when you got invited to an interview to discuss the inspiration for the images and the experience of working with each other, 

you two walked in hand in hand, smiling brightly and looking like your average couple that was in love

and when asked if you two were dating, 

you replied, “Yes, and it has been the best few months of my life so far.” 

:) uwu

[spidercrimes]

if it's not too much to write, how about All even numbers for the OC asks for either character of your choice! or both if you're feelin wild whatever works : ]

wheezes this took so long but im finally done holy shit

2. Do they have any titles? How did they get them?

Echo doesn’t have any official titles, and isn’t really planning on getting any, unless Champion of Sune counts?

4. What is their relationship with their parents? What’s a good and bad memory with them? Did they know both parents?

Echo has a very good relationship with her moms! To their knowledge, things were a bit tense after leaving Ivydome, but plenty of letters and visiting when they could helped with smoothing over their relationship. A good memory would be when her moms taught Echo how to bake! They can really only bake cupcakes and cookies but theyre like. Hella good ones. They dont really have any bad memories with/of their parents, since like. They will forcibly forget or repress anything that upsets them, as long as it only affected them. If the memory is something bad that affected others it will linger for however long Echo deems necessary(read: an extremely long time)

6. What were they like at school? Did they enjoy it? Did they finish? What level of higher education did they reach? What subjects did they enjoy? Which did they hate?

They were there and graduated fantasy high school what more do you want from them jkdxxjndk.  They started working at the local sweets shop after school, so no higher level of education here! They like history a bit, but that’s about it tbh!

8. Did they have pets as a child? Do they have pets as an adult? Do they like animals?

Yes! Echo had a pet cat back at Ivydome with her moms, and before the campaign she didn’t really have the money to keep another, so they settled for feeding and playing with the stray cats in Summervale.

10. Do they like children? Do children like them? Do they have or want any children? What would they be like as a parent? Or as a godparent/babysitter/ect?

Hmmm, Echo doesn’t mind children?? but there’s only so long they can be around them before she gets overwhelmed. Children like them well enough since Echo is always up for playing songs or messing around with cantrips. Echo would be the fun parent/godparent/babysitter, but. Please dont make them look after children they dont want any.

12. What is their favourite food?

Give my child spicy noodles or give him death

14. Do they have any specific memories of food/a restaurant/meal?

Their first cake made without supervision was. A disaster to put it lightly since someone was feeling ambitious.(it turned out like rubber and after that he was too flustered n frustrated to focus so everything else turned out badly too) So they dont bother with that anymore! Cake mistakes who i dont know her sdkjjkdbs. So half the time they pass by anything with some type of airy sponge cake they cringe lololol

16. Do they collect anything? What do they do with it? Where do they keep it?

She had a rock and shiny things collection back at Summervale! They’re mostly for decoration, although some with certain textures are used for stimming. Some rocks are kept on shelves, but most are stored in cool jars to save space

18. What’s their favourite genre of: books, music, tv shows, films, video games and anything else

Echo is a sucker for romance novels and fun, upbeat music! Idk if video games, films, or video games exist in-universe, but if they did, they’d like dramas and baking shows, rpgs, and more character focused games like nitw

20. Do they like musicals? Music in general? What do they do when they’re favourite song comes?

They love music, and they’d like musicals too! They will grab their lute and play along if their favorite song came on, and if nobody was around then maybe they’d sing too. Maybe. 

22. What are their favourite insults to use? What do they insult people for? Or do they prefer to bitch behind someone’s back?

tbh their go-to insult is calling someone a prick or a bastard, and it’s usually for whenever someone’s done something particularly scummy. Or if someone is just. The Absolute Worst. It’s a leftover habit from when they used to live in Ivydome, but Echo usually sticks to talking shit when the target is. Very far away/not in the area.

24. What is their sleeping pattern like? Do they snore? What do they like to sleep on? A soft or hard mattress?

They try and get around six hours, to varying success, and to their knowledge they dont snore! Echo loves soft things and would prefer to sleep on a soft mattress with So Many blankets and pillows and maybe a cuddle buddy

26. How do they act when they’re happy? Do they sing? Dance? Hum? Or do they hide their emotions?

Fun fact echo does a tounge blep when she’s happy!! They tend to do lil happy claps and bounce up and down in place when they’re really excited, but when it’s a more calm-type of happy he purrs loudly and smiles a lot more than usual! 

28. What is their biggest fear? What in general scares them? How do they act when they’re scared?

He’s claustrophobic and is terrified of being alone again or having to leave people behind even when the situation calls for it. So like. He aint copin too well after the last session! They get very flustered and panicked and freeze when theyre scared

30. Do they exercise? Regularly? Or only when forced? What do they act like pre-work out and post-work out?

Does going on champion quests and running from his problems count as exercise or???

32. What do they dress like? What sorta shops do they buy clothes from? Do they wear the fashion that they like? What do they wear to sleep? Do they wear makeup? What’s their hair like?

Crop tops with long sleeves, shorts, and boots make up most of their wardrobe and they love it. Theyd go to like the fantasy equivalent of marshalls i think? Somewhere with good deals and a lot of options. Overlarge shirts, tank top crop tops, and more shorts make up their pjs. They dont really wear makeup, mostly bc they touch their face a lot and it feels weird the whole time, but they wouldnt be opposed to wear a lil bit every now and then! Their hair is floofy and a bit of a controlled mess since they cut it themselves

34. What is their body type? How tall are they? Do they like their body?

Echo is 5’9”/ 175.26 cm! Theyre on the average side i think? Like theyre not super skinny but not fat either so just. Avergae. And yeah, Echo likes their body, theyre so bright! And their horns are so cute and having a tail is very handy and claw maintenance can be a bit of a pain but like. Aesthetic am i right folks

36. What are they good at? What hobbies do they like? Can they sing?

Hes good at playing the lute and generally being very cute and giving out good vibes, and he likes baking and playing music! They can sing, but really only do that when theyre playing their lute ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

38. What do they admire in others? What talents do they wish they had?

Echo admires passion and creativity the most, and dont let anyone from the party know but he wishes he could be just. A bit smarter and know what to say + ask. Theyd also really like to be able to make a decent genoise sponge too like theyre not picky

40. Do they like energy drinks? Coffee? Sugary food? Or can they naturally stay awake and alert?

Theyre a tea drinker all the way, and arent the biggest fan of sweet things. He used to use more tart or mellow flavors when baking. They def arent alert after being tired for a while, and will space out a bit

42. What are their goals? What would they sacrifice anything for? What is their secret ambition?

No secret ambitions here, Echo is an open book(unless they roll high on deception dvdjxb)! Becoming Sune’s champion, making a decent sponge cake, and protecting his friends with his life/in any way they can are all their current goals. Echo doesn’t care too much if they get hurt, so physical well-being and maybe mental are things they wouldn't mind sacrificing, but as a whole they don’t really want to think about what they’d have to give up. He’ll burn that bridge when he gets to it. 

44. What is their favourite season? Type of weather? Are they good in the cold or the heat? What weather do they complain in the most?

If its cold, wet, or humid echo is not a happy camper lol. They prefer summer and the beginning of fall the most, and sunny days with lots of puffy white clouds are the best! They think its fun watching the clouds shadows on the ground. They’re better in hot weather than cold, since clothes for that type of weather are easier to dress for and they dont have to account for their tail or horns as much

46. Do they make a good first impression? Does their first impression reflect them accurately? How do they introduce themselves?

God i hope they make a good first impression im dying over here xjkxdk but honestly it depends! They try to make a good first impression and i think they usually do? But if theyve just finished with a job w the gang or theyre just. So tired they wont really introduce themselves at all.  Its pretty accurate of how they are, and their go-to greeting is “I’m Echo Barquiel, a pleasure to meet you dearie~” 

48. Do they enjoy any parties? If so what kind? Do they organise the party or just turn up? How do they act? What if they didn’t want to go but were dragged along by a friend?

In theory they’d like parties but being around so many people with that much noise for an unknown amount of time would not be. Ideal so smaller get-togethers with friends would be the most enjoyable! Echo doesnt really have the uh, space to host anything so theyd just turn up to other’s parties. Theyd be in a constant state of switching between ‘holy shit im so gay’ and ‘oh my god theres so many people/internal screaming’. If they were dragged to a party, theyd mingle for a leelte bit before stepping out

50. If they could only take one bag of stuff somewhere with them: what would they pack? What do they consider their essentials?

A bedroll, waterskin, food supplies, rope, knives, a lute, matches, money- yknow regular survival stuff!

[nbdmharrinston]

Hey sweets! Here I come with yet another one of my trash babies. I really needed to bring in some angst here, and a hoe-y character so have one of my top 3 bitches. And don’t let her fool you with her baby face.

Like this or hmu if you want angst to plot!! 

( Scarlett Leithold |  21 | cisfemale ) I swear I saw Madison Harrinston di Stefano around campus yesterday. I hear SHE is very IMPULSIVE, COQUETTE and CONFIDENT, which explains why when you think of them, you’d think of SHOPPING BAGS and CHAMPAGNE ROSE. They’re in their sophomore year and studying CRIMINOLOGY. ( Mar | 25| gmt -3 | she her )

Sorry if this got long, Madison is the daughter of my otp and one of my most developed characters even though the “lack” of gifs always makes it hard for me to play her and it’s why I wasn’t sure if I should try with another fc or not but here we are.

BACKGROUND

Maddie is the typical girl who will wear knee long dresses or skirts through the day just to impress her grandma and get money from her (actually also does it with her dad as well and with whoever she needs something from just as teachers. Playing innocent is her favorite game tbh). But at night? She is a completely different person, wear really short shorts and skirts and bralettes are basically what 75% of her wardrobe is full of.

Daddy’s girl who lost her way. From being back at home by midnight she turned into the girl who vanished from home for days without anyone knowing where she was (except her younger brother who knew she was at some electronic party in Ibiza)

Isn’t very attached to anyone except her parents, her grandfather from her mother’s side and her 4 siblings.

Has been a party girl ever since her sweet sixteen party but she wasn’t one to need alcohol or drugs to have fun, that until she started going out with Jean.

To get into Jean’s story you may like to know a few things first (Jean is non playable though bc its yet another of my otp’s sons and my friend plays him): she was the sweet girl who played with toys but one day she got bored and every guy became her toy. Maddie knows she is pretty and doesn’t mind using her beauty to get stuff from others, mainly guys but also from girls since she is bi curious (more curious than bi tbh). Jean was one more of her toys.

But who was Jean? Her bff’s twin brother, they met when they were kids and he ALWAYS had a crush on her but he wasn’t hot enough for Maddie to notice him. That until puberty hit him right. They never dated and maddie always made sure he knew it was just sex, but seeing her with other guys, feeling like she was using him (and tbh Maddie was indeed just using him when she felt lonely or bored or just needed a ride home), it made Jean go mad out of his mind. He was in lvoe with her, and she didn’t give two fcks about it, all she wanted from him was to be her slave. Her lap dog. Jean decided to make Maddie pay, became her torment. Madison was his drug, his addiction, he needed her and Jean wanted her to feel the same he did so he got her into drugs, the hard ones. It wasn’t a hard work with a girl who acted like a godess but really felt worthless, he became her dealer and in a weird way she needed him even if it was just for the drugs. And things got out of hands, Maddie went from having drugs just on parties to needing them on the daily, from weed and cocaine to heroin.

Maybe too late but her parents noticed and sent her to rehab where Madison had to deal with the abstinence and all it made her feel until she was finally clean. A process that took her a whole year out of her life.

She ended her studies in a boarding school in Britain and took a year off after her graduation to spend some time with her family.

Her parents left her with no other option but to join lockwood.

One of the privileges of being hideously rich is that she doesn’t need to live in college, she haves her own apartment close to it.

FAMILY BACKGROUND

She is the third of six siblings

Her eldest sister, Victoria, died with just a few weeks of live. It was a sudden death in her sleep. Their parents (teen parents at 17 years old) were devastated and Madison’s mom blamed herself for what happened so they took half a year away one from the other, crying cause they really needed one another.

The half year they spent away one from the other is the longest time they have been separate ever since they met in high school (the same school were Madison studied) and became best friends. 

Her father’s family is one of the traditional british families that are related to the crown family and are hideously rich to the point where at least five generations could live a luxury life without working even a day. Then again her dad works for the family business and she secretly admires him for that.

Her mother’s side of the family are italian descendants who settled in Argentina where Madison’s mother was born. Her mother’s story is SO sad and full of triggers I’m not going to get into that but what you need to know is Maddie’s grandmother died at a young age of cancer. And also that her grandfather is a important drugs dealer in Argentina.

Maddie was actually born in Argentina even though they were raised in London. But she spent most of her summers in Argentina and that’s the reason why her accent can sound quite weird and when she is mad she curses in spanish.

PERSONALITY

When she wants something no one can stop her.

Is a coquete and isn’t ashamed of it --- will use everyone to get what she wants

Used to be daddy’s girl, now haves daddy issues.

Seems to be really confident although she feels worthless in the inside.

Owns everything pink

Haves a huge collection of designer bags and shoes. Her closet is probably bigger than everyone elses house’s.

Weak for shopping and luxury. would be lost without her credit card bc girl hates carrying money around.

Never payed for a drink in her entire life, always gets them for free.

Is used to being the center of the attention.

Hates lollipops but always haves one just to atract the attention.

Isn’t a whore but acts like one.

Looks like an angel but may be the devil herself

Is cold like winter and loves breaking hearts as a hobbie

Knows most guys jst want her body and uses them too.

Can make you feel like if you were special, the one, but it will be temporal.

may promise you heaven and end giving you hell

She is a well known model (better known for her scandals than her actual talent though) and is taking a few months off after someone discovered her past with drugs.

[muggleriddle]

TOM RIDDLE SR FOR THE HEADCANON MEME AWW YEAH

YASSS. Under the cut because it’s a lot of stuff!

What does their bedroom look like?

Dark, because it’s horrible to convince him to open the damn curtains. It has a bed, I guess queen sized bed? Wardrobes, nightstands and a table by the window (the window, btw, has a view of the gardens of the Riddle house). It’s usually messy, but like… It’s a mess that makes sense to him, so, please, don’t try to organize it, because then he’ll never find his stuff if you take away his piles of papers and notebooks. His table is full of notebooks of all sorts, paper, objects he’s using as reference to draw, books and photos pinned to the wall.

Do they have any daily rituals?

He always takes a long time to get up in the morning; he’ll usually wake up and spend at least half an hour in bed before getting up. When he’s not feeling too down, he does change his clothes before going down (otherwise it’s the good ol’pajamas). He likes to take daily walks around the gardens and take this time to chat with Frank Bryce, the gardener. At night, he usually checks if the doors of the house are locked at least twice. He likes to be able to practice the piano everyday too.

Do they exercise, and if so, what do they do? How often?

He rides on his horse, around three times a week if he’s not feeling down. He used to go swimming in the sea, at Hornsea, when he was younger, but he’s stopped doing it after the Merope fiasco.

What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

Depending on his mood, he’d either go out to eat or steal some crackers or bread just to ignore being hungry or simply go without eating until the kitchen was free for him to use.

Cleanliness habits (personal, workspace, etc.)

As stated above, his workplace and room are messy, but not dirty. Well, you have paint stains and spots everywhere but that’s because he’s a mess when painting. He’s alright with personal hygiene, bathe and shaves everyday etc etc… All of this, though, is when he’s actually feeling okay. When he’s in one of his blue moods, he’ll probably stop organizing his room, forget about changing from pajamas, forget about bathing, shaving, etc. When the depression bus hits, everything feels just too much for him.

Eating habits and sample daily menu

Tom’s eating habits are shit. He usually forgets to eat, either because he’s too focused on something else or because he’s not hungry or because the effort of getting out of bed to eat is too much. When he eats, its not much. Sometimes he has this thing of staying awake throughout the night and raiding the biscuit jar at three in the morning. (btw, when he was a kid, his mum never allowed him to eat biscuits at night and his dad had this thing for saying that ‘if you’re not at the table when we’re eating, then you won’t be eating until the next meal’ Thomas never carried this threat all the way through though). He loves tea and is not too used to drinking coffee. He’s not munch of a drinker (regarding alcoholic stuff), but he can be a happy drunk if he drinks more than idk two or three glasses of wine.

Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

Drawing, painting, reading and playing the piano when he’s feeling productive. Just lying down on a couch/bed when he’s feeling bad. The productive waste of time is well accepted by him; the ‘I’m feeling like shit and therefore can’t move from this couch’ waste of time is something he hates.

Favorite indulgence and feelings surrounding indulging?

… spending a lazy day in bed? sleeping until the afternoon? stay the whole night awake (being productive) and then sleep throughout the next day?

Makeup?

He doesn’t wear it, but I believe Mary Riddle must have tried to hide his dark circles with powder or foundation when they went out, but like, just on the first few months after the Merope fiasco. As the years went by, she just got used to it.

Neuroses? Do they recognize them as such?

Afraid of leaving the doors of the house unlocked, looking outside the window 198298382 times during the day just to see if there’s anyone lurking around the house, trying to listen to someone approaching his room at night, afraid of going out, nervous af when confronted with crowds of people or when alone with women.

Intellectual pursuits?

Tom is the perfect Gemini: he loves to know at least a little about everything. He loves learning, but his attention spam usually drifts to something new after he starts to dive into a subject. He does manage to study art and music (by himself and with his mother’s help) more than other subjects, though. He dreams of going to art school and working with illustration, but is too scared of trying to do so.

Favorite book genre?

Fantasy.

Sexual Orientation? And, regardless of own orientation, thoughts on sexual orientation in general?

Demisexual.

Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

Myopic (doesn't wear glasses bc is done with putting his fingers on the lens and having the glasses falling off his face). Depression, anxiety, PTSD. Scar on his right knee (from a bad scrap on it at 13) and on both wrists (suicide attempt at 21).

Biggest and smallest short term goal?

Smallest: finish a painting or learning a new piece on the piano;

Biggest: being able to go out of the house without feeling the need to go back inside at every second when he sees someone/when he’s around other people;

Biggest and smallest long term goal?

Biggest: art school

Smallest: traveling to somewhere that is not London or Great Hangleton, maybe visit Scotland;

Preferred mode of dress and rituals surrounding dress

Pajamas are his favourite outfit. But I always see him wearing pants + shirt + a sleeveless sweater (I guess it has stuck with me from the time I used to have an askblog of his and I always drew him like that). He hates wearing ties and always keeps his sleeves rolled above his elbows.

Favorite beverage?

Non-alcoholic: tea… chamomile and valerian tea.

Alcoholic: it’s a tie between wine and vodka.

What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

It depends on how he’s feeling. If he’s been reading before bed, he’ll most likely think about the book he’s been reading. If he’s not feeling well, Merope Gaunt is a recurrent thought during the night (he’s afraid of dreaming about her and ends up, surprise! having a nightmare about her).

Childhood illnesses? Any interesting stories behind them?

He was a pretty strong kid, like, he didn’t get too many colds or flus or whatever. He must have had chicken pox. Ah, he used to have quite a few earaches.

Turn-ons? Turn-offs?

Turn on: hands, man, he really loves hands. Also, any reaction from his partner… he pays attention to the person’s breathing or how their skin has goosebumps and he loves it. His partner showing pleasure is a turn on for him. People being all passionate while playing an instrument. And pretty underwear. And if he already trusts his partner a whole lot, Tom’ll actually admit he kind of enjoys being a lil sumissive to them, some softcore BDSM is a thing he enjoys although he doesn’t really realize it.

Turn off: anything that may remind him of Merope Gaunt*

Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

Drawings, drawings everywhere.

How organized are they? How does this organization/disorganization manifest in their everyday life?

See the question about his room and his organized mess.

Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

He’s really good at arts and music. He used to study human anatomy for fun and because it helped him drawing the human figure, so he has a good knowledge of it. He is kind good at maths, but doesn’t like it.

How do they see themselves 5 years from today?

If he’s still alive, that’ll do.

Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

See above the art school plan. Part of him also wanted to have a family, have kids and all, but he’s too scared of doing so.

What is their biggest regret?

Accepting Merope’s invitation to have a cup of tea and abandoning Merope (he regrets it but at the same time he doesn’t? He’s scared af of what happened, but he feels guilty about it).

Who do they see as their best friend? Their worst enemy?

I have this two OCs I created for a fanfiction, one is a friend of his from his time at Eton, his name is Charles Campbell. They were almost like Harry and Ron at school. And the other is Charles’ wife, Ellen, who is a nurse and who he met while studying Architecture at London (he dropped off thanks to the Merope fiasco). His worst enemy is… himself? He sabotages himself a lot and his fear and anxiety fuck things up for him.

Reaction to sudden extrapersonal disaster (eg The house is on fire! What do they do?)

It depends??? He can have those boosts of bravery sometimes, but it really depends on the situation??? He can either have the fight response or the freeze response.

Reaction to sudden intrapersonal disaster (eg close family member suddenly dies)

Again, depends, it can be the fight or the freeze response. I think it’s most likely for him to dissociate and have this terrible freezing response that’ll eventually take him down the depression and anxiety lane.

Most prized possession?

His sketchbooks and a snuffbox that belonged to his grandfather (he used to have a pocket watch that his father gave him when he graduated Eton, but he sold it while under the effect of the Amortentia and doesn’t remember; he thinks he just lost it).

Thoughts on material possessions in general?

I… don’t know? He’s a little possessive with his own stuff. And he’s hoards notebooks, sketchbooks, books, old drawings etc. He has difficulty letting go of some stuff.

Concept of home and family?

Home is where he feels comfortable at and family are those he consider as so. In some fics, I write him thinking of Row as family even though they’re not married or anything. Silly information: it’s instintive of him to think of Tommy as family the first time they meet… too bad Tommy doesn’t think the same way;

Thoughts on privacy? (Are they a private person, or are they prone to ‘TMI’?)

He loves privacy. His room is his place and please knock before entering, don’t go looking into his notebooks without asking permission, don’t enter his personal bubble before he feels comfortable with it.

What activities do they enjoy, but consider to be a waste of time?

Sometimes, drawing. He always has this inner conflict about ‘is this really useful?’ when it comes to drawing and painting. Also, sleeping.

What makes them feel guilty?

The whole Merope Gaunt thing; not being able to be the person people expected from Mary and Thomas’ son; living with his parents at the age of 38; not achieving anything at the age of 38; etc.

Are they more analytical or more emotional in their decision-making?

Emotional.

Would they consider themselves a Type A or Type B personality?

Type B.

What recharges them when they’re feeling drained?

Sleeping, a long bath, painting, playing the piano, watching the sea, sitting in the garden or just staying in a silent place all by himself.

Would you say that they have a superiority-complex? Inferiority-complex? Neither?

Inferiority-complex. His self esteem is horrible.

How misanthropic are they?

He’s… not misanthropic? Not at all.

Hobbies?

Drawing, playing the piano, reading, horse back riding, walking on the garden or on the beach.

How far did they get in formal education? What are their views on formal education vs self-education?

He graduated high school (I don’t remember the term for it in the English educational system sorry), but never finished university (he started to study architecture and dropped out).

Religion?

I think he’d be officially protestant but he couldn’t care less for it? It’s been years since he last went to a mass that was not a funeral or a wedding. I guess you can consider him an agnostic.

Superstitions or views on the occult?

He’s waY INTO IT! He has always been interested in this kind of stuff, growing up hearing folk stories about faeries and witches, but after Merope, he became really scared of it… at the same time, these stuff still fascinates him. Which is a real struggle for him.

Do they express their thoughts through words or deeds?

He says he’s terrible with words, so he tries to paint or play music to try to express himself. Depending on the person he’s with, he can be good with words, although he tends to start talking and talking and talking and forgets to stop.

If they were to fall in love, who (or what) is their ideal?

Someone who makes them feel comfortable and safe. He needs to trust the person and vice versa. He needs to be able to spend time with them, be it making out, having sex or just talking about what’s the size of the dragon Smaug in The Hobbit? and other Very Serious Subjects like that.

How do they express love?

He likes to hold hands. And hug, but he needs to feel really comfortable with you in order to allow himself to touch you or be touched by you. Sometimes he’ll start to talk about you and how you’re important to him and lose himself in his words. He likes to give gifts to people, drawings done by him or a song he learned how to play because he knows you like it. If you catch him looking at you with a silly look on his face and a dumb smile, he’s sold to you. He also likes to share his interests: he’ll show you his favourite poem, his favourite book, he;ll ask you to play something with him on the piano, etc.

If this person were to get into a fist fight, what is their fighting style like?

He’s terrible at fighting. He’d punch the person and then realize he’s just broken his hand because god damn it he doesn’t know how to throw a punch.

Is this person afraid of dying? Why or why not?

Nope. He’s more afraid of living. As his favourite poet once said:

In this lifeit’s not difficult to die.To make lifeis more difficult by far.                       

*if, by any chance, he meets a nice witch or wizard that makes him feel safe and comfortable, their magic won’t scare the shit out of him… okay, at the beginning, yes, but he can learn how to understand and appreciate magic (talking about a TomRow context here)

[fesahaawit]

Why I Finally Decided to Do a Spending Cleanse

Hi friends! For the month of October, I’ll be publishing a new post every Monday talking about work + my slow work experiment. As part of that work, I want to share stories + the results of experiments other people are doing. These are guest posts that have been sent in from online friends all around the world, and my hope is they will remind you that it doesn’t matter when you begin a new experiment. If something doesn’t feel right, it’s always worth changing things up and trying something new. This first post is from Chelsea in Vancouver, BC.

It was the lady at the post office that did it. The packages from my online shopping sprees kept getting diverted to my nearest post office, and I kept having to trudge there, not excited about the package awaiting me but dreading seeing the post office clerk. Idle online shopping had become such a habit that I sometimes lost track of what deliveries I was expecting.

During my last pick-up in May, I had three packages to pick up at once. The clerk fetched them, then said casually, “Lots of new clothes, hey?”

Ugh. I left feeling disgusted with myself. I’m sure she meant no judgment; she was probably just making casual conversation. Much of the judgement I perceived was my own, projected onto her.  

But on the bright side, someone who shops that much must have an expansive and enviable wardrobe, right?

Wrong.

No one who sees me regularly would say that I have a particularly noteworthy wardrobe. I wear the same favourite items over and over and over. I have stacks and rows of clothes I never wear or wear a couple of times before I shrink them, stain them, or grow tired of them. Or they, being poor-quality fast fashion, look terrible after a couple of washes.

Clothes weren’t my only problem. I bought books like crazy – faster than I can read them. Until I was out of bookshelf room (I’d best be getting myself to IKEA to buy some more shelves, I thought) with a solid collection of books I’ve been meaning to read, but haven’t.

I had known for some time that I needed to change. But it was that casual comment from the post office clerk that finally made me do something.

That’s how my spending cleanse began.

The Rules for My Spending Cleanse

It was decided: starting June 1, I wouldn’t shop for six months. It started as three, but I quickly realized that to break my bad habits and recalibrate my relationship with stuff, I needed to make it longer and at least a little uncomfortable.

I’ve long been a reader of this blog, so I knew where to look for tips and tricks. Cait’s shopping ban resources helped me to plan my cleanse. I decided on the following rules:

Obviously, I could buy food.

I could also replace any health and beauty products that run out – provided that they’re ones I use daily: mascara, under-eye concealer, shampoo, moisturizer. No new nail polish or lipstick or elixirs or balms or anything that isn’t already part of my routine.

Per Cait’s practice, I also created a list of allowable items that I knew I would end up needing sooner than later, including a vacuum cleaner, a new sleeping bag (mine had a broken zipper), and a new blazer for my rare but important in-person meetings. The rule for these items was this: I had to do some research and buy quality. Nothing designed to be disposable – think fast fashion or Canadian Tire throwaway camping gear. (If you had told me five years ago that I would buy a $400 vacuum cleaner, I would have called you crazy, but I did and I love it. I’ve bought and discarded three $100 vacuum cleaners, and they suck – or don’t suck, actually.)

The Tricks & Techniques That Have Helped Me

I told everyone what I was doing. I wanted my people to keep me accountable – and to risk embarrassment if I slipped up, or (even worse) abandoned the cleanse altogether.

I unsubscribed and unfollowed. As I mentioned, my problem wasn’t too many trips to the mall. It was idle online shopping, often while I was at home on a rainy night watching Netflix. I would catch wind of a sale at one of my favourite retailers on Facebook, Instagram, or in my email inbox, and before I knew it I would have $250 of merchandise on its way to me (but it was $350 full price!, I would tell myself). So a big and important trick was to unfollow all retailers on social media, and to unsubscribe from their emails. I didn’t need to know about all the beautiful things they have in stock, or about the opportunities to get my hands on them for less. Goodbye, digital consumerist clutter.

I blocked my favourite retailers’ websites. For the companies that most tempt me to part with my hard-earned money – Madewell, Aritzia, JCrew, Everlane – I went a step farther and blocked their websites on my browser with a Chrome Extension called StayFocusd. (This extension also limits my time on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram to a cumulative 30 minutes per day – great for a writer who’s prone to procrastination.)

I stopped carrying my credit card in my wallet. I still needed it for bigger travel expenses, but on a day-to-day basis it stayed at home, and I used my debit card (AKA money I actually have!).

I gave more than half of my clothes away. I can thank Cait for this somewhat counterintuitive tip. It’s a lot easier to feel like you have nothing good to wear when your favourites are hidden amongst a bunch of items you hate/don’t fit/never wear. Get rid of them, or at least store them somewhere you don’t see them every day. My closet is mostly empty now, but I love and regularly wear everything in it.

The Results (So Far)

Now more than halfway into my cleanse, most of the results are spiritual/mental/emotional rather than financial. I’m a freelance writer and consultant, so my income is inconsistent, and I happily slow down in the summer. Plus, summer life is rather pricy. I’ve been on a number of trips, including to the budget nightmare that is New York City – so my bank balance certainly hasn’t climbed to where I would like. This is making me wonder if I should extend my ban through the winter, since those are the months when I’m most tempted to shop.

Me + Netflix + a glass or two of wine = unintended shopping sprees.

The main benefits I’m noticing are internal. Shopping hasn’t been something I’ve missed; in fact, not doing it has oddly felt like a relief. I don’t miss that walk of shame to the post office, or the feeling of buyer’s remorse I used to experience sometimes just moments after hitting the ‘Complete Purchase’ button, knowing I’d broken yet another promise to myself. For the last four months, I’ve kept this promise to myself on a daily basis, and it has felt really good.

I’ll be back to write more about this experience in December, when I either finish my cleanse or decide to extend it another three months. The way I’m feeling right now, I think the latter is likely.

In 2015, Chelsea (somewhat impulsively) quit her agency job to be a freelance writer/strategist/digital nomad, and she hasn’t looked back since. Her homebase is Vancouver, but that’s just where she gets her mail. You can read more of her work at Chelsea Tells Stories or chelseaherman.com.

Why I Finally Decided to Do a Spending Cleanse posted first on http://ift.tt/2lnwIdQ

[fesahaawit]

Why I Finally Decided to Do a Spending Cleanse

Hi friends! For the month of October, I’ll be publishing a new post every Monday talking about work + my slow work experiment. As part of that work, I want to share stories + the results of experiments other people are doing. These are guest posts that have been sent in from online friends all around the world, and my hope is they will remind you that it doesn’t matter when you begin a new experiment. If something doesn’t feel right, it’s always worth changing things up and trying something new. This first post is from Chelsea in Vancouver, BC.

It was the lady at the post office that did it. The packages from my online shopping sprees kept getting diverted to my nearest post office, and I kept having to trudge there, not excited about the package awaiting me but dreading seeing the post office clerk. Idle online shopping had become such a habit that I sometimes lost track of what deliveries I was expecting.

During my last pick-up in May, I had three packages to pick up at once. The clerk fetched them, then said casually, “Lots of new clothes, hey?”

Ugh. I left feeling disgusted with myself. I’m sure she meant no judgment; she was probably just making casual conversation. Much of the judgement I perceived was my own, projected onto her.  

But on the bright side, someone who shops that much must have an expansive and enviable wardrobe, right?

Wrong.

No one who sees me regularly would say that I have a particularly noteworthy wardrobe. I wear the same favourite items over and over and over. I have stacks and rows of clothes I never wear or wear a couple of times before I shrink them, stain them, or grow tired of them. Or they, being poor-quality fast fashion, look terrible after a couple of washes.

Clothes weren’t my only problem. I bought books like crazy – faster than I can read them. Until I was out of bookshelf room (I’d best be getting myself to IKEA to buy some more shelves, I thought) with a solid collection of books I’ve been meaning to read, but haven’t.

I had known for some time that I needed to change. But it was that casual comment from the post office clerk that finally made me do something.

That’s how my spending cleanse began.

The Rules for My Spending Cleanse

It was decided: starting June 1, I wouldn’t shop for six months. It started as three, but I quickly realized that to break my bad habits and recalibrate my relationship with stuff, I needed to make it longer and at least a little uncomfortable.

I’ve long been a reader of this blog, so I knew where to look for tips and tricks. Cait’s shopping ban resources helped me to plan my cleanse. I decided on the following rules:

Obviously, I could buy food.

I could also replace any health and beauty products that run out – provided that they’re ones I use daily: mascara, under-eye concealer, shampoo, moisturizer. No new nail polish or lipstick or elixirs or balms or anything that isn’t already part of my routine.

Per Cait’s practice, I also created a list of allowable items that I knew I would end up needing sooner than later, including a vacuum cleaner, a new sleeping bag (mine had a broken zipper), and a new blazer for my rare but important in-person meetings. The rule for these items was this: I had to do some research and buy quality. Nothing designed to be disposable – think fast fashion or Canadian Tire throwaway camping gear. (If you had told me five years ago that I would buy a $400 vacuum cleaner, I would have called you crazy, but I did and I love it. I’ve bought and discarded three $100 vacuum cleaners, and they suck – or don’t suck, actually.)

The Tricks & Techniques That Have Helped Me

I told everyone what I was doing. I wanted my people to keep me accountable – and to risk embarrassment if I slipped up, or (even worse) abandoned the cleanse altogether.

I unsubscribed and unfollowed. As I mentioned, my problem wasn’t too many trips to the mall. It was idle online shopping, often while I was at home on a rainy night watching Netflix. I would catch wind of a sale at one of my favourite retailers on Facebook, Instagram, or in my email inbox, and before I knew it I would have $250 of merchandise on its way to me (but it was $350 full price!, I would tell myself). So a big and important trick was to unfollow all retailers on social media, and to unsubscribe from their emails. I didn’t need to know about all the beautiful things they have in stock, or about the opportunities to get my hands on them for less. Goodbye, digital consumerist clutter.

I blocked my favourite retailers’ websites. For the companies that most tempt me to part with my hard-earned money – Madewell, Aritzia, JCrew, Everlane – I went a step farther and blocked their websites on my browser with a Chrome Extension called StayFocusd. (This extension also limits my time on Facebook, Twitter and Instagram to a cumulative 30 minutes per day – great for a writer who’s prone to procrastination.)

I stopped carrying my credit card in my wallet. I still needed it for bigger travel expenses, but on a day-to-day basis it stayed at home, and I used my debit card (AKA money I actually have!).

I gave more than half of my clothes away. I can thank Cait for this somewhat counterintuitive tip. It’s a lot easier to feel like you have nothing good to wear when your favourites are hidden amongst a bunch of items you hate/don’t fit/never wear. Get rid of them, or at least store them somewhere you don’t see them every day. My closet is mostly empty now, but I love and regularly wear everything in it.

The Results (So Far)

Now more than halfway into my cleanse, most of the results are spiritual/mental/emotional rather than financial. I’m a freelance writer and consultant, so my income is inconsistent, and I happily slow down in the summer. Plus, summer life is rather pricy. I’ve been on a number of trips, including to the budget nightmare that is New York City – so my bank balance certainly hasn’t climbed to where I would like. This is making me wonder if I should extend my ban through the winter, since those are the months when I’m most tempted to shop.

Me + Netflix + a glass or two of wine = unintended shopping sprees.

The main benefits I’m noticing are internal. Shopping hasn’t been something I’ve missed; in fact, not doing it has oddly felt like a relief. I don’t miss that walk of shame to the post office, or the feeling of buyer’s remorse I used to experience sometimes just moments after hitting the ‘Complete Purchase’ button, knowing I’d broken yet another promise to myself. For the last four months, I’ve kept this promise to myself on a daily basis, and it has felt really good.

I’ll be back to write more about this experience in December, when I either finish my cleanse or decide to extend it another three months. The way I’m feeling right now, I think the latter is likely.

In 2015, Chelsea (somewhat impulsively) quit her agency job to be a freelance writer/strategist/digital nomad, and she hasn’t looked back since. Her homebase is Vancouver, but that’s just where she gets her mail. You can read more of her work at Chelsea Tells Stories or chelseaherman.com.

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