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cheeriecherry · 4 years

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Space Between [Aizawa Shouta x F!Reader x Yamada Hizashi] [1/9]

EraserMic x Reader

Part 1/8

Warnings: None, like 2 swears

You stare out the window of the plane, past your own reflection. In the darkness below, you can see the runway lights approaching fast, bright beacons in the shadow of night. You can hardly believe you’re about to land back in Japan.

It’s been years since you’ve set foot in the country, two and a half, to be specific, and to say you’re nervous is an understatement. You wonder if they’ll be there, your old friends, waiting for you. You’d called them earlier in the week, only ever reaching their voicemails, but you’d left them messages saying when you’d arrive…and that you’d explain everything.

When you left so long ago, it had been without a word. One day you were living your life, the next you were being shipped off to the United States, to work undercover. You hadn’t been allowed to tell anyone where you were going, or for how long. You’d just…left.

You hoped that they’d both be there. God, did you hope.

Not that they owed you anything, but the logical side of your mind told you they’d be likely to give you the benefit of the doubt, and hear what you had to say. At least, Hizashi probably would.

You’d known the blond since you were small children, having lived in the same neighborhood and gone to the same elementary school. You hadn’t met Shouta until years later, when you started high school.

The two of you hadn’t hit it off immediately. In fact. you’d found him to be aloof beyond measure, uninterested, and stubborn…but Hizashi really seemed to like him. So you’d made a point to try and get along, and it had eventually proved fruitful.

He had been difficult to get to know, but once you learned a little more about each other you’d found you had a lot in common. He was funny, in his own way, kind, and cared deeply about others, even if he didn’t show it on the surface.

And Hizashi seemed pretty pleased that you two had finally made nice with one another.

Your thoughts drift further along as you think more about the friends you left behind, the shaky beginnings of friendship, the stressful mayhem of your budding hero careers. You smile to yourself, recalling the shitty one bedroom apartment the three of you had crammed into in your early twenties, none of you being able to afford much more.

It had been nonstop work, back then. Double shifts for weeks in a row, extra patrols, second (and third) jobs on the side, all to earn enough cash to make your own way in the world. You’d been so grateful to have them back then. They made the hassle of it all worthwhile.

You’d come to the conclusion pretty early on that your feelings for them weren’t totally platonic, but you’d never had the desire to act on it. You were comfortable with where your life had been, and maybe fear had held you back, but you hadn’t wanted to risk messing anything up.

Besides, the two of them always seemed to pay more attention to each other than to you.

“Pardon me, Miss.”

You snap out of your thoughts when a gentle hand rests on your shoulder. You look up at the smiling flight attendant with wide eyes, electricity buzzing through your body where she touched you.

She lets you know the plane has landed and that the rest of the passengers have exited the deck (a quick glance around proves this), and that if you need help carrying anything to let her know. You thank her quietly, apologize for holding everyone up, and make your way into the airport.

—-

You squint as you walk into the building, which -even at such a late hour- is busy with people. The fluorescent lights almost burn your eyes, and the din around you is loud enough that you almost miss the sound of your name being called.

Thankfully, you manage to hear the quick footsteps behind you, before you’re scooped up like a doll and squished in a hug.

“Y/N! We missed you!”

You squirm a little in Hizashi’s arms, trying to regain your balance, but he only spins you in a circle and hugs you harder. You find yourself smiling, despite your earlier unease. He was here. He’d heard you. He’d come for you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Shouta meandering towards you, hands shoved in his pockets and donning his usual expression. You smile at him, too, and offer him a hug after you’re finally set down.

He’s softer and significantly more calm about it, but his grip on you is tight and warm. You sigh and lean into him, resisting the urge to stay like that for longer than necessary.

“I have a lot of explaining to do, huh?” you say, keeping your tone light. A fresh wave of guilt washes over you when you remember everything that’s happened, and everything you did. They were here now, but you could only guess what they were thinking and feeling; disappointment, shock, anger…

The three of you wander over to the baggage claim area, and stand in a small huddle while you wait for your things.

“Your voicemail said you were undercover,” Hizashi says, and you nod.

“Yeah, for two and a half years.” Shouta grumbles, low enough that you almost miss it. You fiddle with the sleeves of your shirt, avoiding their gazes.

“I’m sorry,” your voice is small, “Truly. If I could have told you about anything, I would have. The commission estimated the mission would only last a couple weeks, but…”

“Two and a half years.”

You droop. “It was supposed to be a small takedown, for some small-time ringleader in the states. Get in, get out, don’t get caught.”

Shouta watches a luggage bag pass by, carefully disinterested. “So what went wrong?”

You shrug. “Local lowlife ended up being part of an international smuggling ring. We could have taken the guy out, but then we would’ve lost the only source we had to something bigger. So we stayed, and we spied, and we put a lot of people in prison.”

Hizashi pulls a bag off the conveyor. “And you got yourself on someone’s shit list.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” you laugh, but neither of them do.

You reach for the handle of your bag, but Hizashi swings it away before you even get close. You roll your eyes and complain, but let him carry it anyways, the three of you lulling into silence on the way out.

Only when you’re outside do either of them speak again.

“You kept saying ‘we’, back there,” Shouta says, and Hizashi tacks on, “Did you have a partner?”

You’re quiet for a moment, pensive. Sad. Guilty.

“Yeah,” you try to keep your voice even, “I did.”

My fault.

You shake the thought away and pretend to miss the glance that the two of them share with each other, walking a few steps ahead of them. It’s obvious that it’s not something you’re willing to talk about right now, even if you weren’t exhausted from the flight and lack of sleep.

You reach the car before them, recognizing the old vehicle as the one Hizashi owned before you’d left.

“We’re glad you’re back, in any case,” he says, unlocking the side door for you to slip in. “It hasn’t been the same without you around.”

You smile at that, but you’re certain it doesn’t reach your eyes. Your mind is elsewhere, now, lost in old thoughts.

Shouta slides into the front passenger seat, peering back at you in the mirror. “We’ll be home soon. Try not to fall asleep back there, you know you get motion sick.”

You snort, but you can feel your eyelids falling. “I won’t fall asleep, I’m stronger than-” You break off into a yawn. “…Maybe not. Just drop me off at a hotel, okay? I don’t mind staying there for a while-”

“You’re kidding, right?” Hizashi plops into the driver’s seat, and starts the car. “You seriously think we’d just toss you out like that? No ma’am, you can crash on our couch!”

“It’s gonna be a couple weeks until I can find a place,” you explain, tiredness beginning to seep into your voice, “and I really don’t wanna take up space-”

Shouta reaches back without looking and pinches your leg. “Your money is better spent on new living arrangements,” he says, and you swat at him, “Don’t blow it on some shit hotel when you have people who want to house you.”

You grumble a little, but relent, knowing he’s right.

“So, you two are still living together, huh?” you ask, trying to change the conversation to something more comfortable. “I would’ve sworn you guys would have enough saved up to get your own places by now.”

“We’re engaged, so it makes sense.”

Your eyebrows shoot up at this, surprise evident in your expression. Engaged? Your stomach does little flips, and for a moment you’re not sure if they’re good or bad. On one hand, you’re glad they’re happy and together. On the other hand…seeing them after so long has definitely begun to resurface some old feelings.

You smile, masking the sadness. “I really missed a lot, huh? I didn’t even know you guys liked each other.”

Hizashi grins in the rear view mirror. “Some things came to light after you…left. We admitted some feelings, tried a few things out, and the rest is history.”

Your stomach sinks, all the butterflies you’d had instantly dying. “I’m glad you guys had each other. I’m…I’m sorry.”

Shouta reaches back again, but you manage to dodge his pinching attack this time. You slap at each other for a couple seconds, before you’re scolded for roughhousing in the car.

“You don’t need to keep apologizing,” he says, “we get why you had to leave, now. Besides, you’re back. We can pick up where we all left off.”

Where you left off, huh? Where you’d left off, you’d been overworked and pining hard for two of the dumbest smart people you’d ever known. Were you doomed to that fate again?

Still, you tell them, “That sounds perfect.”

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shouta x reader #erasermic x reader #yamada hizashi x reader #yamada x reader #this is a happy poly fic no worries #bnha x reader #mha x reader #reader insert #Space Between

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 4 years

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the artiste; hanamiya makoto

tags; fashion/modelling industry!au, lowkey sugar daddy!hanamiya, not telling you anything else so you gotta read these 3.8k words now

tw; unhealthy weight loss techniques

note: charon is the dude who carries souls of the deceased across the river styx - the river which connects the earth and the underworld

“Well, aren’t you pretty.”

These are the first words Hanamiya ever directs towards you, raising his champagne glass as you approach, with the same sleazy smile across his lips that you’ve seen on the face of every man who steps into the host club to soak up the atmosphere of women and wine.

“I’m flattered,” you upturn your lips - amiable but not too friendly, ladylike but not cold.

“Not you’re not,” the man’s tone holds none of its previous singsong. In your shock, you lose the smile, “you’re sick and tired of hearing the same words come out of every man’s lips, right? Nor are you particularly subtle with how you looked up at the clock.”

“I apologise-“

“Don’t. I’m not kidding when I say I’m pleased to meet you,” he stretches out his hand, takes yours and shakes it hard, “Makoto, Hanamiya Makoto. And I’m here to be your Charon.”

At first, your conversations with Hanamiya - always at the club, of course, though they grow more frequent, and soon he doesn’t even need to request you either; all the staff know that he’s only got eyes for you - are stilted and stiff. He’s charismatic but you’re not trained to talk to charismatic men.

“I’m not like the others, am I?” Hanamiya chuckles as if savouring his own sense of superiority. “I don’t work with the script your manager tells you to follow. I bet you’ve never told a single one of your customers what you actually think about them. You know, I used to work for a place like this, a common place pimp, picking up pretty girls off the street for the manager - that’s how I know just about everything you’re thinking. I understand more about your profession than you do.”

“What do you do now?” you ask, noting how the discussion is slowly falling into dangerous territory (the manager’s number one rule: never tell the customer anything they can’t just see).

“I’m a fashion designer, producing haute couture gowns for those with too much money to spend.”

It’s only then that you understand why his name sounded so familiar. And maybe Hanamiya sees how your eyes sparkle at the recollection, because the grin slips back onto his lips.

After that, conversations start getting easier. Hanamiya’s still a little too questioning, just a touch too intrusive, but you can’t avoid the questions of a man who dwells in the summit of society, which you could only dream of looking up at as a child. After all, who hasn’t fantasied about walking down the runway, being the object of everyone’s envy, being the centre of all the photos?

And that’s the worst part of Hanamiya - he keeps saying it’s possible, for you.

“It’s your bones,” Hanamiya tells you, running his hand across your cheek, his fingers pressing down gently onto what lies beneath your skin (the manager’s second rule: never let customers touch you in any way vaguely intimate - insist on boundaries). “God made you to be a model.”

Of course, you tell him you’re not interested (you’ve got a comfortable paying job now, and it doesn’t lack in glamour either, entertaining rich old men with pearls on your neck), but, every time he visits, he asks again. And it slowly gets harder to resist how sincerely he squeezes your hand, how authentic his smile has become (no longer do you feel the sensation that he’s inspecting you - he’s a friend now, more than anything), and how this could be your only chance to fulfil those childhood dreams that would have never stood a chance, if not for Hanamiya.

“I need you,” murmurs Hanamiya, staring so intensely into your eyes that it’s like he’s not looking at you at all, “you’re perfect.”

“Why me?”

“There’s this one dress... It’ll only reach its true potential if you’re the one wearing it. Just one show, just a couple steps down the catwalk, that’s all you have to do. If you don’t like it, you can leave the industry the next day.”

You glance around the club you’ve come to call a second home, at its plushy red sofas which look almost blood-coloured, dimly lit by the chandeliers overhead.

“I’m happy here.” Once, that wouldn’t have been a lie.

Hanamiya sits back, but his gaze still doesn’t leave yours. “You enjoy grandeur here, but only in the night. Don’t you want it in the light too?”

That evening, you quit your job.

It’s raining outside. As the two of you rush to his car, parked a little while away, Hanamiya holds his coat over you head.

“I thought your coat was too expensive to get wet!” you laugh, your hands still shaking with the adrenaline of your own rashness, the soles of your shoes slapping against the puddles on the pavement.

“You’re way more expensive, angel,” replies Hanamiya.

In the moment, with his raindrops glittering across his hair, and a boyish smile across his face, you can forget that this man is a multi-millionaire who now owns your future. Right now, he just seems like an ally - maybe even a friend.

“You’ll stay with me for now,” Hanamiya’s saying as he slips his key into the lock of a tall mahogany door, with his face turned away from you, “model apartments, agencies: they’re all shams. It’s tricky business for a newcomer. You’re safest with me.”

You’ve worked long enough in a shady industry to know that it’s never wise to put all your eggs in one basket.

“Why not an agency? Don’t I need someone to represent me?”

“Agencies only exist to take as large a cut of your earnings as they can, and get you in debt - that’s what the apartments they set you up with are for - and then make you reliant on them, so they can keep taking your money. They don’t care about your potential,” the light down the corridor is flickering, casting fleeting shadows over Hanamiya’s form which distort his face as he turns towards you, “not like I do.”

Something in his tone suggests to you that, firstly, you don’t know the first thing about this industry you’re stepping into, and that, secondly, you don’t need to know. You just need to stick with him.

You can trust him (you think).

After all, Hanamiya’s the one who’s responsible for your being a model in one of the biggest fashion events in this half of the year - you, someone with no experience apart from a couple hours practice with an expert (who had only agreed to it, you understood, because they were desperate to work with Hanamiya too). He’s also the one who kept you company during the dress rehearsal, when all the other models were eyeing you, mumbling together from the distance, dressed in their various shades of blacks and greys and purples like a plague about to smother you whole.

“Ignore them, they’re just envious that you’re the star of the show,” Hanamiya whispered, his lip just grazing the top of your ear, before announcing to the room, “work hard, ladies, and maybe, one day, you’ll get to be my favourite instead!”

You had asked him to not make such a big show of it. One of the best parts of working at the host club had been sitting with your fellow hosts at the end of the day, slipping off your high heels to give your feet a rest, gossiping together about that day’s customers. Making friends with these new colleagues of yours, you explained to Hanamiya, was just as important to you. You didn’t want to be the lone wolf; you didn’t want to feel like you were walking down the runway alone.

“Why?” Hanamiya had replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. Looking at the mirror before you, you were convinced the other models were glaring at you. “Can’t you cope with the pressure?”

And, now, in the final hour before the first (and potentially last; now it’s so close, you’re starting to realise just how unqualified you are) show of your life, still no one’s talking to you. Even the three people working on you - two on your hair, one of your makeup (in Hanamiya’s words, the star shouldn’t have to worry about anything but the walk ahead) - refuse to speak to you, or even meet your eye in the mirror. Your only option for conversation is Hanamiya, who’s barely interested in you. His eyes keep straying to look over the preparations being performed before him, like a boy studying his ant farm.

“You’re got too much trust in me,” you say to Hanamiya, as your head gets wrenched back by one of the stylists, “I could ruin your whole show.”

“If I thought that,” Hanamiya’s eyes flicker over you, and then return to observing the other models, “I wouldn’t have offered the position to you.”

“I’m no professional model.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

Hanamiya’s casual smile slips off his face. He’s displeased. You have to put more trust in his decisions, you remind yourself, as black lipstick and eyeshadows is smudged across your lips and eyelids, giving you the appearance of a banshee.

Around 10 minutes before you’re supposed to go out, you’re helped into the gown you’ll be wearing (the other models have been dashing back and forth to get changed into their next outfits, whereas you just have the one), and hairspray is once again sprayed over the crow’s nest that was once your hair (you look deranged, you think to yourself, but Hanamiya gives a satisfied hum once he sees the stylist’s finished product).

And then, in the final seconds, Hanamiya approaches you - “make me proud” - and pushes you onto the catwalk.

One step in front of the other. Let the satin skirt swing. Don’t move your arms too much. Expose the lace that attaches the sleeves to the skirt, hanging down like great wings of spider’s webs. And keep your arms raised, just slightly. Even when the heaps of black satin, piled across your biceps and forearm, make your muscles burn, keep your arms up. Look confident. But haunted too. Walk slow. Let your hips slip to the side, but don’t overdo it. Not like the other models. Remember, you’re the witch. You’re wearing the dress of the witch. You’re not a model.

You’re the star.

At the end - and it’s curious how long the runway feels whilst you’re on it, and how short it looks when it’s over - the lights dim, and, the minute you’re backstage, high on adrenaline, you race into Hanamiya’s arms. You’re shaking too much to speak, but Hanamiya holds you closely, like you could crumple any minute.

“Good girl,” he purrs, “you did exactly what I told you to.”

And then he tosses you to the side, as he goes out to greet the applause.

-----

You’re not sure how (in the photos, you look like a woman possessed - perhaps you shouldn’t have been concentrating so hard on remembering Hanamiya’s advice) but the show’s a success. More than that, you’re a success. Suddenly, your schedule starts being booked up. There’s magazines interested in this new look, photographers keen on being the ones to represent it, and even the tabloids have been writing about “designer Hanamiya Makoto finds yet another hidden talent!”

“’Another’?” you ask Hanamiya, stretched out underneath his bed’s thin black duvet - he keeps saying he’ll find you your own place to stay, but he’s yet to refer you somewhere, and you’re not sure you’d want to go, even if he did.

“There’s been a couple models in the past that I brought to the industry,” he replies, slipping off a dark grey tie, unbuttoning the top hole of his black shirt, “but none with your potential, angel.”

Your attention returns to the magazine, as you reread the article for the tenth time. There’s something addicting about seeing your name written there, seeing your photo printed into the glossy paper. Over and over, you run your fingers across the ‘truly the star of the show’ printed in Times New Roman, and, every time, the words bring a shiver up your spine. That’s you. You’re the star. You’re Hanamiya’s star.

-----

A few weeks after the show, and your days are spent on booking after booking. Today’s job involves wearing a collection of what Hanamiya deems as ‘funeral dresses’ - long black frocks, not quite ballgowns but clearly not designed for the average grieving mademoiselle. And it’s only the three of you in the studio today: you, the photographer, and Hanamiya.

(You’re not sure why Hanamiya attends all these bookings of yours. He’s a busy man, after all; just organising your schedule seems a lot of work for someone whose main job is focused on something entirely different. The one time you asked him as to how he finds the time, he replied that, ��as the artist, I cannot possibly leave you - my muse. Not unless you want me to?” He raised an eyebrow, and you never asked again, knowing very well that you weren’t ready to be separated from his company).

“Hand up a little,” says the photographer now, “no, put it back. The pose isn’t working. You don’t know what you’re doing.”

He approaches you, squints, grins, and begins to adjust the positioning of your legs and torso. His hands slowly slip to your hips - you bite your lip as to not gasp - and then to the inside of your thigh, give your skin a slight squeeze.

And that’s when you slap him. Storm over to Hanamiya.

“Makoto, this man is no photographer,” you retort, filling your voice with rage to hide how your hands are shivering, “he’s a commonplace groping pervert at best.”

“Hush up, angel,” Hanamiya doesn’t even look up from his book, flicks to the next page “the plot twist is coming up.”

Just the three of you in the room, you think once more, frozen to the spot. And then the photographer guides you back to your position, and, though he’s less loose with his hands now, his grin has only grown.

“You’re being paid to be a mannequin,” he says, rubbing his thumb down the side of your torso, as if adjusting how the dress sits on you, “keep that in mind.”

Perhaps it’s due to his book, but, in the corner of the room, Hanamiya’s starting to laugh.

-----

In the evenings, the two of you return to Hanamiya’s apartment together. He cooks - you always offer to, but, in his words, you’re too good for household chores - and then, sat at opposite ends of the mahogany table, you both eat and discuss the day. Even now that he spends most of his day with you (and when you’re not on a booking with him, you’re trapped in his apartment, whose key you’re still yet to receive, not that you mind, of course: there’s plenty of fashion magazines here to entertain you, many of which now include photos of yourself), Hanamiya continues to ask you questions about your life. It’s like nothing has changed since the two of you were chatting together at the host club.

But that’s the pleasant thing about Hanamiya. He’s always so easy to talk to. He never treats you like the man who’s brought you all this success; rather, he treats you like you’re the one who’s enriching his life.

And that’s why, months later, sharing a meal together as per usual, you raise to Hanamiya your concerns as to how you’ve been getting less bookings recently.

“Of course I know you’re busy,” you twist the spaghetti around your fork, “but I’m getting more popular with each passing day. I need to keep up with it.”

“Oh, and that’s my job, is it?”

“You’ve always done it before.”

“Aren’t you getting a bit above your station, angel dearest? If you want more jobs, make a network and find them.” You can tell, from the way Hanamiya’s voice has dropped, from the way he’s placed his wineglass back down on the table, that you’re pushing your luck, “I’m no slave of yours.”

Fighting to keep your voice composed, as you wind the pasta tighter around your fork, you respond, “then at least give me a larger percentage of the payout from my bookings than I’m currently getting.”

“Do you even know what percentage you’re getting right now?”

You don’t. You’ve been relying on Hanamiya to handle the financial side of things; he always said that it made more sense for him to manage the books, since he was the one finding the jobs in the first place.

Your silence is telling and Hanamiya grins, takes a long sip of his wine.

“Just remember, I brought you into this world. It wouldn’t be hard for me to take you back out of it,” he purrs, glancing at how your plate is still full, “and that reminds me. Do be careful with what you’re eating, angel. I wouldn’t want you to lose your edge.”

That evening, you throw up the little of the spaghetti that you had eaten. It’s time for a change, you reprimand yourself. You can’t let yourself fall out of Hanamiya’s favour.

It’s with this in mind that you start swallowing down cotton balls, dipped in juice beforehand, and, as you feel them slide down your throat, you tell yourself that you’re full.

But still, the number of bookings continue to decrease. Those that you do attend are often filled with other models, so you’re just one of the crowd, one of many faceless limbs and torsos. No one speaks to you, even though Hanamiya’s not spending much time with you either. You stand in the queue, waiting for your photo, and, as the photographers criticise your inability to look natural in a pose or to even maintain it - “is your head full of wool, woman? Keep your hand there!” - you think back to your first (only, so far) fashion show. How you were the star of the show. How you’re still the star of the show.

These petty little bookings with their petty little photographers simply don’t understand your potential.

That’s what you’re repeating to yourself during your lunch break, having snuck outside to swallow down another couple cotton balls - this time dipped in chilli oil (if your mouth is burning, you can’t be hungry, right?). The sky glares down at you, painfully bright, as you run your tongue over your lips again and again, feeling the grooves in the flesh, where you’ve bitten into your lips hard enough to make them bleed.

“You’re the girl that did Hanamiya Makoto’s last show, aren’t you?”

“And what if I am?”

The woman, who’s just stepped outside to stand beside you, blows smoke into your face, before inspecting you more closely. She’s tall, and there’s something skeletal in her fingers as she brings the cigarette up to her lips once more.

“He’s losing interest in you, isn’t he?”

“How dare you-“

She glances down at the remaining cotton ball in your palm.

“Just take coke if you want to get skinny,” the woman states, looking you up and down like she’s pitying you, “it’s downright weird to eat cotton. Coke speeds up your metabolism, makes you less hungry too.”

“Coke also gets people addicted, and then killed.”

“In that man’s mind,” she leans back against the wall, as a cloud of grey trickles from her lips, “beauty comes first. So us models who hope to work for him can’t prioritise our futures. You’re not going to last long with your current attitude.”

“What would you know? I bet you’ve never been in one of his shows.” Your words come out tenser that you had wanted them to. “I’m the star of-“

“There’s nothing permanent in this industry,” she lets her cigarette fall to the floor, and grinds it into ashes with the heel of her platform boots, “but I guess you’re still new to the game.”

-----

The booking grows worse throughout the day. As the humidity increases, the photographers’ tempers shorten - and Hanamiya doesn’t look your way when you get yelled at once again. You’re spending even longer stuck in the queues, standing silently, listening to the conversations of the models around you.

One woman glances at you with a smirk, and then tells her companion, “there’s rumours he’s found a new girl, another host club adoptee.”

You don’t have to guess who the ‘he’ is.

So, that evening, when Hanamiya returns late as he has been doing for the past coupe weeks, you confront him. Dressed in the slick black dress he bought you, wearing the diamond necklace he offered you as a birthday present, you pin him between against the wall, the minute he walks through the door.

“You’ve been at the host club, haven’t you? They’re saying you’ve found someone new, that you’re going to replace me!”

Loosening his tie, Hanamiya murmurs, “you’re not my wife, you know, angel.”

“I am the star of your show,” you hiss in response.

Hanamiya pushes your torso away from his, and something about his touch, or perhaps how you haven’t eaten anything substantial since 6am this morning, makes your knees weak. You collapse to the ground, your head slamming against the wall beside his leg.

Slowly, Hanamiya rolls up his sleeves, grabs your chin and pulls it up - hard.

“Don’t tell me this is all you’ve become - a jealous, talentless bitch?” He smiles, but there’s nothing entertained in his eyes. “All my expectations for you, and yet here you are, keeling over like a donkey in a fucking third world country.”

You fight against the pressure of his hand on your chin, but his hold is too strong to go against. “The new collection, “Styx’s Allure’… I’m going to participate in that show, right? Everyone’s talking about it, all the magazines are raving about it; I can’t not be in it.”

“Sure you can,” Hanamiya pulls you back up to your feet, and now it’s you being pressed against the wall, “in fact, I’ll save you the trouble of having to wait to find out. You’re not in it. You can beg all you want, and you still won’t get it. There’s a cute little girl at your old employer’s place; she’s much more suited-“

“I thought you said I’d be the star!” you snarl, overwhelmed with an exhausted rage.

“I thought you’d be capable of being the star,” sighs Hanamiya, running his hands around your neck, like he’s contemplating just how thin it is, just how easy it would be to snap, “but don’t worry, angel, you’re not entirely useless.

Just the other day, I was talking to a taxidermist about you.

You know, some things just don’t reach their true potential in life.”

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thefinalcinderella · 3 years

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Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 7 - The Qualifiers (Part 2)

I will finish this novel by the end of summer...no matter what

Full list of translations here

Translation Notes

1. According to Wikipedia, the second leg of Hakone is 23.1km from Tsurumi to Totsuka and the longest leg of the race, so traditionally the fastest runner of each team runs this leg. It’s called the “Leg 2 of Flowers” because all the aces of each school take part in it

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The race unfolded at a fast pace right from the start.

Kakeru and Kiyose were part of the first group that consisted of twenty to thirty people. Kakeru was impatient to do a spurt, but he was admonished by Kiyose, running next to him, to “calm down,” and he managed to control his impatience.

Two black transfer students from Saikyo University were in the lead. In no time at all, they had established a lead from the first group and were already rounding the first corner of the runway. Iwanki, the black transfer student from Koufu Academy and a Hakone regular, also followed them resolutely. Iwanki was an ace in his final year of school who had run the second leg (1) of Hakone for three years in a row, and Kakeru felt the ace’s pride and ardor for Hakone as he stared at Iwanki’s distant back running far ahead.

As though influenced by the three in the lead’s running, the first group also passed the first kilometer in two minutes and forty-nine seconds. It might have been due to the fact that the JSDF’s runway was so wide that it was difficult to get a sense of distance; considering they were running twenty kilometers, it was a pretty fast pace. More and more people couldn’t keep up, and by the time they rounded the second corner, the runners were already all stretched out lengthwise.

Kiyose checked his watch and turned around. The other Chikusei-sou members were in the third group that consisted of seventy to eighty people, and they were running together.

Kiyose went out to the edge of the course, where it would be easier to see him from behind. His palm was facing down, signalling them to “restrain themselves.” According to the rules they had decided beforehand, he indicated numbers with his fingers in succession, telling them to “run up to five kilometers within three minutes and ten seconds per kilometer. The rest is decided by you.” “Decided by you” was indicated with a gesture of opening and closing his palm near his temple. He could see Yuki and Shindou nodding and quickly informing the others around them.

“Are we slowing down too?” Kakeru asked.

“Are we?” Kiyose asked back.

“No.”

He had absolutely no intention of doing that. As Kiyose ran, he lightly tapped Kakeru’s back.

“Once we’re on the regular roads, there will be new developments. When the time comes, just launch forward without worrying about me.”

Hanako had finished gathering the bags near the start point and was cheering on the residents making the second lap on the runway. It was so expansive that when the runners were running at the farthest side, she could only see specks. But as the group approached, she could feel the earth shaking, and when they passed before her eyes, she could feel the breathing of the runners and the heat dissipating off their sweaty bodies.

With a stopwatch in hand, Hanako was amazed.

Everyone is running at such a fast speed. They’re even faster than I would be if I pedalled my bike with all my strength. The runners are passing by so quickly that I can barely make out their faces—and they’re running a whole twenty kilometers at this speed.

The three black runners passed by, and about forty meters behind, the first group arrived. Kakeru and Kiyose were among them; they were still carrying themselves lightly and compactly, with calm expressions on their faces. The surrounding spectators cheered, “Let’s go!” Hanako also tried to call out to them, but she couldn’t; a lump of air was stuck in her chest.

The twins were in the third group. The eight people of Chikusei-sou were together, running as hard as they could to not fall behind—to get even a little bit further ahead.

“The lead is at a pace of two minutes and forty-nine seconds. Don’t let yourselves be dragged along!” As Hanako conveyed that information, she realized that she was on the verge of tears.

I never knew that the running form could be this beautiful. What a primitive and lonely sport this is. No one is able to support them. No matter how many spectators there are around them, no matter if the teammates they practiced together with are with them, those people are currently continuing to run using everything in their bodies, all by themselves.

They ran two laps on the runway, and after they had run five kilometers, the gap between the black runners in the lead and the first group was more than a hundred meters. A middle-aged man near Hanako clicked his tongue.

“Japanese runners are so weak.”

Not at all, Hanako wanted to say. What are you looking at? There’s no difference between those leading and those following. Why can’t you see the seriousness in their faces and their determination to overcome their physical limits? There’s no weak person here.

Clenching her fists tightly, Hanako’s eyes chased the Kansei uniforms. Don’t lose. Everyone, please don’t lose.

Even Hanako herself didn’t know what she was praying that they wouldn’t lose against; was it the rivals from the other schools, the people who were spectating along the route while making arbitrary judgements, or was it they themselves who were running? She didn’t know, but Hanako prayed with all her heart: she didn’t want them to lose. To anything.

Yaokatsu called out to her.

“Let’s go, Hana.”

Hey, hey, Yaokatsu prompted Hanako. “Everyone looks like they’re in a good position. Let’s wait for them at the finish line.”

The plasterer sniffed and nodded. It was the first time the people of the shopping district had seen track athletes running at close proximity. The speed was breathtaking, and they couldn’t help but be moved by how bravely the people of Chikusei-sou were competing, by no means inferior to anyone else.

They’re always laughing like idiots, but they were serious. They were serious about running. Watching the qualifiers, they finally realized that.

The people of the shopping district picked up the towels and water bottles and began to move through the park. They had to secure a good spot on the grass clearing to welcome the runners after they finished the race.

Hanako was blinking, drying the tears that had welled up. This was no time to cry. The race had only just started. She had to believe in them and do what she had to do.

Holding the plastic sheet, Hanako vigorously walked through the grass wet with morning dew.

The race took on a new dimension when they passed the five kilometer mark and went out onto the regular road. The first group began to come apart. The gap with the lead didn’t shorten, but it also didn’t get longer. It was still a very high-paced race, and some were falling behind.

Kakeru and Kiyose were firmly in the first group, which had about ten people; they were surrounded by ace runners from TSU, Kikui, and Koufu Academy. Kakeru confirmed that Sakaki wasn’t there. No sense of superiority or, of course, sympathy sprouted in Kakeru’s heart. He only thought, “Oh, I guess he couldn’t keep up with the pace.” But I’m going further. I’m gonna break away from this group.

At that point, the staff inside the leading car that was loaded up with TV cameras shouted in admiration, “Oi oi, there’re Kansei runners here. They’re doing pretty good!” But of course Kakeru and Kiyose had no way of knowing that. Where would the race go? They were playing a silent game with the runners around them.

Large track teams had backup members posted along the route, who were able to relay the positions of each runner and the pacing instructions from the coach. However, Kansei didn’t have enough people, and Kiyose had to pay attention to the other runners as well, not just his own running. Occasionally, he turned around to look at the situation—the eight people from Chikusei-sou were still huddled together, taking rear positions in the expanding second group. The previous second and third groups had also broken up, and those who weren’t left behind seemed to have merged with those that couldn’t keep up with the first group.

It could be seen from the twins, Musa, and Yuki’s faces that they still had spare energy left. Shindou and Nico-chan were calm, striving to maintain their own pace. King was managing to keep up, but Prince would soon be at risk. The Chikusei-sou group was also stretching out vertically.

More than that, if the members stuck together any longer, those with slow paces might drag them all backwards.

They passed the seven kilometer mark. The first group’s time for the last kilometer was 3.05 minutes. The race had slowed down a bit compared to the initial fast pace. This was probably due to the group psychology of being afraid of running out of steam in the latter half, as well as the slowing down of Iwanki, who was in third place, running a little further ahead.

It would only be after ten kilometers that some from the first group made a spurt, which Kiyose had judged would happen. There, of course, Kakeru and Kiyose had to cling on, but they also had to consider the impact on the rear. There would definitely be those who fell behind or fell off their pace because they lacked stamina, and the people of Chikusei-sou could not be swayed by it.

Kiyose approached the center line and made another signal towards the group in the back. He rotated his right arm widely. “Move out soon.” He fluttered his right hand’s fingers near his temple. “You guys can break up.” Next, he made a fist with his right hand and gave a thumbs up. “Good luck.”

Except for Prince, who couldn’t afford to do it, everyone raised their hands lightly to indicate they understood.

“Kakeru. Starting from the ten kilometer mark, the first turning point of this race will come. Don’t fall behind.”

Kakeru nodded at Kiyose’s whisper. He could sense that, both from the breathing of the runners in the first group and the fact that the scrambling for positions that would make it easier to break away was intensifying. The runners were inferring with each other, keeping each other in check, and waiting for their chance.

Even as they left the street in front of the station and approached the monorail overhead, there were spectators lining the streets along the way. But their voices were distant. They only caressed his ears like the roar of the sea, and tore back in an instant. It was because he was concentrating on the race, and Kakeru was reminded once again that today, his body was moving well.

There were times when his body felt light, but his pace didn’t reflect it. On the other hand, there were days when he felt like he wasn’t doing well, but was actually running at a very good pace. No matter how much he practiced, there were many times when his body and mind didn’t sync well in a real race, creating illusions.

Just to make sure, Kakeru dropped his gaze to his wristwatch for the first time; he had come this far at a pace of two minutes and fifty-seven seconds per kilometer. It’s not an illusion. Just as thought, I’m in good form today. Even if the race speeds up, I can still do it. I can go even faster.

Kiyose seemed to sense Kakeru’s confidence. Running next to him, he said “Whoa there,” as though calming a horse. “Wait, Kakeru. You’re free to do what you want after we pass the ten kilometer mark.”

If he put on a spurt too soon, he would self-destruct. Kakeru answered “Yes,” and controlled himself, not dropping his pace.

As soon as they passed under the monorail and saw the ten kilometer mark, the first group moved as expected.

A third-year from Kikui and the TSU captain put on a spurt. They pulled ahead of everyone except for Kakeru and Kiyose.

Using them as a shelter from the wind, Kakeru stayed right behind Kikui and TSU, who were competing against each other. After running about five hundred meters, he murmured, “I’m going.” Kiyose nodded without a word.

Kakeru overtook Kikui and TSU by running around them from the center line, and he continued to run according to his own rhythm. He didn’t have the leisure or urge to look back, but the sound of footsteps moving away from him was enough for him to know that he had pulled ahead and was in fourth place alone.

I feel great. The cutting wind and the road I’m stepping on are all mine for just this instant. As long as I’m running like this, this is a world only I can experience.

His heart was hot. He could feel the blood flowing to the tips of his fingers. He felt heavy—he wasn’t supposed to feel like this yet. He had to change his body more. Like a nimble beast that ran through the grassland without knowing pain. Like a silvery light in the darkness.

At the 11.2 kilometer turnaround point, Kakeru turned so cleanly that he looked like a brand-new aerodynamic machine. Slowing down is a sin. Because everything I have is for the sake of running.

Kakeru was already in range of Iwanki, who was ahead of him.

Seeing Kakeru accelerate right before his eyes, Kiyose was ecstatic.

Show me that run. The beauty of that existence, born for running.

The figure that easily surpasses frustration and envy. Like it’s some other creature. What a difference from me, who’s bound by gravity and struggling to supply oxygen to myself.

Kiyose managed to suppress his urge to shout. As expected, it’s only you. You’re the only one who can embody running like this. Kakeru, you’re the only one who can spur me on and show me a new world.

He wanted to catch up to Kakeru, but that was impossible for Kiyose, who had a bomb in his leg. He matched the pace of Kikui and TSU. Both of them were doing their best to get over the shock of being overtaken by Kakeru even though they had put on a spurt. How would this affect the ups and downs after they enter the park? The only tactic that remained for Kiyose was preserving his strength and taking a gamble on the end. He didn’t have the leeway to look behind him anymore.

But, he could feel it—the other eight had definitely witnessed Kakeru flying out from the group. He could tell that they were excited to see that sparkling running.

Jouji saw Kakeru, who was running past the turnaround point, from the front. He had the same face he had when he was jogging, his breathing composed and no hint of pain in his face. But, his eyes are different, Jouji thought. Kakeru’s dark eyes were shining with joy. It was the joy of just being in the act of running.

Kakeru probably didn’t know what kind of face he makes when he’s running. Jouji felt jealousy and affection at the same time. Can I run as purely as Kakeru? So innocently and freely to the point it’s inhuman. I want to run. Jouji thought. I want to run like Kakeru too.

Nico-chan groaned at Kakeru’s running as he ran right past him. I didn’t think he’d be that fast. How fast can he run when he’s going all out? That glint in his eyes is dazzling. It’s like he’s proving that there is such a thing as chosen ones.

But I’ll run through to the end. Nico-chan sucked air into his lungs that were beginning to scream. I can’t afford to fall behind Kakeru in my will to run.

The people wearing Kansei’s uniforms, with Kakeru in the lead, were connected by their passion and strength, and like a constellation shining in the night sky, they formed a single shape to reach the finish line.

---

Hanako staked out a spot on the grass clearing and then hurried towards the park course. The cheering squads from each school were crowding near the finish line. The spectators also formed a double or triple wall of people waiting for the runners to arrive. Since it suddenly became very noisy, the birds flew out of the park trees in surprise.

About fifty meters from the finish line, Hanako finally found a gap in the wall. Saying “Excuse me” as she slipped through, she was able to join the front row. She was wearing a Kansei jersey, so the spectators guessed that she was a staff member and considerately made room for her.

Hanako looked at her stopwatch; fifty-three minutes and thirty-five seconds had passed since the start of the race. They’re running twenty kilometers, so it’s going to take a while no matter how you look at it.

Just when she thought that, the sound of cheers approached like a wave. The cheering squads of each school were singing their school song and waving their flags about as though this was the critical moment.

The leading runner appeared from the shade of a green tree: it was a black international student from Saikyo University. Next was another black student, also from Saikyo.

“Amazing…” Hanako murmured.

Amidst the roars of the crowd, the two international students crossed the finish line in fifty-eight minutes and twelve seconds and fifty-eight minutes and twenty-eight seconds respectively. The word “unrivalled” would be a fitting word to describe their physical ability. Hanako wondered what happened to the Chikusei-sou members. While applauding the runners who finished, she stood on tiptoe and looked at the course.

A figure appeared, turning the curve. Hanako screamed in spite of herself. She couldn’t find the words.

It was Kakeru.

It was Kurahara Kakeru who approached the final stretch right before the finish line in third place.

“The top places are going to be the black runners anyways.”

Even the spectators who had been whispering that to each other erupted in undulating roars, unmatched by the ones earlier. Hanako forgot herself and was shouting, “Kurahara-kun! Kurahara-kun!”

It didn’t seem like Kakeru was hearing anything.

The ragged breathing passed in front of Hanako in an instant. Kakeru was only looking at the finish line straight ahead and dashed through the fifty meter distance as though he was running short distance. The spectators were swept away by his running which was brimming with persistence and fighting spirit.

The area in front of the finish line was silent for an instant, as though a saint had passed through.

Hanako checked her stopwatch. Kakeru had finished in fifty-nine minutes and fifteen seconds. Iwanki finished five seconds later. Kakeru had beaten the ace of Koufu Academy.

A buzz filled the area in front of the finish line.

“That was Kansei. I’ve never seen that school in Hakone before.”

“They have one amazing runner there.”

He’s Kurahara-kun. He’s Kurahara-kun, who’s still a first-year. Hanako wanted to say that to everyone around her. However, there was no time for that, because the trailing runners were reaching the final stretch in front of the finish line one by one.

---

When Kiyose passed fifteen kilometers and entered the park, he made his spurt as planned. Kikui and TSU increased their pace at almost the exact same time, but he had no intention of losing.

When he sped up on the upward slope, he felt a faint discomfort in his right shin. Shit, he thought, but he didn’t mess up his breathing or show it on his face—he was done for if his weakness was discovered. Right now, every second counted. It was not the time to worry about old wounds.

Kiyose continued to speed up without hesitating. The cheering squads’ musical performances were in complete harmony, singing in a chaotic scale. A few familiar faces from the shopping district seemed to be shouting along the course. However, he couldn’t hear anything. The Kikui runner pulled another step ahead. Every time his sole touched the ground, he felt a numbness in his shin. Even so, Kiyose had no intention of being outdistanced.

“Haiji-san!”

He definitely heard Kakeru’s yell. Kiyose poured his last strength into the muscles of his legs and practically collapsed through the finish line. He managed to move to a position where he wouldn’t be in the way and put his palm to his shin. It was hot. He was tied for sixth place with the Kikui runner. His time was exactly sixty minutes.

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#Kaze ga tsuyoku fuiteiru #kazetsuyo #kazetsuyo translations #run with the wind

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damonsvftie · 4 years

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𝑼𝒏𝒓𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝑳𝒐𝒗𝒆 💔

Draco Malfoy x Reader

Summary; Forced into an arranged marriage, y/n is marrying Draco Malfoy and this is by far the most emotionally depressing day for both of them since she is aware that he will never love her like Astoria Greengrass.

Warnings: depressing, very emotional, lack of self love and yuh also this is 1.1K words

Note: this will include some pictures with it because lmao idk and also if I’ve mixed up the ceremonies then I am truly sorry <3

"That looks so gorgeous on you, oh my merlin you've grown so much y/n," gasped my mother while she wiped the tears that were travelling down her face.

"Indeed, you look beautiful," chimed my father as he rubbed my mother's back in circles.

Deciding that I needed some time to myself, they exited my room silently as I stood before the large mirror staring back at my horrendous reflection. My face looked as if I had just met death at my doorstep. My skin pale as ever and my dark puffy circles, under my eyes, heavily concealed with a hefty amount of concealer to try and hide the dark marks that were visible from crying myself to sleep. My bony skin looked more transparent as I lost my appetite making me lose a ton of weight.

Staring at my horrific reflection, tears unexpectedly streamed down my face as I broke down hysterically crying. I tried my hardest to muffle my cries making sure no one heard me as I sank to the floor, near my bed, gripping onto my bedsheets whilst I buried my head into my knees.

I never asked for any of this.

Today was the day I was going to be marrying Draco Malfoy against one other's will. But something about getting myself married to him made my heart pang, making me feel an emotional type of pain. Maybe it was because he was still in love with the girl of his dreams, Astoria Greengrass. Maybe it was because i knew he would never love me the way he did with her. Maybe it was just me.

I heard someone softly knock on my bedroom door as I scrambled to my feet, smoothing out the small indented creases on my wedding dress and fixing my makeup as I patted away my wet tears. "Is everything okay y/n?" Called a familiar voice which sounded like Draco's mother, Narcissa Malfoy.

"Yes, I'm fine.. I'm coming," I replied modestly, trying to swallow the thick lump at the back of my throat.

Once I heard footsteps walking away from the radar of my room, I gave one last glance at the mirror before turning away heading for the door. I quickly fixed my posture and headed out to meet my parents.

—

Locking arms with my Father, I proceeded to head outside to where the ceremony would take place. The setting was beautifully decorated as the seats were filled with a few family members from both our sides ,since our families agreed to not make the wedding such big deal. Miles away, I could see Draco in his dark black suit while his platinum blonde hair was styled to perfection. He looked breathtaking.

Tears pricked into my eyes as I almost started breaking down then and there but I had told myself that in the end of the day, this was what was supposed to happen. This was my fate. This was my destiny.

As I walked down the aisle, everyone's eyes were on me. My hands were beginning to get clammy the nearer I was headed for the podium, and any minute I felt as if the dark, blood coloured bouquet of delicate roses would slip out of my hand ,while I would faint on runway.

Draco's eyes didn't dare meet mine while he hung his head in shame, toying with the silver slytherin ring that was wrapped around his finger. Once I got near the alter, I walked up the tiny steps making sure I didn't lose my balance and fall down somehow.

My breathing became more heavier when I now faced the gorgeous boy who stood before me. The ceremony started to begin and my eyes were beginning to well up. The 'father' went ahead and explained that we now had to exchange our wedding vows to one another.

I felt myself hyperventilating as I struggled to compose myself together as I gripped onto the soft material of my dress. I felt a pair of cold grey eyes glance up at me before reciting the vows making sure no eye contact was involved.

"I, Draco Malfoy, take thee, y/n y/l/n, to be my wedded wife," he exhaled deeply before saying the next line as his eyes blurred with tears. I noticed he was trying to hold back. Crying was a sign of weakness for Draco Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy wasn't perceived to be weak and fragile.

to have and to hold from this day forward...for better...for worse...for richer..for poorer..in sickness and in health,...to love and to cherish," his lips were now quivering and I could tell he didn't mean anything he was saying. It was visible that he was finding it difficult to say the last few words as he swallowed the lump at the back of his throat.

till death do us part," the last of his words crushing him on the inside.

according to Merlin’s holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my faith..." he finished the last of his vows before pursing his lips into a tight line, drawing his eyebrows into the middle.

I bit my lip making sure I didn't let out my cries.

It was my turn.

I, y/n y/l/n, take thee, Draco Malfoy, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish," I spoke in my lifeless tone while a tear drop slipped out of the brim of my eyes, travelling down my face until it lingered on my lips.

My stomach churned and and I shut my eyes tight before saying the next line.

till death do us part," my voice slightly broke towards the end while I bought my lower lip between my teeth, sobbing silently, letting out a few whimpers or two.

according to Merlin’s holy ordinance; and thereto I pledge thee my faith." I cried as I looked down at the ground, shifting under my weight letting my emotions take the best of me.

Draco's hands were trembling as he placed the beautiful diamond ring that he originally bought for Astoria, on to my finger.

Exchanging rings, I slipped his ring onto his finger before the 'father' ended with the last few words

"You May now kiss the bride,"

Hearing upon them words, Draco stormed off into the other direction leaving me sulking all alone at the alter, while the bouquet of roses fell out of my hands hitting the stone cold floor hard.

I was married to Draco Malfoy and there was nothing I could do about it.

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isthisthingeven0n · 5 years

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not always second best : z.h

brief summary: you’ve always felt second-best in your friendship with zane to his evident love for stassie, but how much longer can you keep quiet before you say something you might regret?

word count: 1.7k requested: yes by an anon! i barely write for zane so i jumped at this one lmao warnings: zane being a drunk mess, some angst but fluff included

* masterlistin’ / masterlistin’ 2.0

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it hasn’t been approved me unless specified. all rights reserved. - i have to start doing this as I had some shit on my other blog with plagiarism)

It was always a thought that lingered in your mind, but whenever you tried to dismiss it, somehow it always found a way to wiggle itself into the forefront of your thoughts.

What didn’t help was how often it was brought up, but you were surrounded by attractive guys who would be attracted to pretty girls. Add their social status into the mix and their ideal type is someone on a similar level, such as a model.

You weren’t upset by it, not anymore. At least, that’s what you told your friends whenever they noticed the disheartened look on your face when her name was brought up into conversation.

Sitting in Scott’s house, you were lost in the conversation as you remained leaning against Zane’s chest with heavy eyes. “Someone’s clearly tired, huh baby?” Zane jokes, looking down at you with that cheeky smile.

“Ssh. I’m sleepy.” You whine, rubbing your eyes as you feel his chest rising and falling.

“Okay, sorry boo.” He rests his arm around your back, pulling you closer into his embrace as you continue to listen to the topics being discussed.

“So there’s that club tonight that we could go to?” David suggests, immediately looking to Zane. “You guys down?” He eyes the room, watching as a few nod in response.

Zane nudges you lightly, waking you up from your light sleep. “Mmh?” You mumble, sitting upright. “Did I miss something?”

“Wanna go out tonight?” David repeats himself, sitting on the sofa opposite you beside Todd and Natalie.

You shrug your shoulders in response. “I don’t think so, I have too much work to catch up on.” You admit, feeling deflated enough as it is with your workload, a hangover is the last thing you need to add on top.

“Okay, well I texted Madison and she’s coming,” David reads from his phone and you see out of the corner of your eye Zane shuffle as he reaches for his phone.

“I’ll check if Stass wants to join.” He eagerly speaks up, texting away with a smile on his face as you shuffle along the sofa, leaning against the arm of it as opposed to on his chest.

“Y/n, do you feel like a Starbucks? I know you mentioned it earlier when we got here.” Mariah suggests to you as she stands up with a small smile on her face, knowing you all too well.

Without saying anything you follow her, watching as she glances back to Heath knowingly. You were aware Heath knew how you felt about his best friend to a certain degree, but it remained unspoken of.

Walking alongside Mariah to her car, she rests her hand in yours and squeezes lightly. “I know it’s hard, seeing him talking about someone else,” She starts as she unlocks her car as you silently climb in. “but he’ll realise that he’s been blind this whole time.” She encourages, but it’s no use.

“It’s been nearly a year, Mariah.” You comment sadly as she pulls away. “I don’t think he’ll flip a switch anytime soon.”

You know you shouldn’t have started, but once you begin it’s close to impossible to tear your eyes away.

Photo’s and videos were burned into your brain as they played from various perspectives. One moment you’re watching Zane taking shots with Stassie and the next David is filming girls with sparklers and a fluorescent ‘Vlog Squad’ sign as the music plays.

Locking your phone, you avert your attention back to your laptop. “Get it together,” You mutter to yourself as you release a heavy sigh, focusing on finishing this sponsored segment for your video next week.

It was nearly 2am by the time you were finishing up. You were ready to collapse down in bed and not move until 2pm the next day, that was your plan at least until you found your phone to see dozens of messages and missed calls.

Through all of the texts, there was a common theme of zane, injury, hospital, blood, drunk, y/n, help, stassie.

Sitting upright, you dial the last number that texted you.

You close your eyes, trying to remain calm as you listen to what feels like endless rining. “Oh thank god,” You hear Matt exhale deeply through the phone, the sound of voiced concerns in the background.

“What’s happened, is, is Zane okay?” You quickly ask, feeling your heart starting to beat faster.

Matt glances behind him as Zane sits unconscious in the hospital bed. “He’ll be alright, but we’re at the hospital-”

“Which one?” You cut him off as you pick up your car keys, not thinking twice.

“The usual one.” Matt comments, trying to find humour in his voice, but this time it refuses to follow. He knows this isn’t Zane’s first time being in the hospital with another drunken accident.

“Okay, I’ll be there in like thirty minutes.” You tell Matt who looks ahead, seeing a few of your friends huddled together as they discuss what actually happened.

“Thanks, Y/n.” He mutters before hanging up, returning to see what David actually captured on camera to solve another case of accident-prone drunk Zane.

As you arrive at the hospital, you can already see a series of your friends in the waiting room.

David is the first to notice you, and waves as you rush over, panting lightly. “Is he okay, what happened?” You question, looking around at everyone who shrugs their shoulders in response.

“He was joking with Stass about something,” Heath speaks up, letting out a heavy sigh. “and she playfully nudged him, then he did it back but stumbled over the bed and fell backwards.”

“Right into the corner of that concrete planter,” Mariah finishes, hearing you wince.

“Oh my god,” You cover your mouth as Mariah nods. “how bad is it?”

Mariah looks over to Heath who steps forward, walking alongside you away from everyone else. “He’s got a concussion, starting bleeding everywhere which caused everyone to sober up fast.” A nervous laugh leaves his lips whilst you remain silent. “We’re just waiting for him to wake up.”

“Okay,” You nod, processing all of this.

Sure, Zane can be stupid and end up with minor injuries. But never before has he fallen unconscious because of his lack of judgement, not like this.

“Stassie is in with him now and the Doctor,” He admits, waiting for a response from you, but you remain silent. “she’s going to come out soon, let us know what they said.”

Turning back around, you see Stassie walking down the corridor, looking like she’s strutting down a runway whilst you were in an oversized hoodie and leggings.

“What did they say?” David speaks up as Stassie pushes her hair over her shoulders.

“Well, he’s going to be fine.” She states and you let out a sigh of relief, resting your hand over your chest as Mariah hugs you from the side. “He’s awake and he erm, is asking for Y/n.” She looks directly at you through everyone, quickly glancing away to hide her sadness.

“Me?” You question, feeling Mariah nudge you forward. “What, what room is he in?” You step forward, looking back as Stassie mutters it to you before taking a seat in the waiting room in the far corner.

Walking alone you bury your hands into the pockets of your hoodie as you turn the corner, approaching the room Stassie mentioned. You can see the blinds are open and through the slats there he is, head tilted to the side and mouth ajar.

Pushing the door open you sneak in. “Hey stranger,” You call out with a light laugh, watching as Zane tries to lift his head up but groans. “no sudden movements, okay?” You tell him as you walk over, taking a seat beside him.

Now that you’re able to see him up close, you can see the damage that’s been caused. Along the left side of his face, there is dried blood residue still embedded in his hairline, leading up to the now stitched wound.

“You really go all or nothing, don’t you?” You joke, seeing him give you a half-smile as he extends his hand toward you.

Looking down, you reach out and take his hand in yours. He squeezes it lightly as you focus on his droopy smile. “I’m sorry,” He mumbles to you, seeing you tilt your head in confusion. “I, I’ve been such a dick to you.”

“What’re you talking about?” You chuckle, looking over at what he’s been hooked up to.

“I’ve just been blind about a lot of things and weirdly hitting my head cleared things up.” He rambles, shuffling on the bed to look at you solely. “All the stuff with Stassie and seeing her when I woke up, all I wanted was to see you.” He explains whilst you remain silent, taking it all in.

“Well, here I am.” Your nerves take over as you smile, watching a crooked grin cross his lips. “I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“I’m better now that you’re here with me. Stass got annoyed that I fell again.” He admits as you roll your eyes.

“I mean, she’s still outside waiting.” You tell him. “I think she’s just upset and hoping you’re okay.”

Zane shakes his head. “I doubt it,” He admits. “she wasn’t exactly happy when I woke up calling out for you, kinda ignored the fact she was there.”

“Oh,” Your eyes widen as heat rises through your body. “so, what now?”

“Well, I’m waiting to be discharged, but I wouldn’t mind just going to bed.” He tells you and you nod along.

“I wouldn’t mind that to be honest.” You rub your eyes, removing the heavy sleep from them as he chuckles.

“Thanks for coming, Y/n. You’re always there for me and I want to be that person for you.” Zane states as the doctor walks in.

“I’ll always be here for you Zane.” You smile softly. “That’s just what we do for one another.”

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amphtaminedreams · 4 years

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Spring/Summer & Haute Couture Week 2021: Whoops, I’ve Missed a Loooot

Hi to anyone reading,

Where TF has the time gone!?

After experiencing the longest January of all time (when your birthday is right after New Year, you get that between Boxing Day before NYE slump like a couple of weeks after everyone else), February has gone by in, like, 5 minutes and already we’re well into the throes of the F/W 2021 collection presentations. Meanwhile, I’m here like! Surprise! Here are my reviews of the S/S 2021 collections if anybody still cares! I mean I’m mashing it up with corresponding haute couture week reviews to fool everyone into thinking that doing it so many months later was intentional and it was totally working right up until this sentence, right?

In all fairness, I originally thought that I wasn’t going to bother reviewing S/S21 because it seemed kinda redundant given the circumstances and I wasn’t keen on the idea of collections being showcased via photo sets which is the route so many brands chose to (understandably) go down. Buuuut, the more I saw of what designers had put out there, the more I was tempted to put this post together and now here I am. The fact that designers are even able to churn pieces out during a pandemic when I’m out here like 0__0 no thoughts, head empty...it’s impressive to say the least, especially the way so many used the circumstances to inform their designs. In a way, it would be a disservice not to do a post on the season, and yeah it’s late, but given that it we are actually about to enter spring and the shows are kind of the deciders of what’s going to be “in” and “out”, they’re more relevant than ever. With plans for our way out of lockdown materialising-now is the perfect time to add that I don’t want ANYONE suddenly developing selective amnesia over how our government has failed us now that Boris has announced when the clubs COULD reopen-let this post serve as a roundup of every bit of inspiration available for our spring fits. I also want to use this opportunity to disclose how irritated I am at myself for starting the previous fashion week reviews post by declaring I was going to work through the designers in chronological order when I meant fucking alphabetical because I now can’t go back and change that. So this time, let me start properly. I’m going to be reviewing the collections in ALPHABETICAL order. Now that’s out the way, let’s do it. First, Acne:

It’s so great to start on a high, it really is, and fortunately Acne is reliably good. It’s still got that deconstructed, minimalist feel that the brand is known for but for the summer season; we can see creative director Jonny Johansson and his team moving away from the heavier pieces we saw last time round, away from upcycled bohemian curtains and towards a breezier, more season appropriate aesthetic, boujee kaftans and swimwear rebelliously hacked up and artfully rearranged, and it feels correct. The net pieces, the beachy colour palette, the oil spill-esque print (though this represents an intruder of the marine ecosystem, as a print I loveee it and 100% want more!) and the accessories, reminiscent of shells, coral and anything else you might find on the seabed, give me a hipster mermaid washed ashore vibe which completely fits with that rugged, mysterious sense of Nordic folklore references and adventure the brand has established as its foundation. If it’s a nod to some kind of new age cult that Johansson was going for, which apparently is the case, I’m guessing said cult worship sea goddesses and perform pagan rituals on the beach by moonlight, and though indoctrination doesn’t sound at all inviting, it's a party compared to scientology.

The chiffon trousers here are actually chic and seeing them styled under a blazer makes me realise done right they CAN be more than just a PrettyLittleThing summer sale piece, so I’ll store that away for outfit inspo when the time to get rid of some layers comes around. The glasses, too, are very Gucci. Flip flops with socks I don’t think I can ever come round to but-

Whilst it was a favourite of mine last season and it sticks to that same bohemian vibe with a lot of the elements I love, Ferretti lacks a little oomph this time round; it’s more stripped back, neutral, easy-going, and it is lovely, but for those same reasons it doesn’t grab my attention as much as the past couple of collections have. If you’re an influencer wanting to shoot a Joshua Tree desert lookbook this is sublime, but compared to the flair I saw in their last winter show, for example, there’s something lacking.

I’m very glad to see neutral coloured boiler suits on the runway, however; I snagged myself one off Depop the other week so I might be unintentionally ahead of the curve for once! The crochet detail dresses are nice too but very much remind me of past Zimmerman collections, or an Ermanno Scervino grab for the most high street friendly parts of Erdem SS2020, something along those lines. What I’m trying to say is that it’s definitely been there done that, even by Ferretti themselves and not in a continuity kinda way, in a kinda…this is basic and pretty so we know it will sell kinda way.

Eurgh, I wanna be one of these Alessandra Rich girls so bad.

I end up repeating myself every single time because I always love her collections but really, this is what a high fashion novice thinks Chanel is. Alessandra Rich outsold. As much as her dresses have looked amazing on people like Kate Middleton and January Jones, I’m just waiting for one of the modern it-girls to take the nostalgia-tinged femininity of her pieces and put some kind of daring, street-style twist on it; if that doesn’t happen I’ll gladly take 5 minutes of fame so I can do it before fading back into obscurity. Let me fulfil my modern first lady fantasy, reenact the croquet scene from Heathers, drape myself on a chaise lounge whilst smoking with a cigarette holder, and then throw me back into the trash where I belong. I can die happy. Also, can we once again appreciate how much more iconic the Alessandra Rich two piece made the already moment Dakota Johnson singlehandedly brought down the Ellen dynasty?

Dakota knew exactly what she was gonna do and the energy that she was gonna channel when she wore that piece and I admire it. Alessandra Rich, if nothing else, will go down as a key moment in pop culture history, and you know what? It’s what she deserves.

Whilst I do wish she’d branch out a little and try and get back in touch with the dark drama of old McQueen collections now and again, Sarah Burton has made a very recognisable Alexander McQueen silhouette and it’s beautiful; this season is gorgeous as always. A leather biker and tulle affair that’s perfect for a grunge ballet, it’s easy to avoid lamenting the excitement and theatrics of old collections when Sarah creates such consistently sophisticated pieces. Stunning.

Now, a quick haute couture detour with Alexandre Vauthier:

Compared to other haute couture collections, this is pretty toned down and by appearances alone (I know haute couture is more about meeting technical requirements more than anything else but there is a level of grandiose you expect to see) is more like a RTW collection than its counterparts. That being the case, I don’t have a huge amount to say about this one, though I do really like it-the ruched metallic boots especially. The Studio 54 vibes and the glam rock influences are clear and a lot of these pieces could definitely make it into Lady Gaga’s AHS Hotel wardrobe which is a compliment of the highest order, so there ya go. Plus, if a collection IS gonna be presented through stills, a format like this is preferable to some of the others I’m gonna talk about. There may be more exciting ways of doing it but simple allows us to see the clothes properly and at the end of the day, that’s what I care about the most!

Heading back to good ole’ RTW, we have Altuzarra; I wasn’t hugely keen on their last collection but this is definitely a step up for me and justifies keeping them on my radar. Though in some ways this seems like less of a summer collection and more of a late winter/early spring transitional one on the basis it can’t seem to decide which temperature its catering to, there’s a lot to like: a colour palette that reminds me of a Dion Lee collection, harnesses evocative of those sprinkled throughout the last few Alexander McQueen shows, and more of the utility wear trend that I’m still very much into nicely contrasted against lighter, airier pieces for an overall fresh, modern vibe. The interpretive dancewear style pieces are interesting and the woven platform sandals are the shoe of the summer but the white shirt with the cape incorporated is definitely the high point of this show and I absolutely adore it.

Anna Sui was actually pretty cute this time round. Her pieces have always been kooky, but in the past a little too lairy and occasionally cheap-looking for me. This collection, however, is kooky in more of a Melanie Martinez styled baby doll kinda way, as opposed to in an eccentric Bjork loving aunt whose idea of heaven is an all-must-go Primark sale kinda way (I know some people are going to vehemently disagree with my aesthetic preference there) and I love that. There seems to be a lot more creative direction going on, a much clearer vision of what Sui wanted to achieve, and yes a few of the looks went a bit too hard on the cookie cutter vibes but on the whole, they were more edited than usual; it seems Sui actually paid attention to the “take one thing off before you leave the house” rule this time. The staging is the perfect compliment to the doily style bucket hats and the sandals paired with frilly socks, and really adds to the whimsy of the collection, and as a whole, it really reminds me a lot of the way my mum would dress me as a toddler but styled up for a grown adult. Cute AF.

Armani RTW I was pleasantly surprised by, considering I don’t usually rate it. It’s a cool, androgynous take on retro shapes and styles that’s simultaneously fit for the hustle and bustle of the modern world. Strong 2021 Peggy Olsen vibes, and a bit muted Lacoste-I can 100% imagine Elisabeth Moss as Peggy swanning around in one of those huge minimalist houses with the floor to ceiling windows after a long day at work, though we’ll switch the cigarette for a vape because...you know...welcome to the future. And sure, maybe the vision is slightly influenced by THAT scene from Us, but whatever. As for the men’s wear, if I have to look through an endless gallery of straight white men in plain ass suits every time I do some kind of red carpet fashion review, I at least hope they’re wearing Armani. I need me some impeccable tailoring to soften the blow.

I do wonder, however, how the clothes would look on plus size models. I feel like it’s a collection that’s very catered to a person who is straight up and down, and it feels like a bit of an easy cop out not to have any kind of versatility. Say what you want about Christian Siriano but he caters to all body types very well.

I actually quite liked Armani’s haute couture collection too; the pops of colour and the intricate embroidery give me what I’ll later talk about missing from Valentino haute couture. There were still some of the frumpier pieces that I usually associate Armani with but also a lot of Great Gatsby-esque looks that I really enjoyed.

Returning to RTW, Ashish was amazing. I LOVE that there’s always some kind of unique print (this time round, kitschy illustrations) and whilst a whole maxi swan print dress may not be the most wearable for the majority of us, Ashish Gupta does bold and innovative really well. There were a few boring striped pieces in there but I adore the one shouldered butterfly print dress and I NEED that Hail Satan jumper; it reminds me a lot of something by sustainable fashion brand Minga, which is one of my absolute fave websites to buy from when I’m treating myself to some new clothes.

Azarro’s haute couture collection is full of supreme awards show afterparty fits, and I was shook to find out that Olivier Theyskens is the brand’s creative director! My newfound obsession with his pieces really had me like :O when I realised he was behind Azarro too. I loved their collection last time round, though this I’m finding a bit harder to give much analysis on because of the way it’s shot; whilst it could be a YSL perfume Vogue ad, which is obviously far from a bad thing, it comes at the cost of lacking visual clarity. That being said, from what I can see, Theyskens once again masterfully channels the wardrobe of the effortlessly cool, messy haired, smudged eye make up rock ‘n roll girl, and I think that’s someone we all want to be.

Balenciaga RTW was an interesting one for me-on first inspection, I was kinda disappointed. Without the usual drama of the bold, exaggerated silhouettes and the theatrical production of their shows, I felt it was missing a bit of the magic I’ve come to expect from them. The streetwear elements infused throughout, a departure from their typical pieces, was very hit and miss; the shearling slip-ons in particular were not my thing at all. I’d be admiring some beautiful gothic dress and then my eyes would slide down and see those monstrosities and it would bring the whole thing down a notch or two, despite bad shoes being something I can typically overlook if I otherwise enjoy the rest of the outfit. My initial conclusion: that the Balenciaga Myrtle Snow would choose as her last words this collection.

However, upon re-evaluation when typing this post up properly and knowing what to expect, I like the collection a lot. I’m getting a bit of a Seoul streetwear vibe from it, and I can appreciate that although it is a lot more trend focussed, it’s got an edgy, daring quality to it, with a lot of androgynous, utility wear elements on show. I loveee the Balenciaga chokers too and in my wildest dreams would get my hands on one before it goes the way of the Gucci belt and gets overdone and flaunted by social media influencers as a show of wealth to the point of tackiness.

At Balmain the sculpted body armour made a comeback but on this occasion, not in a way that I liked, and there war far too many neons for my taste too. No matter how many times it rears its ugly head, I find it hard to get on board because as a colour palette I can’t help but associate with Claire’s Accessories circa 2007-it has to be SO well done to avoid looking cheap, imo, and these Balmain pieces weren’t good enough for me to go against that gut aversion. A collection with 100+ looks isn’t usually a good sign and expecting Olivier Rousteing to achieve the impossible and manage to do both quality and quantity is a recipe for disaster; it’s a shame because his last collection was so original and yet this one feels like a cheaper looking rip off of other brands. It was just a bawdy display of 80s overkill IMO and if I can only find 8 outfits to include out of 100 that’s clearly not a good sign.

Bottega Veneta is a brand that the high fashion side of the internet loves that I can never 100% get on board with; I get it, they’re behind the gorgeous square toed heels, but other than that none of their collections have ever really wowed me. The chunky knitted pieces are very Miu Miu style futuristic grandma chic and as someone on the cusp of being either a millennial or gen Z (depending on which website you visit) it’s got me outfit planning for my retirement years. Utilising so much wool for a summer collection, however, seems like a choice because can you IMAGINE wearing a heavy knit in blazing sun; I almost didn’t include the collection to be honest but then every so often something really cute came long, and one of the signature crisp, classic BV pieces would be done well and so I felt I had to. Am I missing something given all the hype here? IDK tbh.

Burberry? Meh. You could also call this collection how many ways can I do a trench coat, with results of differing quality; occasionally the mix match of styles worked and I saw the deconstructed outerwear concept that Ricardo Tisci was presumably trying to go for, though it can’t come as much of a surprise that the combination of a trench, denim and leather jacket was mostly just messy and came off as a last ditch attempt to make the classic coat more interesting by just chucking other fabrics at it and seeing what stuck.

One thing I will say is that there were some really sick prints going on-the snakes in particular-and it was those prints that were really the saving grace of the collection; as I said with regards to Ashish, I like it when you can tell a brand has gone out of their way to experiment with patterns and actually incorporate illustration and graphic design into their pieces. Prints notwithstanding, though, it wasn’t a memorable collection and I really can’t wait for the day we put this whole multiple denim jean waistband trend to bed once and for all; in the wise words of Regina George “stop drying to make multiple waist bands happen. They’re not going to happen.”.

Carolina Herrera was just as I expected. Whilst Wes Gordon was a little more daring with the structure of the pieces than usual, you can still he’s still committed to designing for the wealthy, modestly dressed socialite (yes I’m talking about Tinsley Mortimer and yes, I have recently become obsessed with Real Housewives) and her insatiable need to collect more charity gala gowns than she’ll ever possibly have opportunities to wear in her time on this earth. Sounds like a great life, sure, but it’s not like it gets my heart racing when I see the looks on the runway. The most memorable piece for sure was double breasted blazer w the asymmetric ruffle; I haven’t seen anything like it in a RTW collection in recent memory.

Now onto the fucking train wreck that was Celine RTW.

It’s not even bad for a runway fashion show, it’s just like…straight-up bad. Like Hedi Slimane went back in time to 2013, took a bunch of models into my local Topshop (and I have to clarify my local Topshop rather than the flagship Oxford Circus store-RIP-because to do the same in the latter would produce far better results), picked up some cheap basics, switched the lights off, and then, finally, dressed them in the dark. There’s very few positive comments I can make so I’m just going to move on.

Chanel RTW I actually didn’t hate as much this season; maybe it’s because coming from Celine, my standards are like, on the floor, but it’s slightly better than usual. Whilst most of it was same old same old, the opening 10 or so looks and then from 40 onwards were alright. The colour contrast pieces were classic Chanel in a good way, that is to say somewhat modernised and appealing to a younger clientele as opposed to the elderly women who still see a boucle jacket as the height of fashion. The mini chiffon capes were also cute, and if it weren’t for COVID putting pause on everything I can see the Chanel headband being duped ad infinitum.

The worst part of the collection was without a doubt the pieces with the neon logo print, which I wish I could erase from my mind. At this point, with Virginie Viard seemingly refusing to make any attempt to reinvent the brand, Chanel is best when it’s subtle; that way it appeals to those regular customers who rely on the prestige of the garment and the new generation of consumers who are further branching out into experimenting with their personal style and want a quality base. But who I ask are these tacky ass pieces aimed at? Because though it appears to be an attempt to infuse a kind of youthful spirit into Chanel, it is very out of touch with what gen Z actually like, and I can’t imagine any rich old white ladies buying them either. Big shoulder shrug.

Whilst I tend to find Chanel’s haute couture collections a bit better than their RTW, this is probably on par. Still rather meh and frumpy at times, but there were some pretty, whimsical pieces in there that were definitely elevated by the staging which, I must say, was very dreamy. I’ve enjoyed the last couple of haute couture shows a lot more (the one with the library set was v cool), which were comparatively restrained with the frivolous details and the chintz, so this seems a step back. The dresses with the 50s Audrey Hepburn for Miss Dior style silhouette are lovely but obviously, as per the reference, nothing new.

Onto something much more exciting, we have Charlotte Knowles’ RTW collection, whose work has made her one to watch. I’m not as huge a fan of this as her last instalment, but Knowles’ (who I recently found out only just graduated from Central Saint Martins, making her achievements all the more impressive) continues to create clothes for a girl far cooler than myself; I know, that wouldn’t be hard, but we’re talking like, miles cooler. One of those women who can literally pull anything off and immediately make you want to try it yourself even though 9 times out of 10 that would be a bad idea-I could probably take, like, one piece and make it work but anything more would most likely just be me embarrassing myself. You wouldn’t think San Fransisco psychedelic summer of love motifs would mesh with futuristic Mad Max style biker vibes but Charlotte and her partner Alexandre Arsenault make it sexy AF, like a combo that was always meant to be. They are a dream team.

And lastly for this post, we have another collection I really liked: Chloe. Sadly Natacha Ramsay-Levi’s last collection for the brand, she truly went out on a high note, with a reliably gorgeous iteration of her sophisticated take on bohemian style. Who now, will we look to when we want to cosplay as one of the Jessas from Girls of the world? When we want to pretend we’re a rich, party girl socialite backpacking across Western Europe (along the foothills of Mount Tibidabo…) on a commissioned trip to “find herself” for the fashion magazine column she’s writing, whilst we’re actually on a budget family holiday in Spain? When we can’t decide if we’re dressing like a modern day Rachel Green or Phoebe Buffay and say fuck it, I’m gonna do both? I mean sure, I could never afford Chloe anyway and sure, I’m interested to see what Gabriela Hearst can do with the brand, which despite its loveliness is quite predictable, but it’s definitely sad to see Ramsay-Levi go when she has become a reliable source of elegance and class each season. She brings a quietly confident brand of femininity to the fashion world where the high profile design houses are increasingly dominated by men who are sometimes too focussed on being bold and brash enough to be hailed as the newest design visionary, and I have huge respect for that. She will be missed.

Now it feels right to end the post here, given that I just finished with a kind of dramatic memoriam for a woman who is very much still alive and given that I would really be playing with fire by trying to push Tumblr’s edit post feature any further, so I’ll wrap it up for now. In part 2, which will hopefully be out over the next couple of weeks, we’ll be looking at a surprisingly strong haute couture collection from (can’t believe I’m about to say this) Maria Grazia as well as some of my faves, Etro, Dion Lee, Gucci, and of course Iris Van Herpen’s haute couture. In the meantime, I’m hoping to get a post out on my favourite sustainable clothing brands and to shoot my take on the “what I would wear sat front row at X” video trend that’s been going around lately on TikTok and Instagram reels, which I know I am kinda late to the party with.

I’m also looking at starting “photo dump” posts where I basically just substitute what I would be putting on my Instagram feed as photo posts on here, all the way back to when I first started my fashion Instagram account. I know this is hardly a hot take, but Instagram has really gone to shit, and once I’ve moved all my photos from there to here, I’m probably going to be deleting my account and just keep my private personal one. I’m sick of the endless scrolling past photos of people edited to the point of being unrecognisable and of seeing faces that all conform to that exact same Eurocentric beauty standard with the exact same surgical procedures to the point that even I, as a thin, white cis girl feel disgusting (so god knows how others without my privilege feel) because I don’t have a fucking fox eye lift or whatever it is that internet famous surgeons are telling us we need for our faces to fit the “golden ratio” at the moment. I am OVERRR all the promoted posts from people who preach social awareness and equality and authenticity and kindness making money off promoting companies that rely on slave labour rather than those who make me feel uplifted and inspired. And I am VERY MUCH done with scrolling through share for share and like for like pages because I am embarrassed by the fact that my likes don’t match up to my follower count since that must mean that NOBODY LIKES ME AND EVERYONE HATES MY FACE, right!? Even though I’d like to think that mentality was something I grew out of a long time ago. Instagram, much like Facebook before it (which is no surprise since the latter now owns the former), has just become another cesspit of an app which exists solely to convince you to buy new clothes and follow the latest filler trend and blow money on holidays you can’t afford to convince everyone you’re living the good life. Like many others, I have finally come to the conclusion that the way Instagram operates now is nothing but detrimental to my wellbeing. So, all that being said, I’m moving my feed over here, to a place where I can just arrange my silly little photos into silly little collages and not care if I’m shouting into the void by doing so because they’re just a screenshot of my life that I can look back on in however many years time and think Oh, Cool! That’s What I Was Interested In Back Then! That Outfit is Timeless! Or That One Was a HUGE FUCKING MISTAKE! Because I do love the creative element of Instagram, turning your feed into a collage, picking out which colours compliment each other, posting your favourite art and your outfits and the makeup looks you’re proud of, the beautiful sights you’ve seen-I just hate how unbridled capitalism and unrealistic social expectations have once again destroyed a good thing, and caused it to stray so far from its original vision of connecting people. Here, I don’t care if I get 0 interactions on those kinds of posts, because I am putting stuff out there I am proud of that expresses who I am and that interests me, and when I put a lot of hard ass work into something that’s actually important or that benefits others in some way as opposed to indulging my own vanity, it does get some circulation and I hope that it does make a positive difference, regardless of how small. I hope it doesn’t bother anyone too much seeing my initial photo dump posts on their dashboard as I try and catch up to where I am now; you’ll probs see a mini influx of 2015 fashion and I’m sorry about that! But I don’t *think* it will be too long until I’m up to date and then the photo dump posts will be much less regular.

Anyway, sorry about the Instagram rant there at the end! If you read all the way til the end, this is a huuuuge thank you! I hope you enjoyed the post and I will get the next one out ASAP, potentially with a few posts in between. As always, feel free to inbox me if there’s anything you wanted to talk about or suggest and make sure you stay safe. There may finally be some light at the end of the tunnel:D

With a cautious dose of optimism, and the acknowledgement that I will most likely regret saying this: bring on June the 21st UK gals!

Lauren x

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bumblebeug · 5 years

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Felinette. Nothing Bad Ever Happens To Me Pt.3

Hey everyone! Part 3 is finally here! I went camping with my cousins this weekend and didn’t have time till now to post. Welcome to school day two in

Nothing Bad Ever Happens to Me Pt.3: Why should I care?

Felix arrives early with both map and schedule in hand, determined to learn his route perfectly – sleep be damned. The empty hallways echo with his self-assured steps. Yesterday, he had found out that while he and the student representative shared the same class, he had not been seated next to the student representative in most of his subjects. He was unsure why his homeroom went out of its way to place them together.

‘Probably so she can shepherd me from class to class.’ Felix thought with annoyance, glancing occasionally from door number to paper route. By tomorrow, he was confident that he wouldn’t need to look at the map at all for the first portion of the day. But, he walked back some of his aggravation over the seating placement, he had to admit – it wasn’t like she had babied him in any way on his first day. After each bell, she barely glanced back at him as she walked to the next period. That had suited him fine, after all, he was perfectly capable of reading and the school was fairly straightforward. It lacked the labyrinthine twists whoever the architect of his old school seemed so fond of. Yes, he was perfectly capable of doing this on his own. All he had to ask for were the notes for each subject – it would seem that this school’s curriculum was ahead of what he had been learning in his previous. He wanted to correct this gap in knowledge as soon as possible and Marinette had readily agreed to make him copies starting from where his familiarity ended till now. Judging by her attitude, Marinette seemed to be an organized individual, so he expected that she would have everything ready for him today. He checked his watch and decided that he should head back to homeroom. A whole bookshelf sat behind him there and he wanted to peruse the titles in peace before class started.

Typical, he scoffed to himself, good reading was scant. Hopefully, the library would hold more interest for him. Students began to filter in from the courtyard with the sound of the first bell and he idly watched them fill their seats. Even though the back row wouldn’t have been his first choice, he enjoyed the fact that he could observe without being easily observed himself. Also, he was pleased that the slight elevation would likely discourage visitors. Confident in his anonymity, he languorously gazed at each incoming student. Back in England, everyone had been required to wear a uniform; here, it was an explosion of colour and styles that Felix rarely saw outside of the runway.

There was a short pink girl talking animatedly, gesturing with both hands despite one being occupied with a tall goth girl’s hand who was listening with a soft expression.

There was a boy clutching a sketchbook to his chest, with a look of excitement.

There was another one bobbing his head to whatever music was flowing through his over-large headphones.

And there were the bright green eyes of Agreste looking straight into his – Felix stiffened and promptly shifted his gaze to the thermos in his lap. Maybe if he pretended like he hadn’t noticed…?

“Good morning Felix!”

Shit.

“Agreste.” He replied tersely. Of all the ways to start his second day, he let out a sigh.

“I hope you like school so far. What brings you to Paris anyways?” Adrien bounced on the balls of his feet.

How could he have so much energy so early? Felix wondered as he flipped the top of his thermos open. Tendrils of coffee leaned out and caressed his nose as he waited for it to cool.

“Not here to steal my job as Paris’ top model, I hope?” Adrien said in a strained joking tone.

Ah. There it was, Felix thought as he blew lightly, the sunshine boy was worried about his position. Felt threatened by Felix’s arrival. He was tempted to role his eyes, like actual talent would replace nepotism. Of course Agreste’s position was safe – but that didn’t mean that Felix was above making him sweat a little.

“Hmm.” Felix stalled as he took a sip of coffee and assumed a smug expression, “You never know. My reasons for coming here are my own.” And didn’t elaborate further.

“…Right” Adrien said leadingly and momentarily stopped fidgeting. A chime sounded from Adrien’s back pocket. Whatever he read caused him to perk up further. “Oh, well,” he stowed his phone away, “Maybe you’ll catch my father’s eye during Fall Fashion Week and I can put a good word in for you” He said with a breathy laugh and continued blithely, “You always did wear fall colours better than me.”

Felix’s knuckles turned white against his thermos. How dare he mock him like this? As he opened his mouth to say something cutting about he was interrupted by the bell.

“Agreste. Take your seat – you are holding up the class.” He said as harshly as he could instead. Go away.

“Nah,” Adrien waved his hand, “Teacher’s policy. We start class a couple of minutes after the bell to let late students have a chance to get here.”

“Why should I care – ” Felix’s words died in his throat at the sight of the frazzled looking class representative running pell-mell up the stairs to their shared desk.

“Marinette!”

Said girl jumped about a meter in the air from surprise, “Adrien!”

No longer the subject of Agreste’s attention, Felix took another sip of coffee and, with a raised eyebrow, observed Marinette stutter.

Apparently Adrien could translate what she said into a comprehensible sentence faster than he could.

“Oh same old, same old. Lila is out sick today. I wanted to know if you wanted to sit at your old seat today!”

Marinette flushed a bright red and glanced at Felix much to his confusion. Why was she staring? He took a sip of coffee as he pondered. Maybe she was weighing her duty to the new student against her desire to sit with her friends. Possible. He didn’t really care either way.

Wait.

Does she resent him for taking her away from her friends by making her sit in the back? He had no clue what the seating arrangement was before he came along so he supposed it was possible. Could this be why she acted the way she did yesterday? Or was that just how she was usually? Thoughtfully, he dabbed the corners of his mouth with a napkin. If she left, it would be a good opportunity to observe her without being an influence on her behaviour. Decision made, he flicked his wrist to indicate she could go if she desired. Adrien noticing the dismissal, wasted no time in grabbing her wrist and dragging her down to the second row before she could voice her own decision.

‘Interesting,’ Felix thought, ‘I wonder how – wait.’ He paused with his coffee halfway to his mouth. ‘My notes!’

He groaned. Today was already shaping up to be a dud.

——-

Adrien wasn’t surprised to see that Felix was already seated, waiting for class, when he walked through the door. In all his time knowing him, he was always punctual. He was surprised, however, that when he met Felix’s gaze, Felix looked at the empty space beside him intensely. This was the first time Felix had ever given him so clear an invitation to talk. Maybe he finally wants to be friends! Adrien thought as he practically leapt from the front of the classroom to the back.

“Good morning Felix!” He exclaimed brightly, missing the quiet sigh from the other boy. “I hope you like school so far. What brings you to Paris anyways?” Adrien bounced on the balls of his feet. He knew that logically, it wasn’t so they could become better friends, it had to have something to do with modeling. A wonderful thought struck him. Maybe Felix was told to come here to become the new top model? If Felix was here to take over his duties, then maybe Father would grant him more free time. But how to probe without arousing suspicion?

“Not here to steal my job as Paris’ top model, I hope.” Adrien joked hopefully and watched Felix closely. Please give me a hint.

He saw Felix’s smug smile as he answered, “Hmm… you never know. My reasons for being here are my own.”

Adrien could sing for joy, Felix was being coy! “…Right” and pulled out his phone from his back pocket when it chimed.

Won’t be in class today- feeling really sick. Please tell Miss Bustier for me. –Love, Lila

This morning was really shaping up to be one of the best mornings in recent memory for Adrien – if Lila was sick, that meant that Marinette could sit with everyone. Just like old times. He decided to wait for Marinette here. Distractedly, he picked his conversation with Felix back up wondering when Marinette would appear. Adrien was vaguely aware of trying to show that he supported Felix taking over his role and that there were no hard feelings.

“-You always did wear fall colours better than me.” Adrien found himself saying as he kept his eye on the door, maybe it would be better to catch her as she came in it’s the first time she’s been this late in a while…

“Agreste.” Adrien was shaken from his thoughts, “Take your seat – you are holding up class.”

“Nah, teacher’s policy. We start class a couple of minutes after the bell to let late students have a chance to get here.” So they don’t become akumatized went unsaid. After-all, there was no reason to worry Felix who was still so new to Paris with something like that. If he knew how easily someone could be akumatized, he might move away.

“Why – ” Adrien immediately tuned out the rest of the question, Marinette was running up the steps. ‘Oh, she is going to be so happy,’ Adrien thought.

“Marinette!”

She jumped about a meter upwards, “Adrien!”

‘Did she not see him standing there?’ He wondered. She attempted to say hello and ask him how he’s been doing with little success. He smiled fondly, “Oh same old, same old. Lila is out sick today. I wanted to know if you wanted to sit at your old seat today.”

Adrien watched as she glanced down at her old row fondly and then quickly to where Felix was sitting. Poor thing. She was probably conflicted over leaving Felix alone. He felt a flush of warmth – that’s why she was his Everyday Ladybug. With the exception of Lila, she always selflessly put others ahead of herself. He knew that she wouldn’t go if Felix indicated that he wanted her to stay close by. Adrien held his breath at Felix’s bored expression over Marinette’s clear anxiety. Finally, after what felt like ages, Felix gave a wave of dismissal so reminiscent of his father that Adrien had to stop himself from thanking the other boy before taking Marinette.

Today was already such a good day.

—–

Footsteps pounding on concrete, Marinette rounded the last corner – the final bell had just rung. She was disappointed in herself, she had promised that getting to school on time was going to be a problem of the past. But she had stayed up so late last night typing up as many notes as she could for Felix, that she slept through the alarms she had set.

Just because she wasn’t really ready to make a new friend didn’t mean that she was going to shirk her responsibilities as student representative. He was counting on those notes – his success depended on her right now. As she bounded up the steps, she felt relief that she wasn’t the only late one. Still, she thought worriedly, it wasn’t like Adrien to be la-“Marinette!”

“Adrien!” she yelped, unprepared for his sudden appearance and tried to compose herself, catch her breath, and ask how he was at the same time.

“Oh same old, same old. Lila is out sick today. I wanted to know if you wanted to sit at your old seat today.” He asked with a twinkle in his eye. He wanted her to sit with him them? She tried and failed to contain a blush, of course, she wanted to sit with him them! But, she thought, shoulders sagging slightly, she wasn’t sure. It seemed every time she tried to re-connect an argument would break out where she’d be the bad guy. Plus, she needed to give Felix the notes he asked for – and found herself being tugged down the steps before she could decline the offer.

Today was already not going to plan.

——

1950′s announcer voice: Ah, when will people ask Marinette what she wants? Why is Felix in Paris if not for taking Adrien’s role. Is Lila actually sick? Find out the answers to some of those questions in Part 4! (audience cheers)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 4

Part 5

#ml salt #adrien salt #miraculous ladybug #nbehtm #nbehtm pt.3 #marinette dupain cheng #marinette deserves better #no one is on the same page #no beta #ml felix #ml felinette #felinette

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harrytheweedman · 4 years

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Season 4 episode 2

LatriWhat is up you junkie whores. Who’s ready to rumble?! Well its for sure not these queens. Before we get too ahead of ourselves lets talk about one of my favorite running gags. I love at the beginning of each episode after a girl has gone home, she is featured in the next episode holding the check for 100,000. Not only is it funny as hell, it’s super petty. Damn I love Rupaul. I wish that this fun little gag was in every season. It’s such a small thing but I think it’s very effective and so hilarious.

Before any real fun happens we see the queens fill the required screen time with what seems to be super casual and not at all produced conversations. Jiggly wipes away Alisa’s lipstick message and everyone agrees that Jiggly should have been gone instead. I can never tell if they’re joking or being genuine, but to me it really does seem like they wish Jiggly had gone home.

Lashauwn talks with Latrice about the outcome of last week. Everyone though that Lashauwn was going to win last weeks challenge but she agrees that she didnt win because she’s too quiet. Duh she’s too quiet. Nobody likes a quiet drag week damnit.

Moving to the mini challenge, it is once again something ridiculous. The girls have to make pads, get into quick drag, then strut their stuff through the workroom. As expected, most of the girls look like shit and some think they’re funnier than they actually are. Madame LaQueer can’t even seem to get her damn pants up. Jiggly splits her pants right up the crack. Fun fact tho: This challenge was responsible for giving us the iconic Willam look that become sort of her symbol.

Phi Phi, Willam and Chad had the juiciest booties they win the challenge and become team captains. I was not surprised that Latrice was picked first. Like she said, shes a big bitch so who’s gonna out wrestle her. I was not surprised that Madame LaQueer was chosen last and I sure as hell was not surprised when she said that she was not athletic. Bitch no one is surprised. Your pants fell down and you were sweaty from walking. Girl bye

Anyways, the teams were as followed: Phi Phi, Lashauwn, Latrice and Kenya; Willam, Jiggly, the Princess, and Dida; Chad, Sharon, LaQueer, and Milan. On each team there are a pair of “good” guys vs. a pair of “bad” guys. Each pair has really stupid names so I shan't be getting into those. Google if you're curious.

After that they get into their teams and practice for the big matches. During practice Madame LaQueer hurts her ankle, insert eyeroll, and that makes Team Chad very nervous. Lashauwn is nervous because she’s quiet and wresting is not for quiet people. The Princess is also quiet but her main problem is that Jiggly is crude and obscene. So basically, each team has one weak link so that no team has any advantages.

Each wrestling match starts out with one pair of wrestlers (queens) in their dressing room and then the pair they’re facing off against with flexes on them and talks shit then they take it to the ring. Overall it’s a pretty dumb challenge. Professional wrestling isn’t fun to watch so seeing a bunch f drag queens flounder and act poorly through a wrestling match inst a good time. All three teams do, at least in my opinion, a piss poor job. You can see how fake it is and the outfits are super cheap looking. Nothing really stood out for me in this challenge except fro Lashauwn’s terrible acting and Jiggly’s potty mouth.

Once the wresting is over it’s time for the runway. As they’re getting ready the queens take this time to talk shit about their performances. Jiggly is worried about the Princess because the Princess wasn’t as obnoxious as her. I don’t consider that a bad thing.

The theme of the runway is Girly Girl Couture. I don’t understand how or why the runway themes are chosen are but they make no sense. Like what does girl girls have to do with wrestling? I don’t know but Rupaul thinks they hold hands.

Team Chad wins the challenge for some reason with the overall winners being Chad and LaQueer. If I had to guess why they won, it would be because they had the most fleshed out characters and they really stayed in character. Chad and LaQueer were the most committed bad guys and as a team all four were probably the strongest. LaQueer thinks that this means the other girls will regret picking her last. Think again sis.The queens exit the stage and the real judging starts.

First up is Willam. All the judges thought that Willam’s acting sucks, which is so hilarious to me considering she considers herself to be an actress. She’s always boasting about it being her day job, but she can’t act for shit. The judges didn’t even talk about her runway look, so I’ll take care of that. It’s trash. She looks like a cheap whore that wondered into the the studio lot. Her shorts are so short that I can see her fucking taint. To me, Willam is not a star.

Dida Ritza is next and as expected, her wig is dehydrated. I don’t know why she keeps wearing cheap ass blonde wigs. Put some effort in girl. The judges said that she would be better as the pretty ring girl that hold up the sign and I disagree. She couldn’t do that either.

The Princess is next and her look gets mixed reviewed. The judge liked the dress but hated the hair. I hated both. We’ve seen what she’s capable of and this look was a bit of a let down. The dress makes her look short and fat and the hair looks like a big comb over. He moves in the ring were also not favored. The Princess said that she was a very zen person and was really trying. Well apparently she didn’t try hard enough and goes to the bottom. The Princess did not earn the respect that she deserved. The judges and Jiggly did her dirty.

Jiggly is next and her outfit is awful. I hate that she never seem to have a silhouette or a concept. The most interesting thing was the lollipop she had, but you'll soon find that Jiggly always has food on her person and it’s less interesting the more you realize that. Jiggly threw the Princess under the bus for being too quiet and the judges felt that Jiggly was carrying the pair. I disagree. I feel like Jiggly was just obnoxious and annoying and instead of working together she just bulldozed over the Princess. Nobody likes a bully Jiggly.

Phi Phi is next. The judges hate her look because she looked old. Her runway didn’t give me girly, it gave me more single mom of three realness, but it wasn’t bad. The look wasn’t terrible but it for sure didn’t match the theme. The judges, especially Michelle, really liked her in the maxi challenge. Phi Phi was pretty funny in the ring. She plays dumb bitch pretty well. If the rest of her team had been better she probably would have won.

Lashauwn is next. I loved her runway look. I thought it was so cute and creative. It was nice to see something that wasn’t basic on the runway. Most of the judges liked the look but one of the guests judges hated it. I don’t remember his name so he isn’t important or relevant. I agree with the judges about her performance. You could see that she out of her element and not really trying in the ring. Her lack of confidence is what lands her in the bottom two.

Kenya Michales is next. I found her runway look to be cute but the judges went bananas over it. They said that she looked like Lil Kim or Niki Minaj which I get. They loved her performance in the ring. I liked her energy but if Latrice wasn’t her partner I dont think it would have been as good. They fed off each others energy and were good together. Separately not so much. That one guest judge who I hate said that she’s the one to beat. Which is so not true. If she was the one to beat she would've won this challenge or even the one from the week before but she did not. Kenya is pretty, but I don’t see any talent.

And finally we come to Latrice. Her runway look is my least favorite of the episode. It is so basic and so pedestrian. I think it is ugly and it does not give me girl, but old white lady that Latrice stole this outfit from. The judges didn’t even commit on this monstrosity of a look and honestly, they should be ashamed. The judges loved her performance in the ring because she was throwing Kenya around. So like I said for Kenya, they were good together but as individuals they aren’t as strong.

So once again the queens retreat to the untucked lounge and the judges talk shit and say things we already heard, but this time meaner.

It pisses me off that the Princess is in the bottom two but her partner isn’t. So instead she faces off against Lashauwn, which is probably a good thing since they both sucked in the lip sync. Both of them gave a pretty lackluster performance. Not that the song they chose was super upbeat or fun. I find Bad Girls by the Donna Summers to be a little boring myself but hey, its not my show. For some reason Lashauwn thought it would be cute to do the whole thing without shoes. Don’t ever take your shoes or your wig off during a lip sync. You will go home. So its not shocking that the Princess stayed and Lashawun sashayed away. The Princess wasn’t much better, but she kept her shoes on.

So that’s it for this episode kids. Tune in next week for commercials and RuPaul forcing his music on us

#drag race #drag race season 4 #rpdr s4 #sharon needles #kenya michaels #latrice royale #willam #phi #the princess #jiggly caliente #alisa summers #lashauwn beyond #madame laqueer #chad michaels #milan #dida ritz

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walkerismychoice · 5 years

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Stripped Bare - Chapter 4 (Bryce X MC AU)

Pairing: Bryce X MC Charlie Hawkins

Summary: Charlie and Bryce make their way to Jamaica (yes I really did write an entire chapter just about their travel day)

Rating: 18+ for Mature themes (language and adult themes, nothing necessarily NSFW yet but there will be later in the series)

Word Count: 1923

Charlie lies on her bed the night before the big trip, staring at the post of her and Bryce for probably the millionth time. Word of her new “relationship” had spread like wildfire, but thankfully she had gotten a chance to explain things to the girls before any of them saw the post. By explain, she means she told them Bryce is pretending to be her date as a favor so Charlie can avoid being humiliated in front of her cousin. She had kind of omitted the part where she is paying him $10,000 in addition to his travel expenses. They'd all given her a hard time about him actually being into her, and as much as a part of her would like to believe that, there’s no way the two of them could ever really work in the real world.

There are certain expectations for the type of guy Charlie will end up with, and although she likes to believe she’d never count out a man who had a less traditional career, for lack of a better term, she can’t envision having to explain that her significant other takes his clothes off for a living. Even if she could get past that, or if he moved on to a more socially acceptable career, he’d still be out of her league in almost every other way. She’s got a pretty face, but she would never kid herself and say they are on the same level as far as looks are concerned. He’s got more confidence and charm in his pinkie finger than she has in her entire body. So although it's nice to to look at the picture perfect couple on the screen, she's not going to fool herself into believing it could ever be something real.They’ll play boyfriend/girlfriend for this trip, and then he can just fade away.

---

Charlie feels a tap on her shoulder and looks up from her bloody mary. “Bryce, hi!” Relief washes over Charlie at the fact that he hasn’t stood her up. She knows she was early, like she usually is, but being nervous about flying, on top of everything else has left her seriously on edge. “I hope you don’t think I’m an alcoholic or anything. I don’t usually drink at eight in the morning.”

Bryce takes a seat on the barstool next to her. “I’m pretty sure the normal rules of time and space don’t exist in airports. Plus we are on vacation time now. No judgement here.” He flags down the bartender. “I’ll have what she’s having.”

“Thanks. I’m not the biggest fan of flying, so I need something to take the edge off.”

The bartender hands Bryce his drink, and the two of them make small talk over the next half hour until it’s time to board the flight. Charlie walks in ahead of Bryce, but stops as they reach the seats. “Would you mind taking the window seat?”

“I’d love to.” Bryce puts his carry-on in the overhead bin and scoots in first. “I haven’t flown in a plane in awhile, but looking at the view is one of the best parts. I can’t say that I’ve ever flown in first class though. You are going all out for this trip, huh?”

“I can imagine how I look to you - paying you all this money to come with me, first class seats-”

“Don’t forget your designer luggage.” Bryce Chuckles

Charlie laughs under her breath. “I come off as a pretentious snob, don’t I?”

Bryce cocks his head to the side, looking her over appraisingly. “I wouldn’t go as far as snobby, but maybe a tad pretentious,” he replies with a smirk and Charlie swats him playfully on the shoulder.

“The luggage was actually a gift from my parents, and the seats were purchased with my boyfriend’s, opps, I mean ex-boyfriend’s frequent flyer miles.” Charlie cringes at her slip-up.

“Ah, that’s right. I almost forgot I’m the emergency stand-in. Well from what you’ve said he sounds kind of like an asshole, so at least you got a parting gift.”

Just then, the flight attending comes on, saving her from having to continue that conversation. The plane starts to roll down the runway. Charlie’s breaths became shallow, and she grips the armrests tightly. “Take-offs and landings are the worst part.”

Bryce works his hand between hers and the armrest and gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, Charlie. Deep breaths, in for four and out for four. You don’t want to hyperventilate."

Charlie takes a deep breath in, exhales with equal measure, and smiles weekly. She’s no stranger to airline travel, and it never gets any easier, except this time Bryce’s presence seems to have a paradoxical effect. She feels safe next to him, yet she still can’t help her heart from racing. Maybe it’s because now that she’s not thinking about the plane crashing down, she’s fixated on the feel of his hand on hers, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on her skin. She needs to get a grip because she’s not going to survive this trip if she turns into a bumbling mess any time they touch. So when the plane reaches altitude and he still hasn’t let go, she doesn’t pull away either - just to get used to him she tells herself.

"Alright, now that we've gotten through takeoff, maybe we should start learning more about each other." Bryce suggests.

Charlie pulls her hand away, suddenly brought back to the reality of the situation. She and Bryce hadn't had much time to talk or get together again before the trip, but Charlie figured their six and a half hour flight would be significant enough to build a relationship history. "Well the most common questions you will likely be asked will pertain to what you do for a living, and how we met. I’d prefer we don’t mention the strip club at all.”

Bryce rubs his chin thoughtfully. “How about we say we met in medical school - kill two birds with one stone.”

“How is that going to work?” Charlie eyes Bryce skeptically. “It’s not like you can just bulshitt your way into pretending to be a doctor like some other careers.”

“I know some things. How much am I really going to need to say anyway? The wedding isn’t going to be full of doctors, is it?”

“Only the douchebag groom,” Charlie scoffs. “You’ll want to steer clear of him anyhow. I guess you have a point. What’s your specialty going to be?”

“Surgery, of course. I’m great with my hands, if you know what I mean.”

Charlie rolls her eyes at the innuendo to avoid getting flustered by him yet again. “And where do you work?”

“I’m just about to start my intern year at Edenbrook,” he answers almost too quickly, but she doesn’t think much of it.

“You think everyone is going to believe we both ended up with a job at the same hospital?”

“Again, most of them aren’t doctors, so they probably won’t think anything of it. Besides, we both went to school in Boston. It’s not such a stretch to believe we’d both get matched to the same hospital.”

Charlie’s caught off guard a bit by his language, surprised that he knows about the matching process. But again she thinks she making something out of nothing, and he’s probably just watched a few too many hospital dramas. "You're probably right. So now that we've covered that, we should get to know each other better. What are you into...aside from taking off your clothes?"

A wicked grid spreads across Bryce’s face, and Charlie already knows she’s made a mistake with her choice of words. “Hmm, taking of my clothes pretty much covers it. Whether for work...or play.”

“Oh my god, you are terrible, but I totally set myself up for that, didn’t I?

“I just like to see all the different shades of red I can make your cheeks turn.” He reaches over and twists one of her curls around is finger. “The current one is just about the same as this...oops, now it’s too bright.”

“Stop!” Charlie laughs and batts his hand away.

“But you make it so easy...and it’s cute.”

She has to look away from him before her color transcends to a new shade of crimson. “Anyway, you still haven’t answered my question.”

“Okay, for real, I pretty much like anything active and adventurous. I have to spend a lot of my spare time working out, for obvious reasons, but I like most sports, basketball in particular, and anything that gets my adrenaline going - racing, rock climbing, skydiving...”

“Ahh, hence the cliff diving.”

“I take it that’s not your thing?” Bryce questions.

“Heights in general are not my thing,” Charlie admits. “I’m really not a fan of any activity where I could easily plunge to my death.”

Bryce chuckles. “I could tell, but maybe I’ll change your mind a little bit.”

“Doubtful.”

“Then what do you like to do for fun?”

“Hmm...” She has to think on it because the last four years for Charlie haven’t been filled with much fun outside of med school and studying. “I like to read, travel, go hiking...but on mainly level ground.”

“I could work with that,” Bryce responds thoughtfully.

He could work with that? What the hell is that supposed to mean? “Well, I don’t think you’ll have much time to worry about my interests or your own this week.”

His smile falters briefly before he recovers with his typical cheeky grin. “Oh, right, you almost had me forgetting for a minute we are just pretending. I guess we’ll easily fool everyone else.”

“Yeah... What else do we need to know about each other?” Charlie changes the subject because she doesn’t want to let her mind go where it was starting to go. “Tell me about your family.”

“We’re not close, and I’m going to leave it at that.” His expression hardens, and this time it stays that way.

She realizes she’s touched a nerve and she doesn’t know what to say. “Okay, no family talk then. Maybe we can take a questioning break and just relax for a bit. She has no right to press him on this, so she just stares ahead to the in-flight movie. She’s getting drowsy so she leans back against the headrest, and the next think she knows, Bryce is calling her name.

“Charlie, time to wake up. We’re here.”

Charlie straightens herself upright, disoriented momentarily to time and place. “What do you mean we’re here?” She peers around Bryce, out the window, to see solid ground. “You let me sleep through the whole descent?”

Bryce shrugs with a smile playing on his lips. “I didn’t want you to have to worry again about your possible impending death.”

Despite his cheeky reply, his intentions had been rather sweet, so she chooses to focus on that. “Thank you,” she says but then out of the corner of her eye, she spots something that ruins whatever kind of moment had been happening, and her jaw drops. “Oh my god, I am so sorry.”

Bryce looks down at his shoulder and back up at her with that same mischievous look on his face. “It’s no problem, really. I’m used to people drooling over me all the time.”

Charlie rolls her eyes and before she can formulate a comeback, the flight attendant dismisses them. “You ready?” She stands up grabbing her carry-on and Bryce follows.

“Can’t wait.”

#playchoices fanfic #open heart #dr. bryce lahela #bryce x mc #stripped bare

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ravenforce · 5 years

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Hot Hydra 2.0

Prompt: This is part two of Hot Hydra as requested by some of you. There’s really no prompt, except for it to be fluffy.

Pairing: Carol Danvers x Reader, Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Carol Danvers x Reader x Natasha Romanoff

Word Count: 3168

Warning/s: FLUFF.

A/N: You liked it, you asked for it, I wrote it. Brush your teeth after you read it. If there are mistakes that escapes me, I apologize. Hope you guys like it. If you haven’t read Hot Hydra yet, you can find it here.

***

After defeating Thanos and Apocalypse with the combined forces of the Avengers and the Mutant Underground, it took quite a while before you saw Carol and Natasha again. You’re out having dinner with the Strucker kids when you did. While it’s currently winter you’re seated on the outdoor eating area of the restaurant when recently resurrected Wanda saw you from across the street. She looked so satisfied having been able to drag Carol, Natasha, and Agent Hill to the mall.

“Hey (Y/N)! Hey Lauren! Andy!” she greeted cheerfully. You guess if you’re erased from existence, you’d probably be obnoxiously chirpy as well after being revived. The Strucker kids smiled and wave back at the Avengers. Even though you’ve worked with them before, certain awe still remains that the Earth’s mightiest heroes acknowledge your presence.

“Retail therapy?” you teased Wanda but looking directly to Carol and Natasha.

“Yes! Best therapy ever!” Wanda exclaimed you chuckled. You would guess from their faces that Carol and Nat would rather be elsewhere than the mall but they couldn’t begrudge the others.

“What about you guys? What brought you out and about at this weather?” Agent Hill asked.

“Oh! We’re run off before Thunderbird can kick (Y/N) ass for flying all the way to Atlantic City to get tacos,” Andy explained. Everyone laughed.

“Tacos you requested,” you said rolling your eyes before laughing with everyone else.

You’re the hottest HYDRA experiment I’ve ever seen.

Wanda choked on her water and successfully spraying Agent Hill in the process, which earned more laughter from the group. Maria quickly wiped her face, while you patted down Wanda’s back.

“Are you okay?” you asked. Wanda just nodded and hurriedly made an excuse about Vision needing her. She walked away, dragging Agent Hill with her. Carol and Natasha hanged back for a few seconds.

“It’s really nice seeing you today (Y/N). Totally highlight of our day,” Carol said. Natasha nodded.

“Maybe when you’re not busy we can get tacos too,” Natasha said. You smiled at both of them who looks uncharacteristically nervous.

“Sure, you got my number,” you said before they turned and jog towards Wanda and Maria. When they reached the two they have a giant smile on their faces, while Wanda’s sporting a deep scowl.

“Glad to know you had your priorities in order while we were dead,” Agent Hill said. Carol and Nat looked baffled.

“You’re both buying me a drink, maybe five, to wash away the image of both of you ravaging (Y/N) at the medical bay in my head,” Wanda said. Agent Hill laughed so hard, they had to stop at the side of the street. Carol and Nat beet red in embarrassment.

***

A week after your encounter with Carol and Natasha, both of them asked you to meet at the compound. Agent Hill met you and ushered you to their private runway where Natasha is waiting for you at the mouth of an engine-ready quinjet.

“24 hours Romanoff. Also if Nick finds out, I’ll tell him you threatened me,” Agent Hill told Natasha seriously but with a trace of a smirk on her lips. Nat just nodded at her.

“Have fun (Y/N),” Agent Hill said before walking away.

Natasha led you inside and closed the door of the quinjet. Carol is in-charge of flying you tonight, to where they just wouldn’t tell. The conversation was light and easy between the three of you; Carol told the story of her time with the Kree, Nat told you about her life as a Russian spy, and you told them the little things you can remember of your life before Apocalypse turned you into the Archangel.

Four hours later, the three of you are alighting the quinjet. When Natasha opened the cargo door, you were greeted by a Japanese man wearing SHIELD uniform.

“Welcome to Tokyo, Agent Romanoff,” he greeted politely. “Captain Danvers,” he continued before looking at you. He smiled politely at you.

“(Y/N),” you introduced yourself.

He shook your hand, “of course, welcome to Tokyo Archangel,” he said.

Natasha walked ahead of you and Carol to speak to the man. You took the opportunity to turn towards Carol, you didn’t have to ask the question. Carol can read right through you.

“You’ll see,” she assured you with a mischievous smile on her face.

Just before you can say anything, a grey Maserati Quattro Forte idled next to you. When the window rolled down, Natasha spoke, “get your beautiful butts in. I’m hungry!”

Natasha drove expertly around the street of Tokyo to a hotel called Trunk Hotel to check in on the Dining Suite and park the car. Natasha informed you that you’ll be going around Shibuya by foot from there onwards. You surmised this is not Natasha’s first time in Tokyo as she happily points out landmarks. She stopped in front of a shop called Ichiban, there’s a short line ahead but Natasha assured you it’s worth the wait.

“We went to Tokyo to eat Ramen?” you asked flabbergasted.

“Yes, we heard from a certain Strucker that it’s your favorite,” Carol explained.

“So we decided where better to have our first date,” Natasha blurted out. When she realized what she just said a look of panic crossed her face. Carol is stock still and eerily silent next to you.

“Well, Fury will definitely have both your asses if he finds out you took the quinjet to take me on a date,” you said laughing. Both woman visibly relaxes at that and started laughing with you.

Carol feeling bold and bored wrapped her arm around your neck conveniently as you stand in front of her. She caught you off guard causing you to wobble on the step you’re standing on a little, thankfully Natasha held your hand. You tried to hide your blush but by the smug look on Nat’s face, you’re pretty sure you’re failing spectacularly.

The ramen was divine but more than anything sitting there next to Natasha and Carol made it all the more special. After eating ramen, Carol and Natasha insisted on walking around Shibuya and Shinjuku where you were able to buy cute keychains for the Mutant Underground kids. The three of you are back in New York not more than 18 hours after.

“Thank you for an amazing first date,” you said giving them both a kiss on the cheek when they dropped you off at the Mutant Underground HQ. Dates became frequent after that.

***

Three months after you got back from your date in Tokyo, you have already moved out of the HQ and into your own apartment downtown. In the span of three months, you’ve gone out with both Carol and Natasha more than you can count. You were never really bothered by the lack of label between the three of you; you like them, they like you and that was enough until Andy asked if both of them are your girlfriend now and you didn’t know how to answer.

“Do you know if they’re seeing other people?” Andy asked, earning an elbow from his sister.

You gaped at them. You never really considered the thought, which actually makes sense since they’re not officially your girlfriends it means they can see other people. It bothered you all morning, so when you sat at the table where Carol and Natasha were waiting for you for lunch with a deep frown and furrowed brow they were worried. They tried to ask what’s wrong but you were adamant that nothing is amiss. You were fairly quiet over lunch as well, which worries both of them further; you’re one of the best conversationalists they’ve ever met.

“Okay enough, tell us what’s wrong? Did we do something to upset you?” Natasha asked while waiting for the bill. She held your eyes while Carol silently chewed on her bottom lip, which is very distracting to be honest.

“Am I your girlfriend?” you blurted out. You figured it’s best to rip the bandage sooner than later.

“What?” both of them asked.

“Are you two seeing anyone else?” you continued without answering either of them. Thank goodness your table is in the outdoor dining area at the back of the restaurant because you can’t sit still. You stood up and started pacing in front of your table.

“Which is totally okay if you are, I just want to know where I stand in whatever this is we're doing,” you continued. When you look back at them, they’re both sporting a soft look on their face.

"I think we should discuss this in private,” Carol said before she’s practically dragging you to your apartment, Natasha hot on your heel.

When you arrived at your apartment, Carol pushed you against Natasha who’s standing behind you and is kissing you before you can even fathom what’s happening. Natasha wiped your hair on one side and is planting soft kisses on your shoulder. Before things can get out of hand, Carol pulled away and leaned her forehead against you.

“There’s no one else I want in this universe than both of you,” Carol confessed sincerely.

Natasha held you against her tighter. “If that still didn’t answer your question, then yes, you’re our girlfriend silly,” she said teasingly against your shoulder. You turned your head so she can kiss you, and she did.

***

Six months after your date in Tokyo, Carol and Natasha are basically living in your apartment too. You’re definitely not complaining, no; you love having them both with you. You love walking in at the end of the day with both of them trying to make dinner. You love having a long soak at your expansive tub, which Natasha insisted you need, after a long day of saving the world. You love quiet dinner of takeouts and Netflix and most of all, you love waking up next to both of them.

But your apartment isn’t built for three people, especially your walk-in closet. You decided to breach the topic to your girlfriends at dinner. When you came home after spending the day with Thunderbird and Blink you found both of them huddled in front of Natasha’s computer. When you came close enough to see the screen, you saw what they’re looking at.

“What’s wrong with my apartment?” you asked suddenly.

Sneaking up at your super-powered, and super badass agent girlfriends’ a really bad idea. Carol and Natasha whipped around so fast, you only had a second to retract you wings for cover before Natasha is throwing her ninja stars at you. When they realized it was you, they just rolled their eyes before sitting on the couch. Carol patted the space next to her for you to cuddle in, which you instantly obliged while Natasha continued searching the internet.

“Nothing is wrong with your place but it’s really not built for three people, don’t you think?” Carol asked after planting a kiss to your cheeks.

“You’re right. We need one big room as our walk-in closet, our bedroom, living room, kitchen, and maybe a gym,” you said.

“A gym? You don’t like working out,” Natasha said looking up from her internet search. You laughed because it’s true. Being a mutant has its perks.

“I don’t but you two do and I like watching you two work out,” you said suggestively wiggling your eyebrows before standing and walking to the shower. Carol and Natasha watched you walk away.

“What a goof,” Natasha said.

“Our goof,” Carol answered before leaning in closer to Nat to continue searching for your new home.

***

Eight months after your date in Tokyo, you officially moved in at your cozy new place at Christopher Street in the West Village. You just walked the Struckers’ out when you found both your girlfriends standing in the middle of your living room taking it in. You stood right next to Natasha.

“This is our home,” Nat said in no one in particular.

That night you were the last one to fall asleep after you made love to both of them in your new bedroom. Carol and Natasha looked absolutely beautiful and peaceful sleeping on both sides of you. First, you traced the outline of Carol’s spine as she lay flat on her chest, you scooted a little closer and gave her shoulder a kiss.

“I love you, Carol,” you whispered before tugging the sheet to cover her back. Then you turned towards Natasha. You traced your fingers lightly at the bridge of her nose down to her lips before you pressed a soft kiss on her chin.

“I love you, Nat,” you whispered before getting comfortable between them and finally falling asleep. You were out like a light soon after, that’s why you didn’t see both your girlfriends opening their eyes and smiling at you.

***

Twelve months after your date in Tokyo, Natasha and Carol have successfully enlisted you as a SHIELD agent as well. You have settled in nicely and has already developed a routine. Your girlfriends wake up every day without fail at exactly 5 in the morning. Usually, they’d go for a run around the neighborhood for an hour, and bring home some bear claws from the bakeshop around the corner to wake you up or if they’re feeling like it they would cook pancakes. You both agreed that showers should be done separately in the mornings or else you will all be late for work every day.

Then Natasha would drive all three of you in your shared 2018 Black Jeep Wrangler Rubicon to work. You’ll give them kisses before you exit the car because all of you has a badass reputation to uphold. Sometimes you really don’t see your girlfriends at work because Fury mostly gives you separate missions. Today though Fury told you he’ll be sending you, Carol, and Natasha on a mission to Tokyo. You didn’t think too much of it, international travel has been common for you after you become an agent.

The mission was fairly easy especially with the three of you working together. When you reported back to Fury, he asked you to stay put as the Japanese team performed a maintenance check on the quinjet. Natasha and Carol didn’t really mind.

“At least, we have time to unwind,” Carol said.

“Let’s go to an arcade,” you suggested. Carol perked up at the mention of an arcade. Natasha rolled her eyes playfully at both of you. Sometimes she swears she’s the eldest between the three of you.

“Fine but Ichiban after,” she agreed. There’s no protest from both you and Carol.

Finding an arcade in Shibuya isn’t a problem. Natasha joined in playing a few arcade games even. On the way to Ichiban, you found a working photo booth where Carol and Natasha happily indulged you to take a few pictures together. You’re skipping towards the restaurant ahead of your girlfriends, clearly distracted by the photos. When you looked back they’re standing a few feet away from you.

“What?” you asked.

“Marry us,” Carol said.

“What?!” you exclaimed, gaining some looks from the other customers waiting in line with you.

“Marry us,” Natasha repeated. Both of them crossing the gap between you in long strides. You would have laughed if not for the very serious face they’re both sportings. Shit, they’re serious, you thought.

“How?” you asked clearly confuse how they plan to pull this off.

“We don’t need a wedding. Natasha and I are ready to commit to spending the rest of our lives and fighting bad guys with you,” Carol said holding your hand. You looked at Natasha who looks at you earnestly.

“We love you (Y/N). We want no one else to adventure with than you,” Nat confirmed.

You tugged both of them in a hug while chanting yes against their hair. They pulled away and gave you both a kiss on the cheeks.

“I love you both of you too,” you said.

“So do we get rings or that’s cliche?” you teased after having your ramen dinner.

“I have an idea,” Natasha said.

***

When you landed back in New York, Maria was waiting for the three of you at the tarmac.

“How’s the anniversary?” Maria asked before giving you a hug.

“Best anniversary so far,” you answered beaming from ear to ear.

“Good. Now meet me at my office for debriefing after you get change,” Fury said as he approached.

You were the last to meet with Fury when you walked in at the living room of the compound most of the team is arguing what movie to watch. Carol and Natasha turned towards you when you entered the room but made no move to leave the conversation they’re having with Steve and Tony. So you decided to head to the kitchen and get yourself a drink instead.

You greeted Peter who stops mid-conversation with Wanda when he notices you.

“Hey (Y/N), nice tattoo,” he said, noticing the single red line tattoo that goes all the way around your right pinky finger.

“Hey, Carol and Natasha had the same tattoo,” Wanda said.

Yes because they’re my wives, you thought loud enough for Wanda to pick up on before walking out of the kitchen and towards your wives.

“Holy shit!” Wanda exclaimed loud enough for everyone to hear.

***

Note: Since I’m feeling extra today, here’s check the following links for visual inspo.

Imagined New Shared Place | 2018 Jeep Wrangler Rubicon | Red String of Fate Tattoo

#carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers imagine #captain marvel x reader #captain marvel x you #captain marvel imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanov x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanov imagine #black widow x reader #black widow x you #black widow imagine #carol danvers x reader x natasha romanoff #raven writes

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midnightsnyx · 5 years

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The Trouble With Faking It - Chapter 18

the trouble with faking it masterpost

my masterlist

*note: so. i did a thing. sorry lol*

Chapter 18: go ahead and break my heart

“telling lies to protect somebody, only destroys them in the end.”

Something that life taught me a long time ago, is that secrets have the ability to eat you alive. I have witnessed it first hand with my family and how it tore them apart. I made a promise with myself after things settled down to never keep secrets but recently, a lie I told a long time ago just came back to bite me in the butt. And boy, did it.

It went a little something like this.

August 5th

I knew that it was coming - the moment Clara would start questioning about her father. She is old enough to know that she should have one and she is not an idiot. Her first question when she met Tyler was if he was her dad and the look on Tyler’s face and how he nearly choked on his drink was hilarious. But her question wasn’t the least bit funny because it dug up strong questions and concerns I had been wondering lately.

First impressions are always memorable but when you’re expecting a person to look a certain way because of who they should remind you of - it’s easy to let that cloud your expectations.

Things changed the longer Clara was living with us. I began to notice things about her appearance that didn’t match up with what I thought I saw when I first met her. She immediately reminded me of Dylan the moment I saw her but the longer I watched her, the less I saw similarities to him in any way and that is when the red flags started raising.

I was never quite as careless with things as Jaxon and Axel had been way back when but my clear lack of caution was what caused the pregnancy. That said, a part of me always questioned whether or not there was an extremely teeny, tiny chance that Dylan wasn’t her father because my young, dumb self thought it was totally normal to be seeing somebody else while I wasn’t in California.

I thought it was no big deal to be seeing Jo while I was in Montreal. We were young and inexperienced - that much was clear but I never let myself even think of the chance that Jo could be her father because what were the chances, right?

The chances are very good I learned recently and it left me at crossroads.

I can very easily lie, and tell Clara that her father is somebody I met in high school and he isn’t in the picture but my fears are that she will one day go searching for answers and my lie will come in to the light.

I decided to consult with Maddie and that was definitely the wrong thing to do because she was livid.

“Are you kidding, Daisy?”

I wince, moving the phone away from my ear. I can clearly picture the disappointment on her face.

“Shh. I need you to keep it quiet, okay? I don’t know what I’m going to do.”

“You don’t know what you’re going to do.” She says dryly and her tone makes me uncomfortable. “I might not be Jo’s biggest fan, but if you’re that unsure about who Clara’s father is, he deserves to know there is a chance it’s him.”

“Are you kidding?” I snap, throwing her words back. “Maddie, I’m finally in a good place with Tyler, Jo, and Clara. Do you know what that will do?”

“What will do?”

I jump out of my skin and look to see Tyler walking into the bedroom where I’m sitting on the bed.

“Nothing.” I say quickly, ending the call before Maddie can say anything. “What’s up?” I ask him and he raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push.

“Clara wants to go to the park. Did you want to come or are you still meeting Jax for lunch?” He asks.

“I would love to come but I really have to talk to Jax and sign some papers. I’ll pack you two a lunch though.”

His smile makes me weak in the knees and he kisses me before leaving the room. I take about 30 seconds (I’ve learned that is about all the time you get when you have a kid) to pull myself together before making my way to the kitchen.

Clara is sitting on an chair pulling a pair of sneakers on. She grins when she sees me and I still can’t believe how far we have come since she first came to live with us.

“Are you coming to the park, Daisy?”

But there’s still the part where she won’t call me mom, which I get - I really do - but it sucks.

“I have to meet Jax for lunch but maybe I’ll come afterwards, if you guys are still there.” I offer and she looks a little disappointed but smiles anyway which I take as a good sign.

“Now, what would you two like for lunch?”

***

“Look, all I am saying is that it’s something worth looking into.”

I drop the papers on the table and look at Jax. “A paternity test, really?”

My brain starts to worry that he knows and I wonder if it’s showing on my face.

“If Dylan finds out about Clara and for some insane reason, decides to fight you in court for her, it would be useful to be sure he’s the father.” He looks at me skeptically. “You are sure. Right?”

It must show on my face because he groans, dropping his face into his hands. When he speaks again, it’s muffled. “Please tell me you at least know who else it could be.”

I shift uncomfortably in my chair and prepare for the blowout that is about to happen.

“Jo.” I say quietly and to my shocked surprise, Jax starts to laugh. Hard.

“Of course.” He mutters. “Of, fucking, course. Why didn’t I expect this?”

His words aren’t exactly harsh, but he’s not happy.

“I know, I messed up but I thought-”

He cuts me off. “I don’t want to know. What I do need to know is whether you’ve told him yet.”

My silence answers his question because he groans.

“Are you kidding? Tell him and see if he will agree to a paternity test.” He gathers up his papers and shoves them in a briefcase. “Call me if you need anything.”

Well. At least he’s still offering his help.

He gives me one last look and sighs. “I’ll help out where I can but this is something you might be on your own for. Keep me updated,” he says before leaving.

I let myself wallow in some self pity for about five minutes before leaving for the park. I don’t want to let Clara down now when her life is about to turn upside down.

When I get to the park, I see Tyler and Clara right away. She’s feeding ducks and he is smiling while watching her. I plop down next to him and he grins, kissing me quickly and offers me some grapes.

“Thanks.” I say, leaning back and watching Clara laugh as the ducks peck at her feet.

“How was lunch?” Tyler asks and I consider for a split second telling him what is going on but squash it. Here and now are not the right place to have a conversation like this. So I smile and lie through my teeth.

“It was great. I actually need to fly to Montreal for a day so would I be able to leave Clara with you? I’d bring her with me but she would be bored out of her mind sitting around while I have meetings.”

If he senses my lie, he doesn’t let on because he just nods easily. “Yeah, of course.”

I force a smile, hoping it looks sincere because I hate lying to him. “Thanks.”

He just nods and then Clara runs over, jumping into my arms and nearly knocks me over because she is too old for that.

“You came!”

“Of course I did. I promised, didn’t I?”

Her oblivious smile makes my heart ache because I have no idea how things are going to turn out in the next few weeks and I don’t want to hurt her more than she has been.

But I force those feelings down and let her tell me about her day, soaking in what will probably be the last good day for awhile.

August 7th

I actually inform Jo that I am visiting this time so I know for sure that he will be home. By the time I land in Montreal, I have myself worked up and ready to tell him but when I knock on his front door and a girl answers, all confidence flies out the window and crashes on the ground.

Her smile is bright and a little on the fake side. “How can I help you?”

I immediately regret my outfit, realizing I look like a homeless person and she looks like she just walked off a runway.

“Yeah. Uh, is Jo here?”

She purses her lips and gives me a once over before nodding. “Yeah. What did you need?”

This girl is getting under my skin and I am about a minute from snapping when Jo’s face comes into view.

“Hey, Daisy.” He says and his smile relaxes me until I see the glare on hers.

I look up at the sky in regret and sigh.

***

The girl (Marie, I quickly learn) makes a fuss about leaving Jo and I alone to talk and when she finally leaves, she makes sure to give me a show of shoving her tongue down Jo’s throat like shes staking her claim and god I do not have time for this.

He looks embarrassed when she leaves and I start to realize how bad of an idea this is. I am about to literally ruin his life and it seems he might finally be getting things settled.

“So what’s up?” He asks and I had this big plan about slowly easing in to it but instead, I blurt it out right away.

“I think you’re Clara’s father.”

And his reaction is nothing like I expected because he starts laughing.

“You know it’s August, right? You’re a little late for April Fools.”

I start questioning his sanity when he laughs even harder when I don’t answer but soon it stops completely and his face drops.

“Wait a minute. Are you kidding?”

For the first time since this began, I get angry instead of embarrassed and uncomfortable.

“Will everybody quit asking me if I’m kidding?” I snap. “Why the Hell would I joke about this? Do you know what it’s going to do to my life?”

“Your life? What about mine?” he argues and I open my mouth to say something but a high pitch voices cuts in.

“What about mine?” Marie shrieks and I lose it.

“Are. You. Kidding?” I yell and her eyes widen. “Nobody cares about what’s going to happen to your life! Who even are you? Some side candy that you have now, Jo?” I say, directing my attention to him.

“Daisy.” He warns but I shake my head.

“No. No, no, no. I’m leaving, forget I told you any of this, okay?” I stomp out of the room and out the front door like a teenager, ignoring the argument happening between Jo and Marie.

I make a point to slam the door knowing how unnecessary it is but I can’t help it. Everything has gone to Hell.

I sit in my car for a minute before driving to the one place I know I won’t be judged.

***

“Oh, honey.” My grandma says, opening the door and letting me fall in her arms as if I’m 9 again and just scraped my knee. I’ve learned since then that there are things so much worse than scraping your knee.

“I made a mistake.” I sob, and she shushes me, leading me over to sit on the couch.

“We all make mistakes.” She says. “Now, take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”

Twenty minutes and a tissue box later, I sit in front of my grandma who hasn’t judged me yet but I’m still waiting for it. She opens her mouth to say something but a knock on the door cuts her off.

“Oh my,” she mummers to herself, standing up to answer the door. When it opens, I don’t see who is standing there but my grandma sighs.

“Come in, sweetheart.”

When Jo steps in the door my body goes still and I prepare myself for him to start yelling or something but he just stands awkwardly until my grandma pushes him towards me.

It’s like we’re teenagers again and she’s making us work out some silly argument we are having.

But we’re not and it’s so much worse.

“I guess we need to talk about it.” He says, watching my grandma leave the room quietly.

“Yeah.” I shouldn’t push but I raise an eyebrow. “Where’s Marie?”

His gaze darkens and I regret asking. “She left.” I watch him shrug and sit in the chair across from me. “Something about not wanting to help raise a child.”

“I’m sorry.” I tell him but he just shakes his head.

“I know it’s not going to be easy, but I want to be in her life. However you want me to be.”

“We have to get a paternity test first.” I tell him and he nods.

“Yes. Anything.” He says and my heart breaks thinking about how things could be but there’s no use in thinking that now. We have a huge mess to work out.

“I have a couple things to do and then I’ll set up the appointment.”

He looks at me curiously. “You haven’t told him.” he says and I shake my head, shamefaced.

“He deserves to know, Daisy. Especially how he’s taken such a role in stepping up to help with Clara.”

I nod, dreading the conversation.

“Did you want me to come?” Jo asks softly and I smile for the first time in a few days.

“I appreciate your offer but this is a conversation I’ve got to have alone with him.”

Jo only nods in understanding, letting me walk him to the door.

“I’m sorry again about Marie,” I say.

“Don’t worry about it.”

He hugs me before leaving and I stand in the door as he drives away, thinking about how big of a mess I’ve made.

August 9th

I take an extra day before heading back to Dallas. Tyler and Clara pick me up from the airport and I can tell that Tyler notices how exhausted I look because he keeps giving me worried glances as we drive home.

I listen to Clara babble about what she and Tyler have been doing the past couple days. It’s past her bedtime by the time we’re home and she’s drowsy enough that Tyler carries her inside and puts her in bed. I tuck her in before walking downstairs to find him sitting in the living room, reading.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks quietly.

I take a deep breath and sit next to him. “I need you to promise you won’t be mad.”

“You know I can’t promise you that, Daisy.”

I do know but I can hope anyway. When I start explaining everything, starting from the beginning, his face slowly falls.

“You lied.” He says, cutting me off.

“I didn’t lie to you, I told you that-”

“You told me that you knew exactly who her father is and that he was out of the picture,”

“I only recently considered the fact that it might be Jo-”

“No, you don’t just randomly think something like that, you had to have considered that before.”

I try grasping for strings, realizing that this is going downhill faster than I can stop it.

“Tyler-”

“You lied, Daisy.” He says, and I get angry.

I scoff. “Yeah, because you’ve never lied to me about anything before.”

“Never about something this big!” He snaps and I glare at him.

The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them. “You’re not her father, so why do you care this much?”

“You’re right. I’m not, but I would have liked to be.”

My heart drops to my stomach when I realize he means it. I should have known because he has been the father figure in her life since she’s stayed with us. I always knew he was good with kids but never considered that he might have wanted his own someday.

And now I do, but not the way I wanted to find out.

“I have to get out of here.” He mutters, getting up and walking to our bedroom.

“Tyler-”

“Stop.” He says, halting me in my tracks. I can only watch from the doorway of our room as he stuffs clothes and other necessities in a duffle bag. He tosses his passport on top of it.

I trail after him as he makes his way to the door until he swings around and glares at me.

“Wait, Tyler-”

“What?” He snaps.

“Don’t go. Please.” I whisper and he shakes his head and turns to leave. I grasp his wrist and for a split second, I think he might stay but he shakes my hand off and walks out the door, slamming it shut behind him.

“Mom?”

I spin around to see Clara standing at the bottom of the steps. She’s frowning and I wonder how much of that she heard.

“Hey jellybean.” I say, walking over to her.

“Is Tyler gone?” She asks, sounding confused and I force myself to hold it together.

“Yeah.”

She looks at me with wide eyes. “Will he be back?”

I should tell her the truth because she deserves it but I can’t.

So I break my promise again, smiling softly and hugging her.

“Yeah, he’ll be back.”

It’s all lies, my darling.

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

a/n: not sure if anybody remembers but jellybean is what daisys dad called her so i thought id throw that in there to break all our hearts

also, there was NEVER a plan to have jo be claras dad but i thought it would be interesting to see how that would play out

let me know what you guys think! thanks for reading <3

- alex

#tyler seguin fanfiction #tyler seguin fanfic #the trouble with faking it #my imagines #dallas stars fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #hockey fanfiction

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artificialqueens · 5 years

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[run boy run] this world's not made for you (Branjie) - PinkGrapefruit

A/N - we made it to episode 8! thanks to @freykitten betaing this mess and as usual, all characters are my own interpretations. I’m going to apologise in advance incase the formatting is messed up. Lets do this, enjoy! x

summary: it’s episode 8 when the roles reverse

Brooke Lynn is panicking. It’s a change from the usual, he notes. He adds it to the Filofax in his brain like you would add something to a shopping list, the act surprisingly casual for the situation. The air must be getting lost on the way to his lungs because they are empty as he is dry-heaving in a bathroom somewhere in a studio in California. It all seems too foreign; the location, the smell of paint on set walls - but not the anxiety. That feels oddly familiar, creeping around him like the ghost of an ex-lover. It fits him like a glove or those worn socks you only throw away when they’re more hole than cloth.

He is panicking and he is disassociating from his surroundings. His entire world feels like he’s looking at it through the bottom of a glass. It’s semi rotated, haphazardly zoomed in on if he looks for too long and in all honesty, he does not feel like he is there. When he rests his tear-stricken face on the cool porcelain, the redness of his cheeks reflected in the shiny white, he feels like he is watching himself from the outside. He thinks back to his conversation with Vanjie, tries to picture his own happiness in the moment - just like his therapist taught him. He remembers what Vanessa said to him, ‘Bitch count to 25, if not 30. My ass had to count to 40 the other night. Don’t freak yourself out.’ If he thinks hard enough, really tries to place himself there, he can hear the candour of her voice, the way their pet names rolled of her tongue like caramel.

He takes a deep breath in.

He closes his eyes and tries to focus on her. He picks the wrong image.

He realises that all that is doing is increase his heart rate, he tries to think of something calmer.

He settles on his favourite part of the conversation.

‘Who are you gonna do’

‘I think I’m going to do Celine Dion’

‘Celine Dion’

‘Yeahhh’

‘Is that your final answer?’

Take a deep breath

Her laugh.

The way she fell onto him, grounding him.

The weight of her head on his shoulder.

That stupid cap.

That kind of cute cap.

That kiss on the cheek that just made him melt.The speed of it. Like she was afraid everyone would see, which was hilarious because they were all watching in the mirror like the voyeurs they are. If he’d looked up, he knew he would have seen Nina’s big dumb face with her big dumb smile, cheering him on.

The quiet hum of the razor

The quietness of Vanessa’s voice.

The way she is only quiet with him and it is nice and calm and pure unrefined Jose because that’s what he needs in the moment so that’s what she’s going to give him.

The honest to god good advice she gave.

The look of pity and fear in her eyes when they realised they might lipsync against each other.

don’t cry

deep breath

try again

The way she looked at him when she knew he had fucked up and they hadn’t even started.

deep breath

How she’d held him, watched him split apart at the seams and boldly held him together because god what else was she supposed to do. He fell apart in her arms and she supported him through it until he could stand without feeling like the ground was about to fall from under him, and he loved her for it. With a heart-bursting, gut-wrenching love.

The way she looked when they both realised he would be in the bottom. He could have all the confidence in the world in her, but they both knew what he’d done was irredeemable.

The way she looked when he slayed the runway. When he walked for his life as a prelude to the lipsync. When he’d tried to retroactively fix his mistakes. When Ru and Michelle had gagged, truly gagged.

The way she looked when she found out Brooke was going to lipsync.

The way she looked when she found out she wouldn’t be.

The look of genuine, pure unadulterated joy on her face when him and Yvie were both declared safe.

deep breath

Lift your head from the stall door.

Try to remember why you’re panicking in the first place.

As he reaches twenty-five, mind coming together to form a semi-coherent thought, the entrance to the bathroom opens. ‘Baby,’ calls the voice belonging to the short shadow peeking under the door. It’s a voice he would recognise anywhere and as he pushes open the stall (which he realises was never locked to begin with) he drinks in the man ahead of him. Her skin is a warm colour under the harsh lighting and it reminds him of hugs and the smell of sandalwood and apple cider. Her mouth is still outlined in a reddish nude and despite the lack of glitter in his outfit, her face glows a pleasant gold. Even in his haze, he thinks she is beautiful.

He struggles to find his footing, somewhere between a baby giraffe and a child on the ice, he grips the wall until he finds a standing position. All the grace and poise beaten into him by years of ballet appear to leave him as he stumbles on his way to the sink, cranks the faucet onto the highest pressure (cold of course) and attempts to wash the tears and sweat from his face. She just watches, waits. She knows what he needs and he is grateful for the lack of crowding. Brooke wants all of the oxygen he can get and he swears half the air is sucked out of his lungs whenever she gets too close.

Once he’s deemed himself clean of all the evidence, when his cheeks aren’t streaked with mascara and tears, when his eyes are no longer red and puffy - he slowly walks over to her. He is testing his balance, trying to remember how to put one foot in front of the other, like he did before the hurricane struck. When he reaches her, he engulfs her in a hug. Her head burrows into his chest and he gingerly rests his own forehead in the crook of her neck. She smells like freshly baked cookies and a well-lit fire. Like flannel blankets and stability. The hug feels like his home, and he hopes he can keep coming back. He needs to keep coming back to her.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #hurt/comfort #fluff #tw anxiety #pinkgrapefruit #concrit welcome #submission #canon compliant

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hysteria-when-youre-near · 5 years

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Def Leppard in Vegas, 8/29/19

Back from Las Vegas!! The whole experience was incredible--I really just loved the atmosphere of Vegas for reasons I can’t even describe, and the trip as a whole was one of the best vacations I’ve ever had. And the show itself was, of course, perfect.

I don’t have many pics of the show because the venue, being indoors, was very dark, and my camera does not take good pictures in the dark. I have two comically bad ones I’ll post later, and my mom took some that were actually good but she hasn’t sent them to me yet.

A few notes on the experience though:

I was sitting General Admission Right (right being my right, stage left) and I got there early enough that I was essentially the second ‘row’ in the standing only space. There was one row of people directly at the barrier, then me. I picked a spot near the end of the runway stage so I wouldn’t be behind the band for the acoustic part, so I was far-ish from the main stage, at least within the context of the GA area--still more than close enough to see the band without looking at the screens, though.

Overall, I think I had a good spot. One of the people in front of me was like constantly waving and trying to get the attention of the band, which weirdly gave me some degree of anxiety, and another nearby person was headbanging, which... is this really a headbanging band? You do you though. Also a lot of people between me and the main stage had their cell phones out and up, which was, I gotta say, annoying, since the phones are so bright. You people could at least put your video on youtube, lol. That’s the only reason I don’t absolutely lose my shit about it, is that I do benefit from people filming during the show, but still.

The show was intense as hell. Like, I knew it would be two full hours but I didn’t realize what two full hours would feel like. I was standing for over three hours, in line and then in the venue waiting for the show to start, too, which contributed to the fatigue of just being an audience member, I’m sure.

But it was also a completely packed, no filler show. No intermission, no breaks, no down-time, barely any talking between songs. Joe spoke a little during the acoustic part and then maybe a sentence here or there otherwise but mostly it was song into song into song. I think they played 3-4 before he said a single word.

I knew what the setlist was, roughly, but it still felt very different to listen to versus the setlist from last year. More than I thought it would. I’m familiar with all of these songs, even the rare ones, and if something has been played live before ever I have heard a live version of it, recorded, you know? But it’s different to be there. Not being quite sure what’s going to be played next and then it’s Promises or Now or Excitable or Mirror Mirror, it’s something else.

Speaking of setlists, on my night they played Foolin’, Mirror Mirror, and Let It Go, and there was no Billy, Slang, Too Late for Love, or Paper Sun. I was a little disappointed not to hear Billy or Slang, but my mom really enjoyed Mirror Mirror--and I must admit, it probably is one of the rarest songs to hear in a way.

And Let It Go???? I wanted them to play Let It Go when I heard it come back during the Euro tour in the summer, but then I figured from the setlists coming out I wouldn’t hear it. And then Phil comes out to the center of the stage and does that opening riff and at first I was like--wait--is that???--and then it was!! That song is such a powerhouse live, they should play it more.

The stage was really, really huge. Like I know they said it was huge, but when I first got into the venue, I didn’t think it was that big. Then I saw it in comparison to the band. From where I was standing on the side I could never see everyone at once. I could see people on the runway part of the stage and people at the center and anywhere on the right (my right), but people on the far left were hard to impossible to see. I was thinking about it, actually, and I think it’s pretty impressive that Leppard filled the stage as well as they did, since probably a lot of performers at Planet Hollywood have backup dancers or whatever--they’re literally five people, only four of whom can move during the show, and they still owned it.

I also really liked how they used the screens behind the stage and the lights. A couple of the screens were the familiar ones from last year and previous tours (the Vegas signs behind Animal, the Hysteria screen with old pics/video of the band), just on a larger scale, but often they were just large video of the band as they played, the simplicity of which I appreciated. Similarly, the lights/lasers were obviously super complex, but they weren’t distracting. The lasers during Love Bites were insane and during Switch 625, Phil and Vivian, and then Rick, were highlighted in a cool way. (Rick finally got his cone!) The photos of the band they used during Photograph included some really rare ones that I’d never seen before.

The acoustic set worked really well and I’m so glad they did that... I wish even more that I could see a whole acoustic show from them... Maybe someday. Joe introduced the band members with how long they’d been in the band (’veteran of x years’), and pointed out that they had new chairs for this show, decorated on the back with the Vegas logo (with the dice) and with their names on them. I was sitting so that I was even with Phil, a little ahead of Rick, and behind Joe and Sav. Vivian was also even with me but facing away. But Phil would turn around a lot to look at my side of the audience, or sometimes behind him at Rick, and Viv turned all the way around to look at us, too. At one point, he literally stood up mid-song and handed a guitar pick to the person in front of me (Phil threw one at the end of the acoustic set and the end of the show and I think Sav was throwing them at the other side, but this was the only time I saw one handed to a specific person.) I seriously, like, memorized Phil’s arm I think. He had on bracelets, and his shoes were high top boots that he’d only laced to the ankle and then just wrapped the laces around.

Speaking of outfits and shoes: Viv had his lucky leopard print sneakers, Joe had on Vans, and Sav had sparkly black sneakers. I am fairly sure he and Joe coordinated outfits, because Joe’s jacket for the second half of the show matched Sav’s outfit imo. And for the encore Joe broke out the star shirt from the R&RHOF press tour.

I thought the sound was really good--better than in VA Beach, where I couldn’t really hear anything, from my seats, because it was so loud it was distorted, although this could have been exacerbated by Journey’s set, by which I mean I had already temporarily blasted out my hearing before Leppard even started to play. I could hear the vocals really well in Vegas (Joe really does sound better than he has in a long while imo), although I felt personally like I couldn’t hear the guitars as well as I wanted, versus the drums.

My overall impression was that this was a show for hardcore fans, for certain. I guess it has to be, since aside from people who live in Vegas, everyone in that audience traveled to see them, when generally, it’s the other way around. The rare songs, the length, the lack of filler, etc.

A few quick notes on small observations:

Phil mouthing ‘hi’ to an audience member during one of the songs;

Sav playing around a lot to the audience (you can see this in a video of Let It Go on youtube);

Sav in general looking like he was having a lot of fun, even skipping across the stage, as he does

Phil messing up during the Hysteria solo, I think--I thought I heard a couple notes that were off and then I caught him smiling at Viv in that ‘whoops, fucked that up, oh well’ kind of way;

Viv poking Phil under the arm as they passed by each other;

Phil singing into the microphone with Joe, and the audio was clear enough that I’m pretty sure I could actually pick out Phil’s voice;

David Coverdale and/or someone else from Whitesnake might have been in the audience--not sure, but the security guy was very chatty and at one point I noticed him saying something to someone in front of me, and then I heard her say to the person next to her something that included the word “Whitesnake.” So. I didn’t see anyone but it’s possible??

...So, yes. That was my experience! It was wild, exhausting... I sort of wish I could do it over to pay better attention at some parts lol, and just take even more out of it than I could at the time. But I’m so glad I went. It was a totally unique show for sure, and I’m so impressed with them. I can’t imagine doing that a dozen times, or twice in a row like they do on the weekends.

#def leppard #joe elliott #rick savage #phil collen #vivian campbell #rick allen #the band #vegas 2019

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keepingupwithfundies · 6 years

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Counting On Season 9 Episode 4: Love and Loss

The family has a groom’s cake contest for John and Abbie’s wedding, Jinger and Jeremy visit their midwife, and Josiah and Lauren discuss their loss.

TW: Miscarriage. At the end of the episode, Lauren’s miscarriage is discussed. I’ll have another warning when I begin recapping that portion of the episode because most of the episode is just about cake baking.

-T

At Jessa and Ben’s, Jessa is making a cake with a team of little kids. Jana, Kendra, and Lauren also have their own teams and are making possible groom’s cakes for a little family bake off. Abbie and John says they are counting down to the wedding and it is flying by. The producers explain a groom’s cake to Jeremy, he wasn’t familiar with it. Generally it is a smaller cake with a theme based on the groom, and it is his favorite flavor. Josiah said the cupcakes at his wedding were his, since he loves cupcakes. Ben said they had ice cream. John said he wasn’t sure about a groom’s cake but he wanted to have a contest, basically. Abbie says the cakes have to be gluten free, sugar free, and aviation themed. Abbie is gluten and sugar free, she learned from an exclusion diet due to upset stomach. Jessa and Johanna are making a banana cake- and Jessa hasn’t ever baked a cake before and the Duggars generally did ice cream for birthdays. The family agrees that Jana is the best cook in the family although Ben says he is partial to Jessa. The episode then flashes back to Jessa as a newlywed cooking her new oven’s owner’s manual. Jessa finds out her baking powder expired in 2016, and she does not have a scale or a sifter either. Jessa checks the baking powder in hot water and it fizzes, so they decide to go ahead and try it.

At Lauren’s, they are making vanilla gluten free, sugar free cupcakes. Lauren is working with Josie and Jordyn. Lauren says she is also gluten free and has made lots of gluten free cakes. Lauren says she has a very strong sense of smell now that she is pregnant and hopes making a cake won’t bother it. Josie said she hasn’t had a cake like this before since she doesn’t have any family or friends who a gluten free; Lauren laughs and tells Josie she is a part of her family. Lauren says you have to do dry together and then wet together. John says gluten and sugar free is hard because almost anything has gluten or sugar in it; Abbie says “unless you eat vegetables” and John says you can’t make cakes out of vegetables.

At Kendra’s, Kendra and Jennifer are making pumpkin spice cake with spiced cream cheese frosting, decorating the cake with paper airlines on sticks. They are excited about their unique idea.

Jana is working with Tyler and Jackson to make pumpkin spice cake with cream cheese frosting. The boys are making a model airplane for the type of the cake which they will cover with fondant. Jana wanted them to feel included, but wanted to actually make the cake herself.

Lauren’s eggs are stuck in the egg carton, so Lauren dumps them in from the container. She knows this is a bad sign. Kendra says she is confident making gluten free stuff, but not sugar free. Everyone is struggling, and they are not having an easy time getting the consistency right. Jessa says hers looks like “something that has been swallowed and made a reappearance” and they decide to blend their batter to make up for not having an electric mixer. Kendra and Jennifer restart theirs several time, trying to get the consistency right. Jana isn’t sure about the gluten free flour, and Kendra and Jenni get their batter done. Everyone puts their cakes into the ovens.

Meanwhile, in San Antonio, Jinger and Jeremy are taking Felicity to see Alisa the midwife who delivered her. Alisa is delighted to see her and how big she is. Jinger and Alisa have a strong bond and Jinger is glad to get to see her again. They show Jinger and Jeremy dealing with quite a large blow out. Ben and Jessa say they don’t mind diapers, but Henry in particular produces very stinky diapers. Jinger & Jeremy say they think Felicity has gone back and forth- she started off looking like Jeremy (“that was a rough couple hours”- Jeremy) and then looked like Jinger, and now she looks like Jeremy again. Jeremy says he sees Jinger in her, especially the nose. The midwife adds her footprints to the wall with all the other babies the center has delivered. Alisa is so proud of Jinger and Jeremy and how they’re doing raising Felicity.

Jessa realizes she was using a recipe in Celsius and so her cake was not baked. They fix the temperature. Kendra takes her cakes out, and they look good. But they don’t want to come out of the pan, and when it finally does it falls apart. Kendra says it was her skills, rather than the lack of gluten. They are counting on frosting to fix their mistakes. Lauren’s cupcakes come out, and the kids to not like it. Lauren even agrees they do not taste good.

It is time to decorate, and Jana’s group is struggling to work with fondant. Jana says this isn’t breaking the rules since it isn’t for eating. Lauren is struggling with nausea after eating. She frosts the cupcakes and she says “I don’t think this is gonna taste very good, but right now, as sick as I am, I don’t really care.” She is trying not to throw up as they arrange the cupcakes into a plane shape, frost them and add a J <3 A in the middle. Lauren says she bets Jessa will just stick a toy plane on the cake- which is exactly her plan, as the next scene shows Johannah taking the plane out of a box. Jessa’s cake is lightly iced so the cake is artfully peaking out, and she has a toy plane on top and a cake topper that says “love.” Jana’s completed cake has a runway, but both the boy’s airplanes do not look good. Jenni and Kendra are doing their paper airplanes, and Kendra uses one of her house decorations which look like cotton plants to make little clouds.

At the main house, Abbie and John arrive to try all the cakes. They say the contest will make them want to have a groom’s cake or not. They do not know who made each cake. Johannah says theirs taste nasty, Jordyn and Josie say theirs tastes like throw up. The first cake they try is Jana’s, who has redone the airplane on top. Abbie and John don’t love the flavor. Jana says you could tell it was not the best tasting. Kendra and Jenni’s is next, and it is sweet and moist. John and Abbie like the taste. Next is Lauren’s team, although she isn’t able to be there. They try the cupcakes and they are dry and “eggy”. Abbie says it is a good thing cakes have icing- it helps. The last cake is Jessa & Johannah’s- Johannah tells them to take small bites. They say the only thing wrong with that cake was the intense aftertaste. John and Abbie deliberate on the awards- there are 5 categories. Best of Show (aka best overall), Best Tasting, Most Difficult, Attention to Detail and Design, and Most Original. They taste Kendra and Jenni’s one more time which causes a titter among the bakers.

It is time for the awards. Most Difficult goes to Jana, Tyler and Jackson. “Well, it was difficult” Jackson notes. Most original goes to Lauren, Josie, and Jordyn. “At least we won something!” says Josie. Best tasting is Kendra and Jenni. They are delighted. Best Design goes to Jessa & Johannah- “You never want to be that person who’s pretty on the outside but rotten on the inside, and that’s what we were” Jessa remarks. Best in Show goes to Jana, Jackson and Tyler. This was surprising to Jana since it was not #1 in flavor. Everyone congratulates the winner, and Jessa says they had the most attention to detail. In the end, they decide to probably not do a groom’s cake since it seems unnecessary anyway.

TW: This is the point in the episode about the miscarriage.

Josiah and Lauren were preparing for a trip to go to a friend’s wedding, and Lauren was feeling really sick. Lauren was cramping badly which was unusual and she was thinking it might have been gluten related and she went to the restroom and saw she had lost the baby. She was devastated and hoping it was a nightmare. It was supposed to be a joyful wedding day, and it became the worst day of her life. Lauren is glad she announced early so they got their support through the hard time. Lauren says Si has been amazing and they wrote letter to the baby and put all her memories of the pregnancy in a little memory box. Lauren talks about having a hard time healing and seeing other babies and she says they say time will heal but this is different. Si says their hope is that the Lord will bless them with a sibling for their little one.

#miscarriage #recap #CO season 9

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