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pl-panda · 4 years ago

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To Marry a Vigilante: Part 2

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The day before Christmas… was a nightmare. Marinette had to admit that Damian was right. Her parents volunteered to help Alfred in the kitchen. The butler tried to argue, but his fighting with Sabine was an unstoppable force meeting an unmovable object. In the end, they got a compromise that the baker couple would help that day, but would be banned from the kitchen for the rest of Christmas.

The boys meanwhile were ordered to decorate the house and prepare the formal dining room. And it was a mess. First, Dick and Jason spent almost an hour arguing over the decorations, only to then see that Mari and Damian already decorated the room with the merchandise Damian somehow got imported from Paris without their knowledge. Jason tried to dismantle the decorations that were put up without a warning, but it ended with Damian chasing him with a sword… again. It didn’t help that Todd kept riling the youngest Wayne up. Technically second-youngest since he was older than Marinette by a few months, but that’s beyond the point.

Then, when Jason ended up with a slight limp after he crashed into a cupboard when trying to cut the corner and Damian’s bloodthirst got satisfied, it was time for decorating the Christmas tree. When Mari saw the tree, she almost toppled over. It was put in the hall before the stairway to the second floor. It was tall enough to almost reach the ceiling.

“That’s your tree?”

“In my defense, I tried to order a smaller one. It’s not my fault they gave size in the metric system.” Tim argued.

“If you cut on coffee and instead got some sleep once in a while, maybe you would’ve noticed.” Jason snickered.

Dick took the opportunity to climb upstairs and start decoration, only to be caught by Steph, who proceeded to decorate on the other side. Seeing the two already started, the three other boys also raced to start putting decorations. It was a mess, but somehow Marinette found it endearing. It felt… homey. Then she grabbed some decorations and joined Damian. Then she teamed up with Steph to make a large bat symbol on one side out of gold tinsel garland. Then she made a red ‘R’ inside it.

And this time nobody got hurt.

After that, Dick and Jason left for their respective homes. Tim and Steph left shortly after, leaving Damian and Mari alone with the adults. Technically, Cass also stayed at the manor, but unless she wanted to be seen, only Alfred (and now Sabine) could find her.

The teens decided to stay in the Manor. Marinette was dead set on making everyone their gifts by hand. She brought several unfinished designs that could be adjusted. Damian was kind enough to collect the measurements for each family member from Alfred.

And so Mari then spent all evening in her room, where she worked on adjusting and finishing everything. She was beyond grateful that her room was already equipped with a sewing machine and anything else she would need to make the gifts. The whole time Damian sat nearby to offer some advice. Mostly, he just enjoyed watching her work on the designs.

“Do you think putting a Red Robin logo on this tie would be too much?” She asked, showing a red tie with black accents. It had a meticulous black stitch going through the narrow part. It spelled MDC over and over.

“Maybe put it inside, so that it only shows when he put it upside-down,” Damian answered.

“But then nobody will see it.”

“There is a bigger chance someone sees it than if it’s on the front.” The boy deadpanned.

“Don’t be mean.” She scolded him, but her pearly laughter kinda ruined it. She put the tie away and reached for the sunglasses she was working on. They used to be black, but she tinted the glass deep-red and then added details at the side. Now, there was a small silver bullet-shaped decoration where they would fold. She had a case ready where she stitched the shape of a red handgun at the top of black leather.

“And this?”

“Habibti. They will definitely love your gifts.” He gave her a soft smile. “If not, I will introduce them to my sword” He muttered, hoping she would not hear it.

“Damian!” She shouted. His hopes went in flames. “No murdering people!”

“Can I at least maim?” He asked with a hopeful voice.

“Hm… only if you ask me before.” She giggled at his expression.

“I think it is high time I retreat to my bedroom. It’s almost midnight, Angel. Go to sleep.” He stood up and walked outside, only to be met with Sabine’s judging eyes. She watched him carefully before smiling slightly.

“Good. You can go. I will tuck her in.”

After she passed him, Damian let out a breath he didn’t know he held. That woman was scary.

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The next morning was still hectic, but no longer so chaotic. Mari spent half of it locked in her room giving the designs final touches. She did not let Damian or her parents in since she focused on their gifts and didn’t want to spoil the surprise. Alfred was the only one who got a peek inside and he didn’t even fear Sabine, so the chances he would tell anything to anyone were less than Joker genuinely apologizing to everyone he ever hurt.

Finally, around midday, Marinette finally revealed herself. The room was a mess of cut fabric, loose papers, and Kwami knows what else. There was also a bowl of water in the corner.

“That was a race.” She commented before grabbing Damian’s hand and dragging him into the living room to share a tea and cookies. All adults cooed.

“So, Habibti. Care to reveal what you made for me?” The boy asked hopefully once they were both sitting side-by-side on the two-people couch. She held a cup of steaming tea while Damian put his in a small cup holder while he was eating a cookie.

“Nope.” She grinned. “But I can tell you that you will like it.”

“From you? I will like any gift.” He answered smoothly.

“Stop it!” She squealed, blushing heavily. “You can’t say things like that out of the blue.”

“Why?” He asked, giving her a barely noticeable smile.

“I can’t go around blushing all the time!”

“But you look so cute with red cheeks.”

“You don’t look so bad either, Mi Amor,” she retorted. She wanted to get some reaction from him, but he only smiled slightly more.

They rested, cuddled together for a bit, enjoying the silence that surrounded them. It was interrupted when suddenly Cass dropped out of the blue. Or from the ceiling, but they would’ve sworn she was not there before.

“You… Cousin?” The girl asked.

“Oh! You must be Cassandra!” Mari recognized her. Cass was maybe her height. She was dressed in workout clothes. “Nice to meet you. I’m Marinette.”

“Marinette,” Cass repeated. “Call me Cass. Everyone does.”

“Um… Sure. You can call me Mari if you like?” Both Damian and Cass grinned at that, much to the french girl’s confusion. “Did I miss some joke?”

“No, Angel. It’s just that Grayson’s daughter is named Mar’i” Damian looked at his beloved’s expression.

“Oh. Oh…” The realization dawned on her. “Well, then what about… Nettie?”

“Nettie… Like it.” Cass responded.

“Cass doesn’t speak much.” The boy took it upon himself to explain. “She first learned to communicate through body gestures.”

“Maman told me. I can’t believe aunt Sandra left you with that monster. Maman told her some things though, so maybe next time you two meet she will apologize.”

“Mother… Apologize… Me?” The girl asked in disbelief.

“Maman is a very persuasive person.”

Cass didn’t speak about that, but a memory of the hug two of them shared yesterday surfaced at the top of her thoughts.

“Anyway, you wanted to get to know me? Well… um… I’m fifteen, soon to be sixteen. I love fashion and design and I make almost all of my clothes. I also practice some martial arts in my free time. I love sketching outdoors. There is this small park next to my parent’s bakery that I love to visit. In the past, I adored the works of Gabriel brand, but after the owner turned out to be a major bastard I kinda decided to just stick to my own stuff. What else… I prefer tea to coffee unless I need to pull an all-nighter, my favorite sweets are macarons and my uncle named his soup after me when he won the cooking competition.”

“Soup… good?” Cass decided to ask.

“Oh! It’s the best. Actually, maybe we could ask uncle Wang to cook for our wedding, Dami! Can we? He would be invited anyway but then people would get to…”

“Of course, Habibti.” Damian interrupted her.

“Wedding?” Cass had more questions.

“Oh… Um… You didn’t know?” Marinette doubled back. “Of course you didn’t know. Damian tried to keep it down and I ruined it. Please don’t tell anyone. I’m so sorry Dami! I forgot! I was just so…”

Damian, following the usual routine when Mari started to panic, pulled her to his chest, and hugged her. He whispered something low enough for Cassandra not to hear. She did notice the couple’s body language. Devotion and love.

When Marinette finally calmed, Damian let her out of his embrace. “Thanks. I still keep some of my… less desirable habits.”

“It’s no problem. At least I have an excuse to cuddle with you without my brothers’ merciless teasing.”

“Wedding.” Cass urged them. Her curiosity was peaking.

“Ah! Right. So basically Talia kidnapped me and decided I would marry her son and then we both woke up tied before the altar and she threatened to kill us and our families if we didn’t go through with it. And I was so scared back then. And T… And I had no way to do anything else.”

Cass saw her tense and stopped herself. There was more to it, but she didn’t drill. She would learn later. Or just get it out of Tim. He knew everything.

“Well, now we’re stuck and there is this weird spell on us that makes it impossible to cheat on one another. At least I assume it works both ways since Damian didn’t test it.” There was no doubt in her voice and her body showed complete trust. Cass was actually impressed.

“The bitch that my mother is,” Marinette wanted to scold Damian on the language he used, but then again, he spoke about Talia so he wasn’t lying, “used some old curse on us, probably from the time my grandfather was still young. We are tied together. But we made it work.”

“Magic… bad.” Cass scoffed.

“No!” Mari quickly protested. “I mean not all magic is bad. It all depends on who uses it! Besides, everything turned out better than I could’ve ever hoped.”

“Good. I… Like you.” Her cousin smiled. “Hug?” She asked.

“Sure.” Marinette nodded and before she knew it Cass tackled her into the couch, almost breaking her bones.

“Oooh!” a new voice cooed. Damian immediately whirled around with a small dagger that he pulled from wherever he kept it. Selina Kyle was standing there, watching everything.

“Tt. I don’t like being spied upon.” Damian scowled.

“Relax, lover-boy. I just came and I was curious where everyone went and who were the new people.”

“Oh. That’s probably my parents. Alfred kicked them out of the kitchen today. They will probably be relaxing in the garden since they rarely have a chance to just relax. They run a bakery in Paris.” Mari smiled at the newcomer.

“Really now? And you’re the unlucky girl that got stuck with the short, dark, and brooding?”

“Tt. I’m not short.”

“I don’t hear you arguing about the dark and brooding part.” Selina teased.

“Angel, meet my father’s fiancée, Selina Kyle. She is also Catwoman.”

“Oh. She is in on the family business then?”

“Tt. Yes. I don’t keep things hidden from my wife.” Damian kept scowling.

“Aren’t you a dutiful husband?”

“I’m not afraid to defend my wife’s honor with a sword, thief.” The boy threatened. Selina measured him for a moment.

“Good.” She turned to Marinette. “He will do. If he is causing you trouble, you can crash at my place.” She gave her a small square paper with an address before leaving.

“Um… What was that?”

“Tt. That was Selina for you.” Damian was still in a bad mood until Marinette snuggled closer to him.

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Around five, the guests started arriving. It was unanimously decided that the youngest couple would be the ones to greet their guests. And looking at the size of the table, there would be more guests than Mari assumed. Damian was now dressed in a flawless black suit with a matching bowtie and a white shirt. Mari chose to wear the red dress that she knew left Damian speechless every time he saw her. Her hair was let go and formed waves cascading down her back.

Jason was first. He came on his bike alone. While everyone dressed in something elegant, he opted for an oil-stained t-shirt and brown leather jacket, complete with black cargo pants and heavy boots. Marinette had to admit he gave a bad-boy vibe that told her to stay away. But she’s seen this with Ivan and she was pretty sure Jason was, in fact, a big softie once one got to know him.

Next to arrive were Tim and Stephanie. She wore a black and purple knee-length dress. It had no sleeves and hugged her form tightly. The design was several large squares of material sewn together so no two colors were the same. It was an interesting design. Tim wore a blue suit with black accents and a white shirt. They looked like a nice couple. And the boy looked almost awake, which was a success. Also, they were dragging a giant bag of gifts.

Shortly after, a small van pulled close and five people exited. There was an older couple, a joyful boy around their age jumping around them, and two people Marinette recognized instantly. You couldn’t hang around Alya and not recognize Clark Kent and Lois Lane-Kent.

“Tt. Jon.” Damian greeted the boy.

“Sup Dames? Hello fair lady.” He greeted them, happiness almost oozing from him. Jon went as far as kissing her hand.

“Could you stop with the flowers and rainbows?” Wayne growled.

“But it’s Christmas!”

“Tt. I know.” Damian was angry. Seeing it, his beloved grabbed his hand and squeezed it lightly.

“Hello Mr. Kent, Mrs. Lane-Kent.” Marinette greeted the adults, hoping to diffuse the situation before Damian gets too riled up.

“You must be Marinette. I remember Jon mentioning you when we talked about his trip to Paris.” Clark smiled. He then nodded toward the older couple. “These are my parents, Johnathan and Martha Kent.”

“It’s nice to meet ya, girl.” The man nodded toward her.

“Hi. I’m Marinette.” She gave them a smile. Just as the Kents went inside, another car pulled in.

This time, it was Dick with his wife, Kor’i, and daughter Mar’i. They all got out of the car.

“I still don’t understand why you insist on driving this thing. I could’ve flown us here twice as fast.” The woman had distinctively orange skin and her eyes were entirely green. Marinette instantly recognized her as Starfire. She wore a white shirt with bell-like sleeves that reached to her elbows and blue jeans that ended just above her ankles. Dick had a dark-gray shirt and jeans. She would classify their outfits as smart casual.

“Yeah, daddy! I can fly too!” To prove her point, the little girl rose a bit into the air. She was dressed in an oversized purple jumper that reached to the ground. She also wore white trainers. Her skin was less orange than her mother’s but the color was easily visible. And her eyes were also entirely green without any white. And she was flying. Her hair was black though, as opposed to her mother’s fiery red.

“Sweety. Come here.” Kor’i reached up and grabbed the floating daughter. The girl immediately nuzzled into her and smiled victoriously. She got exactly what she wanted. Marinette couldn’t help but giggle.

“Tt. I still find her annoying.” Damian scowled.

“I don’t know, she looks cute to me. And you already admitted that you love cute things.” To make things worse for her love, Marinette gave him puppy eyes and a bright smile. He tried to scowl, but couldn’t muster enough strength to oppose his wife.

Dick almost tripped over the car when he started laughing.

Since they were the last to arrive, Marinette and Damian returned inside to join everyone for festivities.

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Somewhere else, in a much darker place, a lone figure stood in an empty room. His clothes were dirty and torn. The light entered only through a small window.

“So you see? It was all a set-up!” He shouted.

From the shadows, another figure joined.

“But of course, sweetie. Of course.” They said in a patronizing tone. “I will of course help you.”

“You understand me. And what about… Marinette?”

“I don’t understand your obsession with her, but I can share.”

“Whatever. She will be mine!”

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Masterlist // Next

#damienette #Damian Wayne #Damian al Ghul #marinette dupain cheng #marinette x damian #maribat #maridami #arranged marriage AU #guardian!marinette #batman #maribat au #evil!adrien

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oneweekoneband · 4 years ago

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her Nebraska (1982)

In July I flew to Massachusetts with a plague on, and I felt that it was wrong, but my mother had begged and I’d been out of work for months. Mornings there I ran in long, uneven ovals on the same roads I’d memorized in high school. There’s no sidewalks, but the few feet of dirt between the craggy pavement and the open mouths of the fields serve all right for a single body in motion. When a truck comes up close from behind, the ground shakes, and I step away bouncingly from the street toward thigh-high yellow weeds and grass, and keep going. I was slowly picking my way back in that dirt, sweat-slick from only a plodding couple of miles in peak summer heat, and sucking the wet cotton of my mask in between my teeth on every inhale, when Taylor Swift announced she was releasing a surprise album produced by the guy from The National. Not the guy from The National, like, the voice, but the guy from The National whose photo was circulated on Twitter earlier this year as some kind of antifa super soldier, which isn’t the case, but would’ve been rad. First, I stopped dead to send some outraged, misspelled text messages, and then I ran home faster than I’d moved in years.

Tall, blonde, patrician pop star Taylor Swift is to me something like a cross-between a wife and a boogeyman. Bound we’ve been since we were really children. Time and its changes haven’t rid me of her, and what’s worse is I have never quite been able to wish they would, though I claim as much all the time. Countless hours of my one wild and precious life have been spent on endlessly analyzing the minutiae of Taylor Swift’s music, the mind that made it, the real world events which influenced it. And though all the while I have known she is only a person, and that people, while each strange and lovely in their own ways, are, in the end, mostly dull, needful in just the regular manner, the fantasy is better, the sick dream of a megalomaniac songstress, curious, thrilling, probably evil, and I choose that. I don’t know Taylor Alison Swift, born to this world in, I presume, the usual way. But my Taylor Swift? I’m a renowned expert. I’ve always eaten up stories—movies, music, celebrity news, the one my grandfather tells about falling off his bike once in Ireland as a boy and his face “cracking open like an egg”—like a starved dog. I’m obsessive about my interests, but not inclined to intense fandom, and certainly not fandom in the mode of the stan. For one, I’m too self-absorbed. But caring intensely for a famous person is falling in love with a ghost, and that’s all right—I mean, what the hell? We’re here together just dying... Let’s enjoy—but is an affair best undertaken with the knowledge that everyone alive has their own complex interiority, as unruly as your own, and that you, a stranger, are not in any real way connected to the lawless, blurry middle of that celebrity, and will never be. It’s freeing and fun to know this. I mean, these people are basically in your employ. Glamorous dollhouse dwellers. Acknowledging that uncrossable distance allows for a different, healthier closeness of pure imagination. My feelings, then, can comfortably be at once both fiercely intense and entirely silly. I am a foremost scholar in the art of the Taylor Swift who exists in my head. The real person raised in Pennsylvania I don’t know at all. I have some conjectures on the matter, and, as with all my conjectures, every hackneyed theory, each picky little opinion, I’m sure they’re perfect, brilliant, just absolutely right, but that’s still all they are. Taylor Swift, figure of the cultural imagination, is the Jodie Comer to my Sandra Oh in Killing Eve, annoying and pretty in frills, taunting me endlessly and holding us trapped together in a dance of most enchanting death. But the real Taylor Swift has favorite bed sheets and a social security number and a British boyfriend, none of which I have any desire to know about, and if I saw her at a restaurant I’d politely avert my eyes before, yes, dive-bombing the group text. There’s nobody on Earth I’d stand in line to speak to, but then I’ve been speaking to a certain figment of Taylor Swift for nearly half my life.

I went to a Taylor Swift concert the night before I moved into college in 2009. My father’s work friend, firefighter by day, near professional gambler by night, got comped tickets to the Fearless Tour stop taking place at the nearby casino, and he let me have them as a reward, mainly, for happening to be seventeen. Live in-person and performed acoustically, “Fifteen” made me cry. A few years after that, in the thick, sticky part of my first post-college summer, I wrote approximately twenty-three million words about her in these very pages. (”Pages”) At that point, Taylor’s most recent release was 2012’s Red, and the work I produced that long ago July about Taylor and her career, writing I was fairly pleased with at the time, feels now, besides just being extremely clearly written by a twenty-one year old, strange to me for the way it favors the sweet over the sour almost uniformly. There is a wholesome kind of ardor in that writing which maybe I’ve outgrown the ability to hold. Or maybe Taylor just proceeded to spend the next half a decade plus releasing one bad single after another, and it was taste—and trespasses against taste—and not some shift in my nature which altered the tenor of our bond. I have real love for my particular image, gleaned from public statements and published art, of smart, bizarre famous woman Taylor Swift, and I admire the bulk of her output very much. I’m just no longer so inclined to fawn. This is not to say I am here to offer a Taylor Swift hate screed. I couldn’t swing it, and, anyway, I’m not a pop feminist-for-hire circa 2010. But we’re older now. Things are different. At twenty-eight, twenty-nine this month—Taylor will, also this December, turn thirty-one—I regard Taylor Swift warily, like an ex with whom you have a tentative friendship, perpetually on the brink of falling one way or the other into hatred or delight, only to wobble back the opposite direction again at the slightest provocation, but still, despite best efforts, even, I regard her all the time.

folklore was released at midnight on July 24th 2020, but I was at a cabin in rural Vermont without Internet or cell service. I drank Bud Light seltzers with my mother while watching the eerie pandemic return of Major League Baseball, and when I got into a strange bed there I stewed, knowing there were people out in the world all over who were hearing Taylor Swift songs I never had, and that this was a fundamental wrong, a disruption in the balance of the universe. I listened to it the next morning in a Dunkin’ Donuts parking lot.

And folklore is great. That’s the terrible thing. Slightly less great, maybe, than some people have insisted, tricked, I think, by just the pronounced shift in sound. But it’s great. A little gift I asked for a thousand times and was still surprised to get, like a wife who didn’t expect her henpecked husband to ever follow through and buy the paraffin wax hand bath as-see-on-TV. For years, I’ve been halfheartedly insisting that Taylor had a great album in her. I’d say it even, perhaps especially, while she stubbornly fed me gruel. Or worse, gruel with the occasional whiff of something better. With a ripe, little raspberry dropped into the slop. The bright, villainous thrill of “Getaway Car” made me believe Taylor, my Taylor, was in there somewhere under the lacquer of sequins and synth, which, while not objectionable by default, seemed a costume, and an ill-fitting one. The lived-in world of “Cornelia Street” made those old scars sting. That gay “Delicate” video. When she did “Call It What You Want” on SNL and played guitar while wearing an ugly sweater. If the abominable “ME!”, lead single off Lover, was the stick, 1989’s “Clean” was the carrot. I was Charlie Brown, and Taylor my Lucy, yanking the football back again and again. Over drinks I still yelled that Taylor Swift’s next album would be, “her Nebraska”, referring to my favorite Bruce Springsteen record, and learned to live with that egg on my face for good. I suppose I even came to like it. There was something inherently funny in taking up, like, “blind faith in the as of yet untapped greater artistic potential of massively wealthy and popular singer Taylor Swift” as my totally inane personal cause du jour, and eventually it was a bit, a gag I performed to be obstinate and didactic, but way down somewhere awful near my kidneys I meant it the whole while. And then she did it. A pandemic befell the world and amid a sea of human suffering Taylor Swift remembered she can write. She wrote, and with a massive, crucial assist from Aaron Dessner, whose music on this record is sometimes so beautiful it actually angers me, as the last thing I needed in already perilous times was to be made to try and marry my uniquely perverse emotional responses to beloved divorced dad band The National and fucking Taylor Swift, she made an album which, if not her Nebraska, per se (I’ve come to realize that a major part of believing Taylor Swift will one day make an album I find as quietly devastating and gorgeous as Nebraska is knowing that no album will ever actually be Her Nebraska... That each will, rather, to me, be more and more evidence that it’s coming still, more proof that the limit is untouched, on and on ad infinitum, or at least until the seas take us into a place of salty peace.) is a shocking credit to all my hard-fought and deluded confidence. folklore is great. This fact has made me feel almost equally as disoriented from my understanding of the world as the time-melting COVID-19 lockdowns have, and it turned my Spotify year in review annual collective AI humiliation kink thing into a glaring indictment of my mental state, but still, I mean... It’s great.

In talking about folklore a bit this week, there are a number of specific topics I intend to cover—what a thrill it is to hear Taylor say “fuck”; Taylor’s terrifying birth chart; the astoundingly perfect bridge of “the last great american dynasty”; “because my ass is located at the back of my body”; the bit in last year’s “Lover” where deranged WASP Taylor Swift implies that to “leave the Christmas lights up til January” is some signifier of being a love-struck bohemian, when actually everyone who doesn’t employ domestic staff to take their lights down does this; how reputation is the best of the Taylor Swift records released in the latter half of the 2010s, actually, and the people who can’t see that are cowards—but intend mostly to let the muse move me where she will. Against the advice of my better angels, she—that tie-in marketing eldritch terror—always does.

#taylor swift #folklore

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hecohansen31 · 5 years ago

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ok, so roman godfrey; reader invites him for a new year's eve party at her house. reader's parents end up criticizing roman. roman worries he's not good enough and needs cuddling. *and i need some soft boo imagines*. happy 2020, btw.

(A/N): Happy 2020, also to you, lovely nonnie, although I am late!

Thank you for sending it in, I just wanted to say that the family described in the ask is not definitely mine (if I brought Roman home, my dad would literally cry of joy, because he finally ‘managed to take out the trash, permanently’).

As always, if you didn’t like it or anything, you are more tha welcome to send me another ask so that I can rewrite it for you!

I hope you’ll enjoy it!

WARNINGS: Toxic Parents, Psychological Abuse, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Deprecating Talk, Nadia Being The Angel She Is (we don’t deserve her, honestly).

Your family, you knew it by experience, could be a bit… ‘too much’.

So, you had insisted on Roman not coming for your New Year’s Eve party, which you celebrated each year among your family, since you had spent Christmas, alongside Roman, taking care of Nadia exchanging the little gifts you had prepared for each other.

Shelley had also visited you, dropping in her gifts for you, Roman and Nadia, who cooed softly at her aunt, trying to grab her bandaged hands, meanwhile you and Roman hugged each other at the tenderness of the scene.

It had been a calm day and you couldn’t help but be thankful for it, wanting nothing more than your beloved boyfriend and his daughter around you, for these festivities, but Roman had insisted on joining your family on New Year’s Eve.

‘What will your parents think if I don’t show around?’ he had joked, circling you with his eyes, as you finished dressing up in the elegant dress you had chosen ‘… they’ll think I am either a ghost or don’t exist’.

Which you could totally see your parents thinking, but you had just done one last try to dissuade Roman, grabbing softly his face, tucking a few rebel strands behind his ears, looking at him in the eyes and explaining that you were worried he might run away, after having met your parents.

‘Babe, you challenged my mother, Olivia Godfrey… I do think that I can handle your parents’ he had smirked all victoriously and you had been infected by his smiling confidence and ended up making him accompany you to the ‘party’.

You had arrived early, since you knew that your parents would have found it distasteful for you to arrive even simply punctual.

Your parents hosted the party at their house and your entire family attended it, although as you arrived you found only half of the actual family: your grandparents from your father’s side, sleepily lounging on the sofa, meanwhile your mother and aunt worked in the kitchen and you were greeted by your father.

For which you were low key thankful, since he was a bit calmer than your mother.

He grabbed your coats, barely giving a look at Roman, who tried to present himself as soon as you father came back, his hands empty.

‘It’s nice to meet you, Mr. (L/N)” he muttered, offering him his hands “I am Roman Godfrey, (Y/N)’s plus one!”.

“Ahhh it’s nice to finally meet you, Roman!” instead of going for Roman’s outstretched hand, he straight up hugged your boyfriend, startling him “… we almost thought you weren’t real!”.

You felt Roman shudder at that insensitive affirmation, but you put on an small fake smile on your face, gripping back your boyfriend as you joined the laugh, half looking at the kitchen, hoping to find something that might distract your father.

“… ahh isn’t that, Claire?” called you out your grandma, using your cousin’s name, but you welcomed the distraction and brought Roman, alongside you in the kitchen.

Which wasn’t the smartest move since it meant that you and Roman stepped right into the bullseye and both your mother and your aunt set their gaze on you.

You smirked through the annoyance, meanwhile Roman didn’t seem to understand the threat that your family was and smiled at everyone, helping your grandma, with moving onto a chair so she ‘could take a closer look at you and your handsome knight’.

You were thankful that Roman quickly moved to join a ‘casual’ conversation with your grandma, so he was sheltered by your mom and aunt, who went to quickly crowd around you.

“You look lovely, sweetheart!” mumbled your aunt, as your mother pointedly examined you and you knew all too well that she was either analyzing whether you had put on some weight or how much the dress you had chosen was worth.

And then she pushed you in a tight hug, mumbling about how much she had missed you, as you heard your grandma going on with Roman over the fact that she totally believed that you would have remained a ‘spinster’.

You saw Roman’s gripping hands tightening in his lap at that mention, but he kept a serene smile on his face.

“… ah Roman it is also a pleasure to meet you, I don’t want to bother your conversation with granny, but it is nice to meet the man who made an honest woman of my pumpkin”.

Roman turned to her, smirking lightly, before he also offered her a hand, gaining a nod of approval from your mother, since Roman completely met her personal standards: rich, beautiful and young.

“It is an honor to meet you, finally, Mrs. (L/N)” he answered, not realizing the entire tension that had been going on through you.

“Oh, please call me Sandra” she joked, and then let your boyfriend go back to the enlightening conversation with your grandma, as she asked you the details about the relationship.

You were extremely thankful when the other half of the family joined you, your sister more than anyone else, since she had shared half the traumatic experience that your parents were.

But one slip of her tongue shattered the picture-perfect image of that night that you had created.

“… where is Nadia?” she asked at Roman: she had met you and Roman, much before than your family having, once, slept on Roman’s couch, when she was in Hemlock Grove.

You loved your sister and trusted more than all the other members of your family, so you hadn’t been able to stop yourself from welcoming her, once she was visiting Hemlock Grove for a job offer, and her and Roman had seemed to have good chemistry (although she had begrudgingly threatened him with a fork, had he ever solely thought to hurt you).

She had also met Nadia, loving her role as an aunt, but unfortunately hadn’t gotten the memo about not talking of her toyour family, because first of all: you didn’t trust them with the knowledge of Nadia, and secondly, you knew how your mother would have taken such news…

So, you tried to do some damage control.

Whispering back your reply that ‘Nadia was with Destiny and Peter’, so you could hope that maybe… just maybe… your mother hadn’t heard your sister.

But your mother had caught the dialogue, already and immediately shot you a surprised look, quirking an eyebrow in a questioning way, before she uttered.

“… who is Nadia?” you half-wanted to lie that it was either Roman’s sister or a friend but couldn’t help but believe that lying wouldn’t work with your mother.

And again, your sister had another slip of his tongue.

“Roman’s daughter, mom! She is a cutiepie… you should see her!”.

Both you and Roman were frozen on your spot, and slowly your mother’s gaze finally reached yours, as you faked a smile, feigning calm and innocence, as Roman’s hand sneaked to yours.

“You have a child?” she asked, almost unbelieving, as if she had been promised a pony and got a smelly donkey.

“Ahem… yeah… Nadia is my daughter from a previous relationship… the mother died, in childbirth” explained rather calmly Roman, meanwhile your thumb drew soft relaxing patterns on the back of his palm.

“Nadia is a beautiful baby, and I am beyond lucky to have Roman share her with me” you tried to gain some sympathy from your relatives, which seemed to work on almost each one of them, except your mother, whose gaze held an immediate hostility towards you and Roman, making you both shrank in his seat.

You tried to shift the attention away from you and were beyond glad when your father suggested that you and Roman could go to get some new wine, both because of the free air and both because you could completely swallow an entire bottle of alcohol.

As you walked outside, your sister mouthed ‘sorry’, having understood her mistake and you just shook your head, as you headed outside.

“… is something wrong?” asked softly Roman once you were out of earshot, although you still felt your mother’s eyes onto you, a sensation he shook off, hugging you gently “… your mother sounded… troubled when she heard about Nadia”.

You heard completely Roman’s uneasiness in his voice and gently gripped him tighter.

You had been beyond blessed to be welcomed in Nadia and Roman’s safe haven, and it wasn��t something that you took lightly or would let your mother taint with her affirmations: you already knew why that knowledge annoyed her so much, but you didn’t share in the slightest her opinions.

“She is just old-fashioned, but don’t worry about it… I am more than happy to be with you and Nadia” and Roman seemed to be lightly comforted by the soft smirk you had gifted him, before pushing an even softer kiss on his lips “… she’ll have to deal with you and Nadia, because I have no intention to let you go”.

“Neither do I, lovely” he giggled and as he leaned in for a kiss, but you were immediately brought apart by a rather stern cough, not even attempting to seem fake, revealing your mother, sending you two pointed looks.

“.. Roman, you wouldn’t mind meeting with my husband in the kitchen, he is having problem moving the table, so that we could have more space for each other” and as Roman tried to lightly protest, but your mother simply silenced him with a “… don’t worry, I’ll take care of the wine with my daughter”:

You sent Roman away with a smirk that stated your confidence in avoiding killing your mother, but you couldn’t help but be highly unnerved by her prolonged silence, as you moved to the wine cellar, but preferred it to words.

Which didn’t wait long to appear.

“Are you crazy about getting yourself with a man like him?”.

“You seemed to like him, mom” you retorted, meanwhile you fake of looking through the wine bottles, your hands gently caressing the glass of their bodies.

“Before I discovered he had already a daughter on his paycheck!” she made you turn to look at her in the eyes “… you know that not only you’ll never be his number one priority, but also any child that might come from you will never be loved as that… Nadia”.

“Mom I highly doubt it” your mother came from a completely different generation, the one where you married somebody and stayed with them, till they grew old and dead.

Even if they cheated, even if they were violent.

But Roman wasn’t simply ‘it’, because he had already a daughter.

“Don’t come crying at me when he breaks your heart” she retorted, almost spitting on you as she turned on her heels and left you there.

You took a deep breath, but a sob shook your back again and you couldn’t help but take your good time as you tried to calm yourself down.

In the end you chose one of wine and faked not having heard your mother talking so horrendously about your boyfriend.

Roman looked worried as you came back, and you shot him a small smirk, in an attempt to relax him, but it didn’t do much, because Roman’s worry didn’t ease up and he kept you for the rest of the night by his side protectively.

But he wasn’t able to stop your mother’s glares.

Because of those, you literally ran away after the Midnight happened and the New Year came, justifying your escape as having to pick Nadia and your mother sent you a little smirk, as if to say ‘see… this is what your life will be like’.

You and Roman had to go through a rather awkward silence as you drove back home, picking up Nadia from Destiny and Peter, the latter being extremely attached to Nadia, joking about not wanting to giver he back.

As you got her back, justifying your sadness as tiredness, you strapped her to the booster set, and after a few minutes of soft giggling, she went back to sleep.

For which you were thankful since you were honestly without a once of energy and Roman was gracious enough to suggest he set down, to let you undress, having half an idea of having a midnight bath.

When Roman came back, you were checking the temperature of the bath, dressed in a simple light robe and your hair were in a quick updo, letting Roman gently caress you from the back of your hair to your spine, a soft thrill of pleasure running down it, with his movements.

“Care to have one more in the bath” he asked, tiredly, although he was well aware that you wouldn’t have pushed him away, even more after a night like that.

“… wouldn’t have it any other way, beloved” you replied, gently grabbing one of his hands, proceeding to undress him with extreme gentleness, and then let him have the privacy to immerge himself in the warm water, as you pushed aside your robe to join him.

“… now I understand what you meant with your parent being ‘too much’” Roman softly joked, as you settled onto his chest, laying comfortably your head against his shoulder.

“I am sorry you had to deal with them” you mumbled, turning lightly to lay a soft kiss onto his neck.

“I am actually the one sorry…” he muttered, and you raised to look at him in the eyes, confused “… I shouldn’t… I come with a shit ton of baggage, that much is true”.

And you softly turned to him, grabbing his face strongly in your hand.

“All my mom said is shit” you mumbled, pushing him lightly on his shoulder “… you and Nadia are not baggage, you’ll never be”.

“No, no… one day you’ll realize that… you fucking deserve better and… I can’t fucking give it to you”.

“You sound like my mother, when you say this” you shot back with an harsh glare at him, as you raised Roman’s chin so that he could see your eyes properly “I am a big girl, I think that I can decide on my own, without anybody telling me what to do”.

“You are ruining your life, with us, babygirl” muttered almost powerless Roman and you just pushed yourself back against his chest, raising lightly water, which splashed slightly outside.

“I don’t think so…” you replied, as your hand slipped to grip his softly “… you have no idea how I feel whenever Nadia smiles at me and giggles with me, it makes me feel the most cherished ever… something that not even my family could give: she is not baggage, she is family”.

“… are you going to quote ‘Lilo and Stitch’” shot back Roman, but his tone held no bite and you simply smirked, leaning down to press a kiss onto his lips “… we are fucked up”.

“… fucked up in this together” you completed, giggling as Roman’s hands started tickling you, making you squish even more water out and you were just able to lightly fight him and giggle.

In the end, your new year had started amazingly.

#roman godfrey #roman godfrey reader #roman godfrey x reader #roman godfrey imagine #roman godfrey fic #roman godfrey fluff #fluff #roman godfrey angst #angst #roman godfrey ask #roman godfrey blurb #roman godfrey drabble #roman godfrey fanfic #roman godfrey oneshot #roman godfrey one shot #hemlock grove #hemlock grove imagine

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ficstogo · 5 years ago

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Somebody Else Chapter 3

Chapter 3: That’s What Friends Do

Summary: Sandra receives the news of her life.

Word Count: 2,244

Fic Masterlist

“Alright sweet cheeks, let me know one thing. You ever shot a gun before?”

“Have you?” Sandra responded back, arms crossed as her and her new “partner” walked through the now grainy colored, dying grass, crunching underneath her beat up dirty sneakers. They stopped a few feet away from an old, broken down fence, where cans and broken bottles littered underneath it. The sun hitting her eyes, making her squint towards the tall, rugged man next to her.

Bottles clinking as he turned to face her, he downs a whole bottle of what the six-pack contained and responds, “I know my way around a gun, honey. Are you gonna drink some or what?” Sandra looked at Trevor with some annoyance on her face as she snatched the new bottle out of his hands. She wouldn’t be here if he didn't propose a great way of her making money, if he didn't have that on her, she would've left that bar and disappear without a trace. With his wallet. After finishing the entire pack, they picked up all the empty bottles and cans and lined them up on the fence.

Moving his olive green jacket and lifting his red tattered shirt, he took out the gun that was tucked snugly into his hip bone and jeans. “Safety’s off. Just aim and pull the trigger. All there is too it.” Handing Sandra the gun with the handle to her, she looked at him and the gun reluctantly takes it from his hands. She was surprised as to how much heavier it was than how Trevor made it look like it was. Getting a feel of the cool metal, Sandra stood there looking at the gun as her fingers glided against it. “Are you gonna admire it or are you gonna shoot?” Trevor shouts at her as he leans against the hood of the small car.

“Shut up.” Sandra fired back. I can do this. Just like in the movies. Just get the stance right, have both hands on it...You’ll be fine. She thought as her heart beaten a little more harshly than before. She didn't want to show him how nervous she was with it and then get tormented about it on their ride back to wherever they needed to go. Spreading her legs apart and both her hands on the handle of the gun, she rose it up to her face, closing one eye to get a good aim at the bottle in front of her. Taking some deep breaths, she tried to keep her hand steady as she finally pulled the trigger. The loud popping sound was enough to startle her as well as the kick it gave, making her catch her footing before she fell on her ass. With wide eyes and heavy breathing, she lowered the gun and viewed the result in front of her.

“Ha! Darling, I think you need a hell of a lot more practice if that’s the best you can do!” He mocked.

Face getting hot and red, her brows furrowed into annoyance once more as she snapped at him and shouted back, “Shut the fuck up! I bet you can’t even do better!”

“Oh please, sweetheart-”

“Sandra!”

“Alright! Shit, Sandra...Gimme the gun.” He rosed from his spot on the car hood and motioned his fingers for Sandra to place the gun in his large hand. With a huff of annoyance, she dragged her feet to him and roughly handed the gun over, taking a spot next to the car with crossed arms. Trevor got up with the demeanor of not having a care in the world as if people have challenged him so many times before and this was nothing of importance. Taking a quick look back at Sandra, Trevor placed both his hands on the gun and just like that, popping noises went off as well as the sound of glass shattering. Even more frustrated than before, Sandra looked away from him as he finished up and went back towards her. “How was that, Sandra?” he mocked her once more, tucking the gun back to where it once belonged.

“Shut up.” Sandra stood back up while Trevor snaked his arm over her shoulders, a smug grin to annoy her even further.

“Don't worry sweet cheeks, with more practice and you'll be quite the femme fatale.” Opening the passenger door, he bowed before her saying “After you m’lady!” She wanted to scoff at him but couldn't help but have a small smile on her face. Why couldn't he be less of an agonizing person and be more….like that? A goof.

.~.~.~.~.~.~.

“T-Trev…?” Disbelief could be heard from Sandra’s voice as she tried to mentally collect herself in the situation.

“Yeah, who else?” Trevor scoffed at her questioning his identity. Sandra couldn't believe he was hearing him, after nine long years and he's decided to make contact with her. After the shock wore off, lasting only a few seconds, anger flooded her mind as she decided to give Trevor the greeting he well deserved.

“You fuckin’ asshole! You fuckin’ prick! Now you wanna talk to me?! Now!?” What suddenly gave him the gall to ring her up. Sandra thought up of every scenario of this exact occurrence, whether it be seeing him on the streets in person or her actually going out of her way to actually find him, either way, they all end badly for him in her mind. If she were to be completely honest with herself, any situation with him might actually end up with her forgiving the bastard because that’s what friends do. Friends who have too much history, she couldn’t throw that away, she missed him. Sandra knew how Trevor was. He was an unpredictable fellow and it was part of the reason that she was of two moods with him: worrisome or gleeful. Nothing was set in stone whenever she use to work with him and it always frightened her if he would ever take matters in own hands, deviating from the plan and end being in jail or dead. It was alright if it was just them hanging out, where he can say and do anything he wanted. It made the night even more fun. But his unpredictability came from trauma filled experiences, having the belief that the reasoning for any of the things he did could be complete logic to him but complete confusion to someone else and because of that, Sandra knew she couldn’t leave him out, not when she finally has him back under her radar.

“Woah Woah Woah sugar, what's the matter? Of course I’m talking to you now. That's what friends do.”

“That's what friends do?! Are you serious?! Friends don’t decide to completely leave without a trace and leave their friend slash partner behind. Friends don't disappear like ghosts and leave them struggling, wonderin’ if their friend was actually their friend, wonderin’ if they’re alive or not and then constantly worry till they gone crazy!” All of it came out. All the thoughts and feelings that she had from the days she would spend waiting on Trevor and see if he would come back and share on how much life was total and utter shit while drinking away their problems. It was true though. Sandra did worry if he was alive or not, although she told herself she had no reason to. He was fine on his own way before he met her but she just couldn’t help it, she even remembers the last text she sent him after numerous amounts of trying to contact him with no response. She remembered how she told him that she’d tried to keep the same number in case he needed anything at all because back then, she was so alone she’d forgive him in an instant.

“Okay… I can see what the problem is. Didn't think much of it-”

“Course you didn't, you never do, ya prick, now what do you want?” Sandra retaliated. She was beginning to get defensive. Sandra didn’t want him to mock her feelings, think of her as some typical overly sensitive woman, although that thought was far from Trevor’s mind.

“Michael’s alive.”

“...”

“Sandra…” Trevor pulled his phone away from his ear, seeing if the line went dead or not but only to find that she was still on with the seconds ticking away. With a frown, he pulled the phone back to his ear and waited to see if she would say anything but with the little patience the man had, he only barked out, “Hey! Sandy! Did you hear what I said?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?” She said in a deadpanned tone. Sandra was bewildered. After all this time and this is what he wanted to say? If this was some sort of strange way to start a conversation, then he was a bigger asshole than she remembered. “What? Like he came out of his grave and started chompin’ on brains, huh?” she laughed in a mocking tone. Her heart was beating fast, her breathing started to sound out of pace. She planned on breaking down today but over some memories and alcohol, not at her friend playing some joke on her.

“What? No, stupid! That slimy, slithering bastard’s alive! I saw him on TV and-and-fuck!” Trevor shouted on the other side, letting out his frustration and anger. For years, he viewed Michael as one of his greatest friends, one of the best he’s ever had and he died trying to save him, telling him that he needed to make a run for it. And for so long, he lived with the guilt of leaving him behind along with Brad, having nights where he would get so blacked-out drunk just so he didn’t have to think about him but now the truth is out and truth is that his once beloved friend was now a lying, scheming, shit-eating snake and with all the dedication he put into their partnership, Trevor wouldn’t allow him to slip by.

All Trevor saw was red. From the moment he heard those words, death was to follow him like his own trail. At the moment, he didn’t know what to do, all he wanted was to break and smash someone’s head in multiple times until he could no longer feel the betrayal and anger that loomed over him. Then Sandra popped into his mind. He knew she’d wanted a piece of this but he was reluctant on calling her. Pacing back and forth in his junkyard of a trailer, he contemplated on the decision. He believed she had every right to know that her other partner was alive with the hope that she might go along and join him on his vendetta against that fuck face but he knew that there would be unresolved wounds open. It might come as a shocker to anyone that didn’t know him all too well, but he felt like absolute shit whenever he thought of his leaving. That was his first partner-turned-friend and besides Michael, Sandra was his best friend. It was a shitty thing to do, leave her while she was still grieving. Hard. They were both in an equal amount of pain but he believed that if he left, he could sort things out on his own. Think for a bit and maybe if they were apart, they could learn not depend on each other anymore. Not watch each other die. That was the thought that pushed him. If they kept at what they were doing, one of them was going to die and he believe it would be Sandra first because of his erratic behavior. He didn’t want that. Be the reason for another downfall and then finally be completely alone. So it was best if he was alone on his own free will then under upsetting circumstances. But he wouldn’t tell her that. Sounded too much of a pussy if he did. Maybe when he’s drunk, he will.

Having the belief that she would help, he sat on his dilapidated couch with his chin on his hand and stared at her number. At his first attempt at calling her, he was a bit anxious but eager to give the delicious news. After that failure, he tried again and then again, but after having his call rejected instantly, he only became frustrated as he was now determined to annoy the hell out of her until she picked up and fortunately it worked...

It was quiet. Sandra knew he wasn’t lying and at the moment, she felt out of breath. She couldn’t really process the information given but only repeated it in her mind and then let out a breathy “Holy fuck…” onto the receiver. She felt for the counter to lean on as she only repeated the words once more as more silence followed. “Where the hell is he?”

“I don’t know, somewhere in Los Santos, hiding…I sent someone to look for him.”

“That fucking asshole…” Her heart was beating at an extraordinary pace from both anxiety and anger. The fucker was alive and didn’t say anything. Why the fuck do I have such assholes as friends?

“I’m gonna rip his fucking head from his neck…” Sandra said more to herself than to Trevor.

“I’ll help…” Trevor growled.

“Text me where you are. I’m headin’ there now.” Fueled with determination, Sandra hanged up on Trevor, and set herself for the trip of her life.

#fic #my fic #gta #gta v #gta 5 #grand theft auto #grand theft auto 5 #grand theft auto v #michael townley #michael de santa #trevor philips #franklin clinton #lamar davis #amanda townley #amanda de santa #jimmy townley #jimmy de santa #tracey de santa #tracey townley

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kurtty-drabbles · 6 years ago

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Soulmate/Lovecraft au (part3?)

N/A: Now, I´ve so many ideas for this au…I´ll try to cram everything nicely. Terry does believe in faes and Kitty does not think is that far fetch.

@djinmer4 @dannybagpipesarecalling @sailorstar9 @discordsworld @look-ma-no-hands336

Terry Pryde is a woman that was told how dangerous faes can be, in fact, her own parents hammer how dangerous faes can be and Terry carries their beliefs and make sure Kitty knows how to fend against a fae. One day, after Kitty return from her museum trip, Kitty told about “Jennifer” and Terry reply with one word.

“ fea!” Terry knows Kitty´s soulmate is a shapeshifter and is linked to Egypt, and faes can live anywhere, but, are bound to the language of said place. “Maybe your soulmate is a neutral part of their clan if your soulmate was an enemy…Oh, Kitty” she hugs her only child tightly and even cries, Kitty is hugging her mother and promising no fae will catch her “Kitty, this is important, you must leave candy in the willow of our home and be polite always, I´m afraid this Jennifer may show up again, for that…you must be ready”

Kitty nods vigorously and promised to study hard to not fall for any fae´s tactics. Kitty was so busy talking with her mother, who is giving a special type of sugar, to notice how her shadow has eyes and a mouth and is looking at her.

Kitty is a grown up woman, sadly, still a petite, and is a famous X-men. Shadowcat has a good reputation under her belt with other groups of hero(even the Avengers) and with the public and she often is used as the speak-voice between public-mutant. Her fighting skills are good, but, the woman is more used to defences tactics than anything else.

Today, Storm received a call from an old friend, an enemy is attacking and Storm asked Kitty to join her in the mission, after all, is always good to have a good defence and a good attack. Sadly, the enemy proved to be more than Kitty was imaging.

“Shadow King!” Kitty speaks as the monster have infected Ororo and is now in her body, Ororo is always a beautiful woman, but, the shadow King manages to make her smile look ugly. Even her laughter is horrible, inhuman “You heard about me? I´m flatter, Oh, how cute and you plan to fight against me? I’ve got the body of Storm…would you dare to hurt you beloved friend?” and using Storm´s power a thunder fall nearby Kitty, who, by Shadow King´s surprise, didn´t flinch.

“Got to admit, you´ve courage, yet, that´s nothing little Kitten I´ll…” Whatever Shadow! Storm would say is cut short as something is amiss, no, a telltale is present…Kitty can feel, but, can´t see, oh, unlike Kitty, Shadow can see it.

Shadow! Storm is on her/his knee muttering in Egyptian(Kitty take classes) something about great one, pharaoh and forgive me. Kitty´s eyes look at what Shadow was looking, there´s nothing there(using only her eyes), yet, she can feel there´s something there. Something different.

The fae!. Kitty thought impressed. You have been following me still?

Shadow! Storm stops speaking as the thing makes the Shadow!Storm squirm in pain and Kitty screams for the fae to stop, and, to prove her point she throws salt at the “presence” and this stops the pain for shadow.

“Storm is my teacher, my friend and the leader of the X-men, please, don´t hurt her…cause if you do, I shall fight you” her hand has a blue glow, Wanda did believe in faes and saw no problem in teaching some spells and hexes against those creatures.

Shadow King is silent and looking at Kitty in horror. The presence is just…looking at Kitty(she can´t see IT, but can feel IT) and she adds “Make him leave Storm NOW” and to her surprise IT makes Shadow King leaves Storm(not in a painless way for the small deity) and Storm is heaving as she slowly comes to her right mind.

Kitty goes to Storm(feeling IT until IT is not there…for now) and the woman asked what´s wrong. “Kitten, I was fighting Sandra and then…I don´t recall what happened, what happened to me?” and Kitty won´t lie “a deity called Shadow King possessed your body, but, it leaves you” Storm thanks Kitty and the woman shakes her head “No, it was my fae who help you”

Ororo thought for a moment, she too have meet faes and vampires in her youth, but, something is not right. “I know Shadow King, a deity that possessed minds and bodies, but, how come a fae can get rid of him?”

“Well, I´ve no clue, maybe, Shadow King is more talk than action? Let´s be honest, it wouldn´t be the first time” Kitty offers an explanation and Ororo agrees and both discuss what happened to the people in this city.

They are all safe and that´s what matters. Kitty thought.

Fighting Apocalypse is going to prove to be a major challenge. Scott and Logan were defeated easily and that´s not a good signal, Storm uses her powers and it was enough to retreat and think on a new plan, right now, all the X-men wonder on their next step.

Well, they won´t have to think too much as Apocalypse found out their spot and is ready to fight, except, he notices Kitty and bowls to her much to everyone surprise. Scott and Logan, in a rare moment of friendship, crack a joke if Apocalypse is her soulmate.

Apocalypse has now shapeshifting abilities and is from Egypt. The mutant goes to Kitty and shows respect as if she´s the goodness. “Miss Pryde is an honour meet you, a great honour, your command is my wish, Miss Pryde” and Kitty got an extremely pale thinking if he´s her soulmate(well, he did beat up Piotr when he was trying to force Kitty into a relationship in the middle of a battle so he has one good point)

“Raise, Apocalypse, I’ve got a question to you” Kitty speaks playing with the solemn tone he is using with her “Are you my soulmate?” Kitty asked and Logan and Scott did throw some comments about that(Ororo is trying to be supportive in the case is the truth, but, she´s not doing a good job)

“Miss Pryde, I’m flattered you think I´m worth your time, but, no, I´m now IT, I´m not the worthy one, I shall not lie to you, Miss Pryde, ask me anything else, Miss Pryde” Apocalypse required and Kitty then sighs and speaks “could you please go back to your coffin and not start the apocalypse?”

“If is what you desire” Apocalypse then rose from the ground and is walking to his coffin in his pyramid without making a fuss and as soon he enters…the pyramid is gone. Scott asked one thing that every X-men was thinking “What the hell? Kitty, who is your soulmate?”

“Scott, I have no clue!”

Morph joins the X-men by accident, the man just return from Egypt and an excellent shapeshift that manages to save Wolverine and earn his trust and a spot on the team, in fact, his talents as shapeshift are so good that people forget he has a real name(maybe he prefers to use his mutant´s name more)

Kitty finds out he´s from Egypt and is a shapeshifter and she can put all that insanity behind as she goes to Morph to a mission in Germany, Jaime Braddock asked for a favour and the X-men always pay back their debts(such a Lannister thing to think)

“So, pretty Kitty” Morph speaks playfully “how come a pretty woman like you haven´t met your soulmate yet?” Kitty´s is fidgeting with her curly locks and forced a smile(as natural as no one can notice the difference, Kitty is a real good actress) and answers “Well, my soulmate is a shapeshifter and from Egypt”

Morph smiles and comes closer to Kitty, too close(wasn´t the whole thing of soulmates to give a sense of security?) and speaks rather amused “I´m a shapeshifter and I´m from Egypt, well, I was born in the US, but, I spend my whole life in Cairo” Morph explained and certainly Morph isn´t opposed to a kiss.

Well, her fae is. As the fae shows a more “visibly” look that certainly breaks the mood. A monstrosity of tentacles with one red eye and one gold. It was too fast and before Kitty could make sense of what´s going on the creature is using IT´s tentacle to take Kitty out of the way as Morph is absorbed by the creature.

No, he´s being eaten. Kitty inwardly scream. Please, don´t eat him. Don´t kill him.

Why not? Someone replies bemused. He´s not your soulmate, Katzchen, and not a real Egyptian.

Please! She tries again and to her surprise, the thing seems to agree.

Ok. I won´t kill him as you agree he´s not your soulmate. The thing replies and in a blink of eye Morph is gone, no blood, no bone, no tentacles or shadows are present, except, Kitty´s who are showing the monstrosity of earlier.

The X-men arrives and when asked about Morph…Kitty told what happened. Meanwhile, Dr Sinister gets a new rat for his experiments.

Kitty Pryde is a grown up. A beautiful woman who enjoys robotic enjoys talk about politic, enjoy talk about her career and her future and loves to talk about magic(a bonding moment among Wanda, Magik and Kitty)

Kitty Pryde is brushing her hair gently, internally, thinking maybe she could cut her hair a little, when she put the brush down and realizes something. “This is not real!” she speaks as now her room changes into something different.

Beautiful and haunting at the same time. “Where Am I?” Kitty still has her magic and she believes her fae has decided to kill her or kidnap or both. A man with a blue fur, golden eyes and a white tuxedo comes out of the shadow with a malicious smile. “Fae, where am I?” she tries again.

The man chuckles amused. “Oh my, you still think I´m a fae? You dear, mein Katzchen, I´m worse than a fae” his smile is far too wild and full of teeth, Kitty is not showing fear, funny, she feels safe with him…even if is against logic.

“What do you want non-fae?” Her glowing hand is still aiming at him, not that the non-fae is caring, in fact, he´s even more amused.

“To see you, well, I´m ALWAYS watching you. Tonight, I think I got tired to just watch, Katzchen, oh, my manners, come sit” he gestures and a table just like her mother used to make when Kitty was little materialized for her with all her favourite sweets. “You often feed me those candies…I enjoy, while, I admit I prefer more meat, still, it was sweet”

Kitty didn´t say anything as the non-fae is eating a hand…yet, she´s not scared. “What do you want?” speaks in a straightforward fashion and IT smiles. “To speak with you and said…I´m not a fae, no, Katzchen, I´m far above, think about the elder gods” this was enough to make her clap her mouth in horror and the non-fae found that extremely cute, to the point he uses those words exactly, “and I´m your soulmate. Hi, my name is Nyarlathotep, but you can call me Kurt Wagner or Nightcrawler if you prefer, and now we´ll spend more time together”

Kitty blinked at that and looks at the deity. “It was you all along? The Jennifer and Billie Jean?” Kurt nods amused and Kitty is peeved “I want to say many things here, but, you have the elder god card…so, I can only say this: NOT COOL, DUDE, NOT COOL” and she wakes up leaving Kurt behind.

Or so she thought as Kurt Wagner is knocking on her door with an arrogant smile “Katzchen, I was serious. We´ll be together forever now”

#soulmate/lovecraft au #some parts are based on prompts i found #kitty pryde #no jean grey as she is pheonix #lovecraft kurt #apocalypse/kitty is a crack ship #lk is a bit possessive #morph is alive #faes are real here but they fear it too much #lk is a good stalker but not a good romancist

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bbclesmis · 6 years ago

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Sydney Morning Herald: Lily Collins on outshining dad Phil and her new blockbuster role

Lily Collins is in a good place right now, the best place, perhaps, in her quietly glittering career. The British-American actor, 29, has the sort of resumé – movie star, fashion icon, proper published author – that might make her an object of envy were she not so grounded, so very relatable. But it's her forthcoming, wildly praised role as Fantine, that oh-so-tragic young factory worker, in a six-part BBC adaptation of Victor Hugo's famed 1862 novel, Les Misérables, that looks set to send her stratospheric.

"It's a role I've been preparing for all my life," says Lily, hazel eyes dancing under big, beautiful brows. "I mean, I read the book at school" – that's Harvard-Westlake School in Los Angeles – "but if I had known I was going to play Fantine one day, I would definitely have paid more attention!"

“It’s the things that make you different that end up making you unique.”

She gives a smile. "Fantine drives the story at the beginning and her essence and memory continue throughout the series. To me she represents everlasting hope in times of darkness, no matter what the time period."

There have been several versions of Les Misérables, of course, the most famous being the musical that is still playing on Broadway and in London's West End, and the similarly sung-through 2012 movie starring Hugh Jackman and Russell Crowe, with Anne Hathaway as Fantine.

A sweet-natured grisette (young, working-class Frenchwoman), Fantine's seduction by an older student, the charming cad Felix (Johnny Flynn in the BBC series), results in her falling pregnant and struggling to survive as a single mother. Conned by her child's carers, destitute and desperate, she falls on hard times. Fantine is an iconic character, and one that miniseries director Tom Shankland encouraged Lily to make her own.

"Tom told me to forget every other Les Mis I'd seen and just go back to the writing," says Lily of this song-free version, scripted by Andrew Davies (who wrote the US version of House of Cards) and is delivered in plain-spoken, vowel-dropped English despite the epic backdrop of 19th-century France (or Belgium masquerading as France) at a time of civil unrest.

"We were encouraged to bring a fresh take, to breathe life into a song lyric and make it an episode," she continues in her soft American twang. "Not everybody loves musicals. So where Fantine has a line in one of her songs that mentions her falling in love, now we get to see how it happened."

Lily is here at BAFTA (British Academy of Film and Television Arts) in central London for the premiere of Les Misérables, the cast of which includes David Oyelowo, Dominic West and Olivia Colman. It's raining outside, but Lily – standing reed-slim in an ultra-tight sparkling minidress ("It's going to be tricky for me to sit down") – oozes the sunniness of California, where she has been based since the age of five, having moved there from England following her parents' divorce. The daughter of former Genesis drummer (and later singer) Phil Collins and his American second wife, Jill Tavelman, Lily might easily have fast-tracked her ascent by trading on her surname.

She hasn't, which makes her success all the sweeter. "I am super proud of my dad," she has said of her hit-maker father, who has five children by his three ex-wives (and who recently toured Australia). "But I wanted to do it on my own. People assume it's easier when you have that name but if you're the kind of person who doesn't want to use it, it's a lot harder."

Nevertheless, from her first on-screen appearance, aged two, in a BBC series called Growing Pains, Lily's rise seems to have been remarkably smooth. Performing is in her blood, after all: as a young girl she'd watch old Hollywood films, many featuring her maternal grandmother Jane Hale, a ballerina and actress, then dress up to mimic her favourite characters.

She attended the Youth Academy of Dramatic Arts in Los Angeles, taking part in musical theatre productions. She was also a teen columnist for UK magazine Elle Girl, and a socialite whose alabaster beauty caught the eye of Chanel, which dressed her in a gown for a debutante ball that featured in the reality TV show The Hills.

By 2008, Lily was in demand as a model and brand ambassador (she is currently the face of French beauty brand Lancôme) and making a name as a red-carpet correspondent and children's TV presenter. A year later, she featured as a minor character in the American teen drama series 90210 and made her film debut as Sandra Bullock's daughter in the Oscar-nominated The Blind Side.

The scripts started tumbling in, and Lily dropped out of studying broadcast journalism to take supporting roles in an action film and a thriller. In 2012, she starred in Mirror Mirror as a sword-wielding Snow White opposite Julia Roberts' evil queen.

"So Fantine is not the first time I've played a literary character with opinions," grins Lily, who lobbied for a second audition for Snow White after being unhappy with her first try-out, duly clinching the part.

"I wanted to do it on my own. People assume it's easier when you have that name but if you're the kind of person who doesn't want to use it, it's a lot harder."

There's also been sci-fi (The Mortal Instruments: City of Bones), throwback romantic-comedy drama (Warren Beatty's Rules Don't Apply, which got her a Golden Globe nomination), and the CGI-enhanced Okja, in which she played a young animal activist intent on saving her best (four-legged) friend.

And there was a lead role in the controversial anorexia drama To the Bone. It divided critics but Lily has insisted that it helped her understand her own teenage battle with eating disorders, which she detailed in her 2017 memoir, Unfiltered: No Shame, No Regrets, Just Me.

"It's very rare you get the opportunity to wear shoes you once wore with a different perspective on things," she told Vanity Fair. "This was an amazing opportunity to gain knowledge, and helped me let go a lot."

As did the writing of Unfiltered. Divulging personal information in print is one thing. Doing so when you have a famous dad and 13 million Instagram followers is another. Lily – who wrote every word herself – says she found the process liberating.

"I decided to write the book because I kept reading what people were posting on social media and thinking, 'You're so brave,' " she says. "It was a really difficult thing for me to do, but the feedback I got made it way more rewarding than I expected."

Boyfriends' names were changed in an essay on dating (if rumoured exes Zac Efron and Chris Evans are in there, she's not saying). Silliness is praised as attractive; those eyebrows, which she plucked to thin lines at school, are reclaimed and championed in all their bushy glory. And in an open letter to her father, Lily tells the 67-year-old that she "forgives" him for "not being the dad I expected", and notes the impact that her parents' famously messy divorce had on her teenage years: "I accept and honour the sadness and anger I felt towards the things you did or didn't do," she writes.

Today she'd prefer not to discuss specifics, though offers You'll Be in My Heart from the 1999 Disney animated film Tarzan when asked to choose her favourite Phil Collins song: "He wrote it as a lullaby to me as a kid," she says, re-routing the conversation to Unfiltered and the main reason she set fingers to laptop: to make young people feel less alone. The sentiment dovetails with Lily's advocacy work for charities including Bystander Revolution, an anti-bullying organisation, and the GO Campaign, which raises funds for orphans and vulnerable children.

"Open communication with teenagers is something I'm very passionate about," she says. "Speaking about insecurities and being honest about what you are going through is vital. One young woman asked me, 'But what if you know you're born different, if your quirks and interests aren't the norm? When you're a green apple when everyone else is a red one?'

"I said, 'Well, I've always loved green apples! It's the things that make you different that end up making you unique.' " She pauses for a beat. "So many kids have these deep, thoughtful questions. It doesn't matter what political, religious, sexual-orientation background you come from, we all go through the same insecurities and realising this fact is the beauty of communications."

"It's very rare you get the opportunity to wear shoes you once wore with a different perspective on things"

Additionally, by setting her own example – by putting it all out there in Unfiltered – Lily was able to let go of personal baggage, which in turn allowed her to go deeper into her characters. Forthcoming appearances include two extremes: Edith Bratt, beloved wife and muse of English writer J.R.R. Tolkien, author of The Lord of the Rings, in the biopic Tolkien, and Liz Kendall, longtime girlfriend of infamous American serial killer Ted Bundy in Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil and Vile.

"I'd just finished filming that when I jumped on a plane and flew to Brussels in winter to start Les Mis," says Lily. "My state of mind was already very dark, so when I found we were working backwards, that the end of Fantine's life was being filmed on day two of shooting, I used this weird head space to help me lean into her character."

Lily portrays Fantine, a fallen woman who sells her hair, then her teeth, then her body to earn money for her daughter, with a deft mix of steeliness, sassiness and grace. Much of the filming took place in sub-zero conditions; one memorable scene sees a shivering Fantine being physically hurled across cobblestones by police inspector Javert: "David [Oyelowo] got a bit carried away, and there were real bruises afterwards," says Lily with a grimace. "I thought, 'Well she's physically in pain, let's keep going.'

"I've never shot anything out of sequence like that but I'm so grateful because when we returned in the summer, knowing where we ended up, I got to amp up the romance. I wanted people to empathise with her as much as possible."

She flashes a smile. "Empathy," she says, "is everything."

Les Misérables premieres on BBC First on Foxtel and Fetch from March 10 at 8.30pm.

This article appears in Sunday Life magazine within the Sun-Herald and the Sunday Age on sale February 17.

https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/celebrity/lily-collins-on-outshining-dad-phil-and-her-new-blockbuster-role-20190213-p50xf1.html

#les mis bbc #bbc les mis #Lily Collins #fantine #Interviews #articles #sydney morning herald

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wp-yahoo-style-1042-yahoopa-blog · 7 years ago

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How Kate Spade built her billion-dollar empire — and left it

Handbag designer Kate Spade at her New York showroom in 2000. (Photo: Thomas Iannaccone/Penske Media/Rex/Shutterstock)

The fashion industry is mourning the loss of Kate Spade, one of America’s most beloved designers. On Tuesday morning, the Associated Press reported that Spade was found hanged, an apparent suicide, in her New York City apartment.

Spade was born Katherine Brosnahan in Kansas City, Mo., in 1962. She created her eponymous label in 1993 with her then-boyfriend — who later became her husband — Andy Spade (the brand is a combination of the founders’ names). The two met while at Arizona State University and neither studied fashion.

After graduation, the couple moved to New York City, where Kate started her career as an accessories editor at Condé Nast’s Mademoiselle magazine. Although Spade had an eye for fashion, she did not have a design background. Nevertheless, with a little push from Andy over dinner at a Mexican restaurant, she sought to make her handbag line a success — but it didn’t happen overnight.

Andy and Kate Spade in 1999. (Photo: Globe Photos/zumapress.com)

“At the time, things were very — bags were too complicated. And I really loved very simple kinds of architectural shapes. And I would wear these very simple shapes, none of which were famous designers. I mean, there were no names. If someone were to say, whose is that? I’d say, I don’t know; I bought it at a vintage store, or it’s a straw bag I got in Mexico,” Spade told Guy Raz in the NPR podcast How I Built This.

Kate Spade in 2010. (Photo: Shutterstock)

Kate’s first handbag mockup was famously made of burlap. She took her first few prototypes to a trade show at the Javits Center in New York in 1993 and sold units to Fred Segal in Los Angeles and Barneys New York, arguably two of the most renowned fashion retailers in the nation. But the profits barely covered the costs for the booth. And two years of hustling later, the company still wasn’t turning a profit.

However, things took a dramatic turn in 1996 after Kate Spade won the prestigious Council of Fashion Designers of America Perry Ellis award that brought international acclaim to the brand. More department stores, such as Neiman Marcus and Saks Fifth Avenue, started ordering in bulk, which helped the brand out of the red. At the CFDA awards, “there were reporters from around the country, not just New York, at the show. They were saying, you know, oh, my — who is this?” Spade said to Raz in the NPR podcast. “And so that really, really helped us a great deal, I have to say.”

A wall of Kate Spade bags on display in a London pop-up shop. (Photo: Alamy)

Kate Spade with her husband, Andy, left, and David Spade, right, attend the American Fashion Awards in 2001 in New York City. (Photo: Diane Cohen/Getty Images)

Soon after Kate’s CFDA win, her most iconic item, the Sam bag, known for its boxy shape and nylon material, became the “it” accessory of the ’90s. Spade’s decision to sew the inside logo on the exterior of the bag was a move the New York Times said helped create “a brand identity and her empire.”

“The purses became something of a handshake,” said Wall Street Journal fashion reporter Christina Binkley to Racked. “When two women met and saw they were both holding Kate Spade bags, they’d nod at each other and understand they were on the same page. It was very chic.”

In part, its success can be attributed to Vogue editor in chief Anna Wintour, who featured Spade’s bag in the magazine alongside European labels like Gucci. Celebrities including Gwyneth Paltrow, Julia Roberts, and Monica Lewinsky became Kate Spade fans.

“Kate Spade had an enviable gift for understanding exactly what women the world over wanted to carry. She launched her label at a time when everyone thought that the definition of a handbag was strictly European, all decades-old serious status and wealth. Then along came this thoroughly American young woman who changed everything,” said Vogue editor in chief and Condé Nast artistic director Anna Wintour in a statement on Vogue.com.

Kate Spade with a handbag of her own design in 1998 in New York. (Photo: Thomas Iannaccone/Penske Media/Rex/Shutterstock)

To capitalize on the the company’s popularity, the Kate Spade brand started to grow, and in 1996 the label opened its first store on Thompson Street in Manhattan’s hip SoHo neighborhood. New York was equally important to the brand’s DNA as it was to Spade’s story. The city is where the brand was born, the company bares its name (the full name being Kate Spade New York), and it is where many of Spade’s first and most loyal customers lived.

Fans range widely in age, but to this day, scoring a Kate Spade as a teenager or young adult has largely been considered a rite of passage. “It seems like just yesterday I was running my fingers over the shelves where it was my job to rearrange the iconic nylon box bags,” wrote Stella Bugbee for the Cut. “The simple rectangular totes were a status symbol for chic downtown women at the time, and I sold so many of them, I lost track.”

Kate Spade bags were modestly priced between $150 and $450, making them not only aspirational but attainable. They hung in a sweet spot compared with the brand’s European counterparts. “The name held prestige, but it wasn’t off-putting,” as Robin Givhan told the Washington Post.

Isaac Mizrahi and Kate Spade at the ASPCA Bergh Ball, “Tails of Time,” at the Mandarin Oriental in New York City in 2007. (Photo: Brian Ach/WireImage for Chopard)

It was also Spade’s personal quirky sense of style, 1950s-style bouffant hair, and cheerful smile that added a lot of joy to the label. This infectious energy resonated with consumers, with many connecting with her Midwestern roots. Spade brought a vivid color palette, a playful charm, and feminine poise to her designs, making them highly covetable.

Kate Spade and Michael Kors at the CFDA-hosted preview of “Fashioning Fiction,” at MoMA Queens in New York City in 2004. (Photo: John Calabrese/Penske Media/Rex/Shutterstock)

In 1999, Kate and Andy Spade sold 56 percent of their company’s shares to the Neiman Marcus Group for $34 million. In 2006, Neiman Marcus bought out the rest of the couple’s shares to sell the company to Liz Claiborne (owner of Juicy Couture & Lucky Brand Jeans), which would later change its name to Kate Spade & Co.

Kate Spade shopping in 2007. (Photo: Billy Farrell/PatrickMcMullan.com)

In 2007, Kate and Andy Spade would officially leave the multimillion-dollar brand they helped create, devoting more time to family and raising their daughter, Frances Beatrix Spade. But Kate’s vision and spirit would continue to drive the brand’s ethos long after her departure. Young, fresh-faced celebrities like Taylor Swift and Millie Bobby Brown carried on the funky aesthetic into the next generation, wearing it on the red carpet and being snapped by paparazzi wearing the brand’s designs.

In 2016, nearly 10 years later, the duo would return to fashion, launching a brand-new shoe and handbag label called Frances Valentine.

“Frances is a longtime family name on my dad’s side,” Spade told WWD in 2015. “My grandfather, father, brother, and my daughter’s name is Frances. And then Valentine was my mom’s dad’s middle name because he was born on Valentine’s Day.”

Kate Spade and daughter Frances Spade, Darcy Miller, and Jenna Lyons at the J.Crew Bridal Boutique in 2010 in New York City. (Photo: Astrid Stawiarz/WireImage for J.Crew)

Kate too would come to love the name Valentine so much that she changed her surname to Valentine. She explained the name choice to the Business of Fashion in 2016: “It kind of makes [me] sound kind of cool, like a rap star or something,” she joked. “But we’re not trying to be cheeky or coy. It really was to distinguish the name and separate the two worlds. Obviously we’re super proud of Kate Spade, and we want to be respectful of both.”

In 2017, Kate Spade & Co. sold to Tapestry, Inc. (parent company to Coach and Stuart Weitzman) for an astounding $2.4 billion.

Kate Spade, left, and Cynthia Rowley at the opening of Annie Leibovitz’s “Pilgrimage” exhibit at Manhattan’s Pace/MacGill gallery in 2011. (Photo: Steve Eichner/Penske Media/Rex/Shutterstock)

Among other things, Kate Spade will be remembered as one of the first major female American designers, one who helped pave the way for other industry successes like Jenna Lyons (formerly of J.Crew), Tory Burch, and Cynthia Rowley.

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katvondworld · 7 years ago

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Before there was Kylie Jenner, there was Kat Von D. Nearly a decade ago, the tattoo artist famous for a career in reality television and a string of tabloid-fodder relationships took her notoriety and turned it into a global beauty empire. Today, Kat Von D Beauty is one of Sephora’s most successful brands, with products that sell out in a matter of weeks and rack up tens of thousands of glowing reviews and live events that attract hundreds of fans.

Like Kylie, Kat has an instantly recognizable, highly-stylized aesthetic. It’s a combination of punk, goth, and good old-fashioned rock ’n’ roll, featuring lots of black (and lately, head-to-toe red) outfits in faux leather and kooky avant-garde shapes. Jet-black hair, red lipstick, and predilection for mismatched eye makeup have become her signatures. But she doesn’t want an army of Kat clones.

“My biggest nightmare would be if somebody came to Sephora, saw my brand, and said, ‘Oh, I want to look like her, so I’ll buy this makeup,’” Kat Von D proclaimed to an audience of beauty world professionals at the WWD Beauty Summit this summer, her first-ever appearance at a major industry event. “I think that model may work for Kylie or whoever else bases their career on vanity or some kind of superficial thing. It’s quite a gamble because that can be very fleeting a lot of times.” Despite the similarities, Kat doesn’t appreciate Kylie comparisons.

After Kat’s session at the summit was over, she mingled a bit with the suit-wearing masses and then walked downstairs in towering platform shoes, gently guided by a member of her team. “I’m very impressed by Kat Von D!” a gray-haired man said admiringly to a younger woman standing beside him.

“She’s not bound by any rules,” the woman replied.

“I wanted to get a tattoo afterward,” he said.

Tattooing is where it all began for Kat, who was born Katherine von Drachenberg. The 35-year-old is a professional tattoo artist by trade and is known for her elaborate, life-like grayscale portraits. She’s tattooed a ton of musicians and celebrities, including Miley Cyrus, Lady Gaga, and Harry Styles. She’s inked everything from the Mona Lisa to images of beloved pets on people’s bodies. It’s still something she does when she’s home in LA, though she tries to “limit it to one a day,” whereas a normal workday in her previous life would have had her seeing five clients one after another. Kat has a years-long wait list and is no longer taking appointments, in order to catch up. She recently said in a YouTube video that she doesn’t charge for tattoos anymore, preferring to do it for art’s sake.

“I feel like my name works against me sometimes, you know? People think, ‘Kat Von D, oh it's somebody that was on TV or somebody that dated somebody.’”

Kat’s own body is covered with tattoos, which you can see in zoomed-in detail in her New York Times bestselling book High Voltage Tattoo. (She has published two other books since.) In it, she models in a bikini and describes the origin of each batch of ink. She’s perhaps best recognized for the spray of stars around her eyes, a motif which shows up frequently in her beauty products. At first, she only had one star on each temple. While Kat lore has long held that the Motley Crue song “Starry Eyes” inspired at least the first few stars, in her book she says she added to them because her ex-husband and fellow tattoo artist Oliver Peck once told her to stop tattooing her face. She even has stars tattooed on one eyelid. One of her best-selling products, a liquid eyeliner, is called Tattoo Liner.

Kat was born in Mexico; she’s fluent in Spanish and identifies as Latina. Her parents are from Argentina and her father’s family originally hails from Germany. Her father is a doctor and she grew up with a conservative background as a member of the Seventh-day Adventist Church, where her parents were missionaries. She credits her paternal grandmother with instilling in her a love of art and music. (Kat’s a classically trained pianist and has a huge portrait of Beethoven tattooed on her thigh.) She says her father used to catch her on the floor drawing underneath the pews at church.

Kat moved to Colton, California, when she was four years old with her parents, brother, and sister. Her parents divorced years later and her mother moved back to Mexico. At 14, Kat discovered punk rock and started dating a boy named James, who was two years older and had a mohawk and tattoos. She got her first tattoo, an old English “J,” on her ankle at that time. Expanding on her interest in drawing, she started experimenting with tattooing, practicing on her friends. By 16, she had dropped out of high school and moved to Georgia with James. After three months, she moved back to California without him and started looking for jobs in tattoo shops. She secured a position at a shop near a San Bernardino jailhouse before moving to LA, where she landed a new gig every year or so and built up her reputation as a tattoo artist.

Kat didn’t become a public figure until she was cast in Miami Ink, a TLC series which documented a group of tattoo artists, their work, and the usual reality-show conflict and drama. She moved to Miami for the show, going home to LA on weekends. Kat appeared on the series from 2005 to 2007, until Ami James, the owner of the 305 Ink tattoo shop featured on the show, unceremoniously fired her. She was then promptly offered a spinoff called LA Ink, which ran from 2007 to 2011. Prior to its debut, she opened her own shop, High Voltage Tattoo, located in West Hollywood. Fans began to focus on her love life and some of the notorious men in it, like Motley Crue’s Nikki Sixx, Jesse James (best known for being Sandra Bullock’s ex and wearing Nazi uniforms), and Steve-O of Jackass fame. She became a bit of a gossip column mainstay.

“I feel like my name works against me sometimes, you know?” Kat says at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel in June. She’s there for the relaunch of two perfumes, Saint and Sinner, which she’d previously released in 2009 as limited-edition products. “People think, ‘Kat Von D, oh it's somebody that was on TV or somebody that dated somebody.’ And to me as an artist, it's kind of soul crushing. It's like, oh wow, what about all my hard work and what I would love to be known for?"

Kat says she knew that people would initially focus on her brand because it belongs to “that tattoo chick.” She really wanted it to evolve to the point where the product got attention rather than the founder. It might finally be getting there. She tells a story about a young woman who approached her on an airplane and said, “Hey, aren’t you that makeup artist?” Kat corrected her, because she isn’t a makeup artist, but was happy that this fan knew her from her work in the beauty world and not from reality TV.

Kat still has her rabid tattoo fans, though. One late September afternoon at High Voltage, Ashton Williams, the shop’s merchandise manager, is wearing a T-shirt that reads, “Who the fuck is Kat Von D?,” an homage to the “Who the fuck is Mick Jagger?” shirt Keith Richards famously wore on a Rolling Stones tour in the ’70s. There are sweatshirts and tees hanging all over the shop, many featuring a red and yellow High Voltage logo, skull motif, and Kat’s name. But exactly how many people are coming in for Kat merch?

“Tons. We have tour buses that let out in front of the shop all the time. People are obsessed with her. It’s crazy,” says Williams. “We have everyone from grandmothers from England to punk rockers. Nothing surprises me anymore. Literally, you’ll have a grandmother coming in who’s 70-something years old getting tattooed and she’s like, ‘I never really liked tattoos until I saw Kat.’ We have the broadest mix of people.”

People line up at the front windows of the shop and peer in when Kat is in the shop tattooing. She tattoos in plain sight on one of the tables that’s set up in the open-plan shop. They also run around to the back parking lot, Williams says, which features a building-sized mural of Kat and the shop’s other artists, to try to catch her as she’s getting into her car.

The look of the shop — moody red tapestry wallpaper, dark wood, dripping candles, crucifixes, “heartagrams” (a pentagram with a heart shape at the top), paintings in heavy gilt frames — is cohesive with the design of the beauty brand. Kat Von D products come in black boxes featuring gothic lettering and Kat’s original artwork. Shiny black studded tubes house her lipsticks. Religious iconography appears in the packaging and is echoed in the shade names, like her limited edition Saint and Sinner palette, which looks like a stained-glass cathedral window and includes colors like Sacred Heart, Worship, and Vestment. Her brand is everything that so-called millennial beauty lines are not. There’s no soft pink, no sans serif — everything is full coverage and ultra-pigmented. To compare her to Emily Weiss, another brand founder with a reality TV background, Kat Von D is the aesthetic sinner to Glossier’s saint.

Kat has always been a makeup person. She’s worn it since she was a kid and comparesbuying beauty products to “candy shopping.” Makeup has long been another artistic medium for her and she has said the process of applying it is therapeutic. She used to collect lipsticks, telling the LA Times that she’s tried every shade of red ever made, from CoverGirl to Chanel. Though it’s unclear whether or not she ever actively aspired to create her own makeup line, Kat did tell the paper, “I went through all my favorites and said, ‘If this was mine I'd add more purple, use a different finish.’” She has a tattoo on her abdomen that spells out “Hollywood” written in red lipstick, though it’s an homage to the New York Dolls’ logo rather than an ode to that particular beauty product.

Back in 2008, Kat got a call from a Sephora executive who told her people had been inundating sales associates with questions about the red lipstick “that tattoo girl” always wore on Miami Ink. So Sephora, which at the time was producing some of its own house brands, brought Kat up to its American headquarters in San Francisco for a meeting. She told the team there that she was bored (“so fucking bored,” actually) with things she saw in stores. The brand originally launched with four red lipsticks, which almost immediately sold out. This success led to an expanded line inspired by the inks and pigments Kat uses at High Voltage.

“My goal with the makeup line was to create something with a formulation you couldn't argue with. Whether you liked me or not, the product was good.”

“Let's create high-performance, bold, highly-pigmented, long-wear shit that no one else is really doing,” Kat says she suggested to the Sephora team. “I don't think any of us really knew that it could grow into something bigger. My goal with the makeup line was to create something with a formulation you couldn't argue with. Whether you liked me or not, the product was good.”

By all accounts, it is good. Kat Von D Beauty now has over 350 products including lipsticks, brushes, and eyeshadow and contour palettes. The brand sells the products on the Kat Von D Beauty website (international shipping has been available since September) and in stores in 34 countries, 18 of which debuted in the last 12 months. It’s almost exclusively sold at Sephora. In countries where there are no Sephora locations, like the UK and Ireland, it’s available at Debenhams. While brands like MAC, Make Up For Ever, and Urban Decay were already making richly pigmented products, Kat Von D was one of the earliest beauty brands to introduce matte liquid lipsticks, called the Everlasting Liquid Lipstick, back in 2013. Again, she did it long before Kylie introduced her Lip Kits, which, yes, feature longwear matte liquid lipstick.

Sephora does not share sales statistics, but at one point, Lolita Studded Kiss was apparently the retailer’s best-selling lipstick. The dusky rose color is now available in several formulations and is one of the brand’s signature shades. You can even buy a $104 “obsession” kit that includes the original Lolita Studded Kiss lipstick, an eyeshadow, three slightly different Lolita lip liners, and two versions of the shade in the Everlasting Liquid Lipstick formula. Kat originally named the shade after the Japanese street style movement, but later dedicated it to the actress Denise Richards’s daughter Lola, according to a Kendo representative. (The two met when Richards went to get her “Charlie” tattoo — inspired by ex-husband Charlie Sheen — covered up by Kat in 2008.) It is not named for Lolita, the titular underage object of lust in Vladimir Nabokov's controversial classic.

“The color Lolita is a perfect everyday color. I literally wear it every day,” says 15-year-old Samantha, who owns three $20 Lolita tubes. A friend gave her one as a birthday gift and her mom bought her another. “Then I just came to buy another one because it’s so perfect and I love it so much.”

Samantha’s friend, Valentina, also 15, adds solemnly, “It’s a holy grail.” (Holy grail, or HG, is a common designation in the makeup community, meaning it’s a product that works best for one person’s individual needs.)

Samantha and Valentina are at the Sephora at Hollywood and Highland, the same store where Kat herself shopped for red lipstick during her LA Ink days. It’s a bit messy and disheveled, much like the crowded, touristy neighborhood in which it resides. The Kat Von D Beauty section is in a highly trafficked area at the center of the store, with tester pans worn down to the bottom and caps missing from lipsticks.

Samantha first heard about Kat Von D Beauty on Instagram, where fans frequently tag its handle; the brand has 4 million followers and Kat’s personal account has 6.4 million. Kat launched the brand on Instagram herself back in 2015, after a marketing employee (who is no longer at Kendo) scoffed that it wasn’t worth it. The account gained a million followers in one month and Kat is still intimately involved with the imagery that’s posted there, though she now has a dedicated social team.

In January of this year, Kat Von D Beauty had its highest earned media value (or EMV) ever at $42.8 million, according to Tribe Dynamics. EMV is an indirect measure based on mentions and engagement, but it does have some correlation with actual market share and revenue. Since 2015, Kat Von D Beauty has shown up regularly on Tribe’s top ten EMV beauty list, along with social-media heavy hitters like Anastasia Beverly Hills and Too Faced.

“It’s a holy grail.”

“When we think about patterns of successful brands, the thing that they tend to do really well is make great products. The large majority of this content is organic and people aren't going to give you editorial content if they don't love your product,” says Tribe’s Brit McCorquodale. She notes that in the second quarter of this year, over 4,000 influencers were talking about the Kat Von D brand online, but the majority of them were micro-influencers, with under 100,000 followers. “The fact that Kat Von D has performed so well within the influencer community speaks really highly of the products that they're creating, which is something Kendo does very well across their brands.”

Ah yes, Kendo. While Kat provides the ideas and creativity and is the very public face of the brand, Kendo is the entity behind the scenes that quietly brings her visions to life. The company is also the reason that Sephora maintains exclusivity when it comes to Kat Von D Beauty. David Suliteanu, then-CEO of Sephora Americas, started Kendo as a “private label development arm for Sephora” in San Francisco in 2010. In 2014, Suliteanu became the CEO of Kendo, which split off from Sephora as a freestanding entity; it now identifies itself as a brand incubator and credits Kat Von D as being the “seed brand” that launched it.

The luxury conglomerate LVMH is the parent company of both Sephora and Kendo. Kendo owns lip brand Bite Beauty and skincare brand Ole Henriksen, both brands it acquired. It developed Marc Jacobs Beauty, Rihanna’s just-launched Fenty Beauty, and Kat Von D Beauty. It also developed the now-defunct Sephora nail brand Formula X (a rare failure for the company), as well as Elizabeth and James fragrances, the Olsen twins’ brand, which is now under the auspices of Butterfly Beauty.

Kendo does not like to share information about its inner workings nor give any insight into its product development process, although Nancy McGuire, the vice president of product development for Kat Von D Beauty and Ole Henriksen, does sometimes share sneak peeks of products on her Instagram page. Kendo declined to make anyone from the company available for interviews for this story. Instead, they sent email responses which included information taken verbatim from Kendo’s site and the review section of Sephora’s site. A representative did share that “Kat Von D Beauty is among the top-selling brands in all of our retailers, and our products consistently rank as top performers in each category.”

Social media definitely catapulted Kat Von D Beauty into the stratosphere, but its steady success happened in parallel with Sephora’s. It’s impossible to dissect the causality: Did Sephora help Kat Von D or did Kat Von D help Sephora? Yes and yes. Sephora, since it shares a corporate parent with Kat Von D Beauty, naturally seeks to heavily promote the brand, a situation non-LVMH brands are not too pleased about. And as Kat Von D Beauty becomes more ubiquitous on social media, there’s only one place a fan can walk in and try it: Sephora.

Sephora is the number one global beauty retailer, and number two in the US after Ulta. In 2009, it had over 1,000 stores worldwide. Today it has 2,300. According to a recent New York Timesstory, Sephora has doubled its revenue since 2011; a Fung Global Retail & Tech research reportestimates the retailer made between $4.4 billion and $4.9 billion in the US last year alone. That’s a lot of potential Lolita sales. As people are turning away from department stores for beauty, they’re turning to specialty stores like Sephora instead. Sephora also has a reputation as a kingmaker, as Business of Fashion noted in 2013, and brands (especially indie brands) that sell there say they enjoy more perceived legitimacy from customers.

Kat Von D Beauty anticipated making about $2 million its first year and instead made an estimated $12 million.

According to WWD, Kat Von D Beauty anticipated making about $2 million its first year and instead made an estimated $12 million. That momentum has apparently not slowed. The brand’s success is the result of a combination of Sephora’s support and Kendo’s uncanny knack for releasing the right products at the right time, presumably thanks in part to access to Sephora customer sales data. Take the holographic Alchemist Palette, which Kat says took seven years to develop. It debuted (and sold out) right as the unicorn makeup craze was at its apex. Kat Von D Beauty’s success also hinges on Kat Von D the person’s enduring star power.

Since LA Ink ended in 2011, Kat has attended countless Sephora store openings and launches for her brand, traipsing the globe to places like Dubai, Australia, Spain, and the UK for photo ops with fans. From the beginning, she’s maintained a steady line of communication with her fans via Facebook and YouTube; in 2013, a Stylophane report named Kat Von D the most engaged beauty brand on Facebook and she still makes frequent appearances on the brand’s YouTube channel. She has stayed in the public eye in other ways too, releasing her third book in 2013, accompanied by a tour. She also showed up on the Grammys red carpet that year with then-boyfriend Deadmau5. Now, she continues to be most available to fans via her wildly popular personal Instagram and in real life at Kat Von D Beauty events.

Kat is undeniably charismatic in person. Her deep, raspy voice is mesmerizing. She is a hugger. She is beloved by people in her orbit, and they are fiercely loyal to her. Williams, the High Voltage merch manager, credits Kat with convincing him to move to LA, telling him he would “blossom.” Kevin Lewis, a tattoo artist who’s been at High Voltage since LA Ink was still shooting says, “One of the biggest things for me is that, for someone who has made so much for themselves, she’s so grounded. She’s not cocky. She’s not arrogant. She’s not a celebrity.”

Ashley Sherengo, the 24-year-old Kat plucked off Twitter to run the brand’s social media says of their first real-life meeting, “I didn’t expect for her to be so open and kind. I felt like we were just friends who had gone a long time without talking.” Even Amber Rose, who showed up at the Saint and Sinner party after having Kat on her podcast, gushes, “I’ve always been a huge fan and I just kind of took a chance and I went up to her and told her that I love her and she was so gracious and sweet to me.”

None are quite as loyal, though, as the group of four official Kat Von D Beauty makeup artists, dubbed the Artistry Collective.

In a nondescript conference room at the Hollywood Roosevelt Hotel, hours before the Saint and Sinner party, party greeters in black-and-white latex dresses get their makeup done and drag queens from the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence cover their facial hair with purple glitter and put on their habits. Kat Von D makeup palettes are scattered everywhere. Steffanie Strazzere, whose taxi-cab-yellow hair, Barbie-pink lips, and aqua eyeshadow fit right into the colorful scene, is helping get everyone ready. She credits Kat with being her “fairy godmother of makeup.”

Kat hired Steffanie, along with Leah Carmichael, Tara Buenrostro, and Kelseyanna Fitzpatrick to be surrogates for her as the Kat Von D Beauty brand grows globally. She discovered all of them (except Leah, who she’s been friends with for years) on Instagram. As faces of the brand, they create content on YouTube and Instagram, do Kat’s makeup, represent the brand at stores and trainings, and help out with product testing. They’re all trained and talented makeup artists. The common thread between them is their artistic vision for what makeup should be, which is, well, uncommon. Kelseyanna, in particular, creates otherworldly, occasionally terrifying, looks.

“I get a lot of people sending messages thanking us for being ourselves and saying that it's pushed them to take more risks with their makeup,” Kelseyanna says. “Someone thanked me last night for doing ugly makeup, like, not caring about being pretty. That's the real stuff, and that really motivates me to keep creating.”

“Everybody's kinda like, ‘What the hell is going on?’ And then they're like, ‘Oh. Kat and the Kittens.’"

Steffanie worked at MAC for more than a decade but left because of animal testing, since the brand sells in China. “From a work standpoint,” she says, “I feel really safe because I know Kat has the best interests of the brand, animals, and us in mind, so it’s a very safe place.”

Kat is an outspoken vegan, and her brand is vegan (meaning the products don’t contain any animal byproducts) and cruelty-free (meaning they aren’t tested on animals nor are they sold in mainland China, which requiresforeign brands to test on animals before they sell their products there). There’s a gray area when it comes to the cruelty-free designation, though. Kat Von D Beauty and all the other Kendo brands do not test on animals or sell in China. However, Kendo parent company LVMH owns beauty brands like Benefit, Givenchy, Make Up For Ever, and Fresh, which do sell in China. In the cruelty-free community, this is a point of contention that comes up whenever an indie brand that doesn’t test on animals sells to a large company. But it’s a big part of the brand’s identity and one, according to NPD Group beauty analyst Larissa Jensen, that is an asset. “The brand’s cruelty-free positioning,” she writes in an email, “enables it to connect with consumers on a value- and emotional-based level.”

Kat has tattooed Steffanie twice, once on each calf. One tattoo is an image of her fluffy white cat Baby Ghost and the other is a portrait of Lydia Deetz, Winona Ryder’s character from Beetlejuice. “I just feel so lucky,” she says. “My legs are the most valuable part of my body now.”

The foursome has become famous among makeup fans in their own right. They’ve each experienced huge jumps in followers on their Instagrams and fans regularly recognize them in real life. Tara carries around products to give out to people who come up and talk to her. She says that when the group and Kat are all together in the airport, it causes a lot of commotion: “It's just a sea of black and a ton of suitcases, and everybody's kinda like, ‘What the hell is going on?’ And then they're like, ‘Oh. Kat and the Kittens.’"

“I feel like her bodyguard, a protective shield, constantly looking around and making sure she's okay,” Leah says. “People obviously recognize her, especially when she's decked out in a full red outfit. She'll never be the bad guy, she'll never say no, so I think that's where we have to step in sometimes. She's so kind and gracious with every single fan.”

Fans know that Kat handpicked the Collective, and Tara considers the group “a little extension” of her. Fans consider them the next best thing to Kat herself.

The Artistry Collective has garnered criticism, though. As one commenter noted on an early Instagram shot of the group of light-skinned artists, “would be cool to see more ethnic diversity represented in the artistry team!” Some fans thought Kat’s response seemed defensive. She replied in the comments: “Diversity? We have American, Canadian, Dutch, Mexican, Australian, and Argentinian? Not sure what is lacking in ‘diversity’ here. And as for true diversity, I have put together an artistry team that is diverse in each artist's approach to makeup. This group’s experience, talent and hard work in the beauty world speaks for itself and covers the entire spectrum of style and technique.”

When the commenter wrote back, “There are also amazing makeup artists with deeper skin tones out there too and it'd be awesome to see them included in the future,” Kat’s response was, “I'm sorry, but I don't judge or hire people based off of their skin tone. I don't care if you’re black white or neon green - I select my crew by what's on the inside…”

The reality is that beauty companies do need to consider skin tone, because makeup goes on skin.

Kat Von D Beauty has 32 foundation shades and its social media channels sometimes show swatches on different skin tones and repost pictures of women of color using the makeup. But Kat discounting her fans’ desire to see more people they relate to wearing her makeup is shortsighted on a community level, but on a business one too.

Take Rihanna’s Fenty Beauty — Kat Von D’s sister brand at Kendo, let’s not forget — which launched with 40 foundation shades and a public commitment to people of all skin tones. The darker tones sold out, and the media was pretty unanimous in its praise. Kendo’s CEO David Suliteanu has given very few interviews over the years, with the exception of one giddy quote to WWD about how Fenty Beauty would be a “beauty rocket ship that will appeal to a huge and diverse global audience.” He was right. The reality is that beauty companies do need to consider skin tone, because makeup goes on skin.

It should be obvious that Kat is as outspoken as Kendo is opaque, a quality for which she is unapologetic. As befits someone who is trying to sell a saint-and-sinner duality, Kat can be acerbic. “I've just never been afraid of speaking my mind,” she says. This has gotten her into trouble in the reality show of our modern times: social media. Since her brand has launched, she’s found herself embroiled in her fair share of controversies and she’s picked a few fights along the way. But it seems to be working. At the end of last year, L2 credited Kat Von D’s ever-growing digital IQ, a measure of how well a company utilizes technology, to “her uncensored personality and opinions, a successful cocktail no parent company should alter.”

In 2013, Sephora stopped selling a Kat Von D lipstick called “Celebutard” after receiving customer complaints. The most shocking thing might be that the name got past a marketing team in the first place. Kat allegedly tweeted that it was “just a fucking lipstick.” This seems to be one of the last times Sephora or Kendo publicly inserted itself into Kat’s kerfuffles, letting her fight her own fights.

Two years later, there was more outrage over a lipstick shade called “Underage Red,” which had been in the collection in some form since the very beginning. “To go back to the Underage Red or any of the controversial names that I've named some of my products,” Kat says, “it is laughable to me. There is the PC police out there and a lot of times those people just want to be heard in whatever way. I don't really coddle that. Initially, when I named that shade, it was inspired by a specific shade of red that I wore to a concert that I couldn't get into because I was underage.” She ended up writing a defiant Facebook post and Sephora did not pull the shade.

Then there was the great beauty beef of summer 2016, in which Kat called out Jeffree Star, a YouTube and Instagram beauty guru who also used to appear on LA Ink and who Kat had befriended after tattooing him frequently through the years. In a now-deleted Instagram post and then on YouTube, she accused him of bullying, racism, promoting drug use (Kat has been sober for 10 years), and not paying an artist he had used for his beauty line. The accusations of racism prompted some outlets to dig up an old TMZ allegation that, back in 2008, Kat had sent a headshot of herself to her Miami Ink boss Ami James that included a swastika and referred to him as a “Jewbag.” She vehemently denied sending it, calling it a forgery and noting that she had always been “an advocate for tolerance of all races, religions and ways of life.” TLC supported her. Jeffree responded with his own video, calling Kat a liar, and the beauty world buzzed about it for a few weeks.

Kat has also publicly called out other brands like MAC for years because they sell in China, and she targeted Nars on Instagram this summer by posting graphic photos of bloody rabbits after the brand announced it would start selling in the country. “That was just a personal heartbreak,” Kat says. “I'd been a huge fan of Nars for a really long time. It was disheartening. If you're going to choose money over compassion, then that comes with a price as well.”

“There is the PC police out there and a lot of times those people just want to be heard in whatever way. I don't really coddle that.”

She hasn’t been afraid to call out other brands for taking a bit too much inspiration from her products, either. In March, she went after lower-end UK brand Makeup Revolution for copyingher popular $48 Shade and Light Eye Contour palette, from the shades right down to the arrangement of the colors. Even the name was reminiscent of the Kat Von D Beauty product: Makeup Revolution called their iteration the Ultra Eye Contour Light & Shade Palette. She got some backlash from people who couldn’t afford her $50 palette. They perceived Kat as being unsupportive of cheaper brands. She says she can appreciate dupes, but explains, “I'm not for plagiarism and I think that there's a big difference.”

Kat’s biggest controversy to date, however, resulted in her becoming a target of the alt-right and Milo Yiannopoulos. Both Fox News and the Washington Post covered the scandal. It was all because of the Saint and Sinner perfume launch party.

The party was basically goth prom. The night included nuns in drag, pole dancers, a confessional booth, dry ice swirling on the bars, a Nine Inch Nails-heavy soundtrack, Amber Rose and her entourage, and tons and tons of people in extreme makeup with appliques stuck to their faces. The founders of other cruelty-free beauty brands, like Too Faced, Sugarpill, and Melt Cosmetics, were also in attendance. It took a bit of convincing, but Kat’s team allowed her to fulfill her vision and let her invite who she wanted to (rather than simply invite the standard beauty influencers with millions of followers).

“Kendo is really great, and I know that they're obviously putting a lot of marketing dollars into it so I want to respect that. But to them, they want the safe things,” Kat said before the party. “Influencers have a lot of followers. I don't think half of those influencers are on-brand. We don't repost them. I don't really relate to them. I'd rather pick people with smaller follower counts that I actually admire and that are cool and that are different, you know?”

So Kat won. “Of course I won. I will never back up something I don't believe in and they know that. And I think what helps them feel comfortable is that when I am excited about something, it has never failed. When I have doubts is usually when it gets scary.”

She also addressed the huge amount of marketing money that can get sucked into paying influencers. “I see it with other brands and how much gifting they do and the crazy events they throw for people to go on goddamn cruises and shit. To me, it’s just so insincere and fake. We don’t pay anybody,” she says. Then a pause. “I think there’s another influencer event happening right now with actual real, huge influencers. But none of those people were on our list anyway. Not to say that they're not great at what they do, but when you free yourself of all those things then you are left to be able to make cool shit.”

That other event turned out to be the launch of Kim Kardashian’s KKW Beauty line, which Kim had been teasing for weeks. She invited a few editors and some huge influencers to her actual home across the city in Bel Air. Kim’s outfits and the rooms in which she met her guests were all the same muted colors, once again highlighting the difference between Kat and the rest of the beauty world at this particular moment in time.

There was some drama behind the scenes at the Saint and Sinner party, though, which didn’t come to light until a month later. Kat Von D Beauty had run a contest challenging fans to submit their best saint/sinner makeup looks to win an all-expenses-paid trip to LA for the party. The brand announced the winner, Gypsy Freeman, on its Instagram. But then fans noticed the Trump “Make America Great Again” image Freeman had posted months earlier and started flooding the Kat Von D page with comments.

“Like, if you support Hitler I don't want you to wear my lipstick, to be honest, you know?”

In hindsight, Kat was probably alluding to this incident before the party when asked about politics: “I think everybody has the right to vote for whoever they want. To me, I definitely draw a line in the sand in real life. Like, we can't be friends if you support somebody who's anti-immigration, anti-climate change, anti-women.” When asked if people unfollow her for her stance, she said, “For sure, and I'm glad they do, in the sense that I'm not going to invest energy into converting somebody. You can't shake hands with a fist. People think that it's dumb business-wise, but I would feel the same way about Hitler. Like, if you support Hitler I don't want you to wear my lipstick, to be honest, you know?”

A month after the party, the Wichita Eagle broke the story that Kat had disqualified Freeman from the contest because she was a Trump supporter. The Kat Von D social team has wiped all evidence of the contest from the Facebook page. Freeman sent screenshots to the paper of a direct message conversation that she had with Kat. Freeman’s response to Kat was, “We would love to be there, of course, but I sincerely do understand if you decide to replace us with someone who supports the candidate you support.” The photographer who took the pictures of Freeman’s model did go to the party. Kat later insisted on Instagram, in a comment that appears to have since been deleted, that she did not disqualify her and that Freeman chose not to attend.

Places like The Donald subreddit picked up the story. “I talked to my team because there was a heightened sense of concern,” she says. “We were getting a lot of backlash on that, but I'm like, ’Yeah, fuck, I don't care if Fox News talks shit, fuck them.’ I'm very open about my stance on Trump and if you don't agree with me, that's totally up to you. It's a free country and I actually celebrate true democracy.”

Kat has a lot going on in the coming year. She’s going to launch a self-funded vegan shoe line called Von D Shoes which she says includes 28 different styles. One of the boots will feature a compartment that will fit a lipstick. The line is being produced in Italy using high-tech leather alternatives and with the help of Rebecca Mink, who has her own vegan shoe line. “I'm not interested in looking at cheap plastics,” says Kat. “We're looking at all these innovative, different leather substitutes that are made out of mushroom and pineapple and they're actually great for the environment and look equal to, if not better than leather.”

Kat is also releasing an album and planning a tour. Then, of course, there’s Kat Von D Beauty. She collaborated on an upcoming smudgy guyliner with her friend, Green Day’s Billie Joe Armstrong, and has created a palette dedicated to Divine, the late drag queen who frequently collaborated with filmmaker John Waters. Several times, Kat has mentioned wanting to open a store in LA, though nothing is technically in the works yet. She is also in the process of designing a collection for the brand’s tenth anniversary next year.

While Kat and her brand are now a known entity, it cannot be overstated how much of a trailblazer she really is. Reality stars have come and gone with flash-in-the-pan beauty launchesthroughout the years (see: Snooki and any number of Real Housewives and Basketball Wives cast members). But Kat has a unique and unreproducible authenticity, a quality that all beauty brands are now chasing, that is undeniable regardless of how you feel about her personal aesthetic or opinions. Her unabashed love of a full face of makeup and her brand’s use of ultra-pigmented products before it was popular outside of pro brands presaged the moment we’re in now: a moment where more is more when it comes to makeup. She’s also exhibit A for the argument that celebrities should have a strong controlling hand in their brands, as opposed to simply slapping a name on a product for a short-lived sales burst.

As Kat declared when detailing one of her many controversies, “If you don't like it, don't fucking buy it. This is my art and my message to give to the world.”

Cheryl Wischhover is a senior beauty reporter at Racked.

Editor: Julia Rubin Copy editor: Laura Bullard

source> https://www.racked.com/2017/12/12/16763338/kat-von-d-beauty-sephora

#kat von d #kat von d beauty

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okimargarvez · 7 years ago

Text

WHEN THEY FIRST MET- JJ

Original title: When they first met.

Prompt: writing challenge.

Warning: none.

Genre: family, romantic, comedy, friendship.

Characters: all members of BAU team, O.C.

Pairing: Garvez.

Note: oneshot (collection of individual tales of each member, except for Walker).

Legend: 💑💏😘😈👓🔦🎲🎈👻⚰.

Song mentioned: none.

When They First Met- Masterlist

MY OTHER GARVEZ STORIES

JJ: The new dog trainer

Penelope was very happy in this moment. In one hand she held the smallest of Henry, her beloved godson. In the other, a bag of biscuits for dogs. -You'll see, here there are many beautiful dogs, many cute animals to play with... - she enters in the building. -Hello Beth, today I brought a little man with me... - a woman of about fifty old, sticks herself out of the desk to scrutinize them. She immediately smiles.

-Oh, what a handsome young man! Penelope, there is a new dog trainer. Right now he's out with Rob.- the blonde's face is overshadowed.

-How is Rob?- the child seems to perceive her emotions from the simple handshake, as well as from the tone.

-It seems that the treatment is working, but you will see it with your own eyes. They are in the green area.- she nods and heads for the indicated destination.

-What is the grrrr...- he tries to pronounce the word correctly -...green ara?- she pauses for a moment and turns towards him.

-Green area, honey.- she corrects him with a sweet voice. -It's a place where the young dogs along with the oldests, go to rest.- Henry seems to have understod somethin else, because his eyes are big and shiny. -No, lovely, don't cry. Don't "rest", in that sense, come, when you will have seen, you will understand.- they begin to walk again. Finally they reach a lawn area with many trees that create various shadow areas. Here are three dogs that are sleeping, perfectly visible, two in normal positions and a third with air belly. A laughter escapes from the child. -Have you seen? They're all right, they're just doing the nap, like you do after your mother reads you a fairy tale.- she pronounces the magic word.

-Mommy...- he moans, taken from a sudden melancholy and nostalgia of the maternal figure.

In that exact moment comes another exemplary canine, battered, hedgehog fur perpetually disheveled, physically fully it shows his age, but right now runs like a puppy. And behind him a man, dark hair and Latin traits, chases him shouting his name in vain. -Rob, wretched, stop! Rob!- the nominated executes order, but him just hangs in front of Penelope and the baby, starting the washing stage on the latter. -Sorry, he's very expansive... - so closely, Garcia sees how the man is tall and his uniform that left only guess muscles: white T-shirt with logo of the doghouse and pants dark blue. -... but he's not bad.- he probably thinks Henry might be scared.

-Oh, I know well.- the blonde responds, throwing other looks. -You are the new trainer?- excellent choice, I approve unconditionally. Even before, she loved spending her free weekends here, but if the company is this... a few more days will not be a great sacrifice.

-Yup. Luke, nice to meet you.- the pleasure is all mine. Oh, heck, Garcia, how did you become trivial! Just see a piece of nice man and you go completely in mush!

-Penelope. And this is Henry.- she holds his hand, then observes the exchange between the two. Note yet another detail: he doesn't bring faith to the finger. This doesn't necessarily mean that he's not engaged. Penelope, come back to earth. You're here to volunteer, not the volunteer. Even Luke doesn't remain indifferent to the sight of that shapely blonde, dressed in a flowered habit and very short, very high-heeled shoes and a bow on the head. Not really the appropriate clothing to stay here. A decidedly sprint mom, he thinks, looking at the blond child even more than she, while she strokes Rob. -Anyway I know this scoundrel since he was little more than a puppy. I come here a lot of years.- she informs him, almost smugly.

-Ah, then I understand everything.- he whistles, calling the dog to his side.

-How are you?- she asks in a tone that reveals all her concern. -Beth told me that the treatment is working, but had a strange expression... I don't know ... maybe I'm a bit ... paranoid.- she smiles and Luke remains dazzled, for a moment stunned to stare at her. He looks at the child, as if afraid to talk about things too serious. Penelope nodes that there's no problem.

-I'm only here for a week, but yes, I can confirm that Rob is reacting well... - she approaches him, because she feels the "but" in the air, all his doubts. Nearly the man jumps, feeling her perfume and seeing her so close. He looks down and meets the big dark eyes of the blonde. -But his age is however very advanced, and... I think ... the disease won't have won... if you know what I mean.- Penelope understood this perfectly.

-Henry, would you like to go play with those dogs? Do you see them? I'll be here, I'll not lose sight of you for a moment... - the child walks away. When she turns back to him, Luke notices the first tears are trying to break the barrier. She doesn't say anything, in fact, tries not to get noticed, but it's a fairly difficult task. The man understands why Penelope is crying and he feels a growing desire to comfort her. Yet he has just meet her, from thirty minutes and already feels to have diagnosed her. -I always say that I should be able to restrain myself, but then I can't keep my promises... excuse me, you're probably busy, I don't want to waste your time...- she turns to Henry and makes to call him back, but Luke stops her, grabbing her arm.

-I'm not busy, it's nice to find someone who loves animals so much... do you have any? - it's clear that he touched a sore subject. The expression of the blonde becomes even more suffering.

-No, I've never had pet... even when I was little. It may seem ironic, don't you think?- she laughs. In this way Luke has the opportunity to hear that crystalline sound for the first time. -Maybe it's precisely for this that I became an animalist... - her eyes are far away, lost in time. -And you?- it seems ridiculous to continue with the formalities, but she'll certainly not be the one who takes next big step.

-I have always had a lot of animals, especially dogs. Right now... I have this monster.- while he talking pulls out his wallet and latter a photograph of a pretty Belgian shepherd. Penelope's blonde hair touches his arm, tickling him. -She is eight years old, yet the other day we noticed that she's pregnant... - his eyes light up as he is talking.

-What's her name?- he realizes that even the women's eyes are shining.

-Sandra.- he notices that she is holding back a laugh. -I know, it's a strange name, but don't look at me, it was my mother who chose it... oh, excuse me, I didn't want ... - he exclaims when he realizes that he uses a confidential tone.

-Oh, don't worry! It's not a problem, was beginning to be ridiculous, this thing of keep a distance, I guess we'll have the same age, more or less... - Penelope returns to direct her attention to the child, which playing catch with a dog about six months old, very snappy and playful. At one point, Henry loses the balance and falls, without being hurts, but she worried however and runs toward him. Luke follows her, reflecting on being a mother, on maternal love, perhaps the only real sentiment that exists on this earth. And this woman must be a fabulous mother... but also single? Because she doesn't bring faith, she didn't mention any husband... Luke, please, don't start with these thoughts. You should train Rob, not flirting with voluntary mothers and probably married... From a distance he sees her picking him up and checking that he has no sign, clean him from the ground, then caress the dog, with an equally sweet look. It will be hard to stay focused on the job, today... -... sure, mommy loves you very much ... - she's saying, when she reaches them.

-Hey, he's okay?- even Rob has followed him and looks suspiciously at the puppy.

-Yes, yes, fortunately not even a scratch. Otherwise JJ would have strangled me!- she laughs but stops when she catches the surprise expression (positive) of Luke, that's still staring her. And then she understands that he had thought...

-Henry is not your son?- he can't help but ask.

-Oh, no! I wish!- she always responds giggling and smiling, but the man seems to find some note of regret in her tone and a veneer of melancholy in her eyes. -No, I'm just the godmother. The mother is one of my best friends.- she shrugs.

He isn't her son. And by the way she has spoken I would say she's not even a mother... impossible to believe, seeing how she behaves with Henry and the animals... but that means it may not even exist any husband or boyfriend who's waiting her at home... What a hell of a thought, I have to stop it.

-And you? Do you have any children?- but she seems that she isn't going to change the subject either.

-No ...- and he would like to add And I never thought of having or wanting to, because I never found the right woman... -Only dogs.- Why I want to make her understand that I am loose as a goose? If all I want is to ask her a date, why I can't just do it? Heck, Alvez, a little courage. You face minefields, alleged wild beasts, every day and you do yourself put into crisis by a blonde with glasses, the innocent gaze and mischievous eyes... Suddenly an imagine glares him. She against the wall, he leans on her body. It almost feels like he really feels her breast pressed against his chest... Keep yourself! There's also a baby here! Better he doesn't understand ahead of time what reaction the women could cause at the men!

-Ah, I understood.- Penelope also doesn't know what to say. She has noticed a strange look, from the trainer, long and intense, although at one point seemed to be on another planet. Maybe his girlfriend had a miscarriage and that's why they broke up... Always run too far with fantasy, Garcia. Mind your business once in your life. Fortunately, the phone rings, removing them from that awkward silence. -Yes?- she has seen that the caller is JJ.

-Hey, Garcia, I wanted to tell you that we're already coming back. If you want to free yourself from the burden a bit before... - she laughs, and Luke asks himself who is from the other line, a man or a woman? A potential rival? But rival of what? You just met her, you just talked about dogs and children..., but in a roundabout way.

-But what a burden! Taking care of Henry is a joy. He has seen so many beautiful dogs today...- And I also seen a nice piece of latin male... Thanks to this last sentence, the man realizes that the caller is none other than the mother of the child. He doesn't hold a sigh. He's in a real bad way. But it never happened to such a thing at him, being so taken immediately by a woman; in fact, it's usually the women who buzz around him, but they are all boring, interested only in shopping, talking about diets... But she is different, how can you say it after such a short time? And yet he is sure of how much he feels, Penelope isn't a common woman, he could tell by the way she expresses herself, rather than how she dresses. And he doesn't take much effort to pretend that she is his... wife, that Henry is their son (even if he wouldn't has got any of his stuff), that they are choosing a dog to give him a home, to enlarge the family...

-Fantastic! We'll be home for... around 5:00 of the evening.- she nods, but her friend can't see her.

-OK it's good. And... JJ, I should talk to you about something, after... - yes, she has to talk about Luke to someone, because needs to explain all the evidence gathered, so she'll gets a dispassionate opinion and if the response is positive... come back soon to the doghouse, with any excuse, without children, to push more on the accelerator.

-Ok. You can't back out, now intrigued me!- she laughs and closes the call. Luke is still there staring at her.

-I have... I have to go. Mum today comes home earlier.- she explains, as if it were his business.

After the announcement she seems to grasp an almost sad expression, as if he was sorry she's going to leave. How I wish I could take a picture of him in this moment. Any clue that she'll lead to the check of JJ, will still be filtered by her head. And we know that we see what we want to see...

-Yeah. I still have to... continue the training with Rob.- Penelope nods, so to turn his back, holds the hand of Henry in hers -You'll come back?- he asks. She back to look at him, maybe a little too upset. -To see Rob, how is him, I mean.- but of course, of course he didn't want to know if she would come back to see him.

-Yes, I'll come back- she gives a slight smile. At that simple gesture Luke feels every piece of skin vibrate.

-Good.- he only responds. Stop it, ask her date and get it over. Penelope looks down. The next time, when she comes back, I ask her. First of all. Really.

-Yeah ...- she seems intimidated, as if she had feel, as if she understood what he feels -... so... have a good day.- another smile.

-Even to you, Penelope.- when she is a barely visible speck now, he caresses the head of the old dog, which seems to reciprocate his look. -You too.-

-So? - after greeting her child, JJ throws on her friend to find out what this is the thing which she has to speak. Maybe she finally wants to publicly admit, seriously, that she feels something for their colleague, Derek?

-Before you. False alarm or...? - she tries to change the subject, but is really interested.

-Yes, you will become a godmother another time. But now tell me what you wanted to talk to me, you had a strange voice on the phone... anxious and mischievous. It's about a man, is not it? - the blonde with glasses sighs.

-Damned all profiler!- the other laughs. -Yes. At the doghouse... ... I met a tall, dark man, dark eyes... - her legs melt only remembering -it's the new dog trainer... the volunteer who cares for Rob, that old dog of which I was talking you the other day...- JJ nods, but signals her to return to the point. -and ... nothing, he was looking at me a bit too, so strange... and ... he's single, or at least, he said he has no children... he believed that Henry was mine!- not so hard to thinking, since all three have the blond hair. -Because I asked him if he had children and he said no and "only dogs". He really said that. I don't know, now I realize that it's not a great story, who knows what you expected...- and yet JJ is smiling, mischievously.

-Our Garcia got a hit here! And what's his name?- Does she really think that what I told her are clues that he likes me?

-Um ... I don't remember...- her friend looks at her surprised, then looks up at the sky.

-Lu... Luke.- the little Henry answers in her place.

***

Everybody are silent staring at the author of the story.

-Now I can tell you that, like Emily, this thing has happened to me too. One evening we came back before and Penelope told me about this guy, Latin, which was trainer where she went as a volunteer for the dogs and I'm sure his name was Luke. It wasn't really him, but it's a good coincidence, at least.- JJ smiles, because she remembers that day perfectly and her son while uttering that name without knowing the meaning.

To hurry up, Stephen immediately begins to read the next story.

TAGS: @theshamelessmanatee @itsdawnashlie @talesoffairies @janiedreams88 @kiki-krakatoa @yessenia993 @teyamarra @c00lhandsluke @gcchic @arses21434 @orangesickle @entireoranges @jarmin @kathy5654 @martinab26 @thisonekid @thenibblets @perfectly-penelope @ambrosiaswhispers @maziikeen92 @lovelukealvez @reidskitty13 @jenf42 @gracieeelizabeth27 @silviajajaja @smalliemichelle99 @charchampagne14 @ichooseno @ megs2219 @rkt3357 @franklintrixie @thinitta @chewwy123 @skisun @maba84 @saisnarry @myhollyhanna23 @thenorthernlytes

#garvez #penelope garcia #luke alvez #penelope x luke #luke x penelope #alvez x garcia #garcia x alvez #BAU team #criminal minds #cm #jennifer jareau #emily prentiss #tara lewis #david rossi #spencer reid #stephen walker #henry lamontaigne

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uber--duper · 7 years ago

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Counting

“One.” She moved her hand to the right. “Two.” Back to the left. “Three.” She started moving her hand. “F-” The Reader grabbed her wrist, much to Sandra's 'surprise'. “Oh? Are you telling me I've messed up already? That simply cannot be right.”

i’m love Sandra. also: endgame spoilers!

AO3 Link

Beneath the Reader, the wagon rumbled quietly, having left the grounds of Mount Alodiel for the last time not five minutes ago. The air whistled quietly outside, for the wagon was moving slowly. There was no rush to get anywhere, not anymore. Bertrude and Pamitha had retired, leaving the Reader alone in the wagon's common area, surrounded by the trinkets and baubles of times and friends past. The Reader glanced out of one of the windows, seeing nothing but the starless sky and the occasional passing cloud, rumbling with thunder or pulsing with rain. There truly was nothing left for her out there.

A sigh escaped the Reader's lips, and she found herself slowly collapsing to the ground, not even sitting at the table. Jodariel's throw rug was soft against her backside as she curled up into a ball on the floor, ignoring the Planner sitting just a few inches from her head. There was nothing left to do now but wait, wait for the Messenger-Imps to return with a message of the plan's results, if it ever even came. The Reader did not doubt that the Plan would succeed. Quite the contrary, she had full confidence that Volfred would be able to execute it with grace. But still...

On the ground the Reader lay, simply unable to get up from her position on the floor. Her stomach rumbled quietly, reminding her that sustenance was required some time soon, but she ignored that as well. A strange bit of lethargy settled into her bones, a strong bit of finality. The reality was beginning to sink in. She would never see most of her friends again. Hedwyn, Jodariel, and Rukey... Mae, Ti'zo, Sir Gilman, and Volfred... They were all gone to do better things. And she didn't regret that. But now more than ever, she wished to see them one last time for reassurance.

Something in her robes grew warm against her hip, and the Reader glanced down even as a familiar voice began to fill her head.

“I realize we're in the wagon, but I'm feeling a bit lower than usual.” It snarked. “I didn't realize that Wyrm-Knight was still here. Tell him to get his slimy bits off of me.” At the comment, the Reader chuckled quietly under her breath, but did not reply. The voice seemed to take note of this and was silent for a second.

“Dear Reader, I beckon you to heed my call.” It said when speaking up again. The Reader blinked in surprise. “Come into the crystal, for I must speak with you in private.” And then the voice was gone.

The Reader sat up, reaching into her robe and fishing out the luminous green sphere nestled in a pocket against her hip. It seemed to sparkle, just as it always had when it wanted something from her. She held the orb for a moment, her fingers just barely touching it, before she closed her eyes and focused. The world around her twisted, sending her spinning into a terrible yet brief sense of vertigo. And when she reopened her eyes, the world around her was mystical, shimmering hues of the rainbow muted by the ever encroaching blackness. She stood on one end of a rectangular plane, a fire... no, a pyre burning behind her, blue as the morning sky. Before her, on the other end, stood a figure robed in green, donning a familiar mask and posed before a similar pyre of a similar color.

“My beloved Reader,” The masked figure said. “Today we are here for a final test. Your fools and followers have all passed their tests. There is but one Nightwing left for me to examine.” The Reader glanced down, finding herself robed in blue. “And that Nightwing is you. Are you ready for my final test? The most difficult one of all awaits you, for it is just you and me here in this astral plane. A most honorable one-on-one.”

The Reader stared at the apparition before her in confusion. What... what was going on? There was no need for this, for the Rites had ended, just as she had witnessed. And yet the apparition was calling to her, beckoning her forward. And she heeded the call, slowly and cautiously walking up to the center of the area. They met in the middle, just as the mock orb dropped from the sky in between them. The apparition stooped down to pick it up... and then promptly tossed it to the side. Then she unfastened her mask, and the Reader found Sandra 'staring' at her.

“Thus begins the test.” Sandra said, and did something the Reader would never have predicted of her. She held out her arms for a hug. After a moment of stunned silence, the Reader lurched forward, wrapping her arms around Sandra's torso and burying her face into the crook of the apparition's neck. She smelled of the air after it rains. “What's wrong, Reader?” Sandra asked, lowering her voice even as the two began to lower to the ground. “Am I not your favorite specter of the Rites? Does hearing my voice not fill you with dread as it should?”

The Reader shook her head, fisting her hands in the material of Sandra's robe. Sandra sighed, wrapping an arm around the Reader and pulling her close. The other moved upwards to run a hand through the Reader's hair. Sandra clicked her tongue as she did so, pulling out a couple of knots in the long locks.

“My, my, your hair is so tangled. You really must do something better to take care of it.” Sandra said, drumming her fingers lightly on the Reader's scalp, her hand tangled in the hair she was combing. “Come, my dearest Reader, you must tell me what the matter is. Surely you don't miss that imp Ti'zo, hmm? You must enjoy the quiet that his squawking used to fill...” Sandra's joke fell flat, as she suddenly felt a trembling against her.

The Reader's shoulders shook, and Sandra felt a slight wetness began to bead against her neck. The apparition's face contorted in a scowl, directed at herself. What a foolish thing to joke about.

“...My mistake.” She admitted, pulling the silently sobbing woman into her lap. “Of course you miss the little nuisance. You were so close to all of them, for some reason...” Her hand began combing through the Reader's hair again, scratching comfortingly at her scalp. “I oh so dislike to be the voice of reason in this situation, but you mustn't forget that, just as you cared about them, they too care about you. And you must look on the bright side.” Sandra pulled her hand from the Reader's hair, moving it to her cheek so that she could adjust where the poor woman was looking.

The Reader looked up at Sandra, spying her frown for just a moment before it twisted into a shit-eating smirk. She adjusted her arms, moving one from around Sandra's body to laying a hand on her shoulder. Sandra's smirk only grew wider, and she used her other arm to adjust the Reader's legs, making the Reader straddle her. She stared at Sandra quietly for a moment before bidding her to continue. Was was the bright side Sandra spoke of, hmm?

“Why, you've got your own little prisoner here, complete with a cage!” Sandra laughed at her own joke. “One that simply couldn't leave you, even if she wanted to.” She laughed again, prompting the Reader to snort and push lightly at her shoulder. “So lighten up. Don't let those annoyingly dark thoughts cloud your pretty little head. It's much, much more fun to see you upbeat, you know.”

The Reader smiled at that, draping both her arms over Sandra's shoulders. The apparition's smirk returned, and her hands left the Reader's body to rest on her cheeks. The Reader looked surprised at the intimate touch, but Sandra only continued to smirk.

“How unfair do you imagine this is, hmm?” She asked, pressing lightly at the Reader's cheeks with her thumbs before one hand trailed back to touch at her jaw. The other hand drifted forward and up, pressing against the Reader's forehead as though she were checking her temperature. “You've gotten to experience my wonderful visage on many an occasion, even when I willed you away...” Sandra's hands kept moving, one moving to prod at the Reader's ear while the other trailed slowly over the bridge of her nose with a single finger. “And yet I could not experience yours. For somebody with such an interest in me, you're rather mean, aren't you?” She asked.

The Reader stared quietly as Sandra's hands examined her face. It was only fair, after all. She giggled a bit when Sandra's fingers ghosted over her brow. The girlish sound only caused Sandra's smirk to grow wider.

“Tell me, Reader. Do you have freckles?” Sandra asked. She waited until the Reader began opening her mouth before moving her hand, placing an index finger to the Reader's lips. They were soft, just as Sandra had expected. Not as though she thought about them regularly, of course. Sandra felt the Reader jolt in surprise, and let her body shake slightly with a single chuckle. Heh. “I'm just kidding, I already know. You're not very good at hiding your thoughts about them, you know.” Sandra felt the Reader's cheeks warm up in embarrassment. One more point for Sandra.

“I've always thought freckles were endearing you know, dearest Reader. What's that phrase they use? 'The more the merrier?” Sandra asked, her finger still against the Reader's lips. She felt the other woman nod, and finally moved her hand. “Well then, here is what I suggest.” The Reader cocked her head. Sandra grinned. “You stay with me until we get to wherever we're going. We'll spend the time counting freckles, and if I count the same one twice, we start over. Just the two of us, no help. Deal?”

The Reader stared quietly at the preposition. Then she smiled and gave her approval.

“Excellent.” Sandra replied, gently poking the Reader on the cheek. “One.” She moved her hand to the right. “Two.” Back to the left. “Three.” She started moving her hand. “F-” The Reader grabbed her wrist, much to Sandra's 'surprise'. “Oh? Are you telling me I've messed up already? That simply cannot be right.” The Reader nodded, prompting a snicker from Sandra.

“If that's the case, then I suppose we must start again, as I've promised.” Sandra moved to the Reader's other cheek, pressing her finger onto a random spot. “One...”

#pyre #pyre (game)#sandra #sandra the unseeing #the reader #the reader (pyre)#reader #pyre spoilers #ao3 link #writing #i love the two of them #they're...#perfect

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pl-panda · 4 years ago

Text

To Marry a Vigilante: Part 6

MASTERLIST || First || Previous || Next

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

Even if she tried to downgrade her reaction to learning that the class was held hostage, Marinette was still nervous. No amount of rationalizing that they were mean or that they didn’t care one bit about her helped. She just couldn’t help but worry about them.

Damian tried his best to understand her, but he really didn’t feel any empathy toward them. Idiots brought it upon themselves. He wouldn’t cry after them. Instead, he took it upon himself to distract his beloved from her stress. They were in the middle of the second Disney movie when she finally dozed off in his arms. Given his luck, that was the moment Selina decided to enter the room.

“Oh. I’m sorry to interrupt.” She said with a face that clearly meant she wasn’t even a bit sorry.

“Tt. You’re lucky Angel’s asleep.” He scoffed, making sure not to be too loud.

“Angel huh? The best I ever got from Bruce was ‘Kitty’, and even that was only out of the suit. You’re moving fast.”

“Shut up.” The scowl on his face was evident.

“Why aren’t you roof-running with the rest of them?” She asked, dropping the teasing (for now).

“I told father I would no longer carry the mantle of Robin.” He revealed. It wasn’t much of a secret, but beyond Bruce, only Alfred knew. Their butler knew everything and then some more.

“Whoa!” Seline looked genuinely surprised. “What brought this on? Don’t tell me you’re planning on settling down with a wife.” Her grin returned.

“Tt. Will you people stop?”

“No. Now answer the question pip-squeak.”

“For the record, I’m almost your height now.” He sighed before taking a sneaky gaze at his wife. “Did Bruce tell you about Paris?”

“Not really.” She made a pensive face.

“Then I am honor-bound to withhold any more information.”

She looked at him, trying to judge what it was really about, but Selina kept getting distracted by how cute the two teens looked. If she didn’t know, she would assume they were dating for at least two years, not barely a semester. There was this trust that Damian refused to show anyone else, maybe beside Dick sometimes.

“Fine. But I hope when the time comes, you’ll speak to us.” She was about to leave, but something stopped her. “And if you want to avoid more teasing, try not to have your ‘beloved’ fall asleep in your arms where the cameras can see.” She smirked and left the teens alone. Damian groaned. He was really digging his own grave.

“Dami…” Marinette murmured. For a moment, he thought that he woke her up, but she just snuggled closer and returned to sleep.

--------

A cloaked figure was making strides through the city, trying to keep to the shadows. The streets of Gotham were mostly empty at that hour, but those who still dwelled usually didn’t have good intentions. And even in a city where a group of people in fancy suits was more efficient than the police, someone in a full black cloak with a hood to boot would attract attention sooner or later.

“Hey! Look at that, boys. Someone’s trying to play bat.” A group of burly men stepped their way.

They received no answer.

“What? Bat’s got your tongue? What say you drop the costume and we can see who’s there,” the supposed leader taunted.

They received no answer.

“Oh come on! We can play too!” One of them smiled. He was more perceptive and noted that the figure’s body was not only small but slightly more curvaceous. “Come on, don’t be shy.”

Still, no reaction.

Angered by the lack of any reaction (and slightly tipsy), one of the men tried to push the cloaked person. Their supposed victim reacted by stepping to the side. What happened next froze all of the onlookers’ blood.

With one swift motion, the figure brought a blue weapon down on their companion and it went right through his neck. When she pulled it out, the fancy fan unfolded. From under the black hood, a blue face looked at the would-be attackers. It was definitely female, but it was impossible to make out the age.

“You’re not worthy to even lick my boots, peasant,” she sneered before looking at the others. “Neither are you.”

She folded her fan and rushed forward.

---------

The next day started mostly normal for Marinette. She did wake up curled into Damian’s side, which was nice. Her mother then showed her at least twenty pictures of them sleeping cuddled together, which was embarrassing. She promised to save them for when she was older, which was a dreadful image. Damian brought her coffee in the morning, which was great. He was so thoughtful.

“Mari? Mari? Sweetie?” Her mother waved her hand in front of the girl. “When you stop daydreaming about your lover-boy, can you pay attention?”

“Sorry, Maman.”

“Don’t worry. I was once young too.” Her mother nodded understandingly. “But could you please pay attention? That goes to you too, young man.” She raised her head to send Damian a light glare.

“I apologize for my lack of attention.”

“Today the class is having a trip to the mall, to buy anything they did not bring with them. Caline forced this when it turned out that several girls had nothing to wear for the Gala, which they were apparently ‘not informed about’,” Sabine scoffed.

“Tt. They were. It was that Angel refused to give them free clothes,” Damian interluded.

“I offered to make them the dresses. I even caved and offered a discount.” She grinned. “It’s not my fault all my prices are adjusted to my usual clients.”

“And the fact that your usual clients are celebrities who deemed anything lower an insult to their persona is irrelevant,” Chloé added, walking into the room. She barely managed to get to the chair before collapsing. Whatever possessed her to ask Cassandra Cain for training?

“They didn’t!” Mari protested, but she didn’t put much heart into it.

“Shush! I’m your agent now.”

“I know Chlo. You don’t need to flaunt it.”

“You’re kidding? I’m the girl behind MDC. Suck it, mother!” She shouted at the ceiling, even though it was physically impossible for Audrey to hear her.

“Tt. Moving back to the subject?”

“Oh! Don’t mind me now. I’m having fun.” Sabine smiled at the kids. “But yes, the class is going to be visiting the mall. In theory, you three should be joining them.”

“But?”

“But I would prefer if you kept your distance from them,” Sabine responded harshly. “I don’t want you mixing yourself with a bad crowd Sweetie.”

“Got it, Mom. We will be visiting a smaller shopping district then. I need to fashion masks for all three of us.”

“Won’t masks be provided at the gala?” The woman asked, surprised.

“Tt. Only for those who don’t bring theirs.” Damian clarified.

“Good. One more thing.” She turned to the only boy in the room. “Damian, I trust you to keep both of them safe today. Otherwise, you will have three angry assassins on your neck for the rest of your short life.” She threatened, ignoring the exasperated expression on Mari’s face and Chloé who was checking her nails.

“Three?” He asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I told you that Sandra adores Marinette. And Cassandra shares our feelings toward her newest cousin.”

It took all of Damian’s willpower to remain calm. The idea of Cass, Lady Shiva, and Sabine chasing him was terrifying. “Of course, Madame. I will guard them with all my strength.”

“Then have fun kids! Tom promised to drop you off when he goes to the market and Bruce let him take one of the cars.”

“I’ll go pack up,” the two girls said at the same time. They giggled before running to their respective rooms. Damian just stared after them for a moment, shrugged, and left for his room to get dressed.

When he opened his wardrobe, a line full of ready sets consisting of black turtlenecks and dark-gray jeans, all already ironed and fresh. Together with the morning toilet, it took him a total of seventeen minutes and forty-three seconds to get ready. When he arrived in the main hall, he saw Tom sitting leisurely and reading through the newspaper.

“Tt. Sir, shouldn’t we be leaving?”

“Oh! Damian!” The baker lightened up. “Why would we need to be leaving? The girls left to get ready only a… fifteen minutes ago.” He looked like he was looking for another word, but changed his mind when he couldn’t find it.

“Closer to twenty,” the boy couldn’t help but correct, “but it means they will be ready soon.”

Tom laughed loudly. Damian sent the older man a questioning look, but he had to wait for him to calm down. “You never had to wait for a girl to get ready in the morning, did you?” Tom questioned once he calmed down.

“I do not see the relation…”

“Find yourself somewhere to sit. Most likely we won’t be leaving in at least an hour.” The baker cheerfully suggested.

“But…”

“It’s how the universe works and the sooner you get used to it, the better. A piece of advice: don’t rush them or it will get worse.”

“Um… I still want to know why…”

“Everyone does, but some questions don’t have answers.” Tom laughed.

----------

“Damian! Look at that fabric! I’ve never seen it in stores before!” Marinette dragged her beloved toward the wall of various bales. She showed him yet another fabric, that he couldn’t really separate from three previous ones. Unless you count the color that is.

“It is indeed interesting…” He tried to find the word, but Mari was too far gone to pay him any attention. When he used to listen to his brothers whining after shopping trips with the girls, he always dismissed it as fairy tales. Now, he regretted that he didn’t listen to Tom’s warning and hadn’t brought a wireless earset. The kind that only uses one ear so he could still hear what Marinette and Chloé talked about.

“Mari! Look at that one!” The blonde in question pointed to one that was placed quite high. It was black and when reflected light, seemed to glow purple and dark-gold. Interesting, but it held little tactical value.

“Perfect. Dami, could you reach it?”

“Sorry, Angel, you’re the one with wings here.” He said the first thing that came to his mind.

His beloved blushed. Chloé just shook her head and muttered something about diabetes.

After shopping for fabrics, a new sketchbook, several sets of sketching pencils, and some wires, Damian finally got them to go grab a bite. The whole way he kept skulking. Marinette had forbidden him from paying for any materials or clothes. He wanted to!

Of course, the moment their order was brought had to be the moment a villain made an entrance. Firefly zoomed into the calm street and immediately started to set things on fire. The girls immediately jumped into action, herding the panicking crowd and accelerating the evacuation. Damian took cover and sent a quick text to Oracle before joining Marinette and Chloé with crowd control. It was quite impressive to see the blonde grab the guy twice her size and force him to run the other way. Marinette focused on gathering as many stray kids as possible and guiding them away. There went his hope of not ending up like Father.

It was going okay, the villain seemed more focused on making the buildings burn than attacking the defenseless civilians. Up until he flew over the entrance dropping napalm and cutting them off. Marinette immediately jumped between Firefly and the group of kids she was leading. Damian and Chloé were by her side faster than one could say ‘wedding dress’.

“I told you Katana is a viable accessory.” He grumbled. That reminded Mari. He noticed that her red dress (his favorite) gained a broad red sash tightly wrapped around her. It had no noticeable clip holding it in place, so he assumed she just made some adjustments. Now he watched her unroll it to reveal her Christmas rope dart wrapped around her. She quickly grabbed the end and allowed it to fall loose on the ground.

“At least now we aren’t entirely defenseless.” She stated confidently. This was not Marinette the Parisian girl. This was Marinette the Ladybug, with or without a suit.

“And what do we have here?” Firefly floated not so far away. “A whole collection of new…” He didn’t get to finish. Marinette immediately attacked, hoping to attract his attention away from the kids. Damian cursed loudly. He wanted to leap into action, but he knew that Chloé stood no chance to protect the kids alone.

The rope dart stuck Firefly in the arm, making a deep cut and letting some blood out, but the heat of his surrounding cauterized the wound. It didn’t seem to bother him. Instead, the villain aimed his flame gun at the girl who was already away from the group.

“I will make you burn!” He shouted and opened fire. The girl he was aiming at used her rope to pull herself away faster and avoid the flames.

In the distance, one could hear the sound of sirens, announcing the arrival of the police and fire department. They were still several minutes away and even then Firefly was probably too hard to capture without specialized gear. Or a rope dart.

Marinette spun it several times in circles before releasing her weapon like a deadly projectile. Thanks to a quick flick of her wrist, the rope wrapped around the criminal’s ankle. He didn’t expect it, and when she yanked hard, he lost control over his jetpack for just a moment. It was enough for her to release the ties and gather the rope back. By the time Firefly managed to regain stability, she was already launching another projectile. This time, the dart flew straight and went right through his gun. There were several sparks, but as the rope was isolated she stood her ground. Yanking on the rope, she made him let go of the flame thrower before it exploded. The item fell on the ground and she pulled the now-free dart back while dodging for cover.

Damian saw the gun sparking and without thinking picked the loose sewer cover and jumped in front of the kids. Chloé used a nearby trash can to form a wall between them while the lid served as her shield. The barricade would be useless if someone aimed at them, but it did a fine job shielding the group of eight kids from exploding a flamethrower. They had to drop their defense as soon as the explosion passed, and their hands still got hurt regardless. But they probably saved eight kids from heavy scarring.

Firefly did not have the same luck. The explosion caught him in the middle and the knockback pinned him to the wall. When he got over the daze, he was met with several police guns aimed at him.

-----------

Watching the reunion of kids caught in the fire with their parents was heartwarming for Marinette. She was proud of her husband and best friend. Their quick action definitely saved several lives.

“Excuse me, miss?” A policeman in a long brown coat came to her. The paramedics already cleared her and one gave her the number of a trusted therapist if she needed to talk with someone. “Commissioner Gordon.” He introduced himself. “I was told you were the one that took down the villain…”

“It was an accident.” She spoke quickly. “I mean I didn’t try to take him down. He came over to where I was hiding with the kids. I thought he was about to burn us so I just acted on instincts. Get attention, move away from the group, keep attention, strike with everything at your disposal.” She recited.

“That… Where did you learn that?” He stared at her. She was very young but spoke with the experience of someone who dealt with this on a daily basis.

“Paris was dealing with a supervillain for the last four years. My class was a hotspot for his possessions.” She took a deep breath to calm down. “Even before the attacks started, I was taking martial arts classes. I upped the intensity after that.”

“Hm… I see. And your weapon…?” Commissioner asked, pointing at the rope dart now wrapped around her waist. She didn’t yet have time to put the sash back on.

“Oh! Rope Darts are my weapon of choice. Easy to carry around, fast, good for non-lethal takedowns, and can be made into a fashionable accessory.” She smiled.

“Indeed. Even before that, you and your friends were herding the stray children and directing adults to the nearest exit.”

“Same. I’m not sure how it works in Gotham, but in Paris, it was important to get people away from the ak… possessed person.” She corrected herself for the sake of not explaining everything. “Some of them tended to make civilians into puppets.”

“It was still brave of you. I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Marinette, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. Nice to meet you, Commissioner.” She gave him a bright smile.

“Thank you for your service, Miss Dupain-Cheng.” He saluted the girl before walking away, muttering about reports. Now she only had to explain things to the adults at the Wayne Manor.

--------

Masterlist // Next

#batman #BatFam #maribat #maridami #marinette dupain cheng #guardian!marinette #marinette x damian #Damian Wayne #damienette #Damian al Ghul #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #miraculous lb #Miraculous!Sabine #Assassin!Sabine #Superhero!Sabine #sabine cheng #arranged marriage AU

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snickerl · 8 years ago

Text

Mom’s The Best

A collection of XF ficlets

I started this collection of stand-alone ficlets about Margaret Scully because she’s always been one of my favorite characters and a season 11 without her seems too much to take.

With the first installment, I asked for story prompts and have received one so far. I’m already working on it. Feel free to feed my creative brain with story ideas - fluffy or angsty, canon or AU, set in seasons 1-9 or 10 and beyond.

So far, the collection contains the following ficlet:

PEPPERMINT TEA

APPLE PIE

Thanksgiving was Margaret Scully's favorite holiday.

She had spent days preparing food and her famous apple pie would be the crowning finish of a delicious meal. Her whole family had gathered at her house. Bill and Tara had come with the kids from whatever Navy base the were stationed at and even Charlie had brought his wife Sandra and their three children this year. Dana was there, which filled Maggie with joy and gratitude every year after she'd been painfully missed during the years she couldn't attend the family gatherings.

Of course, there were some people dear to Maggie who weren`t with them tonight. Ahab, her beloved husband of almost four decades who'd passed away too early. Melissa, her older daughter who'd been taken away from her in cold blood. William, her miracle grandson who sat at another family's dinner table. And last but not least, Fox, her surrogate son and somewhat son-in-law. ‘Somewhat’ as they had never made their relationship official, had never signed a wedding certificate or spoken the vows in front of a priest. Or would ex-son-in-law be the more appropriate term? Maggie didn't know, and she assumed Dana didn't know either. They had separated, had called it a temporary breakup, but that had been more than two years ago.

Maggie witnessed first-hand how much Dana suffered from the situation. She saw her bury herself in her work, volunteering to take double shifts and on-call services until she broke down in the hospital from sheer exhaustion. She saw the dark circles under her eyes from insomnia and her drop weight from having lost her appetite. Only recently had she gotten better, since they had started working together again. As much as Maggie had cursed the FBI in Dana's and Fox's first turn as Special Agents, she silently thanked Skinner, their former and current boss, for bringing them together again.

It was doing them both good. Mulder, who had been fighting a depression after having lost all purpose of his life, was thriving again. The feeling of being needed, of being of service, of having a reason to get up in the morning filled him with the energy and power everybody thought he had lost for good. And Dana? Dana also thrived sharing parts of her life with her former partner once again. Even if they weren't back together, simply conversing with him over a case, working hand in hand with him, seeing him almost on a daily basis, steadied her. The color had returned to her cheeks, she actually smiled again and looked content in a way she hadn't in a long, long time.

But Maggie wanted more for them. Although Dana didn't get tired assuring her that neither of them thought of resuming their physical relationship, that their desperate love for each other had been all-consuming and had nothing left for them to give to the other, Maggie knew better. That was why she had invited Fox to her traditional Thanksgiving dinner this year. She had asked Dana if it was okay for her, hadn't wanted to catch her out playing Cupid, but she hadn't told Bill Jr., who had never been a fan of Mulder's. He would simply have to deal with the situation. So she as she was residing at the head of the table, watching everybody chatter happily, nervousness crept up her spine for the chime of the door bell she expected any minute. Matthew, her oldest grandson, had just whined about when dinner would be finally served when it happened. Bill threw his mother a surprising look and Dana couldn't hide a slight smile.

"I get it," Maggie explained and shoved her chair back to get up.

She opened the front door to a groomed, shaven, properly dressed and smiling Mulder with flowers in his hands. What a difference compared to the man he'd been a few months prior, before he'd started working with Dana again.

"Hello Fox, I'm so happy to see you. Come in," Maggie welcomed him.

"Thanks for the invitation, Maggie" he answered, stepping into the hallway. He placed a gentle kiss on the older woman's cheek and handed her all the flowers but one, a single yellow rose. He slipped out of his jacket and hung it on the rack by the door. There had been a time this house was like a second home to him. "Am I late?" he asked nodding to the living room where a loud chattering was coming from.

"Oh no, you're perfectly on time. Matthew just asked when dinner would be served. Teenagers," she sighed, "always hungry."

Mulder followed Maggie somewhat tentatively through the hallway, clutching the rose with both hands. "Uhm, Maggie...does Dana-" he started but was cut off by a gentle "Hi Mulder" of the woman he had just mentioned. She stood at the end of the hallway, showing him one of her small, toothless smiles. Maggie was pleased to notice her daughter's delight upon seeing him although she tried to hide it, as well as the way Fox beamed at her. Maggie closely observed their interaction for more hints that her plan might work out after all.

Fox took the remaining few steps until he reached the spot where Dana had positioned herself. He placed a cautious kiss on her cheek as well and gave her the rose. She smelled at it, then smiled. "Thank you."

"I hope you're okay with my showing up here. Your mother wouldn't take no for an answer," Fox mumbled.

"It's fine. I'm glad you're here," Dana answered.

"Your brother won't share your enthusiasm, I'm afraid."

"Don't mind Bill. Charlie’s here, too, and he's always liked you. Plus, mom placed me between Bill and you, so consider me your protective shield."

"You're tiny, Scully, and your brother has long arms and huge hands. Are you sure you're able to protect me from a hostile Navy captain?"

"I protected you from hostile monsters and psychopaths, I'm fully capable of protecting you from my brother. Who I managed to rein in when we were kids, I might add. By the way, since I’ve had my self-defense training at the Academy and am allowed to carry a gun, he's tame as a kitten," she added with a tight-lipped grin. She grabbed his arm and tugged him along. "Come on, Mulder, time for you look the patriarch of the Scully-family in the face."

Maggie couldn't help but smile at their little banter. The mood between them hadn't been that light and playful for a long time. It even reminded her a little of the time when their relationship hadn't yet been tainted by a lonely pregnancy, a resurrection-from-the-dead experience, the loss of a son, a life underground, and an endogenous depression. What a great idea to invite him over, Maggie thought and mentally patted herself on the shoulder. She went into the kitchen to get a vase for the bouquet Mulder had brought her. When she returned to the dining room the first thing she noticed was the yellow rose on the table in front Dana's plate. Next, Bill's sour face and that Mulder was seated next to Scully and sort-of trying to hide behind her. A hopeless endeavor from the start, of course, as her daughter was almost half his size.

Maggie shouted out orders to everyone so that the food would be put on the table quickly. Her family cooperated well, Mulder too, who made sure the wine for the adults as well as the soda for the children made it safely to the table. When all of them had taken their seats, Maggie shushed her guests and was the first to fold her hands, tilt her head and close her eyes. The table fell silent and everybody, even the kids, listened carefully when she began to pray.

"Thank You, Heavenly Father, for this food we are about to eat. Thank You for Your amazing power and work in our lives, for Your goodness and for Your blessings over us, the ones we've seen, as well as the ones we haven't. Thank You for looking out for those who cannot be with us today. Ahab, Melissa, Emily, and William. We miss them, but their absence reminds us to keep our eyes fixed on heaven where we will all meet again some day. We give You praise and thanks, for You alone are worthy! In Jesus' Name, Amen."

Everyone mumbled 'Amen' and the adults crossed themselves; all but Mulder, who'd never been a religious person. But he was familiar with the tradition at a Scully Thanksgiving, for he had been a guest to a few of them; or so he thought. What he didn't know was that they had a new ritual established in the years of his absence during the worst phase of his depression and the following separation from Scully. Maggie started it by grabbing Bill's hand who was sitting to her right and Sandra's on her left. The others followed, taking each others' hands as well. Scully took Mulder's left hand, Louise, one of Charlie's daughters, held his right.

When the circle was closed, Maggie explained, "Fox, this is something we’ve been doing for a couple of years. We take each others' hands and think of what good has happened in the past year. It can be something small or something big, something personal or not, it doesn’t matter. Just something we're grateful for. I, for example, am grateful, that in the past year all of my grandchildren found the time to pay me a visit. One stayed for a few days and helped me when I had the flu," she threw a warm smile at Louise, "one dropped by for half hour on my birthday." The exact same warm smile was thrown at Matthew who pursed his lips. "It didn't matter how long you stayed, the fact that you didn’t forget your old grandmother filled me with joy. I thank the Lord for the wonderful grandchildren he’s given me. The ones who are here tonight, as well as the ones who can't."

Maggie knew she made two people's heart ache particularly with this, but it was important to her to let Dana and Fox know that she considered William and Emily to be her grandchildren just like the others, that they belonged to their family and had a firm place in her heart like the ones sitting at her dining table right now. She noticed how Mulder's hand squeezed Scully's a little tighter and how both of them fought with their emotions.

"Your turn, Sandra," Maggie said, passing the torch to her daughter-in-law.

One after the other voiced their gratitude, and just as Maggie had explained, a smorgasbord of events and things was coming up. Neil, Charlie's youngest son was grateful for his new bike, Tara for the fact that Bill had returned safely from an overseas deployment. Charlie was grateful that he'd been offered a new job, and Louise for the experiences she made working part-time at a retirement home.

And then it was Mulder's turn. Maggie looked at him as he cleared his throat and squeezed Scully's hand again before he started to speak. "I am grateful, endlessly grateful, that in the past year a person has been led back into my life I'd already deemed lost forever."

Bill moaned silently and was kicked in the shin under the table by his mother. Dana stared at the rose in front of her working hard to keep her composure. Maggie could tell by the way her daughter chewed the inside of her cheek. Everyone else at the table had fallen silent, for they all knew about the sad and complicated history of their relationship.

Mulder continued. "This person, who'd been the light of my existence, my savior both literally as in the figurative sense, is the reason I'm still here on this planet, and I'm grateful for every minute I was allowed to spend with her." He cleared his throat again from a lump and coughed nervously.

'Jesus, Mulder,' Maggie heard her daughter whisper and him replying equally subdued, 'Sorry, Scully, but it's true.' "Thank you, Fox," she then said loud to break the awkward silence scattering the room, "for sharing with us such an intimate issue. Dana, you're next."

"I...uh," Scully blinked a tear away and licked her lips, clearly taken off-guard by Mulder's open words, "I am grateful for another year in remission. I know I'm saying this every year but every year that's been given to me since that nasty cancer is a gift. Not all of them were happy years, but I don't want to miss a single one because they have brought me to where I am at this very moment. And I'm grateful for being here today."

Now it was Mulder who blinked away a tear. Maggie was moved by what she heard from Dana and Fox. It was proof of how scarred the souls of those two were, but also how only they had the power to heal each other. She had been so right to play Cupid. They belonged together, in one way or another.

Bill finished the round by thanking the Lord for holding his protective hand over the men of his Navy unit, and soon, the somewhat heavy mood was dispersed by the passing around of bowls and platters, the clinking of glasses, a cheerful chatter and laughter. Maggie's heart leapt at the view of three generations of Scullys - and she had always added Mulder in - sitting at her table enjoying each others' presence. In a few years, a fourth generation might join them. She hoped to live long enough to see that happen. She sent a silent prayer to her late husband, phrasing in her head, 'Look, Ahab, how wonderful our children and their children are. I wished you were here but I know you're looking at us from above. I love you.'

When all stomachs were filled, the entire party worked together to clear the table quickly, moving back and forth between the dining room and the kitchen. Eventually, Maggie shooed them all out of her realm, all but one.

"Fox, would you give me a hand with making coffee and cutting the apple pie?"

"Sure," Mulder said.

"You still know how to operate the coffee maker, don't you?"

"Of course, Maggie, it's not exactly rocket science," he replied and flicked the power switch, bringing the machine to life. He opened an overhead cabinet and took out some coffee cups and saucers. He still knew himself around Margaret Scully's kitchen. He'd helped her often in the past. Actually, they'd had some of their best conversations while she was cleaning the dishes in the sink he then dried and put away.

"That was very sweet what you said earlier, during the gratitude round," Maggie said, handing him the bag with the coffee beans.

"Hmm," was all he replied.

"Dana liked it too."

"I'm not so sure about that. She hates her emotions being dragged into the public."

"We're not the public, Fox, we're her family," Maggie insisted.

"Yeah, but still."

He sighed noisily. Maggie sensed his doubtful state of mind, although he had his back turned to her so she couldn't read his face. She walked over to where he had busied himself with fumbling at the coffee machine which was actually working perfectly well on its own.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "What's the matter, Fox? You seem a bit at odds with yourself."

He turned around and looked at her.

"I meant every word I said, Maggie. I'm so glad to have her back in my life. Work is great and we function together as if we'd never quit, but..." he trailed off, stifling another sigh.

"But?"

"I want to have her back completely, all of her. I can't imagine myself with anyone but her."

Maggie knew that the same applied to Dana. For all the time they'd been separated, she'd never been out on a date, and Maggie was sure several men had been interested. Once she had even witnessed how Dana rebuffed a fellow doctor quite frankly, telling him she was 'not available'. But she also knew that after all Dana and Fox had been through, wiping the slate clean wasn't that easy.

Dana had told her how much she enjoyed working on the X-Files again. On the one hand, the cases challenged her scientist's intellect in a way not even the most complicated surgery could, but on the other hand, and maybe more important one, she had missed Fox just as much as Fox had missed her. They had never fallen out of love with each other, despite the severe problems they had faced in their relationship. Maggie knew her daughter and she assumed that is was mainly fear that held Dana back. She kept Fox at arm's length for fear of hurting again, of not being able to make it last.

"I thought of asking her to move back in. She lives in that tiny apartment which costs a fortune when at the same time there's plenty of room at our house. She'd have an office of her own and a bedroom. We could be...roommates."

Maggie pursed her lips, tilted her head and arched an eyebrow. "Roommates? Is that what you want her to be? Your roommate?"

"Of course not! I want her-" Mulder swallowed the rest of the sentence when Scully appeared in the doorframe to the kitchen. "Do you need any help in here?" she asked.

"No thanks, honey, we're almost done," Maggie said. "Why don't you two go outside for a moment? It's nice and the neighbor's boy, Tyler, did a wonderful job painting the garden shed. Maybe you'd like to have a look at it? I'm fine getting the pie ready myself."

With this, Maggie nudged them out of the kitchen. She was on a mission and just hoped that outside, being on their own with no curious family members within earshot, they might find a way to talk about what they had both said at the table earlier. She had a perfect view of the garden shed from her kitchen window. Giving them some undisturbed privacy didn't necessarily mean she had to rein in her own curiosity.

So Maggie watched through the window above the sink how they stepped outside in their jackets, Fox placing his hand at the small of Dana's back. They were walking side by side the few yards over to the shed, came to a halt and turned to each other, not deigning to look at the kid's painting job for even a second. Not that Maggie had really expected them to. The coffee machine was announcing the end of its task with an ongoing beep but Maggie didn't notice. She was too distracted by what was happening outside. They spoke to each other and Dana cupped Fox's cheek. This was going in the right direction, Maggie thought, absent-mindedly operating the milk frother for several minutes now.

"Mom?"

Bill Jr. had startled his mother.

"The coffee machine is beeping," he said, switching it off. He threw her a bewildered look. "What are you looking at?" He joined her at the sink and looked outside. When he saw Mulder and his sister deep in a conversation, he groaned. "What the-" slipped out of his mouth, and he just managed to keep that last word inside.

Maggie set the milk frother aside. She took the apple pie out of the pantry and handed him a knife. "Make yourself useful, Bill, and cut the pie."

Bill took the knife from her but ignored the pie. "What is she doing? She's not falling for his syrupy vows from earlier, is she?"

"Bill," Maggie tried to appease.

"No, seriously, mom, why is she even listening to him?"

Mother and son were both standing shoulder to shoulder now, staring outside. Maggie's heart jumped in anticipation, whereas Bill felt bile rising up his throat. Eventually, they observed how Mulder leaned in and placed a shy kiss on Scully's lips.

"Nooooo," Bill groaned, "Dana, please! How is he able to bewitch her again and again, mom? I don't get it!"

"She loves him, Bill, what's there not to understand? Your sister has been in love with this man for many, many years."

"But she left him! Why did she leave him if he's such a great guy?"

"You're a married man yourself, you know the ups and downs of a relationship. Dana and Fox had to fight demons, none of us would've been able to deal with."

While Maggie and Bill were discussing the relationship of the two people they were watching, said two people moved closer to one another. Maggie's heart beat a little faster when she saw how Dana let Fox pull her toward him, how he cupped her face with both hands, and how their lips met. They shared a tender kiss which soon turned into a quite passionate one, that much was obvious from their observation post. Fox's hand went into Dana's hair, Dana's arms around Fox's waist.

"I can't believe this pitiful loser is sweet-talking her into following him again," Bill huffed, sliding the knife crudely through the apple pie.

"William Scully Jr., watch your mouth! I know you're only worried about your sister, but she's no stupid little girl who can be manipulated with a few charming words. And Fox is a decent and very kind man who'd give his life for Dana. Accept the fact that those two belong together and learn to live with him being your sister's choice. Now you cut that pie into fair slices, I take care of the dishes." With this, she left him alone in the kitchen.

When her husband had still been alive, the patriarch of the family, Margaret had rather been the sort of housewife and mother who dealt with the unwanted behavior of her children in a gracious and tender manner, leaving it mainly to her husband to tell them off or punish them. When they'd been grounded by their father, she'd bring them milk and cookies and pardon them ahead of time if she thought the punishment was too severe. But since Ahab was not around anymore, she had to take over his role, and just because her children were adults didn't mean they didn't need some serious motherly talking once in a while.

The moment Maggie entered the hallway with a tray full of the dishes and silverware she was about to put on the dining table, the front door opened and Mulder and Scully stepped inside. Maggie almost dropped the tray when she noticed that they were holding hands. Dana's cheeks glowed, Fox's eyes sparkled and Maggie's heart threatened to burst.

"Oh hi, mom," Scully said, letting go of Mulder's hand as if it was a hot potato.

'Cute,' Maggie thought, 'like when I caught her holding hands with her first beau. What was his name again? Brandon? Yes, Brandon McCoy, her classmate in school.'

"Mulder and I...uhm, we...well, uh..." she started clumsily. Fox was standing behind her, smiling like a Cheshire cat and obviously touching her at places which made her squirm. Maggie wasn't stupid.

"It's okay, honey. We saw you."

"We?" Scully shrieked.

"Bill and I. Through the kitchen window."

"Bill? Bill saw us kiss?" There was a slight hysteric ring to Scully’s voice now.

"He'll get over it. I'm not so sure about the apple pie, though. He might have slaughtered it by now."

"Bill is holding a knife in his hands? I better go and hide. I'm sorry, Maggie, I didn't mean to ruin your Thanksgiving dinner," Mulder interjected and Maggie cringed because of how truly contrite he sounded.

"Don't be ridiculous, Fox! You haven't ruined anything but made an old woman very happy. Just don't screw this up again, you two. Do you hear me?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Mulder replied, placing his hands on Scully's shoulders and a quick peck on her cheek from where he was still standing behind her, evoking a joyful smile and a girlish giggle from her that made Maggie warm all over.

"Put your coats back on the rack and join us in the dining room in a few. I'm going to fill the other's in, although I'm quite sure they will be able to read it in your faces. The women, at least," Maggie said with a grin, then turned on her heel and headed toward the dining room. Just when she'd walked around the corner at the end of the hallway and was out of sight, she heard Bill step out of the kitchen. She held her breath. The last thing they needed was a fight between two men in their belief they had to protect Dana. She stayed put, pricking up her ears to be ready to separate the gamecocks if necessary.

"Dana. Mulder," she heard Bill huff.

"Bill-," Fox started but was cut off instantly by Dana. "Mulder, go inside! This is something between my brother and myself."

"But Scully..."

"Go!" Dana insisted and shoved him forward, Maggie figured by the sounds coming from the hallway. 'Good girl,' she whispered. When he had caught up to her, she just handed him the tray and motioned for him to move further to the dining room. She didn’t want him to overhear what she was going to eavesdrop on.

"How could you, Dana? What kind of a toxic relationship is this?" Bill's voice came from the hallway. Maggie's stomach churned. Hadn't he understood a word she'd said to him?

"He's a good man, Bill, despite what you're thinking of him."

"You suffered. You were hurt. You were mistreated. Jesus, Dana, this man has brought more pain into your life than one person should be dealing with in their life."

"You're saying this as if he did it on purpose. He suffered, was hurt and mistreated just like me. That's what's been melding us together, don't you see? For goodness sake, we have a child together we had to give up, Bill! Imagine I told you to let go of Tara just because I thought she wasn't good enough for you."

"It wouldn't be the same."

"Why not?"

"Because you don't know Tara like I do."

Maggie covered her mouth to stifle a chuckle. She knew Bill had just maneuvered himself into a corner now.

"But you know Mulder better than I do? Nobody...no-body knows Mulder better than I do. I know him better than he knows himself. We're the only ones who fully understand the other's issues, who have the ability to heal each other. If you like to call it toxic, then go ahead. I know you're only trying to protect me, Bill, and I appreciate your concern, but you've got to leave the choice of whom I'm sharing my life with to myself."

'That's my girl.' In her mind, Maggie applauded her. She didn't hear Bill reply anything, she assumed because he simply didn't know what to say. Dana had made her point, and she'd made it convincingly. Maybe, hopefully, he had understood by now.

"I just want my little sister to be happy."

"I am, Bill. As much as I can ever be."

"If you say so."

"I do. There's really no need for you to worry about me. I'm a big girl."

"Alright. Okay. Fine. I'll do my best to keep my mouth shut from now on. But as soon as he mistreats you in any way, I'll be back."

"He won't, Bill. He won't."

Maggie could hear the smile in Dana's voice. A load had been taken off her mind and she leaned her head against the wall in relief. She peeked around the corner into the hallway and what she saw made her eyes watery. Dana had put her head on her brother's broad chest and Bill had folded his arms around his sister's shoulders. This day not only seemed to be a new beginning for Dana and Fox but also for Dana and Bill.

"Mmmm," Dana hummed, "that's nice Bill. I could use a brotherly hug like this once in a while."

"Whenever. But for now, we should go back inside and make sure we get some of mom's apple pie. As far as I know, your Mulder has a sweet tooth, and Matthew never seems to be done eating these days. And if I don't get a slice of that pie, I'll get grumpy, that's for sure. I've been looking forward to it for days."

"You’re making a point here, Bill. Let's go."

Maggie heard Dana’s chuckle approaching and sneaked into the guest bathroom in a hurry because she didn't want them to find out she had eavesdropped on their conversation. She closed the door behind herself and sat down on the closed toilet lid, breathing in and out a few times. What a perfect Thanksgiving this was. She had a lot to be grateful for. All that mattered to her at this stage of her life was her family, and it filled her with joy that at this moment in time. Every member of the Scully family was healthy, loved and well-cared for. There was only one person she couldn't be sure about, William. He was the only blind spot on the otherwise colorful family tree, an issue that kept Maggie awake night.

She got up and clicked her tongue when she looked at her reflection in the mirror. "Margaret, your mission as head of this family isn't completed yet," she told herself, "there's one more thing you have to do. Bring that last lost sheep back to the herd." She rubbed her cheeks and smiled at herself. When she opened the door, she was fiercely determined to have one more member of the Scully clan sitting at her Thanksgiving table next year.

She couldn’t wait to make a plan.

#xf fanfiction #Margaret Scully #MSR #Bill Scully #send me prompts

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