#wonder if i can hash out a few more icons before bed...

[greatfcx]

Heard the mention of 'dad jokes' a little while ago, and suddenly this bastard woke up a bit. Like they were some kind of powerful incantation to revive the dead lol

[gaegalsyd]

The Words of the Night

Pairing: KamilahxMC

Summary: Night has once more approached and there’s no one else that Amy would wish to spend it with than Kamilah. Set in between BB1 and BB2

Author's Note: This is my first time posting a fic

Word Count: 1640

Amy heard a knock on her apartment door while she was preparing for dinner, and when she opened it Kamilah was standing on the other side. She is wearing her usual clothes which is a maroon pantsuit with the necklace she always wears around, her hair is a little bit disarranged probably from the stress at work but it does not make her less attractive. The makeup that the vampire has are light and natural looking and it accentuated her beautiful features.

“Are we just going to stand here?” Kamilah asked with a small hint of smirk on her face so Amy chuckled and let the vampire queen stride confidently into her ‘cozy’ apartment.

Night has once more approached and there’s no one else that Amy would wish to spend it with than Kamilah. The past few months have been filled by happiness and contentment, especially when no one wants her dead yet and that she has been spending quite some time with the vampire queen who has become her favorite person. Just seeing the older woman makes her happy, and everything is much clearer and more vibrant when she is in the vampire’s company. She may have only known Kamilah in a short span of time but it is so easy to talk to her and to listen to her, it does not matter what they are talking about even if it is about sharing their experiences or boring clan bureaucracy which is not boring when Kamilah is the one speaking about it. The young woman enjoys seeing the older vampire hash about the idiocy of people.

Kamilah is not the type of person who opens up very quickly with all the things that she has been through for the past two millennia. And Amy respects the boundaries of the vampire but lately the two of them have been quite personal on their conversations, and Kamilah has been visiting her in the apartment to “make sure she hasn’t done something stupid to wreck the apartment” and it started when Lily moved to stay in shadow den.

Amy took out a bottle of wine from the fridge and two glasses before following Kamilah in the living room, where she placed the objects in the coffee table opposite the couch that the vampire always sat on every time she comes over.

“I ordered Chinese and was just preparing for dinner and I think it would be enough for two” Amy said as she poured the wine in the glasses.

“Thank you, I was also wondering if I could stay here for the night? If you don’t mind that is” Kamilah replied while patting the space beside her as a gesture that asks her to sit beside the older woman.

The younger woman sat beside the vampire and when she was comfortable with the strong arms of the vampire around her, she replied “Of course you can stay here besides the clothes you left a few nights ago are in my closet so you have something to change on”

“Do you have any plans for the night?” the vampire asked.

“None really, I was just going to watch some movies”

“let me guess, it has Cate Blanchett? Lily would not stop talking about how Cate Blanchett is a gay icon” Kamilah remarked with a little teasing tone and no irritation at all, which could mean that the woman is in a good mood.

“Obviously Cate Blanchett is in the movie that I was planning to watch but I’ll let you choose” Amy exclaimed “and obviously that woman is a freaking gay icon, I mean she’s the one who I think of whenever I hear god is a woman!” she added.

The vampire hummed in response and said “and what will the movie options be?”

“let’s see, we have Oceans 8 because there’s 8 badass women there, Carol of course because why not, Thor: Ragnarok because Hela is hot as hell”

“and I’m guessing that you’re hoping I would pick Carol because apparently it’s your favorite movie”

That statement made the younger woman giggle as she stood up to finish preparing their dinner. “well the decision is yours to make but any of those would be fine by me and I should get back in preparing our food”

And as Amy went back to the kitchen to bring the foods on the living room, Kamilah responded to some emails on her phone then changed into much comfortable clothes. Amy thought that she can get use to this, eating together while watching some movies then talk about random things that would end up being personal but in a way that they just get closer every time. A warmth feeling has been blossoming in her chest like the feeling of being at home after a very long trip every time that they are together. She knows that she is probably falling for the vampire, and she is falling hard and fast. This kind of feeling scares her in a way that developing these feelings are like standing in the edge of a cliff with a deep ocean waiting to catch her when she falls, an ocean that is so deep there is a chance that she would drown and feel nothing but cold. The thought of Kamilah catching her before she falls brings her warmth but what they have right now is enough for her to be quite happy.

The two of them watched Carol while eating and after they finished their meal, they sat in the couch tangled in each other’s limbs. None of them may admit it yet but they are happy to be in each other’s arms, to hear and feel their hearts beating synchronously as if it is one. Unlike the other nights, this particular evening had them both tongue-tied that they did not utter words but they understood each other by looking in their eyes and by gestures of comfort and love.

After the movie finished, the two found themselves in the bed laying side by side with a comfortable silence that Amy only felt with Kamilah. With other people, having total silence would be very awkward and uncomfortable, it would be like being in the middle of a room filled with strangers with nothing but a cold atmosphere. However, with Kamilah it would be like being alone but not really feeling alone. When they turned to their sides looking in each other’s eyes, Amy felt seen and not just seen physically but the door to her soul has been opened and is willing to be vulnerable for the woman is falling for. She told Kamilah what she feels by looking at her, she told her how she wished that she could spend day and night by her side, how she thought of her every time, how she would give every thing to see her smile and be happy, she told Kamilah through her gaze that she is the best person she have known in her young life and would probably until her last breath.

In the middle of the evening, the older vampire has already fallen asleep while the young woman was still wide awake. She used this opportunity to look at the beautiful face of Kamilah, even with the dim night light she can still see how captivating the woman is but she cannot help to see how there is a little frown on her enthralling face. “you are safe, and you are loved” she whispered in her sleeping form. And there goes another warmth in her chest, and she knows that it would explode any moment if she will not do something to contain it. She thought that confessing to Kamilah how she feels is not the best decision so she has to express her feelings in a different way.

Amy is neither a poet nor a writer, she is bad at expressing herself through words but she has to shower her emotions to something even if it is in a blank paper. So, she stood up quietly to not wake the woman beside her, and when she reached her table in the room filled with work notes and scratch, she took a clean paper and pen then wrote and wrote whatever it is that she is feeling.

“The simple thought of your name sends my heart to a delirious beat

And that look in your eyes that I would not trade for anything

How bad I would feel if you look at another that way

But that smile eases everything

No matter how hard I try to hide it, you don’t know what that does to me

I never understood poems, love stories, and romance fully

But if it is for you then I would be a romantic poet

Writing and pouring my soul in a blank page, filling it with my love that will only be for you.

The walls you’ve built around yourself, I do not wish to break it

But I do wish to be on the same side of the wall with you

I can spend an eternity speaking with my soul

Or a forever of solitude with each other

As long as I will be with you."

She read what she has written, and it actually helped her breath a little and stop feeling like she is a bomb about to explode any minute. After reading she crumpled the paper and threw it in her bin. And without looking back on her desk she carefully slides back on the bed beside Kamilah. after an affectionate glance to the person beside her, she felt blissful, the mortal closed her eyes as an attempt to sleep and minutes later she has been consumed by it not knowing what the future will bring but she is brimming with hope that it would be promising.

[takingcourage]

Back to Bubbly

Pairing: Jaime x MC

Word Count: 2,800

Summary: After spending all of her free time at the hospital, Arden needs a break. Thankfully, Jaime’s got a plan to help her decompress. 

Note: This story started as a drabble based on @krishu213​​‘s request​ for “markets,” but very quickly got out of hand. If you can make it through the angsty beginning, I promise there’s fluff to be had by the end.  

Also, I offer my sincere apologies for how rough this is. I had a totally different fic on the docket for tonight, but ended up hashing this one out when I sat down to edit the other. Thanks for bearing with my shenanigans. 

Arden couldn’t tell how long the ventilator and her own breathing had been working in tandem. Breathe, click click, breathe, click click...Their combined rhythm was perpetual, disrupted only when the door of 227 was breached by some visitor. 

It hadn’t been like this the whole time her father had been in ICU. The first night she’d visited, she’d talked herself almost hoarse with the account of her trip with Ellen and their plans for uncovering Carmichael's schemes. When that story had ended, she'd resorted to telling him favorite memories from her childhood -- sharing secrets that he'd never heard in hopes that tales of her juvenile mischief could scandalize him out of his sleep. 

The night after that, she'd filled him in on the developments in her relationship with Jaime. I think we might actually start dating, dad. Can you believe it? Mom would have been so proud of herself for calling it all those years ago... She'd gone on until the tears came and prevented her from telling him anything further.

But tonight had been different. There was only so much ground that a one-sided conversation could cover. Desperate, she’d picked up a newspaper from one of the waiting rooms on the way up. Once she'd read all of the stories that were of interest, they'd tried to complete the crossword puzzle “together.” Although she still teetered the pencil between her finger and thumb, she’d conceded defeat some time ago. 

Knock, knock.

Arden glanced up at the disturbance, eyes taking a moment to adjust to the sensation of movement. 

“Miss Gale?” 

The nurse was one she recognized -- Gary or Jerry or something like that. Arden couldn’t quite remember. All the same, her tense brow eased a bit at the man’s pleasant expression. You’re in good hands, dad. 

Hand still on the door, the nurse continued. "I just wanted to give you a warning that visiting hours are ending in about five minutes."

"Thank you," she mumbled as she shoved the pencil back into her purse. 

"You're welcome." He slipped out of the room and Arden was alone once more. 

Well, not completely alone. 

Stretching legs that were weary from disuse, she stood beside the bed. She leaned over until her mouth hovered above his ear. 

"I love you, dad. I have to go now, but I'll be back tomorrow. I promise." Tears welled in her eyes as she kissed his brow. Fingering the strap on her purse, she took one final look at his prone figure. 

Each morning, she woke with resolve to bring him back from the darkness, calling on every higher power she'd ever heard of to work some kind of miracle. Each night, she tried to steel herself for the possibility that he would never wake up. 

The cycle was threatening to drive her insane. 

"Bye, dad."

Hating the finality, she added a hasty, "See you tomorrow," before she turned from his still form. 

You've got this, Arden. 

She took a deep breath through her nostrils, then pushed open the door. 

You can do this, you can do this, you can do this. Her lips formed the words over and over, but it didn’t make them true. 

On auto pilot, she made her way through the darkened hallways, pressing the button for the elevator without ever lifting her eyes from the floor. She hated how much the act of leaving the hospital felt like a relief -- hated even more the guilt that always accompanied that sense of relief. As long as there was any hope that he could recover, spending time anywhere else felt like giving up. 

She smacked away at the tears on her cheek. With her free hand, she checked the time on her phone to calculate how many hours there were before she could come and see him again.

Messages (2)

Distracted by the notification, she cleared the lock screen and tapped the appropriate icon. It came as little surprise that both texts were from Jaime. 

Hey, Arden. I know you're probably at the hospital, but I wondered if you’d like to do something tomorrow morning? I thought you might want a distraction.

If not, that's okay...you're probably exhausted and could use the extra sleep. Just let me know. 

Jaime was right: she was exhausted. But Arden knew herself well enough to understand that much of what she felt wasn't physical exhaustion. And those other types of exhaustion -- the emotional and the mental, especially -- were things she couldn’t relieve on her own. 

A few hours with him would probably do her a world of good.

After exiting the elevator, she stepped aside to tap out a quick response and switch her volume back on. 

I'd love to see you! I just need to be back at the hospital by 10:00. 

As she walked across the parking lot, her phone vibrated through the outer pocket of her purse. She checked the message once she’d made it into her car.

Great! Just shoot me a text when you wake up.

Turning the key in the ignition, Arden's lips curled into her first genuine smile of the day.

_______________________________________________________________________

Morning came earlier than Arden might have hoped, but she was fully awake once Opie managed to drag her out of bed. Pulling on her favorite jeans and a hoodie, she took the dog down to the patch of grass in front of her building. 

While the puppy sniffed around in the sidewalk, she sent a quick message to Jaime: Are you up?

His response came less than a minute later: Just got out of the shower. I can be there in twenty minutes?

See you then. : ) 

By the time she’d fed both animals and wrestled her hair into submission, the twenty minutes were nearly up. She’d just finished tying on her tennis shoes when she heard Jaime’s rap on the door. 

“Good morning!” Arden’s enthusiasm over seeing him lent a level of energy that she’d not felt in several days. 

Wasting no time, Jaime wrapped her in a tight hug. “It’s good to see you, Arden.”

"Mmmmph.” She relaxed into his shoulder, enjoying the prevalent scent of his body wash. 

“Did you just smell me?” he asked with a chuckle. 

“It’s a compliment,” she promised. “You just smell really good.” 

“I’ll take it.” He drew back with a smile, a strand of damp hair falling in front of his gorgeous brown eyes. “It's good to see you, Arden." 

Instead of answering, she lifted a hand to brush the hair away from his forehead. Jaime’s smile widened and she wished -- not for the first time -- that she still the power to know his thoughts. 

Opie jumped up on his pant leg, putting an end to the moment. 

“Is this little guy the reason you’re up so early?” Jaime inquired as he lavished affection on the energetic animal. 

“What can I say? Motherhood has changed me.” Arden rolled her eyes and reached for her purse. “But he should be good for another several hours now. Shall we go?”

They’d made it several miles down the road before he asked the question she’d known was coming. 

"How's your dad?"

Staring out the side window, she picked at the seam on her jeans. "Same as before.” With a deep breath through her nostrils, she tried to separate the events into days -- a challenging task within the hospital monotony. “Yesterday...I think it was yesterday, they told me he’s avoided getting any bedsores, so that’s a good thing.” 

He fell quiet, eyes fixed on the traffic light. Still, his free hand snuck over to her thigh. Her fingers curled around his palm, grateful for the show of support. 

"The nurses seemed pretty optimistic when I was there a couple of days ago. Nothing's changed?"

"It's just a waiting game, and not the fun kind."

"Waiting rarely is." The light turned green, and he lifted his hand to switch gears. "But if it's okay with you, I'd like to go with you when you see him today."

"I'd really like that." Somehow, the thought of having another person with her in that tiny room made it feel less claustrophobic. 

"So, about this morning," he narrated, turning onto a side street. "I figured you probably haven't been eating very well for the past few days."

Arden opened her mouth to object, but he beat her to the punch.

"Lemme guess... It's been a steady diet of Pop Tarts, Hot Pockets, and Kraft Mac and Cheese?"

"I had some SpaghettiOs yesterday."

He scoffed as he flicked on the blinker again. "You’re practically a poster child for the USDA."

Arden poked her tongue out in protest.

"Anyway, I was thinking we could stop by the farmers’ market and then head back to my place to make some breakfast. I've been craving fresh fruit and goodness knows how long it's been since you've had food that didn't come out of a box. Or a can," he added, sensing the objection before it even passed her lips.

"Does this mean we’re having pancakes?"

He pulled into an empty space, treating her to a cheesy smile as he put the car into park."I haven’t made them in a while, but I think this calls for it.” 

"You're amazing. I don't tell you that enough, but you really are."

"Just trying to look out for you." He cast aside his seatbelt and swayed toward her for a kiss.

As their lips met briefly, she wondered why it was that his version of looking out for her didn’t feel like a threat to her freedom. It was one of the many questions she’d spent the last week trying to answer, but she still came up short. 

He pulled away first, eyes sparkling as he exited the vehicle. "Let's go see what we can find."

“I’m hoping for honey,” she declared. “I wrote a story about some urban beekeeping efforts in Northbridge a few months ago, but I’ve never tried any of it.”  “Maybe that should be our first stop.” Jaime indicated a tent toward their left. A gingham tablecloth served as backdrop for the attractive display, and Arden couldn’t resist dashing ahead of him in her desire to examine the wares. 

First and foremost, her attention was drawn to the observation hive situated on the middle of the table. Crouching slightly, she fixed her eyes on the flurry of action in the center. Grateful as she was for the plate of glass that separated them, the tiny insects were remarkably compelling. 

“They’re amazing!” she hummed appreciatively as Jaime caught up. 

To humor her, he cast his eyes over the hive. 

“I’ll be with you in just a moment,” the vendor assured as she completed a transaction with her previous customer. 

“No hurry.” 

Arden tore her eyes from the construction, considering the assortment of products being sold. Taking a beeswax candle in her palm, she passed the column under her nose. The faint sweet scent tickled her nose. 

“Do you have any questions? Anything I can help you with?” 

Jaime stretched out the pair of honey straws in his hand. “Did you want anything, Arden?”

“I think I’m good for now, but you’ll definitely see me again in future,” she promised with a nod at the vendor. 

As Jaime paid, she took one final look through the glass. “I wish I knew what they were thinking.”

Jaime pressed a kiss to her hair as they walked away. “Don’t ever change. Please.” 

Blushing, she sought his hand. But her fingers met a hard corner of plastic instead of his familiar skin. 

“This one’s for you,” he explained, passing her the stick of honey. 

She slipped the token into her purse, grateful to find his hand open to her on a second attempt. 

They spent the next half hour circulating through various stalls. There was a momentary twinge of guilt when she saw a man about her father’s age picking tomatoes across the tent from her, but Arden suppressed it quickly. Visiting hours haven’t started. There’s literally nothing you can do for him. She breathed more easily at the thought. 

By the time they were ready to leave, she was practically floating. When they reached Jaime’s house, she was lighter than air. 

“You ready for some coffee?” he asked as they entered his small kitchen. “I’ll get some going before I start on the pancakes.”

“Coffee sounds great. I’ll go ahead and wash the berries?” Jaime responded by surrendering the cartons to her hands. 

Arden found his colander easily and quickly set about cleaning the fruit in his sink. She snuck a glance over her shoulder while she rinsed, skin warming at the sight of him puttering around in the cabinets. 

He was no master chef, but he knew his way around a kitchen, which was more than could be said for herself. Her own culinary skills left much to be desired. 

Berries washed, she hopped onto a clear panel of the countertop, content to watch his efforts. “Let me know if I can help with anything,” she offered when he handed off her mug of fresh coffee. 

“Just keep me company. It’s been a while since I’ve made pancakes.” 

She took a long sip from the mug. Perfection. “I’m shocked. I thought Saturday pancakes were Lewis-family tradition?”

Flour in hand, he looked up at her with a wry smile. “They were. But traditions aren’t much fun when you’re living alone.” 

Cheeks burning, Arden drained another mouthful to buy herself some strategizing time. Of course they’re not, you idiot. Why’d you have to bring that up? 

She was opening her mouth to bumble an apology when he saved her. 

“And that’s why I’m glad you came around today so I’d have someone to make them for.” He lifted the mixing bowl and made a point of angling away from her. “But I am going to have to ask you to close your eyes for a minute. Paula would never forgive me if I let you in on her secret ingredient.” 

Although she complied with the demand, she couldn’t help laughing at his serious demeanor. 

Whatever the tricks of Paula’s recipe, it made for the best pancakes Arden had ever had. Even the many memories she had of eating them in childhood couldn’t measure up to the plate of perfection she devoured at Jaime’s dining room table. 

"That good, huh?" He joked, arching a brow at the empty dish in front of her. 

"Can you cook for me every weekend?"

He gave her a funny look as he snapped the lid back on the bottle of syrup. "That could probably be arranged."

Gathering up their dishes, she followed him into the kitchen. "I could pay you back with kisses."

He paused, leaning against the cabinet to look her in the eye. When she turned toward him, his own gaze was narrowed in amusement. "Do your all of your kisses require some kind of trade?"

Arden deposited the plates in the empty sink, taking a moment to rinse her sticky fingertips before she replied to his query.

"Not for you, they don't. You can have them as often as you'd like."

"Not for me? Are there others you're in the habit of kissing?"

"Not at the moment.” She gave a breathy laugh at his insinuation, but then turned serious. “And maybe never again."

Jaime took her cue, arms opening wide for her to step into his embrace. She kissed him heartily, feeling the ache of uncertainty and fear slip away under his persistent lips. 

As long as she was in his arms, she didn’t have to worry about having all of the answers. Guilt was no longer weighing her down. But more than that, she was struck by the assurance that she didn’t have to face the world alone. 

He stopped her with a gentle hand. "We should probably keep moving if we want to make it to the hospital by 10:00."

“I know.” Although she agreed with his line of thinking, her desire and her better sense were very much at odds with one another. Reluctant to let him go, she lowered her arms to wrap around his waist. 

“But before we leave, thank you. Truly.” There was a familiar pressure building at the corners of her eyes. She flicked them down to avoid crying. “The last few days have been torture, but this morning was perfect. I think I really needed this.”  

“I did too.” His own tears glistened when he pulled away from her. “And I really mean it, Arden. I’m here for whatever you need.” 

In the midst of all the whatevers life had thrown at her, she was beginning to wonder if he was all she really needed. 

[diegoh4rgreeves]

#SelfiesForCastaneda

Story Summary:  You’ve just finished watching The Umbrella Academy on Netflix. You follow the main cast on Twitter and get a Retweet from David Castaneda on your selfie! This prompts a conversation with you two. You hit it off and set a date.

Chapter: 1/1

Word Count: 2,420

Pairing: David Castaneda x Reader

Warnings: Anxious thoughts

It’s a rainy Friday night. Normally you’d go out with friends or go out to downtown Toronto. Because it was raining and you were exhausted from work though, you decided to veg out and finish watching the Netflix series, The Umbrella Academy. You were comfortable in your warm home, laid down on your plushy couch, with a fuzzy blanket covering you, and you were in your sweatpants and loose white t-shirt.

You forgot about this comfort once you were so stunned by the series finale of The Umbrella Academy. You could not wait for season 2. You also got attached to the characters and you loved Ellen Page and Robert Sheehan more than you already did before; back when you saw the movie Juno, and back when you watched the show Misfits. You thought Emmy Raver-Lampman was so pretty and seemingly sweet in real life. Your bisexual ass could not get over this. You hit the Follow button in Twitter for Ellen, Robert, and Emmy. The character Luther was your least favourite one, though you thought to get to know the actor for him, Tom Hopper, from interviews, and to Follow him on Twitter too. Justin H. Min was so handsome and so vulnerable as Ben. Aidan Gallagher was just a kid and did an amazing job playing an old man trapped in the body of a 12 year old. And last but not least, there was David Castaneda. He is the most handsome one to you. As Diego, he was so resentful. It didn’t make sense to you because all the siblings went through childhood trauma, from the same man who adopted them all. He was also spiteful towards a former lover, Detective Patch (who your gay ass also found attractive. That’s a story for another time). Still, there was something about Diego, or David, that made you feel good things.

You smile as you hit the Follow button on David. You have followed all the main cast of The Umbrella Academy, along with Mary J. Blige, who is just an icon. You also followed Gerard Way, who created the show and was the singer of the brilliant band My Chemical Romance.

You spend the rest of your evening lurking everyone you just followed. It feels good to be in love with something again.

As you lurk David and his Likes, you see a bunch of fan’s selfies he liked. Every selfie has the hashtag #SelfiesForCasataneda You’re intrigued by this. You wonder if he started this hashtag, or if some fans did. You are also pleased that he interacts with fans. He’s still at the level of fame where he can see fans in his notifications over being blinded by the plenty of Likes, Retweets, and Replies he gets.

This motivates you to get off the couch and to take a shower. As you take a shower, you think of an outfit idea for this selfie you’re thinking of posting. You’ll wear all black; the tight black turtleneck you bought a while ago and have worn plenty of times already, the baggy black jacket you’ve copped from your older sister, and black jeans. It was a Diego-esque outfit. You didn’t have to cosplay. You just always dress like this anyway, and you were the most confident in it.

After your shower, you slip into the outfit, put on some concealer, black winged eyeliner, and red lipstick. You snap some shots from the camera on your phone. You try out a bunch of angles. You scoff at some selfies and think there’s no way he’ll Like any of these. Well, he could, since he seemed like a support Liker to fans. You still wanted to dress to impress if he was going to actually see this selfie!

You beam up once you get another idea. You run to your kitchen to pick up 2 kitchen knives. You are aware of how funny this could look. You like to think that you’re a creative person, or so you decide to go the positive route of thinking.

You get the knives and put a self timer on from the camera of your phone. You criss-cross your arms, with a knife in each hand, and take the shot. Your phone took 3 shots, so there’s a chance of a good one. There is a good one indeed. Your face was lighted perfectly in this certain one. There was a glow. Your hair looked great too. You love the shape of your body as well.

You post the photo, and put in the hash tag, #SelfiesForCastaneda You press ‘Tweet’. At this point, you don’t care if no one would Like the selfie. You are just feelin’ your look!

Fortunately, you do get some Likes; a few were David Castaneda fan accounts, one from a supportive mutual, and a few others were from other fans of The Umbrella Academy. You Like everyone else’s most recent tweets and selfies back.

Then there is a Retweet. You beam up and think maybe it’s from one of the Likers. You view the Retweet and it’s from… @DavidCastanedaJ You think it’s another fan account, until you remember following this account earlier, and you notice the blue checkmark next to the username, which indicates that this is an official and verified celebrity account. Your heart is racing. What the fuck! you think. You check his account and think that maybe his support Liking evolved to support Retweeting. There is no other Retweet with the hashtag #SelfiesForCastaneda on his account though.

You leave your phone alone for 2 hours after your tweet gets more Likes and Retweets from other David fans. You even notice some haters in the thread. Luckily there are only a few haters. Everyone else says that your photo is bad-ass.

You’re not usually one for bragging. This is a very cool moment though, so you retweet David’s Retweet of your selfie, and you caption it with, 'Uhmmm… did David Castaneda just retweet my selfie!? Diego frickn Hargreeves!?“

You look at the time on your phone. It’s 1:30am! You’re usually a night owl. Somehow though, you were tired. You did sleep very little before you went to work, and you commuted in the rain. Being cozy and watching Netflix had to contribute to that tiredness as well. So, you snuggle up in your warm bed, which also has a fuzzy blanket, and sleep.

—

10:43am. You wake up naturally and pick up your phone which was laid on top of some pile of clothes you left on your floor beside your bed. You check your Instagram, Facebook, and Tumblr. Finally, you check your Twitter to check on the selfie. You also see an Inbox notification. You wonder who that could be from. People don’t normally message you on Twitter. You open the inbox and in the preview, it’s @DavidCastanedaJ ! You can’t believe it. What could he possibly have to say to you? Your heart is racing.

What if he says that the retweet was an accident? Would he have had to message you that though? He could have deleted the Retweet if it was an accident. You would have understood that he didn’t mean to Retweet one fan’s selfie randomly.

You take a deep breath before opening the message to quit your overthinking and your doubts.

@DavidCastanedaJ: It’s a good selfie. I had to retweet it.

After lurking his Twitter last night, you notice that he’s got a dry and sarcastic tone. You’re unsure of what to respond to him with, or if you should even respond. Well, of course you should respond. He felt compelled to say something to you personally instead of being funny and fishing for Likes. Well, that’s speaking for if he’s not being sarcastic.

You tap your chin and wonder if you should screenshot this to your close friends, especially your sister who got you to watch the show and dealt with you ogling over him. You shake your head out of this and think that it’s best to reply to him ASAP. He sent his text around 6am. You’re not sure why he sent it that early. He’s in Toronto, a city not too far from yours. He’s not shooting a show, as far as you knew. There isn’t even an announcement of a season 2 for The Umbrella Academy yet.

You quit your overthinking again, and decide to reply with this:

[@YourUsername]: A good selfie how? Like, in what sense?

You take another deep breath and chuck your phone on the spot next to you on your bed. You get up from the bed and decide to leave your phone alone and try to think of something productive to do on your day off. Before you can do that, your phone buzzes. You beam up, and rush back over to your bed, which you sit on your knees for.

Twitter Notification: Preview of @DavidCastanedaJ Inbox message

@DavidCastanedaJ: Idk

@DavidCastanedaJ: I like your Diego get-up, and you’re aesthically pleasing

Your heart is skipping beats. What does he mean by aesthetically pleasing!? Is he implying that you’re attractive? Are you even his type in looks? Do you resemble Detective Patch? Are actors attracted to the type of people who play their love interests? Well it was the only reference you have for this emerging and handsome actor.

You’re in your 20s, and he’s 29. You still have a baby face and wonder if he thinks you look younger than you actually are. Why would he retweet your selfie though?

[@YourUsername]: Aesthetically pleasing? This face?

You hold your phone and stare at the thread. Maybe he’s online if he replied to your last text just seconds after it. Much to your surprise, there’s a blue checkmark which indicates that he read it. Maybe he’s just thinking of what to say. Or maybe you’re a suggestive creep! Wait, how could you be if he was the one who retweeted your selfie!? God, you really had to quit that. Stop letting it get to your head!

The thread shows a new bubble, from him.

@DavidCastanedaJ: Haha

@DavidCastanedaJ: Yes, this face

@DavidCastanedaJ: It’s a great face. What’s your secret?

You are now blushing and still manage to type.

[@YourUsername]: I did sleep 9 hours last night. You know what they say about 9 hours of sleep.

@DavidCastanedaJ: Yeah, that’s lucky

You are easing into this now, though you are also wondering if you should be careful, or if you’re just dreaming and didn’t actually wake up earlier than you usually do.

[@YourUsername]: I’m guessing you don’t have that luxury?

@DavidCastanedaJ: Well, maybe now I can sleep that much

@DavidCastanedaJ: Back when we were shooting the Umbrella Academy though, I was a mess!

[@YourUsername]: You seem so healthy

[@YourUsername]: At least with that body, you do…

David seems to like that response. You spend Saturday afternoon texting each other, and it’s still surreal to you that this is happening, much less how you two seem so connected.

—

A few hours later.

@DavidCastanedaJ: So, you said you’re in Toronto, right?

[@YourUsername]: Well, I’m in a city *near* Toronto, about a half hour away

@DavidCastanedaJ: Oh I see

[@YourUsername]: I’m there often anyway. I mostly go see local bands, and take their photos

@DavidCastanedaJ: Right. I remember you saying that earlier

You’re unsure of how this conversation could last at this point. You take a chance with a one-word response anyway.

[@YourUsername]: Yep!

@DavidCastanedaJ: How would you feel about coming to Toronto tonight? I thought maybe we could have dinner, and I could show you real Diego Hargreeves gear…

Your heart is racing again! In fact, you think that you’re going to shit your pants. You decide to have some banter with him to cover up your fangirling.

[@YourUsername]: "Real Diego Hargreeves gear.”

[@YourUsername]: Is that a sexual innuendo?

@DavidCastanedaJ: It is if you want it to be ;)

[@YourUsername]: Omg

@DavidCastanedaJ: I realize that did sound pretty sketchy, so sorry about that

[@YourUsername]: No, it’s totally fine! I was just teasing :)

[@YourUsername]: I would love to come to downtown tonight! When are you free?

@DavidCastanedaJ: Well, seeing as I’ve been texting a very beautiful girl all afternoon, I’d say my schedule is pretty flexible

[@YourUsername]: Really? Are you sure that Gerard Way isn’t barking at you to get back on set for season 2 as we speak?

@DavidCastanedaJ: Ahahah yeah totally

@DavidCastanedaJ: I’d tell him to wait though. I should get to spend my free time with someone cool first

From there, you hash out the details for the plans; what time, and where to meet. You both also decide to get a drink at Brooklynn Bar. You’re not much of a drinker, though for a celebrity like him you made an exception.

You decide to wear “the Diego get-up”, this time you style your hair, wear darker red lipstick, the same black eyeliner, and you sling a small black cross-body bag over your shoulder.

David texts you with his name. Then he tells you to keep him posted on your whereabouts. You make your way to downtown and your meeting spot with him. You eye the area and look for him. You turn to some side, and you see him walking over. Your heart is skipping beats again, and you gasp.

He looks so handsome with his tan peacoat, black jeans, his gelled black hair, and beard and mustache.

He smiles knowingly and walks over to you. He gives you a hug.

You cannot believe that it is actually him. You realise in this moment that you could have been catfished. You weakly hug him back in your disbelief over this moment.

He pulls you in closer and you hug back tighter.

“Oh my God!” you exclaim.

He pulls out the hug and he looks over at you with a toothy smile on his face. “What?”

“It’s you. It’s really you! God, this is so embarrassing. I think that I’m actually starstruck.”

He chuckles. “This is gonna sound weird, but I thought I was being catfished.”

You give him a puzzled look, although you are so flattered. “I thought that I was an annoying type of fan you’re annoyed of attracting!”

“What!?” he laughs. “Okay, we haven’t even had a drink yet and we’re already confusing each other.”

You let out a laugh.

He gestures an arm to the entry door. “Shall we go in?”

“Yeah sure!”

He signals for you to walk in first, and so your date begins. Things can only get better from here.

[baneismydragon]

Draw me Like one of your French Girls... Part 1

This fic is dedicated to @yunyin who was a big part of bringing it about in the first place ^_^  (Warning some spoilers for ML Season 2- (Just the stuff we knew during the hiatus nothing important from the new episodes) 

“Listen furball, I am ten times as sexy as you are. That is just a fact. People would pay to see pictures of me.”

“People DO pay to see pictures of me,” Chat shot back.

“What?”

“Never mind,” he grumbled, “the point is that I am obviously the sexier of the two of us.”

“Guys, I know this is a slow patrol night but you are giving me a headache,” Rena Rougue sighed, dropping down onto the platform and sprawling onto her stomach against the cool metal of the tower.

“Wait,” Chat said with a terrifying grin, “Rena. My dear, darling, friend.”

“Oh this can’t end well.”

“You are a fox of impeccable taste are you not?”

“Maybe.”

“And you are an excellent judge of both male and female attractiveness as well, are you not?”

“Ladybug is the hottest out of all of you,” she smirked, not bothering to get up.

“Yes, that is a given, but the point is-”

“The point is that I could pull off sexy far better than this mangy stray,” Bee interrupted.

“Could not.”

“Will you two please just stop fighting, it’s been too hot to deal with this level of stupid,” Rena sighed.

“It’s not stupid, my honor is at stake!” Bee huffed. “If you want us to stop then tell him that I clearly would be better suited to being a sex icon than he would.”

“Foxy lady, please tell Bee that she is clearly pollinating the wrong flower.”

Rena groaned. Clearly there would be no reasoning with the two of them until this had been hashed out.

“Fine I will judge your stupid contest. We just get a picture of each of you and then we can decide who wins.”

Both of her partners eyes light up with an unholy gleam and then turned to face each other with a terrifying intensity.

“Ground rules-” Chat said, “sketches only, no color, has to be done in 48 hours.”

“Agreed. Also no professionals, they are too easily bribed.” Bee shot back.  

“Um...Guys…”

“Agreed.” Chat plowed on. “Realism only no alternate styles.”

“Like I want some anime portrait you weeb.”

“Says the girl who marathoned Mai-Hime last weekend.” “I told you that in confidence you mangy cat! You are so going down.” Bee glowered lifting off the ground in irritation, her wings fluttering.

“You wish,” Chat purred.

“GUYS!”

“We meet back here in 48 hours and Foxy and LB vote on the winner.” Chat said, pulling out his baton and twirling it for good measure.

“Deal. See you then whiskers.”

And before Rena Rouge could even get another word out, both of her partners had disappeared into the night.

“I meant we could just take a picture on my phone…” she muttered into the silence. She didn’t look forward to explaining this to Ladybug before patrol on Sunday.

~~~

Marinette stretched as she finally stood up from her sewing table. She felt bad about having ditched out on patrol, but she had really needed to get this dress done for her aunt.

Besides it wasn’t like her partners couldn’t handle a night on their own.

“Well Tikki I think I am going to head to-”

She stopped talking as she heard a soft repetitive tapping against her skylight.

Well that couldn’t be a good sign.

She nodded to Tikki who quickly darted into her hiding spot in one of Marinette’s plants, and hurried up the ladder to her loft to let Chat into the room.

“Hey, stranger,” she teased, “so what brings you to my side of town? Don’t you guys usually have patrols on Fridays?”

“Been keeping up with the Ladyblog I see,” Chat said, dropping down onto the bed and flashing his trademark grin.

“That’s not an answer to my question,” Marinette replied, climbing back down to her main room with Chat on her heels.

“Eh, it was a slow night. Also I need a favor.”

“A favor?” Marinette asked, settling down into her desk chair and leveling him with her best ‘What did you do now’ stare. She really hoped she wasn’t going to have to help him break into the Louvre again.

“Don’t worry nothing illegal this time,” Chat said as if reading her thoughts and putting a hand over his heart, “just a simple project that you are particularly well suited for.”

“Am I making you cookies again?”

“No. I mean if you WANT to I won’t say no, but that’s not why I am here. I need you to paint me.”

“What?”

“Well, not paint. Draw me. Black and White, pencil, full body. As sexy as possible if you don’t mind. Oh and I need it by Sunday night.”

Marinette glared at her intruder.

“Oh that’s all?”

“Yeah, that’s pretty much all I need.”

Marinette picked up a ball of yarn sitting on her desk and threw it at Chat’s head.

“You can’t just barge into someone’s house and order them to draw a pin-up of you.”

“I didn’t barge in, I knocked.”

“That is not the point, you still just waltzed in and expected me to draw you.”

“Well you do draw.”

“Yes fashion. Not on demand portraits.”

“I am also not demanding, I asked for a favor.”

“Yeah well my answer is no. It’s not like I sit around hoping for you to stop in so I can draw you as some sex god.”

“But you do think I am a sex god?” Chat smiled leaning in just a little too close and laughing when Marinette shoved him away with a blush. “Yes, I have so got this!”

“You haven’t got anything. You can’t just ask people for free drawings, do you know how much time and effort these things take! It’s not like I sit around drawing all day you know.”

“I can pay you.”

“Fine, I want a new serger. Top of the line.”

“Done.”

“Wait, I was kidding.”

“I wasn’t. I can have it for you tomorrow.”

“Chat those cost like 600 Euro. You can’t just waltz in with a high end serger.”

“Sure I can, we have like 8 of them lying around the East Wing,” Chat said with an off handed wave.

Marinette simply stared at him.

“So can you do it or not?” he asked with a pout. “I need an answer cause I only have 48 hours.”

“You’re serious,” Marinette said. “You are actually offering to bring me a new serger if I draw a portrait of you.”

“A sexy portrait.”

“Whatever.”

“Yes. Like I said, this is very important and I know I can trust you.”

“Wow, that’s… actually really flattering. Ok, in that case I guess I accept.”

“Great. So I figure we can meet up tomorrow for the actual sketch. You get done at school around 12 right?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“Awesome. I’ll be here by 12:15.”

Marinette nodded and watched as Chat did some sort of odd victory dance.

“So are you going to tell me what this is about?”

“Oh it’s just a small bet I have with a friend. I am totally going to win though.”

“I guess it’s nice to know you have so much faith in me,” Marinette said.

“Well... I mean I was going to ask Nathaniel, but I figured that might get awkward with the whole sexy thing.”

“Wait I was your SECOND choice?”

~~~

Nathaniel was pretty sure he must have fallen asleep, because there was no other explanation he could think of for why one of Paris’ masked Heroines was literally crawling in through his apartment window.

“Ugh,” Queen Bee huffed as she awkwardly clambered into the room, “I know you are all bohemian artsy and whatnot but would it kill you to have bigger windows?”

He said nothing, simply staring as the heroine looked around his room.

“Well you certainly have enough stuff,” she said, gesturing towards the walls and desks cluttered with various art supplies. “Yes, you will do nicely.”

“Um… I am sorry, did I miss something?” he asked, blinking a few times for good measure. Nope she was still here.

“I need you to do me.”

Nathaniel jolted backwards, tripping on a power cable and crashing back into his drafting table.  

“You need me to what?”

“Draw me. You know that whole art thing you do?”

“Oh, right… that makes a lot more sense. Actually no. No it doesn’t.”

“God, I knew this was going to be difficult. Ok. I,” she pointed at herself, “need you,” she pointed back to Nathaniel, “to draw a picture of me. By Sunday. I figure if you can make little miss goody goody pigtails look attractive this should be a piece of cake.”

“Okay,” Nathaniel said rubbing his temples in an attempt to starve off his oncoming headache, “either I have gone insane or you have, because I have no idea what you are talking about. Was there an akuma? Should I be looking for cover or something?”

“No, I just need you to draw me. And make it sexy. I mean I am always sexy, but it needs to be like extra sexy. Try not to drool on my picture. You’ll do great.”

Nathaniel was fairly certain he was the source of the oddly choked wheezing noise that sounded when Queen Bee patted him approvingly on the head.

“Um, Queen Bee…”

“Just Bee is fine. We have a working relationship now.”

“Ok, Bee… why am I drawing you, exactly?” Nathanael asked, side stepping away from his uninvited guest and sitting down on his drawing stool.

She blinked as if he had asked her to explain the current state of the geopolitical climate and not a simple question. “Because I asked you too,” she said.

Nathanael opened his mouth to argue that you can’t just tell an artist to draw you because they can, but realized that the girl currently thumbing through his portfolio could probably toss him one handed out of his previously acknowledged small window, and thought better of it. She could be under the influence of an akuma. It was hardly unprecedented after all for one of the heroes to get caught in the crossfire after a fight, and without more information it was best to stay on her good side.

“These are actually really good,” Bee said with a smile, and Nathanael felt his cheeks reddened at the compliment, “I always did have an eye for quality.” She shot him a playful wink and Nathanael wondered if he could die of embarrassment. If nothing else he was pretty sure that his skin was the same shade as his hair.

“Well, um… I guess I could draw you as a commission. It would cost-” he began, but before he could finish Bee’s whole face lit up delightedly and she squealed.

“I already thought of that,” she grinned, reaching into the small weapon satchel on her hip and drawing out a pile of bills that she slammed onto the table next to him. “Oh this is going to be so great! I can’t wait to see the look on his stupid face! So, we aren’t going to do the actual drawing here right? I don’t think the lighting is going to set me off to my best advantage.”

“That’s like 500 Euro,” Nathaniel gasped, staring down at the pile of money.

“Yeah, that should be plenty for a deposit, you’re not Degas you know.”

“A deposit?” Nathanael gasped.

“Yeah, I know how this works. You get the rest when we are done, I don’t want you going crazy with artistic liberties or whatever. This has to be perfect. We can meet up tomorrow at the park next to your school at the end of classes and go from there ok?”

Nathanael looked at Queen Bee, smiling like she had just won the lottery. He felt a sinking feeling in his gut that taking this assignment on was going to end up being a lot more complicated than just doing a simple drawing. His eyes drifted to the pile of cash. He really did need to replace his drawing tablet. Not to mention the other supplies he could purchase if she was serious about this just being a deposit.

“Oh what the hell,” he sighed, “where in the park do you want to meet exactly?”

~~~

True to his word Chat Noir arrived on her balcony promptly at 12:15, the promised serger in his arms and a devilish smile on his face.

“I trust this will meet with your approval? It’s supposed to be an excellent brand but my f- my supplier favors a different company, so this one was destined to collect dust for all eternity.

“I can’t believe you actually got me a serger,” Marinette breathed, trying not to drool at the exquisite piece of equipment that apparently now belonged to her.

“Well, shall we get started?” Chat said.

Marinette nodded and they both climbed down into her room.

“So,” Marinette began sitting down in her computer chair and grabbing up her sketchbook and pencil, “how exactly do we want to do… thi… Chat what are you doing?”

She watched, fascinated, as Chat rushed around her room with a strangely determined expression, adjusting curtains and angling her chaise lounger.

“We need some up lighting. Do you have- oh never mind I see one,” he said grabbing a clip light she had  attached to the window by her dress form and repositioning it.

For about 20 minutes he moved, tweaked, and adjusted every available light source in her room. Then when he was finally content with his work he grabbed the back of her chair and spun her into position with a triumphant flourish.

“What was that?” Marinette asked, finally breaking out of the stupor brought on by his uncharacteristic behavior.

“70% of great composition is good lighting,” Chat said with the parroting tone of someone who had heard that phrase a thousand times.

“Do you work for a photographer or something?”

Chat laughed delightedly, “You could say that. So what sort of pose would you like me in mademoiselle artist? Remember we need this to be sexy.”

“Oh dear,” Marinette said teasingly, “I don’t know if I know any poses that can make pun loving nerds sexy.”

He glared playfully at her and pounced onto the chaise.

“Oh I know,” she continued with a giggle, “if we want to be thematic we should try to stay with the cat aesthetic, maybe have you lay on your back with your paws in the air!”

“Very funny princess.”

“Ooo! Or how about that thing where cat’s stretch and stick their butts in the air! I am sure your admirers would love that.”

“Well I do have a fantastic butt,” Chat smirked, “but this is actually very important. So how do you want me Marinette?”

Marinette ignored the nervous little flutter in her stomach at his phrasing and tried to think. After all, she was getting paid extremely well to do this and she owed it to her friend to try her best.

“Alright well why don’t we try a sort of, lounging pose? Try laying back or something.”

“Sure,” Chat said, his brow furrowing in concentration for a moment before he swooned back onto the chaise, one arm above his head, one leg dangling lazily off the lounger, and his face angled slightly up as he gave her a knowing, come hither smirk.

Before today, Marinette would have said that she knew just about everything a person could know about Chat Noir without compromising his identity. They had been partners for almost 3 years, he had been friends with her as Marinette as well for 2 of those. She knew his favorite flavor of ice cream, his ticklish spots, how to make him purr and that fact that he would always get embarrassed when he did. She knew how he liked his tea and that he would mouth along with his favorite movies. She knew he was kind. She knew he was brave. She knew he was sometimes oblivious and prone to occasional bouts of jealousy. She knew he was easily entertained and would literally die for the people he cared about if it came down to it. She knew that he was a nerd with a terrible sense of humor. What she hadn’t known- or at least hadn’t truly understood on more than a hypothetical level before this very moment- was that Chat Noir was also very, VERY sexy.

She stared open mouthed at boy… man… ridiculously pretty cat thing in front of her, her pencil hovering uselessly over her sketchpad. He stayed perfectly still, all lithe lines and easy grace, as if sprawling on a couch looking like he was waiting to be devoured by hormone riddled females was his day job.

Where was her rambunctious, guileless partner, with his over-wide smiles and constant fidgeting? Who was this intense, restrained, gorgeous figure that had taken his place? And was there any way she could get a refund on her sanity?  

She heard a soft thud and her cheeks flamed as she realized she had dropped her pencil.

“I donnow, I don’t think I am feeling this pose,” she babbled as she scrambled to retrieve her fallen pencil and calm her frazzled nerves, “Wh..why don’t you try sitting up? Maybe something more… I don’t know… uh… formal?”

“Okay,” Chat said with a shrug, completely clueless to the mental and emotional roller coaster she was experiencing as he adjusted into a new pose.

He sat forward on the edge of the chaise, one leg tucked up while the other foot rested lightly on the floor. One hand propped lightly against his knee while the other braced against the couch. This time his head was slightly tucked down, his brilliant green eyes looking up with a captivating gleam and his lips softly curved in a half sheepish, half hopeful smile that was somehow five times more devastatingly appealing than the smirk had been.

“This better?” he asked without the slightest trace of sarcasm or suspicion.

“Yeah… great,” Marinette gulped.

“Okay! Make me sexy princess,” he said, his grin widening for just a moment before falling back into his pose.

“I don’t think that will be a problem,” Marinette muttered. Ignoring the heat she could feel rising in her cheeks, she began to sketch.  

___

Nathaniel wasn’t sure if he was disappointed or relieved when he saw Queen Bee trying, and failing, to hide herself behind a tree in the school courtyard.

Several of his other school mates had already caught sight of the hero and were giggling amongst their friend groups or pulling out phones to grab some pictures.

“Psst! Nathaniel! NATHA- ugh- I’m over here!” She began frantically waving him over, clearly struggling not to resort to shouting at him.

Nathaniel bit back a smile as he watched the out of place superhero, clearly oblivious to the stares and whispers she was garnering. The lack of stealth was actually rather endearing. He was almost tempted to pretend that he didn’t see her just to see what she would do, but decided it wasn’t worth it to press his luck with someone who could probably pick him up with one hand.

He hurried over and as soon as he was in grabbing distance found himself hauled into a nearby bush.

“Oh good you’re here! So Nath, can I call you Nath?”

“Um… no?”

“I’m gonna call you Nath. So anyways Nath, I have the perfect place for you to work, it will be a much better atmosphere than your cramped little bedroom. I assume you have everything you need?”

Nathaniel blinked. “I have a sketchbook and my pencils, but-”

“Perfect! OK! Let’s go!”

“Wait what do you- OH MY GOD…” and without any further warning Nathaniel found himself desperately clinging to his new patroness as she lifted them both effortlessly into the sky.

The next few minutes were a blur for Nathaniel. I was fairly sure that Queen Bee had yelled something at him, but it was drown out by his own occasional scream of terror as they zoomed horrifyingly close to chimneys, spires, and even one particularly menacing looking (at least at the time) clock tower.

By the time they landed at their destination his vision was blurry and he was trying not to throw up.

“See, here we are safe and sound,” Bee said happily. She slapped him on the back and Nathaniel staggered forward.

“Jeez, you really don’t like flying do you? Sorry. I’ll go slower next time.”

“Next time…” Nathaniel wheezed, allowing Bee to pull him forward from the balcony and through the large glass doors.

“Here, sit. Let me get you some water. That’s what you want right? Water?”

“Water would be great,” Nathaniel said, letting out a long breath as she hurried off to complete her task. Now that he was no longer in fear of being dropped to his death, Nathaniel allowed himself to relax and catch his bearings.

He looked around the large suite, noting the impressive amount of natural lighting, the lavish furnishings… the very familiar furnishing.

He stood up, rushing over to the other side of the room. Sure enough, there was a large king sized canopy bed, complete with the Ladybug plush pillow and a small, well loved yellow bear.

“Nath? Nath, where did… oh, there you are. I have your water,” Bee said, holding out the glass with a smug little grin.

“OMG You’re Chloe,” Nathaniel said.

“What,” Bee said, her voice taking on a familiar shrillness, “no I’m not, why would you say that?”

It was like a lightswitch had turned on in his brain. Now that he knew everything seemed so obvious. How could it be anyone BUT Chloe. She had her looks, her voice, her mannerisms. Nathaniel had drawn dozens, maybe hundreds of pictures of all of the five heroes, yet somehow he had never made the now obvious connection. It must have been some kind of magic. It was the only thing that made sense. Either that or he was the world’s biggest idiot.

He was going to go with magic.

“You’re Chloe,” he said again, mostly because his brain was still trying to process the fact that one of the beloved heroes of Paris was actually the school’s reigning queen of terror.

“Of course I am not Chloe! I mean… that would be stupid. Plus, Chloe is like, really busy being fabulous and probably out buying those amazing Dulci pumps I’ve been meaning to grab for forever.”

“Really?” Nathaniel said skeptically.

“Obviously,” she said with a dramatic flip of her hair, though her voice trembled nervously.

“We are in your room,” Nathaniel pointed out flatly.

“Yeah, so?”

“So I’ve been to your room before Chloe!”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” she insisted stubbornly. “Besides everyone says that this Chloe person is really mean. And I’ve been nothing but nice to you. I’m a hero.”

Nathaniel felt his heart soften a little in spite of himself at her vulnerable tone. He stared at Chloe, so many things clicking into place now that he knew her secret. Her continued obsession with Ladybug, her complete turn around on her opinion of Chat Noir whom she had always been dismissive of back in their first year of college. Her slow but steady attempts to be nicer to everyone in the school who wasn’t named Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

“You know Chloe has actually gotten a lot better these days,” he said cautiously.

“You… you think so?” she asked breathlessly, and Nathaniel couldn’t quite hold back a soft smile.

“Yeah,” he said, and she beamed. The smile lit up her whole face and for the first time Nathaniel caught a glimpse of Chloe hiding behind all the pride and hostility. The Chloe Adrien had always insisted was buried deep down waiting for a chance to come out. It seems he had been right.

“You know,” he added “Adrien was even mentioning it the other day, how it was nice that people were getting to see you as the friend he’s known for so long and not just the class bully.”

He watched amused and Chloe puffed up with pride, her smile melting into her signature smirk.

“Well I would hope so! Given how much work I have put in to following all his stupid rules about proper behavior, including the one where I’m apparently not even allowed to brag about the effort I am putting out, the least he can do is make sure that everyone is appreciating... “ she trailed off and looked at him with a wide eyed, horrified expression.

“Appreciating what, Chloe?”

“Oh crap…”

___

Well I hope you guys have enjoyed this so far! 

I was going to finish the whole thing and post it in one go, but A. Its way longer than I meant it to be and B. The middle section that I am trying to clean up is giving me burn out so I need some positive reinforcement lol. Anyways I am still working on in even as I post this so more might go up today, it will probably all but up before the week is out lol. Anyways hope you liked it so far! See you soon! 

[delilahssblog]

New York for the first time

NEW YORK

The Bubbling Cauldron of all Humanity

It had been a dream for me for a lot of years and in the end, came about because of a brush with death and a bucket list in 2017.

My trip to New York started early on a Wednesday morning in December 2018 when my son Paul and I locked up and drove to BHX to get the 6.15am flight to Brussels (just under an hour) and a forward to JFK Airport (six and a half hours). It was a bit turbulent but nothing serious and was uneventful. It was very busy at JFK and I felt a little apprehensive at the thought of facing the US customs. I think if I wasn't born with a guilty conscience, I very soon acquired one and the stories I'd heard about getting into the USA, especially since the last election, made me wary. I had nothing to fear because my affairs were in order, I didn't have any kind of a criminal record and my ESTA had been authorised immediately.

We came down the stairs to the sight of one of those eight deep concertina queues which was crammed full already. Paul, being a many times visitor, enjoyed the luxury of being able to clear customs through one of the many automated methods so he said he'd see me on the other side and I resignedly took my place and prepared for the wait. We moved slowly because there were only four officers to deal with us and the ever increasing stream of travellers who kept pouring down the stairs. We ground to a halt when the four officers decreased to just one and considering that we all had to be fingerprinted and have our retinas scanned, it was going to be a while before I got through. In the event, it was one hour and twenty minutes in part due to the poor lady cutoms officer who was front line and taking a lot of flak. She went through the barrier and threw a wobbly and in no time, another three officers were installed and it was my turn. Fingerprinted, scanned and welcomed to the USA, I finally met up with Paul who had been unable to reach me on my mobile because it had stopped working somewhere over the Atlantic.

My first treat was a yellow cab and I sat back to enjoy the journey to the hotel and listen to the cab driver who incidentally was European and similar to our own taxi drivers over here. It was a lovely ride and as we neared Manhattan, I could feel the excitement creeping over me and I tried to get my head around the fact that I was here. I was actually in New York making my way to the Wyndham New Yorker Hotel on 8th Avenue, Midtown Manhattan and in a few moments, would be going through the giant revolving doors and standing in the foyer of an Art Deco gem.

Stepping in the door of this iconic building was like taking a step back in time to the thirties/forties, expectations of pert little bellboys, luggage laden movie stars and luxury. I stood for a while, my gaze fixed on the chandelier and immediately, Nikola Tesla came to mind. Physicist, prolific inventor, mechanical and electrical engineer to whom the world owes so much for it’s AC electric supply, telephone services, remote control, early x ray experiments and so much more... spent the last ten years of his life in this hotel and died in his room No 3327 after what was diagnosed as a coronary thrombosis.

On getting to the reception desk, we were delighted to discover that while Paul had requested a peep at the Tesla room, we had been granted occupancy for our stay. Wow!  We knew then that this would be a great visit. Even more so when we were presented with complimentary breakfast vouchers as a welcome for my first ever visit to Manhattan. Up to our room on the 33rd floor via the ornate elevator which got us there in a flash. Once installed, we had a quick freshen up after an inspection of this historic room which was indeed very atmospheric and headed out on to Eighth Avenue for our first venture.

To step out of the relative quiet of the hotel foyer onto the throng of 8th and 34th was a shock to the senses. Hordes of people all milling about, snatches of conversation ( one of my favourite things ) and the tooting of vehicle horns. All this accompanied by the majestic sight of the Empire State Building before my very eyes in all it’s towering glamour. I was here at last, really here on the sidewalks of New York and the days stretched out before me like a rich carpet.

I had decided I didn’t want to go to the top of the Empire State because I’m not good with heights and so that was wavered in preference to a walk. I have no recollection of the route that we took because I was so busy ogling the sights. What a vibrant place to be on a Wednesday evening in December and my senses were on high tune for what I would see next. It turned into a New York evening light fest when we reached Broadway. I’m sure my mouth must have been hanging open because I’d never seen anything quite like that before. It got even better when we reached Times Square. It was everything I thought it would be and more. I saw the big ball that drops on New Year’s Eve, just a matter of weeks away and wondered what it would be like to be part of that crowd. Perhaps in my younger days but I was never told in those days that I could do anything I wanted, go anywhere I wanted and so it remained a dream until this moment, standing here and looking at that huge ball, phone in hand to take a pic.

On the way back, we chose 7th Avenue and I saw The Hard Rock Cafe across the road, reminiscent of the many times I’d heard it referenced in movies. We somehow skipped over to 5th and there, in all it’s magnificent glory was The New York Public Library. I’d seen it featured  in the movie Sex and the City 2 and it was the beautiful setting Carrie had chosen for her near wedding and how I wanted to walk up those stairs. Unfortunately t was getting late and would have to be another time so we stood on the steps and took some pics. A lovely library employee came down the steps on her way home and she asked if we’d like a together pic. Would we !?

The last touristy stop for the evening took me completely by surprise. We went round this corner and that corner and there in front of me was what had originally been the main event of my trip. Rockefeller Centre. We jostled our way through the crowds to the edge of the bridge and looked down at the massive Christmas tree, the wonderful gold leaf statue and the skaters below. It took my breath clean away. I watched in awe, knowing that I’d never get to skate down there and it didn’t matter one iota. I’d been privileged to actually be here and see it for myself and that was enough.

Back to the Tick Tock diner where the menu blew my socks off. The size of the portions was staggering for someone with a small appetite. Paul had a pastrami burger and a Long Island iced tea while I opted for a cheese omelette which was delicious. We made our way to the Nikola Tesla room exhausted but happy and already looking forward to tomorrow.

It was cold in the night and I’d half expected the Tesla spectre to visit, he didn’t show although the room was very atmospheric. I had severe muscle cramp in the night and not a drop of tonic water to hand so I silently paced the floor until it eventually cleared. A look out of the window at the New York skyline with a sunrise backdrop was inspiring and we geared up for the day to follow starting with complimentary breakfast in the Tick Tock. As far as I can remember, I had a stack of pancakes with maple syrup with a side of sausage and hash browns which were like nothing I’d ever tasted...in other words, scrumptious.

Around the corner from the hotel was Penn Station so we caught the subway to Ground Zero. Another first and I soaked in the atmosphere in the subway as we rattled through the tubes to our destination. Nothing of the Twin Towers was in that memorial building for me as I stood and remembered the huge loss of life. It deserved a photo and I took one before we moved on.

There was a wonderful old church just across the road from all the newness and we stood a while taking a few more pics. I think it was St Paul’s and I couldn’t read any of the inscriptions on the tombstones I saw through the railings because so much time had passed and eroded them into pits of invisible bygone sentiments. I would love to have been able to spend more time and decipher at least one name to whom I could say...I was here. Not to be. Perhaps next time.

We went on down to Wall Street on our way to the Staten Island Ferry and the Charging Bull was reminiscent of the one in my hometown of Birmingham UK. Very slightly bigger, of course but so similar. I loved it and have decided to show the front view rather than the well endowed rear view that Paul took. Perhaps later.

On walking down to the Whitehall Terminal, we stopped to look over the Hudson and I thought about Sully and the magnificent heroic feat he pulled off, saving all those lives. At what appeared to be the way in to the ferries down a wide, railed path, three official looking guys were spread across the entrance handing out leaflets. They all had similar bomber jackets on and really did look like the welcoming party for the Liberty and Ellis Island tours but we held fire at their request for $35 and walked further on. Underneath an arch stood a little, middle aged lady, wrapped as much as possible against the chill wind coming off the river. We approached and asked where that way in was and we got talking. When asked, she revealed her name was Mary Ann and this was where she lived. She was lovely, so helpful in telling us not to buy our tickets from the three touts because their price was loaded and pointed us towards the stairs up to the Staten Island Ferry which was free. I gave her a hug and said if it was possible, I’d have taken her home with me and found her a bed. She whispered ‘If only..’ I’m sure when Mary Ann was born that her family wished for better things for her...at least I hoped so. 

The ferry wasn’t as I’d ever seen it on the tv...smallish, black and white, people leaning on the rails on deck or over the stern watching the wake. It was a huge 310′ long 70′ wide 9000 horsepower orange monster with indoor seating only and no access to the deck. But it was a great ride to Staten Island and didn’t cost us a cent. We had excellent views of Ellis Island and Liberty Island and decided to take the tour as well when we disembarked .It was most enjoyable with New Jersey passing by on the right and Manhattan skyline to the rear and a bit of people watching to boot. They do say if you want to meet Americans, you shouldn’t go to NYC and to a great degree, it’s true because like us, most people we saw had cameras. It didn’t detract for me in any way. I love people full stop.

We walked past the three guys again with a bit of banter and found our way in to the Island Tours ticket station and what would have cost me $35 dollars, was a knockdown $14 with Paul’s at either $16 or $18 can’t remember. We boarded the this time familiar black and white vessels and sat up on the deck. How invigorating it was to be chugging our way to Liberty Island at which, we stayed on the boat because there would have been nothing else to see apart from what we were already looking at...the Lady in all her glory...and green glory at that. Weather-beaten old gal whose sightless eyes have seen a lifetime of immigration history pass before her into a new life. Ellis Island pressed all the right buttons for me. My grandfather and his family, including my mother, had landed here in 1907 and what a feeling it is to walk in the very place you’re people have walked, see the same sights their eyes have seen. It was HUGE for me. I had the same kind of feeling when I walked down the street my mother was born in in Glasgow. The aesthetics may be different but the ambience is the same and the memory lingers on. I also got something resembling the feeling when I stood on the stone steps in the portals of Sandhurt on my son’s passing out day and realised Winston Churchill had been there before me. Ellis Island’s reception  building has been well refurbished, the floor once just a dirt floor now with highly polished tiled. The wall tiles all replaced with new but somehow, the atmosphere was there and I’m sure if I’d been in there alone, I would have drummed up the hum of conversation in many different tongues, the exhaustion of the steering class mixed with excitement at the thought of a new life in a new country. It was a wonderful experience, the walls covered with statistics and huge pictures of families making me wonder what their story was. My grandfather’s story was not a successful one in the USA. For whatever reason, he didn’t ‘make it’ and the whole family returned. He did make it in his own way and was able to provide for his family in Glasgow until his untimely death at 56 in 1918 from the dreaded Spanish flu’.

Although it slips my mind, I think maybe we walked but however we got there, we landed in Little Italy at Bigelow’s the Chemist and what an amazing shop full of goodies. I would like to have taken one of everything. Bottles and potions, wonderful little animal bedroom slippers and make up bags, hair ornaments and gloves. An Aladdin’s cave of everything lovely. My skin improved just by walking through it. We got on the subway to Times Square and from there the train back to Penn Station and the hotel. Full Circle. After a quick freshen up, we got a taxi to the Museum of Modern Art but unfortunately, we were too late and it was closing. It was pouring with rain but it was of no consequence because my mind was preoccupied with the day and the incredible experience that was in front of me yet to be savoured. A night at Carnegie Hall. Wow.  We walked around looking for a pub but the ones we found were packed so we settle for a cafe where we could get a hot drink. I asked for tea and sat at the table wiping the rain off my face as it dripped down from my scalp. Paul came back from  the counter and the cups were enormous, the fillings fabulous.

It was a fairly short walk down the road to Carnegie Hall and we got there in good time. We were up in the gods and walked up the staircases without missing a beat ( courtesy of many years of stairs at home) and made ourselves comfortable in our front row seats to enjoy Handel’s Messiah. The work itself is quite repetitive and both Paul and I owned up later to having to fight to stay awake during the first bit. Well, we did have a very busy day. The lead up to the Halleluia Chorus was more than enough to keep us awake and the Chorus was phenomenal. Magic. Incredible. It brought the house down as they say and to such an extent that the encore was a designated sing along which was out of this world!!! I don’t have a single pic but perhaps Paul has one that I can put in later.  I’m sure we got a taxi back to the hotel. I’m also sure we must have eaten at some stage but my head was so full of wonderful things, I just don’t remember. It’s coming back now. We had dinner in the diner but what we ate escapes me. Bring on Friday. As with all the other rides and trips and walks, I had no idea what was in store because Paul arranged it all. How wonderful is that?? I had no idea what was on the cards for the following day but if my experience so far was anything to go by, it would be something good. I fell asleep with a vision of the little Ellis Island sparrow perched on the ferry rail. They certainly knew where to gather for food. New York sparrows. Street wise.

Our last full day and we were up with the lark. My cramp had faded away like magic after a couple of swigs of tonic water bought for me from the so convenient 711 store just down the road from the hotel. I also got a bottle of Tropicana Raspberry Lemonade which was s..o..ooo lush but cant be purchased in the UK. 

After a mind boggling brekkie in the Tick Tock, off we trooped with brollies purchased from a guy outside the hotel, fully equipped for the day ahead

We visited Bryant Park where Nikola Tesla went every day to feed the pigeons. There was a Christmas market there which we trooped around and a skating rink under 6 inches of water after a night and morning of rain.

.Pennsylvania station was a port of call and we bought day tickets. I had so much trouble with the swiping of said ticket because of my tremor, mostly undetectable to the human eye but in a machine so sensitive, a disaster. Paul had to do mine for me every time virtually and we did hop a few subway trains during the course of the day, even managing the obligatory wrong way ride. We noticed three stops in and it was simple to get off, cross over and get on the right one. The wrong way one brought an unexpected little treat however...The Subway Buskers. Two guitars and a double base...in a subway train. It was a joy and ‘ Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad, Feliz Navidad prospero ano y felicidad’ went round pleasantly in my head for a while after we got off. Our destination  was up town to the Western side of Central Park and the Dakota Building outside of which, John Lennon was tragically shot dead. How the actions of someone with a brain dysfunction can have a ripple effect on the whole world. Some things will never be explained however we seek the reason. Directly across the road, we stood and looked at the Strawberry Fields memorial in the pouring rain. It seemed appropriate.

After a couple more subway hops and corner turns, there we were outside the Brill Building which in its day must  have been pretty fabulous. I was so busy trying to peer through  the door window that I missed the exchange between Paul and a couple of guys who’d stopped for some reason or other. I tuned in when one of the guys was saying...’ Hey man, don’t be scared of black people. We won’t do you any harm..’ and both Paul and I, laughing at the ridiculousness of his statement turned round and I saw two wonderful black faces. To the one nearest me, I said...’ No! How could we be. We LOVE you..’ and I grabbed him in a big hug, noticing his beautifully white, flashing teeth as I did so. Paul was similarly engaged with the other one although it was more of a handshake than a hug. They were promoting their music and asking our names, produced two cds and wrote ‘To the Big Man’ on Paul’s and ‘To Sexy Kim’ on mine. I’d have loved to chat longer because the love and warmth they gave out was soul food but they noticed a policeman and were gone in the bat of an  eyelid. 

On the outside, the building looked derelict but we found our way inside, caressing the door handles that so many famous musical talents had touched in their day on the way to one of the many studios to write or record their songs. Standing in the entrance, one could see the bygone opulence, a bit like resting one’s eyes on a fading movie star of latter years. One could see without doubt how wonderful she’d been in her heyday. There was a woman behind the huge reception desk who told us in a nice way that we weren’t allowed to go any further than the entrance hall but that was ok. In fact, it was ace. At some time or other, someone like Neil Diamond stood in this exact spot.

Being unfamiliar with the terrain, I’m not too sure what order our sightseeing took but at some point, we were once again outside The Public Library and this time, we went inside. It was breathtaking and I looked in awe at the fabulous sweeping right hand staircase that unnecessary wedding gown swept on its way up...and down again . The only pic I have is a shaky handed one of the Christmas tree. Sorry.

Onward and forward...to Grand Central Station and what a gobsmacking place that is. The ideal spot for some people watching and I could have stayed for a couple of hours easily, leaning over the upstairs balcony rail star spotting. didn’t see a single one although I did see someone who looked incredibly like Sarah Jessica Parker.  I don’t suppose even being in New York, in Grand Central Station it could possibly have been her. I didn’t realise at the time that I probably stood in the spot where Jason Gould played the violin to Nick Nolte in the movie The Prince of Tides.

On our way to...or from...the station, we met two of New York’s finest and asked politely if I could have a pic taken with them. You can see how small I am...or how gargantuan they are. A lovely moment.

I  find myself smiling while I’m writing this and revisiting the places once again...and it’s lovely. I knew it would be good but I had no idea it would be as great as it was from start to finish.

On the subway once again, this time to Chinatown and The Bowery, suspect to walk through at one time but not now. We had a long walk when we got off the train right the way down through Chinatown and across to Orchard Street and the Tenement Museum. We booked a tour and waited, browsing in the shop. When we got inside the preserved tenement, it blew me away. It was as it had been all those decades ago. They’d burrowed down patches of the wall to discover something like 37 layers of wallpaper and 42 coats of paint. The walls, in fact everything in the entrance hall was brown and so old, I was scared to touch the walls in case it collapsed. we were studying the two lives of two families who dwelt on the first floor with a 50 year gap between them. The first was in the 1870s and the second, the 1920s.  Life was hard for both families but the later one had more amenities.The husband deserted and left the wife with the children, three I think, but she started her own seamstress business and made a good living for all of them.  I found it fascinating. There was a small communal yard out the back where washing could be hung and shared toilets on the landings. Two small rooms with just a double window in some looking out onto Orchard Street, a wall built halfway across the room to give a little privacy to the bedroom. Some had put a curtained window in the middle wall to let in some light. It’s unimaginable that we have what we have now and still complain. The immigrants who went to America seem to have been filled with gumption, a purpose and a will to survive plus an intelligence to know what would get them through as was very evident in the life story the taxi driver told us on our way to JFK the following day

Back to The New Yorker for some food and a chat way into the night. One of those wonderful, revealing chats a mother can have with her son  and never ever forget.

The last morning and we’d have to leave for the airport at midday so we went to the Tick Tock and feasted ourselves on brekkie, came back to the room and decided to have a last walk around the hotel. It was this morning that I opened one of the drawers in the room and found a wonderful book about the life of Nikola Tesla so that was avidly leafed through. During our stay, I’d heard lots of voices and conversations outside our door but assumed it was other guests coming and going from their rooms but Paul looked through the spyhole one time and saw a man and his boy outside our door, reading the plaque so he opened up and invited them in for a look.They were absolutely delighted and they stayed for as chat. They were from Texas and Paul swapped cards, saying if they were ever in the UK to look him up. There were a few after that, the last ones being the morning we left and I was happy to see the interest that Nikola Tesla still evoked.

We got on the train and went on a little shopping trip but we had to watch the time and getting back, packing completed, papers in order, Paul went down to check out and arrange a taxi to the airport. It was a bit sad really, leaving all that behind. We’d seen and done so much, I’d never have believed it possible and yet so much more left to do. It’s an incentive to get back there and I’d go tomorrow. Every pound of the pavement was worth it and apart from a little hip trouble toward the very end of the trip,( helped by Extra Strength Tylanol), the only visible evidence was a bruised toenail or two.

As it turned out. our car was ready early and when we walked out with our luggage, a big shiny black saloon awaited us. As I slid over the soft leather of the back seat, I thought...’ This is the way to get to the airport..’ Our journey passed by in no time due to the driver telling us the story of his coming to America and it kept me fascinated. His family came from the Dominican Republic and his father, a greengrocer,  bought a shop and all the family worked in it. I think the location was in Brooklyn but I’ll have to check that. Our cabbie grew up, married and had a family and to keep themselves safe and free from harm, he had an ‘agreement’ with the drug dealers that he would turn a blind eye and they would see his shop never got robbed or interfered with in any way. He had made an extremely good living which included the takings from several slot machines he had in his shop before they were banned. So much so that he bought homes for his children and was back and forth to his homeland, which he was gearing up to retire to very shortly. He sounded like someone who’s seen it, probably done it and in stead of getting the tee shirt, reaped the very considerable benefits. His children all did well and had good jobs and children themselves and so he certainly will have left his thread in the tapestry of America. The shop was sold and he took up taxiing as a way to supplement his already substantial income. He was a worker though from day one and if you have that ethic, a little bit of luck and a little bit of backing, you can achieve whatever you set your heart on. I never knew this when I was growing up and the box we were put into had no windows and was small which taught me to set my bar low. I don‘t regret who I eventually became, just the person I started as who knew nothing, was taught nothing about life and made of it what she could.

We were virtually straight through at JFK.....going out is a lot easier than coming in. On the plane, I watched a couple of movies,,,The Wife was one of them and it was excellent.  We reached Frankfurt in no time where I was chosen for a check and was body searched by a woman you wouldn’t talk back to. I passed and we were on our way to the gate for BHX.  It was miles away and we walked for ages and ages and even took a train ride before we eventually got there. It was a comfortable, smallish aeroplane and the journey was over in no time. We collected our luggage at the carousel and got on the shuttle to the car park. I can’t remember the time but it was earlyish morning and as Paul dropped me home, I was thinking about collecting Robbie from Cramar, the boarders. I went straight to the shops and bought the necessary....it was Christmas in two days and I needed turkey. I got all I wanted and flew down to Cramar to get my gorgeous boy. He’d proved very challenging and had refused to eat until the night before. I looked into his accommodation and there was no sign of him. I said ‘Robbie...Mama’s back..’ and as long as I live, I’ll never forget the look on his little face as his head popped around from his hidden sleeping space. His eyes were like saucers and he raced to my side. 

All in all, it was probably one of the best trips of my life and I have Paul to thank for his wonderful overseeing, planning and keeping me safe. I can say that in all my time in New York, I never felt threatened in any way. It was wonderful and I will go back.