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krisbeecream · 4 years

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Teach Me to be Brave Ch. 5

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The day whizzed by Manon in a blur of assignments and overheard excited chatter about Paris’ new dynamic duo. She moved from class to class without a thought, but the narrative of the students around her remained the same buzz of excitement and wonder. Before she knew it, the final bell was ringing, and it was time for her to take her leave and head home.

Emotionally, Manon was exhausted. Her body, of course, was largely unaffected by her gymnastic endeavors the night prior as a result of the magic in the suit. She found, however, that keeping up appearances and watching her every word very carefully to avoid any and all suspicion from her classmates was more weight than she was used to carrying on a daily basis.

“What’s for dinner tonight, then, Manon?” Remy elbowed Manon in the ribs to pull her from the mental fog she appeared to be lost in. The spunky brunette jolted and shook out her jumbled thoughts before turning to her best friend who was watching her pack up her things with a quirked eyebrow.

“Tonight’s menu features a Taleggio, Ham, and Cornichon baked croissant with a summer berry tossed salad accompaniment,” Manon declared in a fake fancy accent, putting on airs about her culinary creation-to-be. A strange, high-pitched, muffled whining noise was suddenly heard from the back corner of the room, and Manon turned to see Chris gripping something in the pocket of his black hoodie with all his might before he loudly coughed.

“What are you looking at, Chamack?” he bit, though the tips of his ears were tinging red with clear embarrassment. Manon rolled her eyes and turned back to her conversation without acknowledging the obnoxious boy.

“Chris, would you mind hanging back after class for a minute?” M. Agreste called out to him.

“Again?” Chris groaned. Manon couldn’t help herself, and she twisted around to stick her tongue out at him, hopeful that maybe their teacher had caught wind of his actions that day.

“God, my stomach is yowling. That’s either going to be really gross, or it’ll star in my hungry daydreams for weeks to come…” Remy grabbed the attention of his experimental chef bff again as he rubbed his stomach performatively.

“Who says you get any?” Manon scoffed, acting offended. Elise laughed her bright, sunshiney laugh as she hung off her boyfriend beside Manon.

“Your mom is lucky that she gets to try it! It’s definitely gonna be better than those bacon onion tempura lollipop abominations you brought for lunch yesterday.”

“When she bit into it, it brought a tear to my eye,” observed Remy. He dramatically brushed a finger across his bottom eyelid as if he were crying right then.

“Sometimes they’re hits, sometimes they’re misses! You still gotta take the shot,” Manon winked. All laughed as they slid their respective backpacks onto their shoulders and made to leave the room.

“Have a good evening, M. Agreste!” Manon called as they exited. Their spirited homeroom teacher looked up from his computer to smile warmly and wave to the trio.

“Goodnight, guys! Good luck on problem #6,” M. Agreste flashed a devilish grin at them, and Remy groaned in response. “Ready, Chris?”

The bully nodded reluctantly and headed for the front of the room as the teacher stood to close the door. Manon was silently disappointed that she didn’t get to hear the beginning of her rival being chewed out by an authority figure. She decided to try to watch his behavior tomorrow to see if he’d really given it to him.

The group of friends chatted casually on the stroll towards home, as they did every day after school. They all lived within the same neighborhood, so they were able to walk together most of the way before diverting onto their respective streets. Manon expounded on her recent trip to the produce market across town in search of the perfect, crisp cornichons she needed for her sandwiches. Elise updated the gang on her latest modern dance routine that she was cooking up for competition, flip-flopping on which moves were too complex for her to pull off in a fast-paced sequence like that. Remy filled them in on how his twin pet frogs were currently in a fight, refusing to occupy the same half of their tank at the same time. Manon suggested couples counseling.

“They’re not a couple, they’re brothers!” Remy shouted, his voice reverberating off the tall buildings surrounding the group of friends.

“That doesn’t always stop a relationship in the animal kingdom….” observed Elise.

“You are not allowed near Erlân and Ramón ever again.”

“Aw, come on! They love me!”

“Nuh uh. You’re a bad influence with those utterly impure frog thoughts you just aired.”

Manon rolled her eyes at her lovestruck besties as they bickered good-naturedly beside her. She loved them so, but thinking of that fact reminded her that, since last night, she was keeping a very large secret from them. Guilt quickly soured her mood.

“H-have a good night, guys. I’ll let you know how the croissants turn out! Maybe there will be enough leftovers for me to bring them for lunch tomorrow.” Manon tried to keep her voice even and cheerful as she turned rapidly down her street, breaking off from the group to hide her conflicted face.

“Oh, uh, bye, Manon!” Elise called at her rapidly retreating pal with a confused wave. She shrugged to Remy, and they continued walking and discussing frog technicalities.

“Are you feeling okay, Manon?” Tikki poked her little bulbous head out of Manon’s backpack to speak into her charge’s ear. A look of concern was plastered on her adorable face.

“Huh?” Manon startled, almost forgetting she had Tikki in there. “Sorry, Tikki. I just don’t like lying to people. It makes me feel… dirty.” The girl frowned.

“I’m sorry to hear that you’re upset, Manon. It’s a tough job to be a superhero, and it’s a lot of responsibility to have foisted on you all in an instant. However, Ladybug chose you because she knew that you could overcome the obstacles and thrive.” The kwami patted Manon’s shoulder with her tiny paw.

“That’s right! Ladybug chose me.” Manon looked confused, struck by the thought. “How does she assume these things about me? Do I know Ladybug?”

Tikki shook her head dismissively, “I am not allowed to speak the name of my previous owners to those who don’t already know it. It’s a magical spell placed on the Miraculous to protect secret identities if a kwami is captured, so don’t even ask,” she chuckled. “And anyway, I think maybe you should just get inside and look in your physics book.”

“I promise I’ll get the homework done, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Manon replied, twisting her head to look at the little bug creature over her shoulder with a curious quirked brow. “Science is usually my worst subject, but M. Agreste is a good teacher.”

Tikki shrugged and nodded. As they came upon Manon’s building, the girl keyed her code into the pad next to the front door and took the elevator to her floor. Once inside her apartment, she flopped her bag down on the couch and set about getting her dinner ingredients out of the fridge.

Tikki watched her new Chosen as she worked, a look of determination and excitement on the teen’s face like a great artist struck with inspiration. Manon turned the TV on for background noise, pulled out a cutting board, and began slicing up deli meat, cheese, and tiny pickles while the oven preheated. The brunette danced gracefully about the kitchen, pulling armfuls of sauces and liquids from the refrigerator, several spice jars from a tall cabinet, bowls from the dishwasher. Tikki caught the sparkle in Manon’s eye as she made various concoctions from citrus juices, vinegars, creams, seasonings, and oils in little bowls.

Twenty minutes later, the sandwiches were in the oven, roasting the croissants to a golden brown while the cheese melted. Manon wiped sweat from her thick brows and took down her hair from the ponytail she had tied it back into, shaking it out to her shoulder blades with a sigh.

“Phew. I hope this one works!”

“You look so alive while cooking! Is this a hobby of yours?” Tikki questioned, hovering over to the tired girl.

“Yeah!” Manon perked up instantly at the mention of her special interest. “I’ve been cooking things by myself since I was little, because my mom was always gone at night working. Over the years, I think my tastes have strayed from the norm, though…” she trailed off with a light giggle, reminiscing about the strange dishes she had come up with just in the last month.

“I think you have great taste,” Tikki beamed, “and I can’t wait to try a tiny bite of that sandwich when it’s done.” The hungry kwami rubbed her hands together and licked her lips, looking at the oven.

Manon laughed and felt herself relax slightly. She had really come to love cooking. Someday, she thought maybe she could open a restaurant, or maybe a bistro, to showcase her unique recipes. That is, if enough people actually liked them. She made a mental note to pinch off a tidbit of her sandwich to slip to Tikki during dinner later without her mother noticing.

Right on cue, Manon heard her mother’s key unlock the apartment door as the oven timer was about to ring out. Quickly telling Tikki to hide, Manon slipped on an oven mitt and pulled the tray out of the hot oven just as Nadja entered.

“Hey, Mom!” greeted Manon.

“Hi, Sweetie. How was school?” The pixie-haired talk show host replied to her daughter.

“Ah, nothing to write home about.” Manon shrugged, deciding not to vent about Chris and his goons today. She wanted to keep her spirits up to enjoy dinner.

“No new drama with that boy today?” Nadja asked anyway, like she had read Manon’s mind and decided to pry.

“Ahhh,” chuckled the girl, “He gave some trouble to Odette, the girl who got akumatized last night? She’s in my class.” With her face turned away from her mother, Manon frowned briefly as she glossed over the detail that she had been targeted by them as well, and may have even made herself an enemy of the group with just a few sentences.

“That’s a shame. I hope she didn’t let him get in her head. He seems too stupid for her to trouble herself with.” Nadja shook her head and looked up at the ceiling. She had heard plenty of earfuls about Chris Lahiffe and his jerky jock pals over the years, ramping up now that he and her daughter were in high school. Nadja had even had some talks with various teachers and Principal Mendeliev regarding the rambunctious behavior, but the problems always returned in time.

“Exactly, Mama. Plus, M. Agreste held him after school when we were leaving. Here’s hoping he got expelled!” Manon’s optimism was a bit misplaced in vengeance, but Nadja decided to let the girl have her fantasy. “And he seemed kinda jealous when he heard me talking about these sandwiches,” Manon grinned with pride as she plated the croissants and poured homemade dressing on the salad she had crafted. Nadja lit up, hunger in her eyes.

“You’re too good to me, Manon.”

. . . . . . . . . . . .

The croissants were a success in Manon’s book. She may sometimes find out that not every idea was as delicious in execution as it sounded in her head, but lately she had been right more often than wrong. Even Tikki agreed, having eagerly gobbled up the bite Manon offered to her when Nadja’s back was turned during dinner.

After the dishes were cleared, Manon packed the remaining few croissants into a container and slid it into her lunch bag for the next day. It was time to start her homework, she realized with a groan. The teen slung her backpack over her shoulder and marched into her bedroom to begin.

Flicking on the light, Manon was greeted with the comfy, familiar sight of her room. Three of the walls were an ashen grey color, accented by the fourth wall which was almost neon teal. Leaning against the accent wall was her dresser, tall and white with several keepsakes and curios on top such as Ladybug merchandise and little Japanese keychains made to look like miniature foods. A bookshelf stood proudly next to her queen-size bed, full of fiction novels about girls who go on adventures and participation trophies from various sports Manon had played as a child, but never exactly excelled at.

Her desk was triangular in shape, placed in the corner with a large, plush rolling chair at it. The great window beside it gave her a view of the streets below and the buildings surrounding, as the apartment was on the 7th floor. Manon placed herself elegantly in the chair as she tossed her bookbag onto the ground beside her before slumping and groaning at the idea of homework once more. She flicked on her lamp, which was clipped to the bookshelf between the desk and her bed in order to provide light to both.

As Manon flipped open the heavy textbook to read her first homework question, a yellow piece of paper stuck to the page caught her eye. Lifting it to catch the light, Manon read the mysterious note curiously. It seemed to be an address, though Manon didn’t recognize it, and a time, 8 p.m. Her heart leapt into her throat when she saw the initials in the bottom right corner:

“-L.B.”

Her eyes snapped to the clock on her bookshelf instantly. 7:36, it read. Manon’s golden eyes blew wide as she glanced rapidly between the note and the clock, urging her brain to form thoughts. Once she managed to push through her shock, she flipped open her personal laptop on the desk and speedily hopped on a navigation website. The walk time to the address was almost half an hour.

Manon stood before she even finished thinking, twisting her long hair into a braid lightning fast, two strands of cowlicked hair hanging loosely over her forehead as they always did when her hair was pulled back. The frantic girl grabbed her backpack and tore through the apartment to the front door.

“Are you going out, Manon?” Nadja turned around from where she sat on the couch to look at her fleeing daughter.

“Oh! Mom! Ah, yeah! Remy is having…” her mind blanked briefly, “relationship issues? With his frogs! Not Elise. We’re gonna help him! But I gotta go right now so bye!” Manon blew a kiss to her confused mother as she tugged on a light jacket to face the brisk evening ahead, and then she was gone.

Tikki floated along behind Manon down the hallway of the large building as the girl decided the stairs would be faster than the elevator. The kwami looked sheepish.

“Oh, right. I did tell you to check your physics book, didn’t I? Sorry, I got a little distracted by the food.”

#teach me to be brave #mlb #miraculous ladybug #manon chamack #mlb future fic #post-s3 #mlb fanfic #chris lahiffe

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btsybrkr · 4 years

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Please Come Dine With Me

In today’s world of Netflix originals, glossy reality series and big budget drama, it’s easy to forget about TV’s old reliables. You know, the programmes with nothing to say, but so much to give. They’re the television equivalent of an ex that you can’t help but miss, despite having brought absolutely nothing to each other’s lives. The absolute king of this brand of TV can only be Come Dine With Me, the dinner party contest that began broadcasting in 1892 and has been playing simultaneously, on all 26 branches of Channel 4, at every hour of every day ever since. Seriously, flick through the channels, I can almost guarantee it’s on right now.

Come Dine With Me, now in its 37th series (I’m actually not making that bit up), must unironically be one of the best things to ever air in this country. During a casual viewing, it seems that nothing much happens, but a quick Google search unearths an absolute goldmine of unforgettable moments. Some have already been cemented into pop culture history, destined to be repeated on ‘100 Greatest...’ clip shows until the sun swallows the Earth whole - like the man who decided to sample a sauce he was making by nonchalantly shoving the whole whisk into his mouth, or sore loser Peter Marsh’s ‘you won, Jane’ speech, which is, in my opinion, a hundred times more brutal than anything Ricky Gervais could or would ever come out with whilst presenting an awards ceremony. Others are unfortunately never spoken about, but remain a vivid memory in the consciousness of the lucky viewers who caught them, such as the moment a particularly eccentric contestant, known only as DJ Dom, drafted in indie musician Badly Drawn Boy to help him cook for his ‘Madchester’ themed dinner party, before telling the viewers “All done, just got to go and change me kecks!” and coming back downstairs in the exact same outfit, right down to the bucket hat. Or the iconic Preston week from series 7, in which we were introduced to so-posh-it-hurts Valerie Holliday, whose pronunciation of the word ‘pheasant’ (or fezzaaaunt, as she might say) is superglued to the insides of my brain, where it will stay for the rest of my days. I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I’m sure we’ve all, at some point, had the ‘who would be invited to your dream dinner party?’ conversation with our friends or family, but what we should really be asking each other is “who would be on your dream episode of Come Dine With Me?”. If you think about it, they’re two very different questions, with very different answers. Of course, I’d love the chance to sit and speak with Tom Hanks, Mac Demarco and Phoebe Waller-Bridge over a glass of wine and a really good burger, but do I think it would make entertaining TV? Well, yeah, probably. But not on Come Dine With Me. That’s a horse of a very different colour.

Anyway, here’s what my dream episode of Come Dine With Me might look like. Narrated in your brain by Dave Lamb, probably.

Today, we’re in Blackpool, where our first contestant, 23-year-old chronic timewaster Betsy (that’s me!), is gearing up to host the opening night of the week, and we’re sure it’s going to be an absolute belter. Let’s see what her fellow dinner party guests make of the menu.

“A cheeseboard? As a starter? What’s that about?”, asks living soundbite and reality TV icon, Gemma Collins. She’s unimpressed with the menu, largely on the basis that it pales in comparison to the sort of luxury she’s used to, such as the gourmet camel penis she could have been tucking into on I’m A Celebrity, Get Me Out Of Here! In 2014, had she not packed it in after three days. Actually, I think the celebrity version of Come Dine With Me might be the only reality programme that Gemma Collins is yet to appear in. Maybe we should be writing to the powers-that-be at Channel 4 and getting them to sort that out, since I’ll surely be making a strong case for her appearance here. Anyway, who’s next?

Our third contestant is equally disappointed with the offerings. “I don’t fuck with stilton”, states the self-proclaimed second coming of Jesus, Kanye West. Yes, he’s an odd choice for a daytime cookery/popularity contest, especially since I’m almost 100% sure he doesn’t cook for himself under any circumstances, and is probably only popular among people who’ve never had to try and sit through an actual conversation with him, but who cares? Kanye does what Kanye wants. And if Kanye wants to appear on Come Dine With Me, then that’s his business, and he’ll shit in the Yeezys of anybody who disagrees. Or pay someone else to do it for him, obviously. Anyway, onto contestant number four, who can surely only be disappointing after that… can’t they?

Of course not!! Contestant number four is TV’s shouty queen-of-clean Kim Woodburn, who is really excited to get her teeth into some red hot beef. Not the food kind, either. The kind of beef she dished out to Philip Schofield, while he was asking her questions about the beef she dished out in her fondly-remembered ‘chicken-livered bunch’ rant from Celebrity Big Brother. She’ll be glad to know I’m not serving any chicken livers at my dinner party, I’m sure. Not that she’ll be particularly enamoured with my cooking skills overall.

“It all looks terribly common, darling”, she says, as she holds the menu in one Marigold-wearing hand, and a glass of an expensive gin in the other. Suit yourself, then, Kim.

Contestant number five hasn’t bothered to read the menu yet, but that’s because he’s been busy begging the Channel 4 producers on set for another series of Deal Or No Deal now that his hefty I’m A Celebrity paycheck is all but gone. Yes, it’s Noel Edmonds, TV’s favourite bearded arsehole. After Alan Sugar, of course, but I’ve already written a bit about him on here, so there’d be no point in putting him in this one as well. You know, someone I knew a few years back once told me that Noel Edmonds did a guest lecture at his university, in which he offered some lucky students the chance to spend their summer doing a couple of months unpaid work experience on his radio show. Imagine that! Spending day-in-day-out with Noel Edmonds, without even a penny in compensation. I know they say ‘life’s not fair’, but that really would be pushing it.

Anyway, that’s everyone, and as I anxiously pour boiling water into five chicken and mushroom Pot Noodles, my all-star dinner guests begin to arrive. First at the doorstep is Kim, who I greet with open arms.

“Wonderful to meet you, luvvie”, she says. The worried glance she gives the camera afterwards tells me otherwise. Perhaps she’s unimpressed by my unshiny door handle. That’s not a euphemism.

Gemma and Noel arrive soon afterwards, both carrying bottles of champagne that I couldn’t possibly ever afford myself. They’re not to share, of course, they were bought in anticipation that the wine I’m providing wouldn’t be up to standard, which it is, because I’m serving all my courses with a glass of Summer Berries Echo Falls. It’s £5.99 a bottle and gets you absolutely Bankered.

We mingle in the living room, eagerly anticipating the arrival of my final guest. Just as Gemma, Kim and Noel begin bonding over the trials of being paid many thousands of pounds to sit around and simply exist for the viewing pleasures of mere mortals like myself, Kanye West teleports himself into the room, in a futuristic flash of lightning and to the tune of his 2010 hit Power, blowing a massive hole into the entire left side of my house in the process. It’s true what he says, you know - the man really is a genius.

We take our seats at the dinner table, as soon as the rest of my guests are done with the obligatory search through my knicker drawer (cue a comeback for Kim’s famous How Clean Is Your House? catchphrase, “Oh, you dirty devil!”) that happens on every edition of Come Dine With Me. You know, despite everything else on the programme, that’s the one bit of it that I’ve never really understood. Every single one of the show’s 1,647 episodes includes a bizarre sequence in which the contestants go running around the host’s home, rifling through their personal belongings and mocking them for the cameras. I’m sure the point of it is supposed to be to give the guests a chance to ‘get to know’ the host, but then I’d have thought that spending five nights eating and chatting with them would be a fairly effective way of doing that. Besides, can you imagine catching your guests doing that in real life? I wouldn’t be sitting them down for a meal and rating them for a chance to win £1,000, I’d be throwing them out, maybe even calling the police, depending on what exactly they were doing with the belongings in question. Not that I have time to think about that right now, I’ve got a cheeseboard to prepare!

First topic of conversation is, of course, TV, and as we tuck into our Ritz biscuits and Tesco Value mature cheddar, Noel gives us his opinion.

“My main issue with television these days is that I’m just not on it enough.” A valid viewpoint. We take a moment to collectively long for the days of Noel’s HQ, a drunken nightmare that was somehow harnessed and broadcast to the masses by Sky1, way back in 2008. Noel’s HQ has been mostly lost to time, except for the presence of a video on YouTube entitled ‘Noel Edmonds speaks with passion’, which is well worth a watch if, like me, you enjoy four minute long videos of TV presenters struggling to stifle their own belief that they might just be The Best Person Ever. There’s a great bit in it where he angrily declares to his delighted audience, “I don’t get paid a penny for doing this show”. Noel, I think I speak for everyone when I say thank you for your sacrifice.

Speaking of The Best Person Ever, Kanye is noticeably quiet. But then, Kanye isn’t here to share his views. Kanye isn’t particularly here to do anything. Kanye is simply here to observe - to greet his subjects, and work out what makes them tick. Kanye can sense our excitement to be sat in his presence, and Kanye enjoys this. It feeds Kanye. Far more than my meager dinner offerings ever could.

I press Gemma for her own opinions on TV, as someone who is literally always on it. Gemma Collins gets where Domestos can’t. It may sound like I’m being flippant, but in all honesty, I love Gemma Collins. I’m not even sure why, I just know I do. She’s famous for the sake of being famous, and she’s bloody good at it. She’s also quite possibly the most quotable public figure since Shakespeare himself. Maybe even more than Shakespeare. Think about it. What inspires you more? “To be or not to be?”, like anyone knows what that actually means, or “Nah, fuck this, I’m out of here. Get that fire exit door. Am off.”, a poetic sentiment, which conveys an emotion we’ve surely all felt at some point in our lives? I know who gets my vote.

Kim misunderstands the question “what do you think of television today?” as “how clean do you think my television is?”, and responds by pulling out a five pack of dusters and a can of Mr Sheen, and getting to work on the flatscreen in the corner of my living room. Oh well, at least all that cleaning will make her hungry in time for the main course. Speaking of which, maybe it’s time I got on with that.

Despite their disappointment with the starters, the main course - Super Noodle sandwiches, with a generous side-helping of curly fries - appears to delight all my guests, except Kim, who mutters under her breath that it all seems very tacky. I won’t let it get me down. It’s my heartfelt belief that anything can be a sandwich filling if you’re brave enough, and my other three guests agree with me. Kanye lets out a satisfied ‘hm’. Excellent.

We sit down to dessert, and another glass of Echo Falls. The wine is going down surprisingly well, especially with Kim, who has started subtly rolling her eyes at the conversation between myself and Gemma Collins, who are bonding over how much we love Gemma Collins. Kim purses her lips. Her Spidey-senses are tingling. There’s conflict afoot.

I quiz Noel about an article that I saw in 2015 and have never forgotten. It was featured on The Independent, and was headlined ‘Noel Edmonds says that ‘death doesn’t exist’ and that ‘Electrosmog’ is more deadly than Ebola’. I know that this sounds like something I just came up with, but I regret to tell you that is absolutely something he said. In real life. I’ll give you a minute to take that in.

Noel Edmonds reaffirms this view to me, speaking with the same unnerving passion he did in the YouTube clip I mentioned earlier. I nod politely. I begin to wonder if everyone’s had a little too much Echo Falls, and if I can really handle another four nights with these people. It’s at this moment that, for the first time all night, His Almighty Westness speaks.

“I really feel what you’re saying right now”, he tells Noel. We wait together for the next part of the statement, but it never comes. Kanye West outstretches his arm to Noel Edmonds. They shake hands. None of us can quite believe it. And for a moment, Noel and Kanye are right. It does feel as though death doesn’t exist. Nothing exists outside of this dinner party. Everything that matters is happening around my dining table at this very second.

The silence is broken by Kim Woodburn tutting into a wine glass.

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake,” she drawls, rolling her eyes, “What a load of nonsensical tosh.”

“Excuse me?”, asks Noel, still hand-in-hand with Kanye West, an alliance he is clearly eager to keep going for as long as possible, on the off chance that he fancies funding another series of Noel’s House Party, “I don’t see you bringing anything to the table here, Kim.”

She widens her eyes, taking another generous gulp of Echo Falls - and I know exactly what she’s about to bring to the table. A big old fight.

Gemma Collins throws in her two cents.

“I think we should all calm down a little bit, d’ya know what I mean? I’m having a lovely meal at a fan’s house, I can’t be arsed with an argument.” Wise words, as always, Gemma. Wise words.

It all kicks off.

“You can be quiet, you talentless, orange foghorn!”, sneers Kim, “You’ve contributed nothing to the conversation this evening, other than talking about yourself.”

Gemma’s eyes seem to cloud over with anger, as her complexion quickly transitions from Dulux shade Tangerine Twist to Cranberry Crunch. She knocks the rest of her wine back. Everything goes quiet again for a moment, as Noel, Kanye and I watch the two TV divas stare at each other. It’s like a scene from an old Western, but with diamonds and veneers.

With a violent roar, she launches herself across the table, grabbing Kim by her fake ponytail. I jump up to hold her back, as Kanye leaps from his seat to hold Kim from Gemma. There’s a mad blur of acrylic nails and tufts of bleach blonde hair flying between them, some of it landing into the banoffee pie I had worked so hard on. Noel stands back, arms folded, watching the action in dismay. If you could see the whole picture, it might resemble a renaissance painting, the sort that could be hung in a gallery anywhere in the world and analysed for it’s artistic importance. ‘Nous aimons le boeuf’, it might be called. French for ‘we love the beef’. Doesn’t really matter it means, though, to be fair, as long as it sounds clever and artsy.

Noel shakes his head.

“What the hell am I doing here?”, he asks, frustrated, “I’m a huge TV star.”

Security eventually intervene, somewhat reluctantly, given the fact this is the most action they’ve seen on a shoot for Come Dine With Me, possibly ever. Producers watch back the footage of the fight on an iPad, sat on my sofa, attempting to mask their delight at what they’d caught on camera.

Kanye eventually stands up, soberly taking in the scene in front of him. Is this how Jay-Z felt as he left the elavator?, he wonders.

“I’m gonna take off”, he informs everyone, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room in the aftermath. But before he can teleport out of the room again, possibly blowing a hole in the other side of my house, the producer speaks up.

“Same time tomorrow? It’s Gemma’s night.”

Four more nights of this… four more nights, all for the chance to win £1,000… is it worth it?

Of course it is. It was a blast. Same time tomorrow, indeed.

To see some highlights from the iconic Preston week of Come Dine With Me, click here. To see Noel Edmonds speak with passion, click here. To follow me on twitter, click here, or here for instagram :)

#come dine with me #celebrity big brother #big brother #gemma collins #i’m a celebrity #comedy #tv review #reality tv #blogger #ukblogger #comedy writing

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darkenigma32 · 5 years

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REALLY LONG CHARACTER SURVEY. RULES. repost , don’t reblog ! good luck !

TAGGED. @qcaesitr TAGGING. Anyone that wants to do this, you have my permission!

BASICS.

FULL NAME: Riff Zelfer Hendrixsen

NICKNAME: Riff, Sis/Sister (Holly), Snipes (in certain TWD AUs)

AGE: 26-30′s

BIRTHDAY: November 5th, 1987 (Guy Falkes Night in the UK)

ETHNIC GROUP: White British

NATIONALITY: British

LANGUAGE(S): English, Latin, Italian, Russian (A little)

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Asexual

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Aromantic

RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single

CLASS: Middle / low class.

HOMETOWN / AREA: Manchester, England

CURRENT HOME: A small flat in Manchester, England (When not traveling)

PROFESSION: Consulting psychologist/therapist

PHYSICAL.

HAIR: Jet Black

EYES: Sapphire/Navy Blue (Grey when under lighting)

NOSE: Button

FACE: Heart shaped

LIPS: Natural.

COMPLEXION: Fair

BLEMISHES: None

SCARS: Small one on her right shoulder

TATTOOS: None

HEIGHT: 5 in, 6ft | 170.18 cm

WEIGHT: 128 lbs | 58 kg

BUILD: Athletic

FEATURES: N/A

ALLERGIES: N/A

USUAL HAIRSTYLE: Shoulder-length hair

USUAL FACE LOOK: -_- (Stoic and reserved)

USUAL CLOTHING: All-black attire of a Fred Perry short sleeve polo shirt with dark-red/grey stripes at the tips, M-65 field jacket, boot-cut jeans and a pair of combat boots.

PSYCHOLOGY.

FEAR(S): Being powerless and helpless to her family/friends/ allies, being alone, the unknown

ASPIRATION(S) : To help people, stop crimes before they start, to help bring a light in the darkness

POSITIVE TRAITS: Calm, kind, honest, brave, selfless, witty, focused, dedicated, intelligent, humble, patient, observant, reserved, merciful, rational

NEGATIVE TRAITS: Moody, stubborn, overprotective, impulsive, closed-off, paranoid (sometimes), vengeful

ZODIAC: Scorpio

TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic

SOUL TYPE(S): Warrior

ANIMALS: Wolf, Eagle, Owl

VICE HABIT(S): Wrath/Vengeance.

FAITH: None

GHOSTS?: Yes

AFTERLIFE?: Yes

REINCARNATION?: Yes

ALIENS?: Same as above.

POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful/Neutral good.

ECONOMIC PREFERENCE: N/A

SOCIOPOLITICAL POSITION: Middle / Low-class

EDUCATION LEVEL: University

FAMILY.

FATHER: Unnamed father (Deceased)

MOTHER: Unnamed Mother (Deceased)

SIBLINGS: Several (Platonic symbolically)

EXTENDED FAMILY: Nate Hendrixsen (Uncle, deceased), unnamed aunt

NAME MEANING(S): Her parents were fond of music, naming her after the guitar term ‘riff’.

HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: N/A

FAVORITES.

BOOK: 1984 by George Orwell (Sort-of relatable for Riff these days)

MOVIE: The 007 series

5 SONGS: ‘Throne’ by Bring Me The Horizon, ‘London Calling’ by The Clash, ‘The Messenger’ by Johnny Marr, ‘Bones Exposed’ by Of Mice & Men, ‘Fight Inside’ by RED

DEITY: None

HOLIDAY: Halloween, Guy Falkes Night (In her home country)

MONTH: November

SEASON: Autumn

PLACE: Waterfalls

WEATHER: Sunny

SOUND: Birds & Nature

SCENT(S): Ozone, green tea, saltwater, herbs

TASTE(S): Vanilla, Green tea, berries, Alfredo sauce

FEEL(S): Rumble of a bass guitar, the thrill of adrenaline, the birds chirping, wind blowing in her face

ANIMAL(S): Dogs, Birds, Cats

NUMBER: 13.

COLORS: Black, red, grey, white

EXTRA.

TALENTS: Martial arts, psychology, guitar/bass player, parkour, negotiator

BAD AT: Being open in personal matters, Riff’s really closed off about her past in general.

HOBBIES: Martial arts, meditation, parkour, music, traveling, the fine arts, reading/studying psychology

TROPES: The Atoner, The Stoic, Shell-Shocked Veteran, The Drifter, Tranquil Fury, The Mentor

AESTHETIC TAGS: #Nature, #Music, #Travel

GPOY QUOTES: N/A

FC INFO.

MAIN FC(S): Kate Beckinsale as Selene in the Underworld film series

ALT FC(S): Nico Robin (Pre-timeskip) in One Piece

OLDER FC(S): N/A

YOUNGER FC(S): N/A

VOICE CLAIM(S): For the moment, it’s her main face-claim, but will be changed in further research.

GENDERBENT FC(S): None

MUN QUESTIONS.

Q1: if you could write your character your way in their own movie, what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?: The title would be ‘Drifter’, filmed in a action/spy drama and it would portray Riff’s upcoming as a consulting psychologist and trained assassin. (It might be part of the ‘Assassin’s Creed’ series as a oneshot miniseries)

Q2: what would their soundtrack / score sound like?: Rock/Metal/Alternative with a mix of Video Game scores/BGMs (I.E: Jesper Kyd of Assassin’s Creed and Yoko Shimomura of Final Fantasy XV)

Q3: why did you start writing this character?: I was bored out of my mind, as this used to be a personal blog based of my intrest for music/video games/cartoons... I started RPing with other blogs as a self-insert, but eventually changed my mind and decided to change that into a personal OC.

Q4: what first attracted you to this character?: Nothing, Riff started as an alias name for my self-insert, but ended up becoming a OC with her own backstory and personality,

Q5: describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse: Morality-wise, I don’t approve of Riff killing people out of justice/vengeance, but it really bugs me sometimes when others inflict the ‘Worf’ effect on her. (I understand it’s to avoid god-modding, but I want a equal chance where Riff can at least land a serious hit in fairness.)

Q6: what do you have in common with your muse?: We love rock/metal/alternative music!

Q8: what characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?: It varies. I love interactions with muses/characters that make Riff think deeply into her morality, to challenge her conflicting self-esteem/confidence... Sometimes, her trying to show love is a challenge.

Q9: what gives you inspiration to write your muse?: Complete solitude, room isolation, loud music (But not loud enough to blow out my eardrums or give me headaches), sometimes watching TV shows/cartoons online to help inspire Riff’s character.

Q10: how long did this take you to complete?: About an hour or two, I had to revisit Riff’s bio and headcanons to be accurate.

#dash games #long post #about riff #ooc

2 notes · View notes

bandstolookup · 2 years

Text

tumbleweed jones

chris rayburn

v don

james brown and the famous flames

paul martin

the eyes

the moment

the mannequins

the pepper pots

berry tweed and the chasers

from the jam

the ganders

the sha la la's

the broken vinyl club

the distillers

mayfield

serpent power

julian cope psychedelic odin

gideon

sharon tandy

planet

the spencer davis group

syd barrett

inez & charlie foxx

the truth

iron butterfly

back to zero

lalo schifrin

quincy jones

booker t & the mgs

crystal jacqueline

fit for a king

sworn in

hands like houses

the cream of rare soul

the action

frootful

mark murphy

graham day and the forefathers

paul weller

crown of thornz

the jeevas

new hearts

crispian mills & the jeevas

buried treasure

purple hearts

school of braja

the artwoods

eddie holman

operation two folds

king new breed

the magnolias

gemma & the travelers

ian page and the affair

bobby guy

ray charles

mel williams

the chords

the lambrettas

the velvet hammer

carrie cleveland

anthony meynell

mark mortimer

the greyhound all stars

mick talbot is agent 33

johns children

rod stewart

misty woods

sta-prest

eleanor rigby

lord shani

gabor szabo

elgin

faces

palisades

buried giants

issues

capture

the color morale

no warning

velena

i see stars

for all those sleeping

amanda palmer

alexisonfire

comeback kid

the word alive

jamestown story

serpico

her bright skies

the circle jerks

sick of it all

citizen

mudhoney

agent orange

primus

the casualties

the Jesus and mary chain

hey monday

max frost

badbone

common enemy

whohurtyou

ameliamoon

GOA

soul butchers

pink guitars

facility men

healer

charit way

sara elizabeth

tokyo monsters

the morning light

motherfist

near miss

nipdrivers

the outline

red fish

rock kills kid

RPM

so they say

sparks the rescue

straight faced

sugarcult

superman please don't

the starting line

the white noise

rare earth

white caps

5 am

6 dogs

kassi ashton

jacob banks

bas

boogie

celeste

cloves

jon connor

cozz

jay critch

cuco

daya

drama relax

dimelo flow

homesafe

kayak jones

young culture

keep flying

voices in vain

pure heel

dreezy

earthgang

gryffin

JID

jamie n commons

jax jones

joey t

jay rock

JAWNY

leven kali

ari lennox

lil durk

lil mosey

lil poppa

main breaker

chronic failure

failure

county kings

gopnik

flood the tower

desolate

loser

tempus fugit

karma

super-tugger

brixton sons

joe bonamassa

the viva noir

bighorn sheep

the gypsy parlor

surftones

kanuton

dotson moon

night slaves

black & white cat black & white cake

coffin hook

westward journey

eerie shores

speed dial

grandfather clock!

jenn desantis

eleni degeorge

conquer divide

slaves

phinehas

old again

which witch

will haven

sirens and sailors

insoluble

michael delano

sardine

yellow sauce

bud redding

for your health

splundr

frail body

alleys

jungle tooth

lemondrop

rad ops

breakfast for dinner

fluse

heave

sidney jeanne

blunted lip

grizzly run

inertia

outlast

ashes

chronic nostalgics

orange grove ave

ian mccuen

yali

mike turnwall

cardboard homestead

nicotine jones

crystal godzilla

the surfin cadavers

wicker men

no warning

mindforce

trail of lies

apocalypse tribe

regulate

one step closer

wild side

restraining order

facewreck

choice to make

stand alone

last dance

world of love

dredneks

scarecrow show

on the cinder

shortcakke

yvngyanna

antikathleen

saucetheartist

p3p3

nicky vibez

jupiter trolley

the gennies

regular sex

velvet bethany

the dead south

legendary shack shakers

danny olliver

tsunami tsurprise

wyndup kid

cheap peach

pkew pkew pkew

shambles

bastard bastard bastard

hold out

tooth

this

type relevant

best sleep

ghostpool

ashford

dan meissner

why not

black sabbitch

the impurity

tony rocky horror

advance base

the painfully alone

ex-pat

sinai vessel

vulcan

the last reign

debrained

overlook

a silent ending

sedai

tina panic noise

the clever slang

online.dating

aukscab

PiL

toy box brigade

millington

the serftones

the dead star band

brendan

the strangest ways

the big lonesome

bobby and the love

nuke fun

alien static

midnight anomalies

mirror tricks

hubcap

sheridan

96 bitter beings

the native howl

locust grove

the living braindead

pieces

14 trapdoors

skate cobain

night mall

makeout tactics

tortoise forest

grosh

gunthers radio

citrus maxima

hydrone

dragged under

forget the sorrows

reapr

farewell jupiter

soma slumber

x-press 2

soular plexus

earth rider

johnny revolting

lay down & die

poindexter

the ay effs

short fictions

worst things

closure.

rabbit jaw

jurassic clark

book a boulder

rust belt brigade

no cover

cody barcroft

shannon vanderlaan

kerry fey

luis mojica

leyda

jq bess

michael cirrito

jammin jesse

the abruptors

kman and the 45s

working class stiffs

worn from war

timothy alice

the grumpy monkey company

vee da bee

amber martin

brittany rose

adapt or die

yanart

phasm

masscasualty

of desolation

weaponex

the cryptics

zquint

obsoleete

moonscar

olmsted

not 4 nothing

a very special episode

ekohta

we were blank

mind chaser

casper skulls

some ska band

the drew thompson foundation

the mars volta

grilth

thrush

digital afterlife

of night & light

creating a sinner

AC anton

lexxi raine

dope city kid

lost like lions

blackend blue

digital ladies

eyes of the blind

tiger the lion

bear the bronze

assemble

the toasters

the same sun

soulfly

toxic holocaust

sergio michel

x method

anthropic

wasted space

philip stephen

stress dolls

the nigh

sun pilot

patternist

the weather might say otherwise

robin bank$ and the new spectacular

nine layers deep

smitten for trash

nylon otter

respect the space

night goat

sons of luther

no time to think

jaali cypher

amateur hockey club

partners on shanley

sheer terror

wrong the oppressor

downswing

brook pridemore

lich king

the barksdales

lucky 33

the clockers

paper plates collective

tri state area

flower ambrosia

slimm

nerds in denial

over & out

jenn desantis

astrabula

real movement

james kibby

silent planet

currents

invent, animate

greyhaven

fucked & bound

haunted horses

passed out

candy ambulance

i met a yeti

yung dialysis

serfs

parade chic

take two

ray and the roaches

adjacent jason

motives

avoid

vit fana

ville

kaj

josef

dj juku

smug

west ferry

glen pine

wake up

otherworldly entity

the slackers

todd hembrook

deal's gone bad

afterlife

time toad

tom foolery and the shenanigans

boundaries

tyler okun

dead prez

oscar welsh

between friends

sonic fuzz

flamingo haze

daily basis

suburban living

2morrows june

the social act

anti cimex

alwz snny

javen oliver

savage hands

sleepers

wild side

chris grey

KTA boys

young nudy

lil spleen

utah saints

carry on cupid

kai shaw

andre lauren benjamin

jack wild

NLE choppa

daysormay

lil thirteen

into the wake

bear no shame

yonaka

a rocket to the moon

NPK

animal chin

ann beretta

august premier

autopilot off

keyes

blueline medic

cadillac blindside

chef'special

days away

discount

animal sun

common vision

rutterkin

kurt morton

forgive durden

foundation

frodus

letlive.

miracle at st anna

anaal nathrakh

the morning of

nevada rose

ghost town

jersey

kane hodder

kidding chaos

lifetime

limp

mid carson july

october fall

oh honey

phantom planet

pollen

powerspace

punchline

recover

rome

roy

midnight

slick shoes

slowreader

swank

teen idols

the a.k.a.s

the aeffect

the cab

the causey way

til tuesday

the friday night boys

the hippos

voiceplay

the hush sound

the impossibles

the pietasters

the stereo

big sean

this providence

will connolly

versaemerge

whippersnapper

the four freshmen

niights

the northern

stephen lynch

e^st

anthropomorphiA

utah noir

bob moulde

nerdout

NIVIRO

will roland

the nicholas

san holo

ocean wisdom

7ru7h

b'royce

juando

FABV

skan

jody

gage moyers

jackzick

shayne dupont

naked eyes

voices in your head

don diablo

celldweller

james dooley

dennis leary

onra

rixton

esham

elijah blake

zeni n

maurice west

madrio

a will away

northern ghosts

outlands

adjy

caspian

arch/matheos

pathways

covet

dogleg

fireworks

foxing

free throw

from indian lakes

future teens

heart attack man

holy fawn

into it over it

moving mountains

o'brother

shortly

smidley

weatherbox

junket

you blew it

oso oso

anterrabae

as tall as lions

brian bonz

death threat

fight fair

folly

hit the lights

honor bright

hot rod circuit

kevin devine

lux courageous

no redeeming social value

northstar

orange island

outsmarting simon

plugin stereo

scraps & heart attacks

small towns burn a little slower

the color fred

the dear hunter

the gay blades

the receiving end of sirens

tony hendrik

john mcinerney

marcus mouya

blue stahli

white shag

K'NAAN

YBC bam

OG stevo

rudeboykels

china mac

dexter freebish

stretch and bobbito

ARVFZ

lpcharm

lyriel

noodah05

blackjesus yoshua

soudiere

jacob Sutherland

riverside

kahme.wav

arielle

vikram dhakal

chris standring

liam wheeler

diamond saints

xavier alexsandria

simiram

the secret sisters

MC900

neoplasma

aia litt

oui lele

brian nhira

lockdown

tre'gadd

nacho picasso

albastyeeler

the morning

sol d' menta

floerk

BeGela

dom kane

marcy x

jeddy hart

hatem a

samtozi

dr john

nøisily

masio gunz

noods

redrum

weemane

704chop

tom jarmey

j4 krazy

trevor taylor

the secret handshake

roseview

cirith ungol

eppers

james flamez

bacota

susan salidor

herm

n.o.h.

pat godwin

the empty pockets

stacey q

DIGVIJAY

yung q

none of us

alix j

brandon christian

matthew larkin

dreadboxx

ickly

hioll

sketchthaheathen

xadrian

mrmeow

earth trance projector

trace

fallen

the pricks

the kan

jdan

marlo

the yellow pumpkin

jonny english

the lava boy

dario nunez

elements of style

bouhi

flowerboh

manic movement

hot boys crew

sasha primitive

imminent the strategic...

al jourgensen

lejonhjärta

carrington right

bottlefight

voices experiment

sir-ooh-g

tray day sadd

rappa nui

hendrix garcia

breaking the static

das butterschnitzel

sven wittekind

mr j

jack alien

noisebass

yung saadi

stan green

wilson quick

el paso

skycrater

black door

roger gunn

jayms

make mama proud

wrecked religion

marz

thoweda rosas

tinimaine

patryck

awkward L looper

redx

outbreak

airsh4d3

crucified priest

smiley loks

sumo brix

death plus

allen w brown

black therapy

2 official

in flagranti

black v neck

twyn t

marc vedo

mila falls

breaking pangea

kamo

yattaman

faux paz

bford

itgang simmie

cudiiiies

blaze

the resolute

young will

sickboii

dranX

street corner talking

CCD

y-milo

evilone

daniel richards

marek stelmach

full frontal lobotomy

danny mcmaster

stephen kramer glickman

crucifix

bad boys blue

chyp-notic

a la carte

haddaway

soultans

andreas martin

londonbeat

wolfgang petry

ute berling

minnesota

donny brooke

goons of doom

fuck on the beach

presley river

the lenores

armored saint

artillery

the edwin davids jazz band

below

bynzantine

batushka

candiria

charred walls of the damned

cult of luna

save us from the archon

secret eyes

set sights

cut up

destrage

endseeker

siren and sailors

sky eats airplane

eyes of the sun

denner/shermann

downfall of gaia

ensiferum

execration

falconer

gozu

harlott

exumer

god dethroned

entrails

desaster

harms way

hate

if these trees could talk

igorrr

ketzer

king diamond

kissin' dynamite

LIK

lizzy borden

daniel rodriguez

mercyful fate

midnight

monte pittman

mother feather

motor sister

necromancing the stone

nothgard

the ocean

oni

portrait

primordial

RAM

ravencult

redemption

sacred reich

revocation

satan

rivers of nihil

serpentine dominion

shai hulud

sorcerer

tanith

tribulation

visigoth

vulture

twitching tongues

tombs

six feet under

syberia

tribal (swe)

Týr

wovenwar

40 grit

a love ends suicide

abiotic

aeon

ancient

apophys

angel blake

saul

aeternam

the absence

arma gathas

assaulter

barn burner

battlecross

across the sun

anacrusis

anima

the arcane order

as you drown

autumn

believer

beyond the sixth seal

blood divisions

born from pain

brimstone coven

cancer bats

cellador

coal chamber

beyond the embrace

bison b.c.

bloodclot

brian still

broken hope

cataract

the cory smoot experiment

beyond the shore

bitch

bludgeon

brainstorm

callenish circle

catastrophic

chinchilla

crimfall

criminal

cripper

crisis

culture killer

D.R.I.

darkness dynamite

dave brockie experience

daysend

DC4

the devils blood

devildriver

dictated

don jamieson

eidolon

the crimson armada

cryptic slaughter

darkest era

get scared

glasseater

steve wilkins

glue gun

gob

grabbers

dawn of ashes

demiricous

diabulus in musica

disillusion

engine

epicurean

the fallen

fleshcrawl

forever in terror

eryn non dae.

fleshwrought

fragments of unbecoming

fueled by fire

galactic cowboys

glorior belli

grave pleasures

the great discord

gypsyhawk

hail of bullets

evergreen terrace

fate

flotsam and jetsam

frazetta

gehennah

gorerotted

gristle

hallows eve

hatchet

helstar

immolation

in extremo

hate eternal

impious

house of heavy

0 notes

littlerose13writes · 6 years

Text

Lightbulbs by LittleRose13

Day 4, The 12 Days of Shipmas - Wrapping presents🛍

In which Scorpius regrets opening the mulled wine before all the presents are wrapped.

Words: 1,936 Pairings: Scorpius/Albus

20th December, 2027

The Potter/Malfoy’s living room was decorated beautifully for Christmas. Garlands of holly lay across the wooden mantelpiece, studded with crimson berries and frosted with glistening snowflakes. Pale gold fairies nested amongst the leaves, glittering and twinkling.

Even though they would only be spending Christmas morning in their apartment, there was a large and generously decorated Christmas tree in the corner of the room which also housed iridescent, live fairies. Beneath the impeccable tree, the chaos started with an unwieldy pile of unwrapped presents in front of which Albus was sitting.

Spread all around him were several rolls of wrapping paper, three automatic spellotape dispensers, various bows and decorations, ribbon in every colour, a large, half-empty glass of mulled wine and a pair of scissors, which Albus kept misplacing and loudly asking Scorpius “where the fuck are the fucking scissors?” despite him having sat on them every single time.

Scorpius sat demurely on the floor behind Albus, leaning on the coffee table with his own glass of wine and using his best peacock feather quill to fill in Christmas cards and gift tags for all of their family and friends. The system was supposed to be that Albus selected a present from under the tree, told Scorpius what he’d picked up, wrapped it up while Scorpius wrote the matching card then the two were united and placed in the ‘finished’ pile.

The trouble was that Scorpius was taking much longer to fill in the cards as neatly as possible than Albus was taking to wrap the presents. After sitting around waiting for ten minutes before he could start wrapping the second present - and going overboard on the decoration on Lily’s present in the meantime - Albus abandoned Scorpius’ system and just started wrapping any present he could see.

“Who’s this one for?” Scorpius asked his fiancé, holding up a cylindrical present wrapped in golden paper patterned with stars and a sprig of real holly (taken from the mantelpiece) spellotaped haphazardly to the front.

Albus considered the gift in question for a second, his head on one side.

“It’s either a box of lightbulbs for Grandad Arthur or one of those floating bath candle things for Aunt Angie.”

“Well, which?” Scorpius was poised with his quill hovered over a blank card.

“I’m pretty sure it’s the candle,” Albus guessed randomly, having no idea.

Scorpius looked at him suspiciously for a second before gently shaking the present. “That didn’t help me.”

“It’s for Aunt Angie, I’m sure.”

“Well, if she asks me why we gave her lightbulbs for Christmas-”

“You can blame it on me.” Albus smiled and reached back into the gift pile for another present to wrap. He selected one and held it up suspiciously. “We bought someone a sieve for Christmas?”

“It’s an art installation for Dad.” Scorpius sighed, took it from Albus and turned it the other way around, placing it back on the coffee table. “You were there when I bought it.”

“I was?”

“Yes. You said the gallery was pretentious and only agreed to come in if I promised to buy you an ice-cream from Fortescue’s.”

“I did?”

“You had gingerbread flavour with chocolate sauce.”

“Oh yeah, that ice-cream!”

Scorpius rolled his eyes fondly at his fiancé.

“How exactly do you expect me to wrap this?” Albus picked up the sieve/art installation again, turning it around and considering the obscure shape.

“Oh, just as neatly as you have all the other presents,” Scorpius muttered, finishing the gift tag he was writing with a flourish.

“Scor, I offered to write the cards instead and let you do the wrapping.”

“You were just going to write Merry Christmas from Scorpius and Albus once then charm it onto every tag.”

“That is exactly what I was going to do. Then I was going to distract you from wrapping the presents. Why does it matter what the tags say? Nobody reads them anyway.”

“I do!” said Scorpius, affronted. “I’m writing a personalised pun in everyone’s card, it’s really quite enjoyable.”

Albus shrugged and cast the art installation aside, opting instead for a rectangular box which contained a pair of adorably tiny shoes for one of Teddy’s twins. He was already bored with wrapping presents and it was only because of Scorpius’ insistence that they sit down and do this together that he was even still doing it.

Opening the box to look at the shoes, Albus placed his first and middle fingers into a shoe each, making them ‘walk’ across the table and stop at Scorpius’ writing arm. The shoes gently tapped their way up Scorpius’ arm and over the back of his neck, then round to underneath his chin.

“Albus!” Scorpius complained and put his quill down. He looked down at where Albus was still waving the baby shoes around under his nose and grinned up at his fiancé. Albus’ arm had ended up wrapped around Scorpius’ shoulders and he snuggled into him.

“You can’t be cross with these tiny things can you?” Albus made the tiny shoes dance around in front of Scorpius’ face, until one fell off and landed on the floor.

“I don’t know why we bought the twins shoes. Those girls have been barefoot every time I’ve ever seen them.” He picked the fallen shoe up and reunited it with its pair.

“That’s what happens when you live by the beach and do toddler yoga every morning,” Albus explained with an eye roll as he replaced the shoes into their box.

Scorpius watched him. “How many presents left to wrap?”

“I don’t know, like a hundred.” Albus scooted back over to his fiancé with a sulky expression.

Scorpius frowned. “We don’t know that many people.”

“Whatever, I’m bored of wrapping. Can we finish the rest with magic and go to bed?” He nibbled Scorpius’ earlobe.

“No! We’re wrapping them by hand, I want to start a tradition.”

“Actually Scor, I’m wrapping them by hand.” He picked up one of his first attempts, where the automatic spellotape dispenser had proved to be a bit too exciting. “It’s harder than it looks.”

“It can’t be that difficult without magic? Let me have a go.”

“Okay fine, you’re on.” Albus reached into the present pile and picked out the matching shoebox for Teddy’s other twin. He placed it in front of Scorpius and added a roll of wrapping paper, some scissors and a spellotape dispenser. “Best wrapped present wins.”

Scorpius raised one eyebrow. “Wins what?”

Albus paused for a second, then wriggled closer to Scorpius to whisper in his ear. “If you win, I’ll do that thing you like with my tongue.”

Scorpius’ eyes widened and he smirked. “And if you win?”

“You tell me,” Albus challenged.

“If you win, I promise to marry you next year.” Scorpius smiled angelically.

“Isn’t that literally what this means?” Albus grabbed Scorpius’ left hand and span his engagement ring around, before interlinking their fingers.

“It’s subject to demonstration of present wrapping abilities I’m afraid,” Scorpius said, squeezing Albus’ hand.

“Damn, I suppose we’ll have to cancel the venue then.” Albus kissed Scorpius.

“That thing you do with your tongue is rather a good prize,” Scorpius wiggled his eyebrows, their faces inches apart.

“A better prize than marrying me?” Albus bit his lip.

Scorpius closed the gap between them and simply kissed him in response. Albus smirked and pulled away from him, pushing the second shoebox closer to his fiancé and grabbing his own.

They sat with their backs to each other, each wrapping a separate shoe box. Albus cut the wrapping paper as precisely as he would have done a shrivelfig in potion making and tried to fold every corner accurately. He wasn’t too liberal with the spellotape and he even added a red ribbon to coordinate with the emerald green paper (the holly leaves seemed a bit hazardous to hand to a two year old). He wrote Pippa on a gift tag in his neatest handwriting and tied it to the ribbon with a slightly lopsided bow. Overall, he was rather proud of his attempt; it was certainly his best one so far.

“Have you finished yet?” said Scorpius impatiently from behind him.

“Yep, prepare to be amazed.” Albus turned, holding his nicely wrapped present in both hands and met Scorpius’ eyes.

“Ta-da!” Scorpius sang, holding his own wrapped shoebox out.

Albus looked down at Scorpius’ own wrapped gift. “What the fuck, Scor?”

Scorpius flinched and gazed at him with wide, grey eyes. His box was wrapped impeccably with scarlet paper, every corner crisp and even. Silver ribbon circled the middle of the box neatly and a large and sparkly silver ribbon decoration sat in the middle. A wooden gingerbread man tag was tied from the ribbon with a small card attached to it. The card read This present is full of sole! Merry Christmas Clemmie, love Albus and Scorpius xxx

“You used magic!” Albus accused.

“I did not! My wand is over there.” Scorpius pointed to where his wand was on the other side of the table.

Albus eyed him suspiciously. “Well, I think it’s safe to say you’ve won. Guess we can’t get married.” He pretended to sulk and Scorpius scooted over behind him, wrapping his arms over Albus’ shoulders and whispering into his ear.

“What are you talking about, my little drama queen? You think I won’t marry you after you do that thing with your tongue?” He nuzzled into the crook of Albus’ neck.

Albus turned in his arms and pulled Scorpius into him, pressing their bodies close together and kissing him deeply. Scorpius kissed him back just as passionately until his hands were wondering, one into Albus’ dark, messy hair and one under the buttons of his shirt.

Albus stroked the exposed skin of Scorpius’ lower back where his top had risen up and Scorpius shivered involuntarily beneath his touch. He hummed with pleasure as they kissed, the vibrations of his lips sending Albus his own involuntary shivers as he continued to trail his fingertips over Scorpius’ spine in a way that was full of hidden intent, and Scorpius knew it.

He briefly pulled his face away from Albus, just long enough to smile breathlessly and Albus watched his eyes light up in that familiar way they did. Albus smirked at his fiancé as Scorpius’ fingers buried themselves deeper into his’ hair and he leaned in, almost overpowering Albus and knocking him backwards onto the floor. He shoved a hand out at the last minute to catch himself, his wrist taking the full force of his actions, but in that moment, all he could think about was how badly he needed to be kissing Scorpius again.

“Let’s do the rest by magic,” Scorpius said hurriedly, leaning over and grabbing Albus’ wand out of his back pocket then aiming it at the present pile, a quick flick wrapping them all.

Albus broke their contact for just a second to admire Scorpius’ spellwork. “Not bad considering that wasn’t even your wand.”

Scorpius shrugged. “Hmm, the ribbon isn’t curled evenly.”

“I really couldn’t care less right now,” said Albus, pulling Scorpius to his feet and out of the room.

When Christmas Day came and the family were exchanging presents, Albus and Scorpius exchanged smirks when Harry and Ginny wondered who had wrapped each of their presents, as they were so different. One was vaguely stuck together with spellotape, and the other was perfect, almost as if it had been wrapped by magic.

#12 days of shipmas #Harry Potter fanfiction #scorbus #Scorpius Malfoy #Albus Potter #scorpius x albus #littlerose13 #mywriting #scorbus fanfiction #guess this spoils the fifth year fic #shocker they end up together #i think I'll still write it #12daysofshipmas #lightbulbs

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trendsdresscom · 4 years

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Sarah Powell battles with a broken jumpsuit popper and gets stuck in a new gym top

From Red Online

Sarah Powell is the founder of Celebrate Yourself, a framework which encourages people to celebrate who they are. She is an accredited wedding celebrant conducting bespoke ceremonies and has developed the wellbeing and self-help tool, self-celebration. She co-hosts two podcasts, Jules and Sarah with Jules Von Hep and also Wobble, a podcast about body confidence and happiness. She lives with her husband Jon, has a mother called June and loves faux fur, The Archers and tea. Here she takes us through the routines, dramas and minuate of her life.

MONDAY

Tossing the old pastries on to the flat roof has backfired horribly. Imagined little blackbirds gently swooping down to collect crumbs for their chicks. Fancied myself as a modern day Julie Andrews. Instead have attracted a group of very rowdy pigeons. Banged the mop on the ceiling to scare them off. It never ends. Thrilled to have my £3.99 eBay synthetic silk dressing gown returned after leaving it in a hotel last year. Did have to email to enquire. Wonder what would have happened to it. May well have found it’s way back on to eBay. Oven baked risotto for tea. A revelation. Didn’t have to stand ladling stock over it for 2 hours. Utter joy.

TUESDAY

Made the greatest toast. Crispy, melty but not soggy. Shall think about it all day. Eyeliner pencil is very blunt. More of a dirty stick than eyeliner. Also very painful. Conceded and finally sharpened it. Transformed. Can’t believe have waited so long. Went to pick up a parcel from the corner shop. Couldn’t face drying hair so went out with it wet. A sure fire way to get flu, if Nan’s are to be believed. Made the terrible mistake of having a coffee. Was completely off my face. Wrote 89 emails, changed the bed and made a chilli in less than 40 minutes. Terrifying. Had to have a coconut jam ring to bring me round. Chilli for dinner. In a white top. Highly perilous.

WEDNESDAY

Made a terrible cup of tea. Left the bag too long, practically dissolved. Very black. No amount of milk could save it. Bought a terrific new black jumpsuit from New Look. Had to go up a size but it’s comfy and looks better so who cares. Went to bed with passably clean hair. Woke up and it’s utterly filthy. Can’t do a thing with it. Apparently dry shampoo before bed is the thing. Must investigate. Made the chilli into pasta sauce for lunch. Had it with pasta shells for a bit of fun and topped with a lot of grated cheese. More cheese than chilli in the end. Wore the new jumpsuit out and one of the poppers broke. Not even a subtle one, was right across the crotch. Will attempt to fix it. Perhaps pliers are the thing.

THURSDAY

Got stuck in a new gym top. It came in two parts: an undervest with a breathable netty layer over the top. Both were attached at one shoulder and could not make head nor tail of it. In the end scissors and cutting the two apart was the only option. The relief was overwhelming. Desperate for beans on toast but have no bread. Or cheese. All went on the chilli. Beans on their own seems a bit sad so ventured out. Got to the front door to find a ‘Sorry We Missed You’ card. Have been in the house for eight hours. EIGHT. It never ends. Saw a blackbird eating a berry on the tree outside. A welcome relief after Monday’s escapades. Can definitely feel a cold coming on. Nan’s really do know best.

FRIDAY

Tried and failed to fix the broken popper. The pliers proved to be very ineffective. Decided am actually worth a fresh popper so took it back to exchange. Couldn’t find the New Look bag so took it in a tote. They didn’t seem to mind. Went to get a manicure. Couldn’t help but notice a white rabbit sat in the corner on a chair. Seemed happy enough. Turned to look again and there were two of them. What a thing. Greggs cheese and onion pasty on the way home. Wasn’t quite hot enough so warmed it through in the oven. Totally worth the extra effort. June in London for the weekend. Said a policeman winked at her at the station. She was disappointed not to be offered a cup of tea on the train upon departure, but rather after lunch. Said she was gasping. Couldn’t spit on sixpence.

PLANS FOR THE WEEKEND

Buy Lemsip

Read The Insecure Girls Club by Liv Purvis

Pick up missed parcel

Watch Miss Americana again

Avoid coffee

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