#health & happiness celly

[senditcolton]

Health & Happiness Celebration

if you didn't see my latest post, I am going on a brief hiatus. but I want to hold this little celebration as a thank you for 1.2k followers and as a sort of farewell for now. so below are some emojis with corresponding asks that you can send in. I'll post all of them over the weekend and then I will be departing. but don't worry, I will be back, I promise. I love you every single one of you and thank you for the support! 🤍

🐝 Busy Bee: I will share something about one of my WIPs, be it a general idea, a sentence, etc. You can be specific about the WIP if you want!

🍦 Creative Confections: Send me a player and a concept / song / fic / etc. and I'll make a moodboard for you!

💡 Dwell in Daydreams: Send me a player and a concept and I'll write a short headcanon for you!

☀️ Radiant Recs: Ask me for book recs, music recs, movies recs, fic recs, anything! I would love if you sent me some of yours as well!

🍋 Sweet or Sour: Send me any 'sleepover' games. Top 5, FMK, This or That, Would You Rather, etc!

🌻 Talking Titles: Send me a title and I'll tell you want fic I'd write to go along with it!

💫 Writer Revealed: Ask me about a fic of mine and I'll give you the 'directors commentary' on it! Be as specific as you want!

tagging a few peeps to spread the word so my hiatus doesn't catch you all completely off-guard: @wyattjohnston @laurenairay @matthewtkachuk @comphy-and-cozy @smileysvech @fallinallincurls @barzysunflower @jostystyles @cellythefloshie @tkachvkmatthew @thewintersoldierdisaster

#nicole talks #health & happiness celly

[ohtobemare]

a silly little update....

hi tumblr people!

as many are aware, i'm in the process of writing two different celebrations: my birthday celly, and my slutty 400 followers. i still have over thirty requests to fill, and it's taking a lot longer than expected. for reasons.

first, weather here in Minnesota has been killer with sub zero temps. and having horses means constant barn care and animal welfare, on top of juggling a full time job.

not only that, i struggle-bussed through a mild case of COVID at the beginning of January that knocked me on my tush, and in the aftermath, i have some weird thing called post viral respiratory inflammation where my bronchial tubes are so inflamed that it triggers pneumonia-like coughing spells, and because of the incessant coughing, cannot heal properly. steroids are kicking me butt.

also on top of all of that, i am prioritizing my health. i've been hiking an hour a day (all through December, before January!) and i'm teaching myself how to lift weights and enjoy exercise for the first time in my life. with this comes the nutrition battle and understanding my body (turns out my body does not like dairy, at all). the beginning is a little overwhelming, and it demands a lot of brain power and focus.

but the biggest factor in these slow updates is that right now i am currently seeking the Lord about a lot of things in my life, a lot of life decisions through fasting, intercession, and worship. if anyone is familiar with fasting, it is excruciating. i am doing fluids only, aside from the little food i have to consume for my medication, and it's difficult. i write this from day 2 and i'm weak, tired, hungry, but uplifted. getting back on track with God and spirituality is something i've felt called to do for a few weeks, just haven't bit the bullet. but now i am.

all this to say, updates are taking awhile. for good reasons. i promise i have not forgotten and will get to them.

in the meantime, check out my masterlist here, there's a lot of fun. at least to me.

i think i have the best followers and mutuals of anyone out there and i am so uplifted, encouraged, and touched by every interaction i get. this silly little blog makes me so happy and brings me so much joy when i need it.

i know it seems like i'm in the weeds and shadows, but i promise i'm here. loving all things Val and Top Gun, because of course i am.

ya'll have my love and thanks. always. <3

xoxo,

mare

#update #blog update #writing update #.txtpost #.txt #val kilmer #valmare #life updates #personal thoughts #mare rambles #rambles #<3 #mutuals #i love my mutuals #top gun #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick

[twistedisciple]

deep dive character sheet

stolen from: old dash game courtesy of Mirae tagging: you!

NAME: GRISS

BODY

height: 177cm / 5′ 9

strength ★★☆☆☆ (physical strength is real bad; magical strength is a different story though)

dexterity ★★☆☆☆ (also surprisingly not great)

health ★★★★☆ (more or less physically healthy, still young enough to not have notable illnesses or disabilities yet; 3 more years though and he becomes a senior citizen)

energy ★★★☆☆ (has that earth-sign tendency for laziness when left to his own devices)

beauty ★★★★☆ (definitely naturally good-looking, with or without the tattoos and piercings and mullet)

style ★★★★★ (has A style even if it's not The style of the mainstream; puts effort into how he dresses)

hygiene ★★★☆☆ (oily hair and no personal routine costing him points)

SKILLS

perception ★★★★★ (much more observant than he comes across; sharp eyes)

communication ★★★★☆ (blunt to a fault but you'll always know where you stand with him; unafraid of asking questions if something doesn't make sense)

persuasion ★★★★☆ (by sheer persistence, "grabbing someone by the neck can be very persuasive" <- reused from fáfnir's form)

mediation ★★☆☆☆ (the answer is always simply fight it out)

literacy ★★★☆☆

creativity ★★★★☆

cooking ★★☆☆☆ (good fucking luck)

tech savvy ★★★★☆ (probably, he'll poke at things until he figures it out)

combat ★★★☆☆ (not bad per se, but hard to judge a guy's combat ability when he's constantly trying to get hit)

survival ★★☆☆☆ (self-destructive, on the flip side a full 5 stars for having not gotten himself killed yet)

stealth ★★★☆☆ (when he wants to, the problem is that he gets bored of it after a while - pspsps come here celly)

street smarts ★★★★★

seduction ★☆☆☆☆ (lmao)

luck ★★☆☆☆ (probably goes hand-in-hand with his survival thus far)

handling animals ★☆☆☆☆ (don't think he's really an animal guy; his energy probably freaks horses out)

pacifying children ☆☆☆☆☆

MIND

intelligence ★★★☆☆ (sharp and pragmatic, though his openness when caught off guard or confused tends to distract from this)

happiness ★★★☆☆ (generally speaking)

spirituality ★★★★★ →  ★★★★☆ (starting to have some doubts, not really thinking about them though)

confidence ★★★★★ (read: shameless)

humor ★★★☆☆

anxiety ★☆☆☆☆

patience ★★★☆☆ (not hard to tell him to wait for something)

passion ★★★★★ (goes hand-in-hand with spirituality)

nice         ☆☆☆★☆ mean (aggressive? yes. hateful? not usually. this answer is more like an absence of niceness than the presence of meanness)

brave       ★☆☆☆☆ cowardly (bravery implies that fear exists; griss just isn't afraid of anything)

pacifist     ☆☆☆☆★ violent

thoughtful ☆☆☆★☆ impulsive 

agreeable ☆★☆☆☆ contrary (generally pretty chill if he doesn't have a reason to be aggressive)

idealistic   ☆☆☆☆★ pragmatic

frugal        ★☆☆☆☆ big spender

extrovert   ☆★☆☆☆ introvert (perfectly fine being alone as long as it's in short bursts)

collected   ☆☆☆☆★ wild

ambitious / possessive / stubborn / jealous / decisive / perfectionist <- (none of these really work for him)

SOCIAL

charisma ★☆☆☆☆ (he's not making any speeches that's for sure)

empathy ★★★★☆ (arguably empathy is at the core of his love of violence)

generosity ★☆☆☆☆

wealth ★★☆☆☆

honest  ☆☆★☆☆ deceptive (has no issue lying but tends to be honest more often than not)

leader   ☆☆☆☆★ follower

polite    ☆☆☆☆★  rude (what are manners)

political ☆☆★☆☆ indifferent (political only when the politics are intertwined with theology)

BELIEFS

higher power ★★★★★

fate/destiny ★★☆☆☆ (doesn't think about it much, fell religion probably taught that individuals can take whatever they want but are all destined to meet the same end)

magic ★★★★★

soulmates ☆☆☆☆☆

good and evil ★☆☆☆☆ (leans more toward believing order vs chaos, altruism vs egoism, than good vs evil)

luck ★☆☆☆☆

PRIORITIES

family ★☆☆☆☆ → ★★★★☆ (fully believed family was only those related by blood, thinks of it differently now thanks to zephia)

friends ★☆☆☆☆ → ★★★★☆ (see above)

love ★★★☆☆

home ☆☆☆☆☆

health ★☆☆☆☆

praise ★☆☆☆☆

justice ★☆☆☆☆

truth ☆☆☆☆☆

power ★☆☆☆☆ (likes it as a side effect, but doesn't pursue it)

fame ☆☆☆☆☆

wealth ★★☆☆☆

others' opinions ★☆☆☆☆ (only very specific people matter to him and they can be counted on one hand)

#out of character #headcanons #dash games #// was trying to find an old dash game that focused on physical features but dug up this one instead

[sacramentonewsjournal]

Frances Tiafoe Meets Stephen Curry At NBA Japan Video games | ATP Tour

Tennis isn’t the one sporting attraction round Tokyo this weekend. Whereas the 2022 Rakuten Japan Open Tennis Championships are underway with qualifying motion, the NBA Japan Video games are additionally happening close by in Japan. The Golden State Warriors — the defending NBA champions — and the Washington Wizards are competing in two preseason video games on the Saitama Tremendous Area, with the primary matchup staged on Friday night time in entrance of over 20,000 followers. Frances Tiafoe, Naomi Osaka and Alex de Minaur had been amongst these in attendance, with Tiafoe getting an opportunity to satisfy a number of the gamers earlier than the sport. The American spoke with Stephen Curry and demonstrated the reigning NBA Finals MVP’s trademark ‘Night time, Night time’ celebration, which he known as “one of many coldest cellys I’ve seen” in a Twitter put up. “I acquired to satisfy Steph Curry final night time, which was nice,” Tiafoe mentioned. “He is certainly one of my idols. Him acknowledging what he noticed and saying he is happy with me for the US Open was fairly particular. You are by no means going to neglect issues like that.” Needed to one of many coldest cellys I’ve seen https://t.co/3W3Zw0bu8X — Frances Tiafoe (@FTiafoe) September 30, 2022 Tiafoe, who helps the Wizards as his native group, was even on the court docket for warm-ups, dropping assists throughout taking pictures observe. “It was actually cool, particularly being from D.C. and the Washington Wizards taking part in… and them displaying love all through the sport” he added. “Simply messing round with the blokes, throwing some dimes. It is simply enjoyable being round them. I feel it is good for them, too. A bit of completely different, a breath of recent air.” Tiafoe additionally plans to attend the second exhibition recreation between the 2 groups on Sunday. The assist goes each methods, as Wizards star Bradley Beal was seen in his participant field throughout his run to the US Open semi-finals. Tiafoe has additionally been utilizing basketball for cross-training, understanding with the Wizards workers for a enjoyable technique to work on his health and not too long ago visiting the group’s observe facility through the NBA’s preseason. At Friday’s recreation, Tiafoe additionally met Klay Thompson, Andre Iguodala, Shaun Livingston and NBA Deputy Commissioner and Chief Working Officer Mark Tatum. He was even proven on the world’s massive display screen, receiving a rousing reception. The American has additionally been a particular visitor at a New York Mets recreation and a Maryland soccer recreation since his career-best run to the US Open semi-finals — a consequence he adopted with a title-clinching efficiency for Workforce World at Laver Cup. A well-established fan favorite on the ATP Tour, Tiafoe’s fame is now crossing over into the overall inhabitants. “Because the Open, I feel you possibly can say I really feel like a star, interval,” he mentioned, trying again on what he known as “a loopy month and alter”. “It is undoubtedly completely different being dwelling, and seeing a bunch of individuals reacting, and New York, and clearly yesterday,” he added. “However that is the place you wish to be. That is why you’re employed onerous and simply attempt to encourage lots of people. However I’ve nonetheless acquired much more to present on this recreation so I will hold going.” Tiafoe is seeded fourth within the Tokyo singles draw, and can face Japanese wild card Yasutaka Uchiyama on the opening spherical. The American will even compete with De Minaur within the doubles competitors. Originally published at Sacramento News Journal

#Sacramento News Journal

[bisexualtylerseguin]

I think I’ve watched Tyler’s goal and happy dance smiley face celly with his lineys like 20 times now. I can’t believe it. I’m so happy for him. It’s like fanfic come to life lol 🥺

Right?? I can literally see the fic scene in my head. I’m happy for him. I’m sure that’s the boost he needed for his mental health. Clearly things have been rough

[lowkeyhockey]

cat and mouse (for a month or two or three) - freddie andersen

Pairing: Freddie Andersen/Single Mother!Reader

Mentions: Mitch Marner, Nazem Kadri

Warnings: Curse words, slight sexual innuendo, two POVs

Word Count: 6.5k

Credits: @hockey-reblogs beta’d this for me, and like. thank g od IDEK what i did to deserve her help and support <3

 Summary: Someone can’t wait to get on the ice, someone wants to meet up off the ice, and someone has an unexpectedly intense reaction to coffee. OR: a story of how you two met. 

 Writer’s Note: This is a standalone fic that’s a part of a bigger verse titled Can I Go (Where You Go) featuring [Y/N], a not-very single mother, Lila, your very opinionated daughter, and Freddie Andersen - a man very happy to be invited along for the ride. 

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

The first thing you notice upon arriving at the Mastercard Centre, your new training facility for the next five seasons (if your contract has anything to say about it) is the noise. The words sound about the same, shouts about cellys and sick dangles and benders and dusters, all the words North American players like to throw around to make it sound like they're from a generation older and greater than they are, but the pitch is - different. 

 A lot higher, for once, the voices a lot softer, and you're frowning even before you turn the corner to the Leafs' locker room. Mitch Marner and Nazem Kadri are standing near the doorway, Naz grinning in a way that you know from watching game tape means he's probably going to lay a hit on someone, and Marner looking - well - scared, but they're not looking that way at each other. 

Which, is probably good. Mitch is as new to the Leafs as you are, which means you'd probably have to take his side against Naz, and you've seen Naz's hits. Game tape. It's weird to think of them as teammates now, with how you've memorized the slightest shifts in their stances to figure out split-seconds before the recoil of their stick exactly where the puck is going to go, but you're good at dealing with weird. 

 Dishing it out, taking it. Part of hockey, and part of being a goalie. You're not good at, however - you're not used to - dealing with the sight that had apparently frozen Naz and Marner into caricatures of themselves. 

 About thirty girls, give or take, all of them minors, in green tartan skirts and hockey skates and green and white sweaters. You wonder if the Leafs are taking another PC shift on the ice crew, though the girls aren't even in Leafs colours. But then you see that half the girls are holding hockey sticks, and suddenly you're feeling just as worried - worried, not scared - as Marner's obviously feeling scared. 

You can't blame him, though. Kid looks about twelve, looks like a couple of the bigger girls could beat him up without breaking a sweat. He's probably worried about his voice cracking in front of them or something. 

 It's Naz who sees you first, shit-eating grin in full effect as he calls you over, but his voice is drowned out halfway through "Yo Andy, get over-" (which, thank you, but no) as a girl shouts, "motherfucker, get on the ice and I'll show you roughing." 

 And then you change your mind. 

 Naz cracks up laughing at the threat and you match Marner's smile, but a woman is there in the next heartbeat - this one, thankfully not in uniform, though you wouldn't mind seeing what she could do to a schoolgirl skirt - pinching the girl's nose in a way that you're almost certain isn't part of the school's disciplinary code. 

Or maybe it was. California didn't have corporal punishment, and it didn't have school uniforms either, and judging by the way you were looking at the woman - the teacher? - up and down and trying to picture her in pumps and tiny skirt and blazer, with maybe a green ribbon in her hair, it was probably for the best. 

The girl doesn't look like she's in pain or anything, so you wander over to the boys, trying to not make any sudden movements just in case the girls could smell fresh blood. "School trip, we're teaching them the ropes," Marner says to you before you could ask, and Naz's expression turns a little wry, his smile a little dry as he adds. "Private school girls, so make sure none of them breaks another nail or we could be looking at a lawsuit." 

*****

 You'd been helping one of the younger girls with her skates when you'd glanced up and saw Freddie Andersen - the Great Dane, the Ginga Ninja, the new goalie for the Leafs - approaching through a break in the cloud of girls, and you bite back a grin that was - okay, maybe a little mean. 

 But his furrowed brow-stoicism was an expression you knew well, from the faces of men who just didn't know what to do with a small army of girls - which, good. You girls can handle your own, which is a weird thought to have when you're on your knees in front of an apprehensive-looking sixth grader, but all the other girls had gotten each other laced up and strapped into protective gear and you wonder whether it was actually necessary for the headmistress to insist that the Leafs drop in to "show you the ropes", as it were. 

 It was a school in Canada, after all, and in Toronto to boot, where hockey wasn't so much a pastime as it was a minor religion. An open, accepting religion - you could be both practicing Christian, or Muslim or whatever and a Leafs fan. There was a reason why games aren't scheduled for the same time as Sunday Mass, or Friday prayers. 

 God and the NHL both knew which one people would rather attend. 

 But Branksome Hall's new to allowing hockey to be played and not just watched at the school, and having been a hockey fan for most of your life (not to mention a young and new teacher, which made you an easy target for assignments such as these) you were an obvious pick to get girls into the sport. 

 You probably won't have a school team this season, but it's always nice to get girls on the ice, and your girls could always use an outlet for their excess energy (not to mention aggression). 

 Brianna's all talk and you tell her that, giving a last, gentle tug on her nose before she pushes you away, laughing, and you turn to the boys just in time to hear the tail end of Nazem Kadri's words. 

 Which, ouch. But not at all wrong, and it's your turn to laugh, though Madame Mercier - who's just as suddenly by your side - is looking considerably less amused. 

 "Branksome Hall takes the health and safety of our girls very seriously," she says, her French accent - French, and not Quebecois, she'd remind anyone with a faux-haughty look on her face and a twinkle in her eyes - thicker than it usually is, and you jump in to alleviate the tension before the boys could apologize - or very pointedly not apologize. 

 "We do, but we also understand how dangerous skating and hockey can be, and the girls and their legal guardians have all signed the disclaimers we've passed along to your organization," you say with a smile - not the practiced one you hold in reserve for overbearing parents, because god only knew what you'd do if you ever ran out of those - but something easy and warm. 

 You'd been an athlete yourself, when you were in school, and you hadn't gone to a school like Branksome Hall, where the Board of Governors could up and decide to introduce a new sport to the school and then have the pull to have some of the best athletes in the sport go and teach it to the girls themselves. Never mind that it's still off-season, and that the boys would probably rather be in board shorts than hockey gear. 

 You're just you, a little messy, a little too casual, you have nothing of Madame Mercier's dignified grace as you offer your hand out to the newcomer. Frederik Andersen, who's all ginger scruff in the early light of day, brown eyes looking a little wary even as he takes your hand. 

 His hand's large, because of course it is, and a little rough, because of course it is, and you feel an impulse to sandwich it between your own for a full study. But a smaller hand covers the back of it before you could embarrass yourself, yanking both your hands down - 

 and you look further down to see Lila coming out from behind Mitch Marner's legs, all toothy grin despite the fact that she was clearly feeling ignored, and you laugh again. "Sorry about that," you quickly say, dropping the goaltender's hand and dropping to your knees to scoop up your little girl. 

 Mitch, sweet boy that he is, reaches out to tickle her sides, and you suppose you're thankful that he's learned his lesson about having his hands too close to her teeth. 

 "I'm [Y/N L/N], and this is my daughter, Lila." Lila frees one of the arms you'd pinned to her sides in an attempt to stop her from squirming out of your arms to give the man a wave, looking almost shy, and Freddie in turn - surprise fading into something that almost looks like shyness, too - reaches out to pat her head, as though copying his teammate. 

 God, if you were just unlucky enough the boys might come to see Lila as some kind of lucky charm to be fussed over or petted, like a team mascot in tiny human form. It seemed a little far fetched, but you know hockey players and how superstitious they could be, and you turn around to pass Lila off to your nanny before any of your dire predictions could come into fruition. 

 When you turn back around, Freddie's hand is still hovering in midair, and you can't help but raise an eyebrow at him, watching a flush slowly spread across his cheekbones as though in slow motion. He looks so dumb, looks something like a piece of art. You'd title it: hockey player vs social situations or something like that. 

 You squash the urge to paint him. 

 "Frederik Andersen, right?" you ask, because he hasn't introduced himself, and smile encouragingly when he nods, feeling like you were talking to one of your younger girls. 

 "Call me Freddie," he says, and you grin, turning to include the other boys in it. 

 "Freddie, Mitch, and Naz," you say as though to check their names, though of course you know them all. "Thank you guys so much for coming, I'm sure all the girls are going to love this. Now, are you guys ready to meet the next group of miracles on ice?" 

A little kitschy, a little corny, but Mitch is grinning back at you, and Naz is looking amused, though you suspect that with the latter that's pretty much his default expression. Freddie's not looking at you, though, and you follow his gaze to the near-empty corridor, wondering if he's looking for an escape route - but no, he's watching Emilie and Lila. 

And you feel - jealous? Emilie's very pretty, and she's so good with Lila, and you were only expecting two hockey players with you today and not three and - Frederik Andersen could do whatever he wants, really, it's nothing to do with you. 

Naz gives you a light punch on the arm, like you're a part of the team, though you're just a teacher for the group of girls he's been made to babysit. "Lets get at it, coach," he says, as he follows Mitch to the entrance of the rink, and you give Lila a small wave before following suit

Madame Mercier doesn't even own skates and she's not about to start trying it at fifty-two, and Freddie Andersen - you realise, then, that he hadn't even been wearing skates. He was still in his coat, for god's sake - he was taller than you even though you're in skates so you hadn't noticed. 

But then the girls are calling for you, tapping their sticks against the ice where they all stand in a loose circle on center ice, and you and Mitch and Nazem hurry up to join them. 

*****

 "Freddie," you repeat to the little girl, all brown, windswept curls and a grin that takes up about half of her face, and her hazel eyes look like they understand but all she does is blow a raspberry at you. And then giggle, like it's the funniest thing in the world, and maybe it is, because her nanny laughs too. 

 Emilie, she'd said her name was, in the same accent that the strict-looking teacher had.  The one that wasn't [Y/N]. You didn't even realise that you hadn't asked her name, and now she's ignoring the three of you, leaning against the glass like she's worried one of her girls might actually break another nail. 

"She's only three, Mr. Andersen," Emilie says to you, and that Lila decides to repeat, the lisped "three!" sounding jubilant in her voice. Emilie smiles down at her, expression so fond, and you can see why. "She has one month before she turns three," Emilie corrects herself, as though the one month makes a difference, and you nod a little dumbly because maybe it does. 

"She looks a little older," you say, though she doesn't. "She looks smart." And she does. There’s something assessing in her gaze, more curiosity than shyness or fear.

You've always liked kids, but they've always looked a little fragile, especially compared to you. And the kids you usually meet are excitable boys either starting out in or already playing hockey, eager to show the world that they have what it takes. 

And Lila's just staring at you with her large hazel eyes, squirming for a moment before she suddenly flops back, body going limp all over until her nanny relents and sets her down on the floor. Her little shoes squeak with each step, and you both watch her as she makes her way - just as determined as any young boy you've ever met - to the rink entrance. 

"Too smart," Emilie says with a smile, and you grin as Lila drops to the ground in a deliberate collapse, patting both of her hands against the ice. It looks like she doesn't want to walk in - she's ready to crawl in instead, but Emilie is on her in the next heartbeat, scooping her up and pressing kisses against her little face. 

"No, silly, your maman said to stay here," she tells Lila. 

 You take the chance to step in then and say, "I can take her in, she'll be safe with me," but the look Emilie shoots you is arch, a little too knowing, and you feel heat rise on your cheeks again. 

"If her maman wanted the little one on the ice she'd take her herself, non?" But her grin turns friendly again as she tilts her head to the ice, before swinging around so that Lila isn't pushing out of her arms to take matters into her own tiny hands. "Now go, before her maman wonders why I'm keeping you."

And you're fairly certain that this isn't in your schedule, that no one's expecting you to stay, but you already have your gear and skates in your bag and you wanted to get some solo training in before training camp, anyway, so. 

 You go. 

 *****

 He's easy on his feet, you realise with a pang. Quiet. You hadn't even realised that he was standing right behind you until Wei Yan slammed into his side, not hard enough to make him stumble, but enough to catch your attention, making you turn around with a slight frown. 

 She's not at all apologetic about it, grinning as she says, "inertia" as though that alone's an explanation, even though it isn't. Freddie's looking down at her like he doesn't quite know what to do with a fifteen year old girl suddenly attached to his side and spouting Newtonian principles at him, which, fair. 

 The girls love to show off what they'd learned in class - little teachers' pets, all of them, and you could relate - and usually, it makes you smile. It means you've done a good job. Nut somehow inertia is always the first thing they remember, probably because it allows them to do things like this, and you can't have them breaking the new Leafs goalie before he's even broken in yet. God knows the Leafs need a good man in the crease. 

"Goon," you shoot back at her, waving your hands like you're shooing off some stray chickens. And you might as well be - wherever Wei Yan led, the rest of the girls usually followed, and soon there'd be no one doing the skating drill you had set up. 

Mitch was in the far end of the rink, coaching most of the girls through puck-handling drills, and Naz is on center ice dropping face off puck after face off puck while girls battled for dominance. You could see his grin from here, delighting in the role he's getting to play in the chaos. 

 When Wei Yan doesn't move, leaning against Freddie's side and giving him a narrow eyed look that he seems intent on returning in full measure, you skate over to them to give her a gentle nudge. "Shoo, you know how hockey players feel about a hit on their goalie," you tell her, and she turns to face you, grin unnervingly like Kadri's.

 "There's no D-men on the ice," she points out, sly, and it takes Freddie by surprise - the laugh he lets out is over-loud, and it looks like the sun had broken out just over his face. 

 You're soon giggling too, more from the sound of his laughter than anything else, and Wei Yan skates away looking smug. 

 Silence stretches after that but it's not awkward, not really, the two of you watching as Wei Yan lands another hit - this time against Marie, who's a full head shorter than her and maybe fifteen pounds lighter, but she's so gentle about it that you can't help beaming. 

 They're good girls, and you're so proud of them, and you're so happy that the school's letting them have this outlet. 

 Freddie's apparently thinking along the same lines because when he breaks the silence it's to ask, voice light but sounding just a hint too serious to be properly teasing, "you went to all the trouble of bringing Lila to the rink and won't even let her skate?" 

You turn to him with brows raised, more amused and curious than annoyed by the personal question, and he smiles a little at you, as though encouraged by your expression. "Seems a little mean, is all," he explains, and you laugh. 

"My dad's a diehard Leafs fan," you explain. "He'd never forgive me if I didn't bring her. But she's still a little too young for skates. " 

 There's a beat of silence, and it looks like he's studying you now, as though he's memorizing the planes of your face the way you'd tried to memorize his hand, and you're already blushing - your gaze sliding from his eyes to his lips - when he asks - 

"Would he forgive you if you said no to the Leafs' new goalie taking you out for coffee?" 

And the colour's exploding over your face in full force, now, you could feel even the back of your neck getting warm, it's like you've never been asked out before. And you might be a single mom but you're only twenty-six and still attractive, still in full possession of a sex drive, thank you very much, you're clever and you're articulate and you're athletic. 

You shouldn't be staring up at him looking like you'd just finished a 5k on the treadmill, mouth in a flat line, arms crossed across your chest. 

 He shouldn't be looking down at you, looking somewhere between confused and mortified, but god that was such a pro hockey player question - I have money, I have fame, I can hit a puck really, really hard, wanna come home with me?

And he'd just been talking about your daughter - Lila, of all people, who absolutely doesn't deserve to be around more hockey players. Once burned and all that. 

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that," Freddie finally bursts out, and you shake your head. 

"Of course you didn't, Mr. Andersen, I apologize if there's been any confusion," you say, and you know you're using your stern teacher voice, and now he's looking down at you like he doesn't know who you are. 

 Which, of course he doesn't. He doesn't know why you're so opposed to - well, if not hockey players, then hockey players pulling what he'd just tried to pull. 

And you would have let it drop at that but he's moving just a little closer, brows furrowed, looking contrite. "I didn't, I'm not trying to use my position to ask you out. I'm just - I was trying to be funny." 

 He looks half- in pain is the thing, and you believe him. You can certainly believe he's not the best at being funny. You relax a little, make a show of untensing, giving him a small smile and putting a hand on his arm. " It's fine, really. It's just that I'm working - and I have Lila." 

 Not that Lila's really an excuse, with the full-time nanny Sid hired and pays for. But Freddie doesn't need to know that. 

"Can I make it up to you?" he asks, and he still looks like you'd kicked a puppy, and he looks softer than you're prepared for. But when he continues, words tumbling over themselves in the rush to be said, "I can get you tickets for the opening game, you said your dad's a fan and you can bring Lila -" 

 you shake your head, laughing. "I said it's fine, and my dad has season tickets anyway." Honestly, you think it's the biggest family heirloom your family has to your name. 

 He looks like he believes you, he looks like he's relaxed somewhat, and he looks like he's not some pro-athlete dick so you even tease him with an "I'm sure I'll come and see you sooner or later, see if you're any good," 

 and if it sounds like flirting it's possibly because you are, just a little. 

 But he's smiling back at you, looking like you'd given - well, not a puppy, but maybe a dear friend - CPR, and you find yourself smiling back. 

 And become aware, in the next moment, that the girls closest to you have stopped doing their drills, and are looking at the two of you just smiling at each other like idiots with expressions that ranged from surprise to delight.  Which meant that Madame Mercier was probably watching, too, even if you both had your backs to her - which meant you had to disguise what you'd been talking about. 

 "But if you still want to make it up to me," you say to Freddie, voice low, not waiting for him to reply before you skated to the girls. "Line up, ladies, Mr. Andersen's going to get in goal for you. Make sure you show off a little, eh?" 

And the sound of his laughter from behind you, the quiet swish of his skates as he moves to set up between the posts, makes you smile. 

*****

 You go to all the pre-seasons game you have the time to attend with your dad, and once with Emilie, though the poor girl ended up with a headache from all the noise. You - you were in your element, in your old Sundin sweater that still hit you about mid-thigh, usually with blue lines painted under your eyes even though it was just the preseason. 

 After your first game, a young man with a Leafs intern lanyard comes over to your seat with a puck and a kids' jersey, and you're frowning just a little until he tells you that they're both from Marner. You ask the kid to give Marns your number, so you can thank him personally, and when he texts you later that night he tells you that he's just excited to have someone wearing his number in the coming season. 

He's just a sweet kid, and you thank him about ten more times, and you take it to mean that you're going to have to bring Lila in for a game sooner or later. You'd enjoyed watching Marns while he was with the Knights, and you're definitely looking forward to rooting for him on the Leafs - and Freddie, too.

But he doesn't look at you. Freddie, that is. 

 Not during warmups and definitely not during the games, you don't think he sees anything but the puck and there's something almost magical about that degree of hyper-focus. 

It's the night before opening night when he seems to remember that you exist - and it's Marns texting you, not Freddie, and at first you ignore it because Marns has taken to texting you memes you can barely understand, though the girls at your school giggle when you pass it on to them. You won't let him contact any of the girls directly - it would be unprofessional for you to give away any of your students' numbers, and none of them ask you for his - but he seems proud of being the girls' favourite coach. 

 (The girls still practice at the Mastercard Centre, and you're the one chaperoning them more often than not, but with the season coming underway the boys are no longer obligated to show up - the school's hired their own skating and puck-handling coaches, and even a goalie coach though Melanie's the only one interested in getting between the posts, and she far prefers when Freddie's the one to help her.) 

When you finally reach for your phone, deciding that a social media break's allowed after three straight hours of grading physics papers, you're surprised to see a closeup shot of Freddie in his goalie mask - eyes narrowed and staring at you through the grill and phone, like he sees exactly what you're doing and he doesn't approve. It's a little intimidating, more than a little hot. 

You wonder what Marns has done to piss him off - and why Marns decided to send it to you - but the text that pops up after you reply with a simple "???" just says - "he's wondering why u haven't brought lila yet." 

 Which, weird. Also, flattering. Also, weird. You hadn't even been aware that he's noticed that you're there at all.

 "so he can eat her?" you shoot back, grinning a little down at your phone, and marns replies in the next instant with 

"maybe" 

then: 

"rude tho"

then: 

"y don't u ask him urself"

You shoot back a "he didn't ask ME himself", even though it feels at this point like you're two kids passing notes in class, and you're judging yourself for it hard when your phone dings thrice with more text messages. 

From Marns:

"can u imagine freddie taking a selfie"

and then:

several barf emojis, and you don't know why, because Freddie has a pretty decent face 

and 

from an unknown number: 

"Why haven't you brought Lila to any games?"

When your phone dings again, a few seconds later, you see several frowning emojis from the same number, and you hate how you can picture exactly, in your mind's eye, the way Freddie could be frowning at you right then. 

 You save his number under "F.And, L", knowing how hockey players - at least the ones you know - value their privacy, and you wouldn't want his number to get leaked if you somehow lose your phone. Marns is just saved under a frog emoji, and he seemed inordinately pleased about that when you'd told him. 

"Too loud for her," you send back to Freddie, and before you could think twice about it, you send Marns several sweat droplets emojis. You are a teacher - if anyone asks, you could say that you had no idea what they meant, you just know that that's what the kids are texting nowadays.

"Marns is going to be disappointed," Freddie replies, and you're disappointed - despite yourself - because he didn't say that he would be disappointed. 

Another two dings, another two texts, and it's Freddie saying "We'll have to get her in for a practice," while Marns just fills your whole screen with more barfing emojis. 

You shoot them both the okay emoji, and then tell them that you need to get back to work. 

 When you check your phone again before bed, there's two text messages, both of them from Freddie. 

The first: "Good luck with your work, and sweet dreams" 

And then a picture of him, light spilling over him from a bedside lamp, duvet halfway up his bare chest. He looks a little tired, a little shy, but he's smiling up at the camera. 

 A selfie. You wonder what else Marner has told him. 

 And you save the picture.

 *****

 The boys win the first home game of the season, and you couldn't make it because Lila's down with a cold but you send Marns a selfie of you and Lila in Leafs jerseys in front of the TV - you wearing Sundin's number and grinning wide, Lila in Marner's and opening her mouth to show him a mouthful of chewed-up mashed potatoes. You figure it's not too different from a picture of unchewed mashed potatoes, and besides, you're just happy that she's eating. 

 Marns sends back a shot of him flashing a peace sign, flushed with good spirits and (you're pretty damned sure) alcohol he's barely old enough to be drinking, and the way he angles the camera makes you think he's trying to hide the fact that he's in a bar. 

 Which, dumb, but you pass along the congratulations the girls text you to send to him, and there's almost thirty of them, and by the time you're done Freddie's message to you has been waiting for several minutes, unopened. 

 "Thanks for the congratulations," it says, even though you didn't send him one, and you giggle as you lean back to reply. 

 "sorry! had to pass on messages from mitchy's fans first, and there's a lot of them." 

 Freddie: "Yeah? And who were you rooting for?" 

 "david pastrnak," you reply, grinning to yourself as you did it. 

and then before he has time to get into a sulk: "guy has to be a superhero to have gotten one past you" 

 He doesn't reply anyway, not for a good half hour, and you switch the tv to a golf tournament with the volume on low, because of course that's what Lila falls asleep to best. 

And then, from Freddie: "Guess that makes me your kyptonite." 

 Which, okay, he isn't wrong. 

 You're not sure how to reply - you guess this means that he's at least a little bit into you, and he knows you're at least a little bit into him, and - you're not sure how to reply. 

 "you're not wrong," you text him. And then, like a coward, but at least an honest one: "i need to go and tuck lila in. make sure you drink lots of water before bed x" 

 And he sends you a goodnight text, tells you to tell him if Lila's not feeling better in the morning, as though there's anything he can do about it anyway. 

When you wake up the next morning, there's a text from Marns sent at around three am that says, "YOOOOOO WAS TAT SMOOTH OR WHAT" 

Which, okay, he's not wrong. 

 *****

 The boys go through a losing streak like it's nobody's business. Which, is disappointing, but it's the Leafs, and Toronto's a city that's grown accustomed to it. After a home win against Florida that they barely managed by the skin of their teeth (which, it's Florida) Freddie's on your doorstep instead of celebrating at some bar or another, or maybe sleeping the adrenaline off. 

You raise your eyebrows at him, don't move aside to let him in even though you'd known he was the guy at the door when you'd looked through the peephole, and you'd gone and opened the door anyway. He looked rumpled, exhausted, hair a mess but not covered in product - like he'd gone for a shower after the game and then left, not even bothering to swing by his place to change out of his game day suit. 

 And you're in your Leafs jersey still, it's practically a dress on you so you didn't bother slipping any pants on, and the TV's still quietly going over game recaps.

You know this, the look on him, even though you've never seen him this way. He racks up a loss, takes it all on his own shoulders, won't let anyone take some of his burden or even see any of his pain. You've lived this, just not with him, and you're not in the mood for dealing with a moody hockey player. 

It's Lila's birthday tomorrow, and Marns' already said he would come, and he's asked if he could bring some of the boys with him, too. He hadn't mentioned Freddie, and neither had you - Freddie's been on radio silence since the loss against the Hawks, third in a streak that didn't seem like it was going to end. That had been five days ago, which

You're a big girl, you can take it. 

 But you don't particularly want to expose Lila to it. 

 "Look, I know I've been stupid," he starts, the creases in his brow deepening when he sees you're not going to start shit, but he falls silent when you shake you head. 

"Don't make a martyr of yourself, Freddie." It comes out sounding short, impatient, you're a little tired yourself and it's late. 

 And it hurts, just a little, him showing up here and now like you're some kind of fair weather-only friend. You're not even a fair weather fan, or you sure as shit wouldn't still have your Leafs jersey. 

He looks confused, though, raising one hand to rest against the frame of the door, and leans in, like proximity would help. That, or he's too tired to stand straight, which. Idiot. 

 "You lost, and you went and licked your wounds in private. It's fine." You pause, consider that, and decide to go for something a little more honest. "Or it's not fine, I missed you, but if that's what you need to do to get your head on right for your next game then I can live with it." 

 You're a big girl, you've survived worse things. 

 "I'm sorry," he says, and you smile, because - that's one you've never heard before. And you didn't think he'd understand, either, how you needed an apology and not a self-lashing from him, because the latter's designed to make you feel sorry for him more than anything else. 

 Which, you already do. Idiot. 

 You open the door wider, but instead of letting him in you step forward to wrap your arms around him, feeling him do the same to you - one across the back of your shoulders and one around your waist, warm, solid weights holding you in place for a long moment. 

 "I know you were worried about me, I shouldn't have put you through that, all I needed to do was pick up the phone." He pulls back, then, to look you in the eye, and your right hand slips higher to settle on the nape of his neck, to keep him there. 

 "Idiot," you tell him, but you're grinning, and in a moment he's grinning back. "You can come on in. I'm almost done getting things ready for Lila's birthday party tomorrow." 

"Can I help?" he asks, but you brush the offer aside, leading him through the hallway and into the living room, where you give him another push until he's settled on the couch. 

 "Beer's in the fridge, if you want, and Lila's already in bed. We have a spare room if you'd like to use it." He looks a little concerned at that - and, yeah, maybe you are being a little too forward - but you flash him another grin. 

 "What, you're making it up to me, right?" You ask him, voice teasing. "So you're going to do all the barbecuing for the party tomorrow."

He smiles back at you, but then the smile slowly fades, and he says again, sounding like he has to, "I'm sorry. I needed time to myself, but we're - friends, and- " 

 "You shouldn't have gone full radio silence?' You shake your head, amused, but Freddie's still looking at you like you might throw a temper tantrum, so you move to sit on the couch beside him, stretching out your legs so that your feet rested in his lap. 

Physical contact helps. Open communication helps. The slow massage he was giving your left foot definitely helps. After a few minutes: "I was upset, but it's just five days, Freddie. I've gone into radio silence for longer just because I had an assignment due." You give him a nudge with your other foot and he takes the hint, switching feet. "We're still friends," you tell him, the emphasis on the last word unmistakable, and you watch him colour up a little. 

 "Are you free next weekend?" He blurts out, like you figured he would, and you shake your head, biting back a smile. 

 "Nope, I'm chaperoning a school dance." 

 "Can I chaperon with you?" 

And there's no biting back the laugh you have to let out at that, hand covering your mouth so it doesn't wake Lila, and Freddie's looking halfway between amused and embarrassed.

 "The school isn't usually okay with having strangers attend our private school functions. Why don't you come out for coffee with me instead? Say, after your game on Tuesday, even if you lose?"

 The smile he gives you is something like watching the sun coming out, or maybe you're just feeling warm, but either way you'd have liked to be closer to him. 

 And then - voice teasing - "last time I asked you out for coffee you tried to snap my neck." 

 Which, fair, and you shrug a little even as you shift closer, so that you're sitting on the seat beside his on the couch, your bare thighs across his lap. His arm slips down from where it had rested along the back of your couch to around your waist, which. Feels nice. "Nah. Last time it was this kinda arrogant Ducks trade who'd asked me, and I wasn't even sure if he's any good between the posts." 

 A misstep, maybe, because his brows are creased again, and you have an urge to smooth it out with your thumb so you do just that. "So you want to go out with a good goalie," he says, something so uncertain in his voice, something sad in the way he looks down as you as though braced for the worst. Idiot. 

 You kiss his cheek, because you can't help it, then the corner of his lips - pulling back before he could kiss you properly, grinning a little as you drop one last kiss on the tip of his nose. "Yeah, but I'm hoping that's not all you're good at." 

#freddie andersen #freddie andersen imagine #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs #toronto maple leafs imagine #v:can i go (where you go) #lyss writes hockey

[youcouldmakealife]

Kiro&David (David/Jake, Kiro/Em); cat-call

Another Kickstarter fill (obviously the Adam fill is going to be ongoing) for one of my generous KS pledgers, for the prompt: David, Kiro and the importance of cuddles

This got long as hell, because it was very inspiring and Kiro likes attention. 

Davidson is like a cat.

“Explain,” Em says.

“Isn’t he?” Kirill asks.

“Oh, I’m not disagreeing with your thesis here,” Em says. “Just asking you to expand on it.”

Davidson is like a cat in many, many ways. He’s skittish sometimes, for one, and doesn’t like to be touched unless he’s decided you are a good person, in which case he’s perfectly happy — good people, to Kirill’s knowledge, include himself, Jake, Robbie, Oleg, Slava — though David still looks faintly terrified whenever Slava does touch him, like Slava will break his bones with a slap on the back — his agent, and, recently, Em, which makes Kirill happy. Also Orange, though obviously Orange is less Good People and more Fellow Cat.

Em looks amused, which is good, because sometimes Kirill thinks the reason he was put on this earth was to make Emily Victoria Ross laugh as much as possible. He takes his true purpose in life very seriously.

“Not the most convincing evidence, Kir,” Em says. “I know plenty of people who aren’t generally touchy.”

But it’s not that Davidson isn’t touchy. Davidson’s very touchy, he’s just particular about who’s allowed to touch him. When Kirill hugs him he can feel the way David practically crumples into it, like all it took was contact for him to let himself relax. Kirill has his suspicions about just how little David was hugged, on ice cellies excepted, until recent years, so he does his best to make up for it, is pretty sure Jacobson does the same. It’s not that they wouldn’t hug him anyway, they just hug him extra.

Sometimes Kirill can feel contentment from David just because they’re in the same place, and it’s very similar to the contentment he can feel from Orange when she’s halfway across the room, back to him, but quietly purring to herself because he’s home.

“David purrs?” Em asks.

“On the inside,” Kirill says. “On the inside, absolutely.”

*

Usually, when Kirill’s coming into Washington, David reacts much like Orange after an away trip, the human equivalent of running to the door to meet him and then purring in his lap the moment he sits down. Less in his lap than in Jacobson’s lap, probably, once they’re behind closed doors, but David’s actually more affectionate with Kirill in public, probably because, unlike things with Jake, he’s not concerned about hiding it.

But right now, right now David is bristly. Like a cat who shuns their owner when they’ve been away too long. He should remember to present that to Em as further evidence of his theory when he calls her tonight.

David is very, very bad at being injured. It’s not that he complains incessantly — he doesn’t complain at all. Every time Kirill asks how his ankle’s feeling the answer is always one of the patented Davidson ‘fine’s, which means it isn’t, but he refuses to admit it. It’s not that he’s not taking care of rehab, or rushing into it either: Kirill didn’t even need to be there to know he’s following every single one of his doctor’s orders precisely. So, objectively, he’s probably good at being injured, at least in comparison to the players who make sure everyone else around them is miserable too, or risk their long-term health to get back to the ice faster, or drop the conditioning and end up out longer than they were supposed to be.

He’s being bitchy about it, though. Kirill loves him a lot, but he is very aware of his faults.

“He’s not being bitchy,” Jacobson says after they have to leave a very grumpy Davidson for pre-game, sounding both very offended and also like he’s lying his ass off.

Kirill raises a single eyebrow.

“He’s hurt,” Jake says. “It’s understandable if he’s a little—”

Bitchy. Bitchy is the word. It was one thing over the phone, but in person, it is something very different. He gave bad hugs and he shrank away from contact and he looked resentful of their health, and he was bitchy.

“He was not,” Jake mutters, but not with very much conviction.

“You staying at his place tonight?” Kirill asks.

Jake looks unsure.

“Hmmm,” Kirill says, and Jake scowls at him.

“He’ll be fine after the game,” Jake says.

“If the Caps win,” Kirill says.

“If the Caps win,” Jake obliges. He knows Davidson’s faults too, even if he’s lying about them.

The Caps do win, even with a number of injured players, because Devon Crane decides today is the day he’s going to hold a goaltending clinic. Well, he does that many days. Kirill likes him, but, while Kirill knows many talented hockey players, Crane’s the one whose talent Kirill finds frankly offensive. It’s the eyes, Kirill thinks. The eyes say he’s thinking of murdering every single one of them, but he’ll settle for murdering their hopes and dreams if he must.

Kirill is perhaps not quite over the Olympics.

You can come over if you want, is waiting for Kirill when he gets off the ice, since the Caps have won, and presumably for Jacobson as well, but he comes over, looking tired.

“I’ve got to deal with a rookie crisis,” Jake says. “You go ahead, I’ll join you in a bit?”

“Okay,” Kirill says. “Big thing?”

“Homesick, I think,” Jake says, and Kirill nods. His first year in America, he nearly got on a plane half a dozen times. It can get overwhelming. “Shouldn’t be more than an hour, if it looks like it’s serious I’ll tap Joe.”

Davidson is extra bristly when he answers the door, so Jake must have let him know he’d be held up.

“Your consolation prize is here!” Kirill says, holding his arms out.

David scowls, but says, “You’re not a consolation prize,” after a moment, and lets him into his injury den. It really doesn’t look much different than usual, no messier, or neater, but you can sense David’s irritation everywhere.

“Quit being grumpy,” Kirill says.

“I’m not,” David lies.

Kirill keeps holding his arms out, and David tromps into them after a moment, blowing out a sigh. “I want to play,” he mutters into Kirill’s shoulder after a moment.

“I know,” Kirill says. There is no one who could possibly doubt that David wants to play.

David makes a grumpy noise, and Kirill rubs his back a little before pulling away.

“Come, I am a very good ankle rest,” Kirill says.

“That’s probably not a good—” Davidson says, but Kirill eyes him quiet.

“Fine,” he says, and clomps his way to the couch in his ankle brace, leery, but letting Kirill arrange him until he’s half draped over him, ankle propped up enough that he won’t jar it.

“Good?” Kirill says, and Davidson nods a little, handing Kirill the remote. Kirill puts it on an old episode of Mythbusters, paying only half attention, while Davidson relaxes by degrees, until Kirill’s got the David equivalent of a cat in his lap.

When Jake knocks an episode later, Davidson looks like he’s going to get up for a moment, but then he clearly decides against it, and Kirill has a Davidson to support, so that leaves him out too.

“You have a key!” David calls out before slumping even more into Kirill, and Kirill gives Jacobson a slightly smug smile when he comes in, but he looks too relieved to see Davidson back to his cat self to be annoyed, just makes himself room on David’s other side.

“Cool, Mythbusters,” Jake says, wrapping his hand around David’s uninjured ankle, and Kirill can hear David purring, even though he doesn’t make a single sound.

#fic snippet #kiro volkov #david chapman #jake lourdes #emily ross

[harmpaslupa]

#happybirthday #auntie #doc #celly #marcela #enriquez #distor Happy happy birthday Auntie Doc Cel!! Labyu always .. thanks for everything.. for the love and care, advices, thank you for being a blessing to the family.. to each and everyone of us! I honor Lola Lila & Lolo Ramon for raising you well.. May God always shower you bountiful blessings.. good health.. happiness and success in your work.. I love you always God Bless 😜 (at Davao Regional Medical Center)

#enriquez #happybirthday #distor #celly #doc #auntie #marcela

[ohhowpeculiar]

What happened to Lola Celli?

24-year-old Italian immigrant Lola Celli disappeared on February, 23, 1946 from Grandview Heights, Ohio. She was last seen leaving her parent’s house to take a bus to downtown Columbus to buy stockings. She never made it to the bus stop and was never seen again.

At the time of her disappearance, Lola was wearing a pair of red suede slip-on shoes with Cuban heels. This detail became important when someone came forward to report an altercation they had witnessed. On the day Lola disappeared, this witness saw a man and a woman arguing in a car with a broken window, the woman reportedly resembling Lola Celli. During the argument, a red shoe was thrown from the car. Despite a police search, the shoe was never found.

Because of this intriguing detail, the disappearance of Lola Celli is sometimes referred to as “The Red Shoe Mystery.”

A gas station attendant reported encountering a man and woman traveling together in a red coupe with a broken window. The man was overheard telling the woman to “be quiet.” He bought $2 worth of gas, paid for it with a $5 bill and did not wait for change before driving away.

Lola Celli moved to the United States from Italy with her family when she was only 9 years old. She went on to graduate from Ohio State University and was conversant in several languages. At the time of her disappearance, Lola was teaching home economics at a local high school.

Her family has always firmly believed that Lola was abducted, though the police theorized early on that she had experienced an amnesiac episode. She had reportedly been in good physical and mental health, did not drink alcohol or do drugs, and was not dating anyone at the time. By all accounts, she was the “perfect girl.”

In 1956, chief of police told reporters that Lola had been found alive and no criminal activity had taken place. The family did not believe this to be true, and no evidence of her safety has ever been produced. The chief of police later backtracked and said that he had never seen or spoken to Lola and that his comments were exaggerated by the press.

Two possible explanations for her disappearance

She was kidnapped and either held indefinitely or murdered. The eyewitness accounts support this theory. But because the women who were seen cannot be conclusively identified as Lola Celli, there’s no way to be certain of the eyewitness testimony.

She willingly left to escape a stressful job or home life. Many people suspected that Lola’s family was unbearably strict and she ran away in order to live life on her own terms. But there is no evidence of her being alive after February 23, 1946. However, many phone calls were made to the police and the family from people claiming to be Lola, saying that they were happy and wanted to be left alone. All of these leads were chased down, and it is believed that they were all hoaxes. Still, these phone calls and persistent rumors in the community keep the Lola-as-runaway theory alive.

Unless Lola or her body is found, or a confession is made, there is little chance that this mystery will ever be solved.

Learn more

Websleuths: “The Red Shoe Mystery” - Lola Celli

The Doe Network: Lola Celli

The Charley Project: Lola Celli

#Lola Celli #The Red Shoe Mystery #disappearances #cold case #Ohio

[senditcolton]

you're kind of cute, and i would say all of this but i don't want to ruin the moment... but it's over then you're driving me home, and it kind of comes out as i get up go.

first date with tyson jost for @laurenairay

#i went with a dinner and game night first date #chill and domestic #health & happiness celly #nicole creates #tyson jost moodboard #buffalo sabres moodboard #nhl moodboard #hockey moodboard

[senditcolton]

andrei svechnikov x "accidentally in love"

well, baby, i surrender to the strawberry ice cream never ever end of all this love

a fluffy spring romance for my beautiful fluffy ☁️ anon

#health & happiness celly #☁️ anon #nicole creates #andrei svechnikov moodboard #carolina hurricanes moodboard #nhl moodboard #hockey moodboard

[senditcolton]

andrei svechnikov x "espresso"

now he's thinkin' 'bout me every night isn't that sweet? i guess so say you can't sleep, baby, i know that's that me, espresso

when sabrina says it's hot girl summer, it's hot girl summer! (also, obviously thought of Tiff @smileysvech and Katie @pyotrkochetkov the entire time i was making this)

#health & happiness celly #nicole creates #andrei svechnikov moodboard #carolina hurricanes moodboard #nhl moodboard #hockey moodboard

[senditcolton]

💡let’s switch things up a little bit and talk about sweet and domestic svech catching up with you about your day as you’re both winding down from your day

Domestic sweetness is my weakness. And with Andrei?! The dream!

💡Domestic Sweetness Svech 💡

Since his life as a professional athlete is so hectic, you two make the best of these slow nights together.

Starting with a nice dinner – either homemade or takeout depending on your energy levels.

Perhaps even some candlelight just to add to the moment.

You talk for as long as you can, until the glasses are empty and the wax is burned down.

Then the two of you go to get ready for bed.

Sometimes Andrei lets you apply your skincare routine to his face.

Which consists of you sitting on the counter with Andrei standing between your legs.

Most of the time, it’s just you two existing in the shared space:

Andrei in the shower while you apply your skincare,

You getting changed into your pajamas while Andrei brushes his teeth.

There is variation when you two crawl into bed together as well.

Sometimes you watch a movie or TV show that you had been meaning to see.

Sometimes you both mess around on your phones or read until falling asleep.

But the best moments are when you just fall asleep intertwined, listening to each other’s heartbeats.

#health & happiness celly #nicole writes #andrei svechnikov blurb #carolina hurricanes blurb #nhl blurb #hockey blurb

[senditcolton]

mamma mia, here i go again my, my, how can i resist you?

beach day with matthew tkachuk moodboard & headcanons (below!) for @tkachvkmatthew

Even though he lives in Florida, the novelty of a beach being right outside his door still hasn’t worn out.

He loves to spend off-days on the sandy shores with you, doing whatever you want to do.

Splashing in the sea and the waves on the shore?

He’s there, holding your hand and writing cute messages in the sand.

Taking his boat out into the little coves like something out of Mamma Mia?

He’ll be the Skye to your Sophie, the Bill to your Donna (boat choreography and all).

Chilling on the beach under umbrellas while you read?

He’s twisted with you in the hammock, the ocean breeze offering a pleasant respite.

There is no shortage of physical affection:

Tasting the fruity drink on his lips when he kisses you

Smelling the sunscreen on his skin when he holds you close

When you get back to his place, it's a shared shower

Then curling up on the sofa out on the deck, the previous sun lulling you to sleep, Matthew right next to you.

#health & happiness celly #nicole writes #nicole creates #matthew tkachuk moodboard #matthew tkachuk blurb #florida panthers moodboard #florida panthers blurb #nhl moodboard #nhl blurb #hockey moodboard #hockey blurb

[senditcolton]

🐝 any intel on that mikko/jt threesome fic idea? 👀

how about I give you both? because, why not?? 🐝🤍

🔥Unnamed Depravity🔥

This time, I can at least give you the *vibes*. Mikko is the one in charge; not all the way dominant but he makes it clear that you are his girl (I have a rough dialogue idea of him telling you, “Your first orgasm is mine”). Whereas JT is more passive; not submissive but he lets you and Mikko guide him. He knows this is a once in a lifetime opportunity so he’s careful not to step over any lines but he’s also attentive because, since it is a one-time thing, he wants it to be good.

💔We’re A Bad Idea (4)💔

I – once again – only have ‘stage directions’ so I'll give the rough, non-spoiler outline. A year after leaving for LA, you are back in the city to be a bridesmaid in your brother Scotty’s wedding. And who else would be invited to the wedding but Matt Martin? It's unfortunate and unavoidable but you still try to avoid him for as long as you could. But you can't avoid him forever and when you do reconnect, Matt seems… sad? Regretful? Whatever it is, he makes it clear that the power is in your hands. It’s your choice to talk to him. It’s your choice to dance with him. It’s your choice to take him up on his offer to walk – and only walk – you back to your hotel room. And if you let him back into your bed for this one night… that’s your choice too.

#health & happiness celly

[senditcolton]

matt martin x "is there somewhere"

i'm sorry but i fell in love tonight i didn't mean to fall in love tonight... could we pretend that we're in love?

a Room 93 by Halsey moodboard for @cellythefloshie

#could definitely be seen as part of the bad idea universe #health & happiness celly #nicole creates #matt martin moodboard #new york islanders moodboard #nhl moodboard #hockey moodboard