happy easter i mean

i have a fake son.
his name is Tim and he is working on his M.S. in astrophysics at Berkeley.
he is devestatingly handsome and enjoys rock climbing and volunteers as a counselor at the local YMCA there in Berkeley, California.
i am so proud of my fake son. i have raised him up in my own head to be such an outstanding member of society.
“Tim” is only brought up when asked about by one particular woman at work that i only see on occasion. i don’t make a habit or game of lying to people, but with her, it kinda came about as follows:
Faye is one of those people who has been there/done that and will hang herself on the cross while she tells you how much worse the experience was for her. i’ve seen this woman Kanye West an 8-month pregnant girl at said girl’s own baby shower to glorify the gift she gave her as well as go into how horrible her labor was with her own children. Faye also is a braggart. her car/purse/house/ring/shoes/etc. all cost more than whatever yours did and her children are all angels.
i was forced to work with Faye for 2 days about 5 years ago. she called me Emily a few times before i finally told her my name is Amy, not Emily. she gave me a sideways glance and said, “I like Emily better”, and since then, she has always called me Emily. i let this go because to get angry with her and tell her off is to see her become dramatic and begin crying and insist she did not mean anything by it while not issuing anything close to an apology. Faye is always right, too, you know.
anyway, when she shut up long enough about herself and her fabulous offspring on the second day, she asked, “Do you have any children, Emily?”
i replied that i do not. she then launched into her daughter taking fertility drugs so that she could give her mother grandchildren someday.
that was the only question she asked me until i saw her about a year later.
“Oh, HI, Emily! How are you?!”
“Hi, Faye…how are you?”
“Wonderful, wonderful. Stephen just graduated from UT. He’s going to be the best doctor ever! How is your son, uh, Tim?”
it took me a second. Tim? son? what the hell is she talking about?!
it dawned on me what a complete narcissist she truly is. she hadn’t heard me the day she asked if i had children, because she didn’t care. she didn’t care enough to call me by my real name, so it wasn’t much of a surprise.
i couldn’t stop myself. i briefly thought about correcting her, but i decided to just go with it.
“Tim is doing so well. He was just accepted to Berkeley after his amazing thesis on planetary nebuli. We are so proud of him.”
her eyes grew big. “Oh, how nice! But, Berkeley? That’s so far from home. UT is an excellent school; surely he could’ve been accepted there?…”
i gave a small chuckle. “Oh, well, they wanted him for sure, Faye. I mean, all the letters he received, practically BEGGING him to study there. But, well, they just don’t have a sufficient astronomy department. UT is a fine school, but not for the subject that Tim is going into. Astrophysics is not something you can study just anywhere, you know.”
her eyes narrowed. “Medicine is what these young people should be going into. Astrophysics? What is that, anyway? How will it contribute to the world?”
“Gosh, I don’t really know how to explain astrophysics, Faye. It’s so mind blowing for simple minds like mine and yours. But searching for things in space that could potentially help our planet is a pretty big deal, I think.”
Faye promptly excused herself. i knew i had gotten her.
i’ve bumped into her on and off throughout the past 5 years and she always told me how her angels were saving the world, especially Stephen, and then she’d ask about Tim. and i made sure my Tim was one step above her Stephen. her face would turn crimson and she would have to abruptly leave.
i saw her as i was leaving work yesterday and she stopped me to wish me a happy Easter.
“Stephen is coming home this holiday. He’s bringing his fiance. She’s a doctor too, you know. How is Tim? Don’t tell me he’s still not graduated?…”
“Oh, Faye, don’t be silly! Astrophysics takes YEARS to graduate from. It’s not as simple as medicine. But, yes, he is close to graduating.”
“Is he coming home for Easter? I can’t imagine spending holidays without my children; how dreadful! Oh, but he’s all the way in California…it costs so much to fly here, I assume.”
I grinned. “Yes, it does. But he’s such a sweetheart, he’s flying me out there this year! Taking a break from his studies and humanitarian efforts to have his dear ol’ Mom around for Easter. I’m so lucky!”
“…yes, well, have a nice time, Emily. Happy Easter!”
“You too, Kay! Oh, I mean Faye!”
you know, like i said before, i don’t like to lie. it does seem very silly to have let this go on for so long. Tim has been a fabrication in the making for over 5 years now, he almost feels real to me.
when i see Faye, i have images of my fake son, looking so handsome in his lab coat as he’s peering into a microscope looking at dust particles from a comet. i see him jogging with his dog on the beach. i see him hiking and biking and climbing. i see him helping an elderly woman with her groceries.
it’s a true testament that if you lie, or let a lie go on for a while, it becomes a solid thing that you have to keep up with.
oddly enough, i don’t lose sleep on this lie. i don’t see her often enough to fib about this on a daily or consistent level. Faye never cared anything about me or my life until she had something to try to one-up me on. SHE is the one losing sleep on account of her Stephen not succeeding quite like my Tim. it’s amazing how this lie has eaten her alive and made me feel proud of something that doesn’t even exist…
eh well.
i’ll be boarding the fake plane to Berkeley this afternoon, to celebrate Easter with my fake son.
Mama’s soooo proud of you, Timmy!

Imagine coloring eggs with Calum for Easter and having him grab the paper towels and newspaper that neither of you have ever decided to read as you plop the little colored tablets into the hot water in mugs and as he’s setting up the table you’re bringing over the the now dissolved and very colorful water over to the table along with the eggs and the two of you just get right into dropping some of the eggs straight into the mugs while some you’re holding in certain ways to get the cute little bands of colors and as you’re holding one the egg slips from your hand into the pink dye causing it to splash onto Calum’s face, grinning nervously as he glares at you playfully, only to dip his fingers into one of the mugs as if he were to take the egg out but instead flick the blue dye into your own face, causing a war to strike between the two of you, the eggs long forgotten as the two of you ran around the apartment him and Ashton shared, only to trip on the (zebra) rug in the living room, Calum’s body crashing over you as a painful groan slips from his and your lips, his hands on either side of your head to keep himself from crushing you, his knees resting by the sides of your hips and as you slowly open your eyes he’s doing that quiet giggly thing and all his dimples and eye crinkles are on full display making your heart warm at the beautiful boy hovering over you as he whispers, “Got you,” a light snort coming from your closed lips as you smile lightly up at him, his breath fanning over your face as he inched closer and you swear if you were standing you would have fallen over from the way he was looking at you, his head tilting to the side as he was centimeters away from your face, willing you to flutter your eyes closed and part your lips as his brushed against yours, those eggs long forgotten as things progressed if you know what i mean wink wink

2

Happy Easter!
Yes, I know I’m not an artist
Yes, I know there is a smudge on Jeans face.
Yes, I know Marco looks like he go flattened then stoned.
But lets ignore the tiny imperfections and look at my OTP eggs…. I must say there are pretty badass.
I mean look at them.
* plays heavenly music *

anonymous asked:

Could you write some cs Easter fluff please?

A/N: Happy Easter and Happy Once Day *throws confetti*

————

“Remind me why we’re doing this again?” he asks, brow furrowing as he watches Henry and Roland and her toddler sibling search the park for colored eggs.

“It’s a tradition we do here,” she replies, lacing their fingers together while she settles in beside him and eyes Henry as he dart off towards the bushes by the swings. Their wedding rings brush together, still so new but so, so right, and her chest tightens sweetly. “We missed it last year with…well, you know, saving the world and all that, but anything that involves candy, Henry loves so it’s just one of the many holidays we celebrate.”

She glances at him briefly, sees the way he looks at her- their son (her heart squeezes again), the way his face softens and his mouth curves up, and she feels warmth swell in her chest. She’ll never get over that, his obvious affection and love for him — it’s endearing and amazing and everything she could have hoped for, to have such a wonderful, attentive, caring father-figure for her son.

He turns his attention to her then, fingers tightening on hers and she can’t stop the smile that curves up her lips — oh yes, and a sexy, dashing, loving husband for her (she’s not swooning, she swears).

“What?” he asks, though his eyes are alight, playful and knowing.

Emma shakes her head and gives his hand a little tug. “Come on, let’s see if we can find one.”

He obliges, following her lead as she keeps her eyes open for a bright contrast of color in the greenery surrounding them. As they walk in comfortable silence, she can’t help but feel incredibly at peace and…domesticated today. 

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