[It is a crisp sixty-six degrees in Harlan Kentucky and somewhere along the back-back roads of those hollers, Elle has abandoned her nap in the Impala and is out on the beach. There is sand and water and those little buoy things bobbing in the water, marking off where too far is definitely too far.

It's probably still too cold to be out there, but she's opted to risk it for the sake of wanting it to be summer already. Of course, her braving the cooler sixty-six degrees means that the blanket she was going to sit on, is actually covering herself up.]

It is plenty warm enough.

The sound of the key in the door, the light clack of metal to the wood, sent Fred tumbling off of her lap. Short, newly clipped, nails skittered against the hardwood floors, attempting to get to Flack as soon as the door opened. His little pug nose shoved its way into the gap of the door opening, sniffing shoes and pant-legs trying to figure out if he'd been anywhere interesting.

"Whoa, hey, easy."

Even as the door shut, Elle could hear the tiny clicking sound of nails as Fred circled Don's every move through the foyer. Pushing to her feet, she moved toward the sounds, stretching slightly trying to figure out what time it was. She'd fallen asleep on the couch, watching some bizarre infomercial about maximizing closet space.

Rubbing her eyes she smiled as she turned the corner, "Well, someone's curious about where you --," Elle cut her words off as soon as her eyes had focused on him. "Uh..."

( There's something amusing in the canon of CSI:NY and it's not the dialogCollapse )

Exhaling, her head tilted in the mirror. Staring back at her reflection she was trying not to notice the ginormous size she'd grown to. Baby bump to baby basketball and now, now she was pretty sure it was baby planet. She was half expecting small specs of dust to start using her as their own center of gravity. The good thing about the entire thing, though, was that she was still Elle.

Her chin tilted up, trying to look down over her stomach, attempting to write delicately by using the mirror, which was requiring a lot more concentration than she'd expected. Plus, she was kicking. Her little foot would press right where a letter was meant to go and the F would turn into a P rather quickly.

Elle's fingertip would rub against the letter, removing the eyeliner from her skin and getting small feet to stop pressing to her abdomen at the same time. If she could swat her foot away, she would, but instead she had to cope with just trying to will it to move, focus on wanting the baby to shift and maybe, if she hoped and prayed, she would.

Half-way through the word SPACE, Adam paused outside the door to the bathroom. She'd left it open, just in case her water broke way too early or -- well, any number of things. Elle caught his glance in the mirror and she paused her penmanship.

"Huh?"

His brow furrowed, "Love, what, may I ask, are you doing?"

( At the time she had started...Collapse )

[ooc: Adam is changehistory and is borrowed with love and returned sans shirt.]

Football.

Okay, maybe hockey, but only if it's the Rangers and only if I am as close to the glass as I can get. Honestly, there's nothing to compare to the sight of a grown man getting slammed against the glass and wondering if he's going to beat the Holy Hell out of whoever shoved him.

But... still Football.

Football will always edge me over to the dark-side of disgusting platters of nachos and huge pitchers of beer. I didn't always like it either. I was among the droves of women that didn't get the sport. It was nice to watch, painful to see them slam into each other, and wince-worthy when you'd see them land on their heads, but once you get past all of that and actually understand how the game works? It's exciting.

Well, except when they take those ridiculous time-outs just to run the clock, then it seems to take forever to get to the next play. See, I know these things now, so I can yell at the TV screen with the rest of them. Which I do; loudly. Fred, our dog, hides when I watch football.

Two years ago, I got the chance to go to the Super Bowl. Which, I think, pretty much cemented my love for the game. Primatech had season tickets for the Giants and being a 'Privileged Sponsor' or whatever that meant, got them a few perks. One of which was a seat in the end zone at the stadium in Arizona for the game. Naturally, I took my friend, at the time, Don.

I lost my shoe at the stadium. Not for throwing it at the ref either, but just from the jumping around excitement at the actual win. That was the Giants eleventh consecutive win, which was even more amazing, since it was the Super Bowl win.

So football. That's my favorite sport. I'm sure if the Rangers are ever in the finals for the Cup, I'll claim Hockey is my favorite sport again, but even in the off season, it's football.

Her father could've come up with at least a dozen ridiculous pet names for her. Just looking at her, as a child, she should've inspired three on the very brightness of her eyes and the way her cheeks came up when she grinned. The hyperactivity that kept her going from morning until noon until night, that, maybe, just once, might have given her a teasing nickname. One that would be remembered when she was older, when she was exhausted and her father could look across the room at her and remind her of when she used to be so active. The streak of blonde hair that would run past him in the halls and then back toward him again, that could've hinted at some small word that could've summed her up in an instant.

When her ability manifested, it would've been so simply to push something related to that onto her. She was only four, not too old for nicknames, not too young to not laugh when she heard it. The way the energy came to her fingertips, she could've been 'Firefly' or 'Lightning Bug', both of which were cute and small things. The way lightbulbs would pop if she touched them for too long or light-switches would trip a fuse; she could've been called Sparkles, Sparkler, or even Sparky (not that she'd have approved of the latter).

Instead, she was Elle. Never just Elle, either. There was an implied tone of tolerance, one that sounded near exhausted even if it was the first time she'd approached him. It was almost as if her ability had wrapped itself around her name, though, instead of providing energy to it, she drained it away from him.

Her own father. Looking at her with such high expectations and, seemingly, always disappointed.

She was never his Light or his Champ, never a Doll or Princess; she was Elle. Short for Eleanor, which was as close to a nickname as her father would ever come.

She always had to pee. Always might've been an overstatement, but in her mind it felt like a constant thing. The baby would shift, a foot pressed into her organs the right way and suddenly she had to pee again. Maybe it was her gallbladder or her bladder itself, but she had resigned herself to the front room by this point. The smaller bathroom was much closer to her if she stayed at the front room, than if she opted to hover in the kitchen.

According to the books, the baby was gaining a sense of balance. In Elle's mind, that meant she should realize that she's upside down and pressing her foot into the wrong place, but realizing it was the wrong place was probably out of the baby's area of expertise. If anything, the tiny, well not so tiny, thing inside of her was an expert on how to wake Elle up at the oddest hours of the day.

( On her way back from the bathroom...Collapse )

It's official, I can now call it the baby basketball, because it's not anywhere near a 'bump' anymore.

Also, there are some serious problems with my body. I'm sure it's all perfectly normal. The doctor tells me that it is. I just don't believe this can be normal.

On any level.

( Maybe not Basketball... but I don't know sportsCollapse )

I'm convinced, pretty much whole-heartedly, that Fred has found love. He doesn't exactly come up to me and tell me this, because, well, he's a dog. That would be crazy. Instead I've come to the conclusion that my dog is in love because he always wants to go outside.

I took him to the vet today, thinking maybe he just was having 'problems' but everything checks out. Much to Fred's disapproval of an exam, he's fine. Healthy, happy, well-adjusted little dog. He just keeps barking to be let outside.

It's because he's looking for his lady dog. I know it. I mean, Fred's adorable, so naturally, what dog wouldn't want him to share a bowl of water with?

I'm just tired of going outside every time he thinks there's another dog outside. He's staring out the window, which I think is going to give him a complex. My little Fred will have anxiety waiting around for his girlfriend.


PS - How crazy is it that the first thing I update in this thing, in such a long time, isn't even about me, but my dog?

Her fingers tousled through his hair, the smirk on her features a bit broader than usual. Circling around the chair, she leaned forward, into the face of the man before her.

"What day is it?"

"Friday."

( ***Collapse )

I am offering my services as a graphics girl to help_haiti. I have three things up for auction, and if they provide a flat rate page then I'll be doing that as well, but on a smaller scale of course. If they don't do a flat rate, then I'll do it on my own.

Here are my links for the auctions:

+ 10 Custom No-Share Icons - Fandom Open
+ 10 Custom No-Share Icons + Header Graphic - Fandom Open
+ 10 Custom No-Share Icons + Header Graphic + Expressive Image Mapped Layout Coded - Fandom Open

Rather than put up several posts in each journal, only to get a handful of comments in each one, I'm centralizing my New Years Kiss celebrations into my character community thechaos_ensues. It's the first actual thing that I'm using it for, and I figure I'll try to start 2010 being more organized.

Right now I've got a New Years Kiss up for any/all of my characters here & Elle's is here. If you are looking for someone in particular, or want to see if there's something there for one of your characters, or want to just let some hot people kiss? I am all for it.

This isn't a public meme though, this is just for my own RP stuff. So please, only comment if you're looking to interact with my characters.

The special was supposed to air Christmas Morning, some sort of 'Waking Up with the Holidays' look into the lives of the Senator and his family. Of course family was stretching it, as Heidi didn't want the boys in it, claiming they'd already been through enough with the divorce and Nathan getting remarried so soon. Elle figured maybe she had a point, but it didn't exactly look like the sort of angle the network was going for. So, they'd improvise.

The filming crew had been there earlier in the week, in the evening hours to get the stock footage of the house all lit up. They had gotten all the angles, and even a few from the interiors looking out at the iron fencing that was now adorn with garland and small lanterns. It had been an accent that Elle chose, and she thought it suited the manor style home.

Now Elle was standing in front of the mirror, in their bedroom, glancing at Sylar in the reflection of the glass. It had gotten easier, over time, to shift into Nathan and hold it. No longer quite so painful, he'd just focus on some small element of the man's life and it truly was a shift. Elle would just miss him while he was away. He stood up moving to stand behind her, his fingers carefully hooking the clasp of a strand of six loose pearls. With her hair piled atop her head, wound up into small curls and tucked in strands of her hair, she thought, at the very least, she looked like a proper wife.

( Just a Little Lie - ContentCollapse )

[ooc: Sylar|Nathan is heroslayer, used with love and not so much permission but an understanding that I promise to be nice to him and put him back when I'm done.]

I went shopping today! Yay!
I bought a lot of things! Yay!

None of it was for other people though, and I'm pretty sure that I should've been doing that a lot earlier.

Watch me break out the color printer and start making coupons for everyone, I'll do it too!

At least I got a cute sweater-vest?

Being polite Elle smiled, knowing that listening to the gentleman was much easier than actually trying to understand what he was saying, as he tried, in broken English, to wish her and her husband - "Hepp-hee Haulidaze".