miss kringle?

Isabella Flynn Kristen Kringle “You struggle to regain me. When I'm lost, you struggle to obtain me. What am I?” Written by Sophie British. 22. Female

[isabellakristen]

atspeedtommy:

 [ ISABELLA ] @isabellakristen

   to be honest, he did not blame the woman for looking at him. most people would look when someone had a rather large bruise on their face. –––– just most people tried to not be seen doing so. TOMMY chuckled “ it’s not that bad actually” but then he realized that the woman had not even looked at him. so he gave her a rather soft smile, softer than what was normal for him; and “ my bad, just being a tad overconfident” he joked. he knew very well how much one could get lost in dreams; and wises. 

It was only when Isabella focused on the boy properly that she saw the bruise on his eye. She blinked, and frowned. She had been completely lost in her daydream. “It’s not that bad?” she repeated, doubtfully. It was difficult for her to tell severe damage from slight, when it came to minor injuries like bruises and cuts, because she couldn’t feel pain. She was always bruising herself by accident and not noticing, and the skin would turn from purple to greenish-yellow, and then fade within hours.

“What happened?” she asked, after a moment. Even though she didn’t know him, she felt like she should make up for the fact she’d been so vacantly staring, and talking about his injury would distract her from the farmhouse, and hopefully stop him from asking what she’d been thinking about.

[isabellakristen]

hexaghoxtstcry:

Bucky was almost certain now that he had seen the woman somewhere before, other than the meetings they’d already talked about. But it was just the little things – he didn’t recognize her, particularly, but something about the tenor of her voice. It was like hearing an actor provide a voiceover a commercial. 

With an internal shake of his head, he tried to dismiss the thoughts. It would come to him eventually, if it was important. “That sounds like it would be zen, at least,” he said. “I’m guessing people don’t bother you an awful lot. And that you have your own system.”

“It was a lot more solitary in Gotham, actually,” Isabella said, laughing a little. “Things were less... structured in the G.C.P.D., and I was only really bothered by... one colleague.” She was hit with a sharp memory, so clear and defined that she could have sworn it had happened yesterday. Edward kneeling in the Record’s Annex, surrounded by files which he had reorganised.

She was silent for a moment, and then continued, “Here in New York, there are different rules. I can’t have my own system of organisation, like I did in Gotham. I have to follow the N.Y.P.D.’s filing system, and I’m actually around a lot more people, when I deliver files and documents to them.” She shrugged. “It’s not as zen as you might think, but I still love it.”

[isabellakristen]

mischief-maker-loki:

@isabellakristen from here.

Loki had stopped by the N.Y.P.D. to give his assistance on one of their cases dealing with his knowledge of Mythology. When he noticed a woman that caught his attention. He couldn’t help but smirk at her snipped answer “ rather feisty, good quality for women to have. Yet I find the lack of niceties a bit rude after all, we have met once before” 

"Well, I’m glad you’re an expert on good qualities in women,” Isabella replied, irritated at his generalisation. He did seem familiar, but she couldn’t recall where she knew him from. Was this another case of her memory being off? It didn’t seem to be. Perhaps they had only met in passing? She realised, with a start, that he was British, and thought that, if they had met in passing, she would have remembered someone as distinctive as him.

“We have?” she asked, folding her arms. “I don’t remember you.” Because this wasn’t a good conversation to have on the steps of her workplace, she continued walking down the stairs and away from the N.Y.P.D., assuming the stranger would follow.

[belladonaofrp-blog]

[isabellakristen]

belladonaofrp:

the “MOM FRIEND” → a e s t h e t i c

URBAN DICTIONARY TOP DEFINITION: That one friend in your squad that’s super responsible and almost over-protective of them. Usually every friend group has a mom friend, and if you think your squad doesn’t have one, then you’re probably the Mom Friend! 

[isabellakristen]

riddle-me-that:

@isabellakristen from here

“I was actually talking about the kiss you normally give me on your way out but… I suppose there’s that to.” He said, unable to help himself from laughing. “Dear, why don’t you let me lend you a hand?” He asked her. “We can take them to the library together.” Ed offered his help, walking over to his girlfriend as she located her library card. He gave her a look as if to say: put it in your purse. 

He rang his hands together nervously. “Actually, can we have a talk before we go? Something’s been weighing on me all morning.” He started before placing a hand on her shoulder. “When are we going to stop using those cuffs when we… make love? I know you always let me out when they start to hurt or when they set off my anxiety but I would really like it if we didn’t have to use them at all.” 

“I didn’t kiss you goodbye?” Isabella asked, surprised at herself. “I’m sorry, darling! I must have forgotten.” Eddie laughed at her, and she swatted at him lightly. “I said don’t laugh,” she said, though she knew he meant nothing by it. His offer to come to the library with her was wonderful, and so appreciated. He knew she could spend hours there, sometimes, and one of her favourite things to do was to just wander through the shelves, picking titles at random, sometimes reading the first few sentences of completely unfamiliar books, as if she was trying on a potential new item clothing.

“Yes, that would be lovely,” she said, smiling. “And it would be easier to carry all these if I had your help.” She found her book lying on the kitchen table, opened it to check her page number, and then pulled her makeshift bookmark out of it. Eddie gave her a knowing look, and she returned it with an impish smile, and slipped the card into her coat pocket.

But then, just as she was about to turn and head for the door, Edward spoke again. Isabella paused, and looked at him. “Of course,” she said, her mind flitting through the possibilities. It had been weighing on him all morning? But, before she needed to ask what it was, he placed a hand on her shoulder and spoke. And the question was completely, utterly, startling. Of all the things she’d expected him to say, this wasn’t one of them.

Though it was silly and childish of her, she felt herself blush at the topic. They hardly discussed what happened in their bedroom outside of the bedroom itself -- they were both too proper for that -- and she knew this must have been difficult for Edward to bring up, which only proved how much of an issue it was to him.

“Oh --” she began. “Um... I hadn’t thought about it.” At first, it had been necessary to stop Edward from touching her. It was the only way she felt safe with him -- if she was in complete control, and he couldn’t put his hands near her throat, or be over her. But now? She felt safer in his presence. She trusted him. She knew he could never harm her, the way he had harmed Kristen. But what if? What if he lost control?

After a moment, she said, “I... I suppose they aren’t needed anymore. And I know they bother you. But I’m not sure...” She trailed off, and bit her lip. “I trust you, Eddie,” she said. “And I want you to feel safe, and happy, when we...” She didn’t want to say make love, so she paused, and let him mentally fill it in, before saying: “This is really bothering you, isn’t it?”

[isabellakristen]

continued from here, with @mcdecfircn

Though Isabella was normally very good with faces, she couldn’t place this man. She was sure she’d seen him somewhere, but she couldn’t think where. This wasn’t worrisome -- it didn’t feel like she knew him well, and had forgotten, as she seemed to be doing a lot lately -- but it was annoying. She frowned at him curiously, taking in his rugged appearance, his grease-covered jeans but she could not, for the life of her, think how she could have known him.

And then he started to talk about making a new suit, and she pictured him in an office suit, with a tie and a sharp jacket. Though he looked dirty and unkempt now, she could imagine that he would scrub up well. Perhaps he was a famous fashion designer? She knew that was ridiculous. Why on earth would she recognise a fashion designer on sight? But then he mentioned it being battle ready, and flying, and her entire understanding of the conversation shifted violently.

“I’m sorry?” she asked, blinking in confusion. It was embarrassing to have to admit that she didn’t know what on earth he meant, but she had to. “Look, I’m sure this is going to sound very odd, but I feel like I’ve seen you before. I promise, this is not a line.” She smiled awkwardly. “And I have no idea what you’re talking about. So... I’m a little lost.”

[isabellakristen]

‘ what are you staring at? ’ – Tommy

send me a question starter!

‘ what are you staring at? ’

Isabella blinked, and was brought back to herself by the sound of a stranger’s voice. She realised she’d been staring vacantly at the teenage boy who’d spoken, for goodness knew how long, daydreaming about the living room of the farmhouse. The dark red couch, perfect for curling up and reading on, and the well-thumbed secondhand books on the shelves. Normally she hated damaged books -- they upset her -- but these books had clearly been loved by their previous readers, and they gave the room a homely feeling.

“Oh my, I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I didn’t mean to stare. I was miles away.” She managed a smile, though she felt embarrassed, but not just for staring. She felt as if she’d been caught out thinking of something incredibly private and intimate.

[isabellakristen]

‘ leaving so soon? ’ - Loki

send me a question starter!

‘ leaving so soon? ’

“Oh yes,” Isabella said, turning to the man in surprise. She thought there was something oddly familiar about him, though she couldn’t place it. She paused on the steps of the N.Y.P.D. station, and frowned at his nosiness. “I was just here to talk to my boss. Not that it’s any of your business.”

[isabellakristen]

‘ forget something? ’ (Set in the past)

send me a question starter!

‘ forget something? ’

Struggling with an armful of books and her satchel, Isabella closed the door behind her with her hip, and placed the books onto the floor, before smiled sheepishly at Edward. “Don’t laugh,” she said. “But yes. I forgot my library card.”

She quickly walked past him and into the kitchen, embarrassed that she could forget something so fundamentally important, especially considering she was only going out to return several books. “I usually have it in my purse,” she called to him absentmindedly, looking around the kitchen with a frown, trying to spot her book. “But I was using it as a bookmark, and I forgot to take it out.”

[vhsmeme]

* question starters

[isabellakristen]

vhsmeme:

‘ how could you? ’

‘ where were you? ’

‘ what are you running from? ’

‘ what’s wrong? ’

‘ do you want a blanket? ’

‘ did you throw a rock through my fucking window? ’

‘ are you even listening? ’

‘ oh, is that the story? ’

‘ are you drunk? ’

‘ are you lost? ’

‘ are you trying to hug me? ’

‘ what are you staring at? ’

‘ is this your idea of a sick joke? ’

‘ do you still care about me? ’

‘ forget something? ’

‘ leaving so soon? ’

‘ will you cut it out? ’

‘ who did this? ’

‘ does it look like i’m laughing? ’

‘ were you singing? ’

‘ is that a bruise? ’

‘ is that blood? ’

‘ are you trying to get us killed? ’

‘ was that an apology? ’ 

‘ did you hang up on me just now? ’

‘ can we leave? ’

‘ well, did you? ’

‘ you started those rumors? ’

‘ are you in trouble? ’ 

[isabellakristen]

with @scarletcloned, continued from here

“I know you’re not a kid,” Isabella replied with a smile. “But it’s not childish to want something comforting. I always have a blanket when I read.” She had expected Kaine to resist, but then he agreed to a blanket, and she nodded once. She had also known he would probably say yes. Underneath his hard image, she knew he just wanted attention. He was like Eddie in that way.

So, she grabbed the blanket from the back of her couch and draped it over Kaine’s shoulders, and then sat beside him on the floor, with her legs crossed. She pulled a pile of books towards them, and carefully laid them out on the floor. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get you these. I know I promised you weeks ago. But I’ve been so busy.”

She looked down at the books. “They’re all considered classics,” she said. “Treasure Island. The Magician’s Nephew. Peter Pan. The Borrowers.” As she recited the names, she touched the cover of each fondly, brushing them with her fingertips. “You said you didn’t read much as a child, so I thought I could lend you some of my favourite children’s literature.”

[isabellakristen]

harlsquinns:

Harley immediately regretted opening her mouth the moment Isabella answered her. Clearly this mood was worse than she’d originally thought it was. “Well, I dunno… That’s why I asked,” she said meekly, as she shuffled a little to the right, away from Isa. It was obvious that Harley was the one who had managed to upset her somehow, so putting distance between them, even if it was only a little, was probably for the best.

“I’m not… You’re not under surveillance. I’m not tryin’ to annoy you. I’m just tryin’ to help.” Harley had to stop herself from rolling her eyes when Isabella called the pills pointless. She knew she’d made the right choice in choosing what to give to her friend. They were pills to stop her stress, and make her feel less agitated. They were to help her feel calm, and like she could live a good life without her ex. They were to stop the obsession. “I just want… I just want you to be happy.”

Facepalming herself out of frustration, Harley let out a small sigh, then pursed her lips, and made a mental note to never call the woman Buttercup again. “I didn’t… You know what, forget it. I wanted to talk to you about somethin’, and I have a feelin’ it’ll make you feel better.” Moving away from Isa, Harley sat on a chair at the table, rubbing the back of her neck with her hand nervously as she thought about what she’d wanted to say to her for the past couple of days. “I was thinkin’ about backin’ off a lil’. Y’know… Not bein’ here all the time when I’m not at work. You can have space, and I can go back to doin’ what I do best – bein’ Harley Quinn. I guess we’re both feelin’ the strain, and it’s drivin’ a wedge between us. I don’t want that.”

Truthfully, Harley didn’t feel any different towards Isa than she did before she moved in with her to become her therapist/doctor/best friend rolled into one. Well, that was a slight lie, because her feelings for her had grown. But it was clear Isabella was becoming irritated with Harley, and that wasn’t something that sat well with her. It was time to start trusting her friend to make the right choices by herself.

“You might not be trying to annoy me,” Isabella replied, looking down at the teabags, floating in the dark brown water. “But you are. I don’t need to be watched. It feels like you don’t trust me.” Harley insisted that she wanted to help her, and she was so sure that ‘help’ meant taking stupid pills, and not contacting Edward. God, she hadn’t even heard his voice in days. She’d had to make do with texts, and, eventually he’d stopped replying. Harley thought it was for the best. Of course she did.

Harley put her hand to her face, and Isabella watched her silently. Why on earth was she irritated? She wasn’t the one under virtual house arrest, being forced to take medication she didn’t need, being forbidden to contact the love of her life. Harley took pills, of course -- the two of them had been taking them together at breakfast -- but that was different. Harley needed hers. She had no right to be annoyed with this situation, when she was the one causing it. She was acting like a jailer, and still expecting Isabella to treat her like her best friend.

But then, she said she had to talk about something that would make her feel better, and Isabella blinked, curiosity immediately overtaking anger. “Oh?” she asked. She watched the other woman sit at the table, and then walked over to the fridge to get milk for their tea. She began pouring it into Harley’s mug, when the announcement came. It was deliberately nervously, awkwardly, and Isabella could tell that her friend had been planning this for a while.

And, for a second, she thought she hadn’t heard correctly. Harley wasn’t going to keep up the surveillance? She wasn’t going to keep checking on her, making her lift her tongue to show she’d swallowed the pills, insisting she stay away from Oswald’s house? Hardly able to believe it, Isabella turned to her friend, and watched her carefully. Was this a trick? Some sort of ploy, to make her think she wasn’t being watched, to see what she would do if she thought she was alone? But, looking at Harley’s expression, she knew that wasn’t the case. Harls wasn’t Edward. She wouldn’t do something like that.

“You mean it?” she asked rhetorically, unable to keep the relief out of her voice. Goodness, the thought of them going back to just being friends again was wonderful. She smiled, already feeling lighter. “Thank you, Harls.” And then, because she was genuinely grateful, she carried her best friend’s mug over to her, and placed it on the table. “You’re right. It’s been difficult for both of us. But things will get better from now on. You’ll see.”

She turned back, finished making her own tea, and then joined Harls at the table, sitting next to her and smiling warmly. Already, her feelings towards her friend were changing, and the annoyance she had come in with was fading. They could go back to being best friends again, without the awkwardness of Harley needing to keep an eye on her. She was so relieved that she leaned forwards and gave Harls a quick kiss on the cheek as wordless thanks.

[isabellakristen]

stillpenguinking:

Oswald was sure as they kept chatting her control would eventually slip, knowing that he’d have to get her out of his home before that happened in case she tried to attack him. He watched her expressions very carefully seeing the flash of her sudden death at his hands hit her mind. He hadn’t thought about his crazy attempt at thining out his companion in a long time. Mostly due to their partnership that spurred from that killing. 

The silence was starting to kill him wondering how far she was in plotting his demise for daring to try and date Ed. Just because she was made for him no one else fit into that category. He continued to be still and drink his tea. “ I do love him Isabella whither you believe it or not isn’t my problem” He nodded softly “ good then please kindly leave my home. It’s obvious there is nothing more for us to discuss. If you need anything probably text or call Ed first that was we wont have to see each other like we promised him we wouldn’t” 

Oswald had always been easy to read, and Isabella could tell she was getting to him. She smiled emptily. It was hardly a sufficient punishment for him, but just watching him sitting there, looking uncertain, was entertaining enough. He had always been ridiculously expressive and, right now, his body language was screaming that he was unsettled. In contrast to him nervously sipping his tea, she just sat utterly still, and kept her hands clasped together.

He said he loved Edward again, and she gritted her teeth. God, she wanted to take him down a peg. Or several. The itch to hurt him, to damage him, to make him pay for daring to claim he loved Eddie -- that he felt anything close to love -- was so strong that she felt it in her muscles. “Yes, I think you’re right,” she agreed sharply, when he told her to leave. Though she hated agreeing with him, she wasn’t so petty as to pretend he wasn’t right, on this occasion.

She pushed her chair back, and stood up. Her pent-up rage was simmering inside her, and she knew she had to leave, before she genuinely did something. Edward would never forgive her if she damaged Oswald. And, though she was enjoying imagining him hurt, she did not want to injure him. It was so brutish, so thuggish, to resort to physical violence. She was better than that.

“I assume you’re going to tell him I dropped by?” She phrased it as a question, but it was a statement. Of course Oswald would tell him. “I will be sure to contact him first, if I need anything. I’m sure we can both agree that the less time spent together, the better.” There was a pause, and she looked down at Oswald for a second. She wondered when she would see him again. And she honestly didn’t care.

Then, after a moment of silence, she turned on her heel and stormed out of the kitchen, and down the corridor. The visit to his house had been a complete waste of time. Edward wasn’t there. Oswald had forced her to admit that her honeyed, warm, act was a front. She reached the front door, opened it, and walked out without another word. As she shut it behind her, she couldn’t shake the anger that Oswald had stirred up inside her. She needed to go home.

[isabellakristen]

hexaghoxtstcry:

Bucky smiled faintly, adjusting the gloves on his hands automatically as he did so. At last it was cold enough for him to wear gloves on both hands without drawing attention – not that people really looked at his hands, he knew that logically, but it still made him feel better 

“Better late than never,” he agreed mildly. He was pretty sure he’d been grading an essay the last time they’d seen each other, but he didn’t expect her to really remember something like that. Especially considering the recent events, anybody would be a little scatter-brained. And he was the last person who could really fault anyone for recall issues.

He gave her another little smile and a shrug. “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “Didn’t you tell me you were a…clerk? With the police?”

“Absolutely,” Isabella agreed. Given that he obviously didn’t recognise her from their first meeting, she saw no reason why she couldn’t be nice to him. He had only ever been friendly towards her, and the first time they had met felt like so long ago that she just wanted to put it out of her mind. In fact, he’d had every reason to be suspicious of her, when they’d first met, given the circumstances, and the location.

He told her not to worry about forgetting his job, and she smiled. He meant well, and, to him, it probably seemed like an understandable mistake. Isabella knew she didn’t have a perfect memory -- and it was pretty common for her to forget facts about strangers -- but this felt like a portent to something bigger. She had been forgetting a lot of things, lately. Small things. The fact that she’d forgotten Bucky’s job, despite it being one which actually interested her, was a little worrisome.

“Yes, that’s right,” she said. “I’m a file clerk for the New York City Police Department.” Now that they were discussing this, their previous conversation did come back to her. She was relieved at that. “I used to do the same job in Gotham, years ago. I stopped for a while, but I missed it, so I had a career change when I came to New York.” She wouldn’t normally have rambled so much, but she felt like she had to move the conversation away from her own forgetfulness.

[golevkamusic-blog]

Visit Original Link

[isabellakristen]

golevkamusic-blog:

like a river flows surely to the sea darling, so it goes some things are meant to be

[isabellakristen]

harlsquinns:

As soon as Isabella walked through the front door, Harley knew something was off. Normally, she’d wait by the door for Harley to come and greet her, but today was different. It wasn’t unknown to her that her best friend was getting a little tired of being watched all the time, and being forced to take medication. If it were the other way around, Harley would be annoyed, too. It was a little humiliating to have your mouth checked, and have to prove to someone that you weren’t hiding your pills under your tongue. Isabella had been doing well, though. So well, in fact, that Harley had been considering giving her more time alone. 

Getting up from the couch, Harley made her way into the kitchen. “Welcome home,” she said softly, a little unsure of how to approach her friend. Her back was to her as she made tea, and the mood just felt completely…off. She considered putting a hand on Isabella’s shoulder, or hugging her from behind – but she knew that both of those things wouldn’t be well received when she was in a mood like this. Physical displays of affection weren’t the way forward, but maybe some talking would be. Moving to stand next to Isa, she bumped her shoulder with her own playfully. “What’s up, buttercup?” she asked, giving the woman a small smile. “You seem a lil’ tense, is everythin’ okay?” 

It was immediately obvious that Harley was on edge. Oh, wonderful, Isabella thought. She was not in the mood for talking Harley out of whatever funk she was in. Honestly, all she wanted to do was curl up on the couch with an Austen novel, and a cup of tea, and skip to the most romantic sections. She wasn’t in a sociable mood.

She didn’t turn around, but instead opened the box of tea and dropped the teabags into the mugs. But then, Harley walked over to her, and bumped her shoulder, and Isabella was forced to look at her. Harley called her buttercup, and smiled awkwardly. It would have been endearing, had her mood not been like a dark cloud, hanging over her. Harley thought she could be melted by smiles and cute nicknames? Goodness, didn’t she know how infuriating she was? Isabella felt a tiny flicker of endearment for her best friend, but she didn’t want to get drawn in so easily.

“What do you think is up, Harley?” she asked. The kettle boiled, and she reached over for it, poured water into their mugs, and placed it back. “It can’t have anything to do with the fact I’m under surveillance, can it? That I have to take pointless pills that don’t do anything, and come home by midnight, like a teenager?”

Though she should have gone to get the milk for their tea, she didn’t move from where she was standing, beside Harley, and turned to the other woman in disbelief. “And you’re calling me buttercup like it’s fine?”

[isabellakristen]

psyylockes:

Almost immediately, Betsy got a bad feeling. She carefully put up her mental shields, wanting to make sure that there was no way for the other’s mind to grab a hold of hers. Betsy’s psyche was strong, scarred over from years of hard work and abuse, but she knew that it would be too easy for her to slip back into a dark spiral. She was out of practice. Honestly, the moment that she started feeling that something was off, she should have just walked away rather than trying to engage further, but she couldn’t. Her sense of right and wrong was too deeply ingrained for her to just shake the bad feeling off and pretend that nothing was wrong. 

When the other woman’s thoughts changed, she knew that if she didn’t know for sure that Betsy was a psychic, she must have suspected it. Still, Betsy continued on like nothing had changed, not wanting to arouse suspicion just yet. She wasn’t about to drop it so easily, but she also didn’t want to get into a fight here in public. She pressed her lips together for a moment, her expression neutral and thoughtful. 

“I don’t think I’m hearing things,” she replied, tilting her head slightly. “You seem pretty certain I did, though.” Betsy didn’t like that, either. Something about this entire interaction felt fishy, and she knew that she couldn’t walk away in good conscience. Even if she wasn’t supposed to be Psylocke anymore, even if she was just supposed to be civilian Betsy Braddock, she would never be able to turn her back on her morals.

How could this woman have spoken, exactly when she did, if she wasn’t a mind reader? She had spoken at exactly the right moment, commenting the way one might if they had misheard something. Isabella focused on the image of a grey door, and tried not to think about the farmhouse, and the brown bottle, but the more she tried to push those thoughts away, the more they rose to the forefront of her mind, unbidden. It was the perfect example of the ironic process theory. She had no psychic training. She couldn’t block her thoughts nearly well enough.

“Well, you did sound pretty sure you’d heard something,” Isabella replied, with a warm smile. She thought of books, and of the library, and forced her mind to remain there. “Perhaps you were just mistaken, because I didn’t say anything.” How much had this woman heard? Though she had no evidence to genuinely back up her theory, she couldn’t shake the sensation that this woman knew something.

So, to change the subject, Isabella said, “Goodness, what an odd way to meet someone!” She laughed, a little shrilly, and met the stranger’s gaze, still smiling. “Why don’t we start again? My name’s Isabella.”