For Auld Lang Syne My Dear

"We're alone now, you could kiss me." - alittleeternxty (iDK if you reblogged the meme post onto your main, we need to start somewhere anyway lmao)

The return to Scotland had been a happy one—he hadn’t been home since before the war. It seemed as if now he held a greater appreciation for it, after France and the prison camp, and then his long recovery in Switzerland. Although everything else seemed to have changed, his home had not—and neither had his love for Myra. He’d panicked when Mother had told him that she was nowhere to be found, and once he was well enough he took the first ship to Liverpool and the first train to London.

Although he had tried to convince himself that he would find her again, he hadn’t expected to run into her at the station. It seemed like nothing short of a miracle—it all was, right from their meeting in the air raid shelter. To think that something so wonderful could come out of such a terrible war…he drove the thought from his mind with a smile as he stared up at the painting of his father in the library. The only thing he could wish for now was that he was here to meet his fiancée.

A voice—her voice—interrupted his musings and he turned around with a grin, wasting no time in leaning down to steal a kiss. Moments like this would have to be stolen, now that they were officially engaged and under his mother’s watchful eye.

“I suppose we could do that,” Myra nodded, returning the kiss. “That sounds fine to me - it must absolutely be kept private, though - and we’ll go away somewhere else for our honeymoon, of course - maybe France.” Myra had never travelled much, but she had heard a lot about the Cote d’Azur and it all sounded thrilling. “Yes, France - definitely France.”

“Absolutely. It’ll be just us and our friends and family.” It came as a relief, really. All his life he’d been trained in a sense for a society wedding. It was all about the family and the county and never love--but now that he’d found Myra, their happiness was all that seemed to matter to Roy. There was a bit of hesitation on his end when she suggested France--only because of the time he had spent there in the past--but going there on his honeymoon would give him new memories. “France is perfect--and I’ll have you to rely on as translator, won’t I?”

afineruffling-deactivated202002

This photograph of Robert Taylor and Vivien Leigh is my second favorite one from “Waterloo Bridge.” I love it because it’s a rare publicity shot of Vivien Leigh smiling. She usually vetoed these types of photos saying, “…It’s my face and I don’t like it smiling.”

There’s also copies of this photograph on the internet where Robert Taylor has been completely photoshopped out of the picture! Poor Bob!

#i'll never let you go;#it's my face and I don't like it smiling i'm gonna start telling eople that XDDD #vivien leigh is amazing

"We're alone now, you could kiss me." - alittleeternxty (iDK if you reblogged the meme post onto your main, we need to start somewhere anyway lmao)

The return to Scotland had been a happy one—he hadn’t been home since before the war. It seemed as if now he held a greater appreciation for it, after France and the prison camp, and then his long recovery in Switzerland. Although everything else seemed to have changed, his home had not—and neither had his love for Myra. He’d panicked when Mother had told him that she was nowhere to be found, and once he was well enough he took the first ship to Liverpool and the first train to London.

Although he had tried to convince himself that he would find her again, he hadn’t expected to run into her at the station. It seemed like nothing short of a miracle—it all was, right from their meeting in the air raid shelter. To think that something so wonderful could come out of such a terrible war…he drove the thought from his mind with a smile as he stared up at the painting of his father in the library. The only thing he could wish for now was that he was here to meet his fiancée.

A voice—her voice—interrupted his musings and he turned around with a grin, wasting no time in leaning down to steal a kiss. Moments like this would have to be stolen, now that they were officially engaged and under his mother’s watchful eye.

“You will, oh darling, you will.” Myra squeezed his hand, trying to reassure him. “As for our wedding, I was thinking we could have it somewhere in the countryside, but if you prefer having it here, I don’t mind.”

“I’ll try.” Roy kissed the back of her hand and smiled. “Where in the countryside did you have in mind? If we had it here it could be at the town parish--but we could have it privately, no one would ever have to know except our family and the town Father.”

#i'll never let you go;#oUCH

wordsnquotes

I wish I’d done everything on Earth with you.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, The Great Gatsby (via wordsnquotes)

"We're alone now, you could kiss me." - alittleeternxty (iDK if you reblogged the meme post onto your main, we need to start somewhere anyway lmao)

The return to Scotland had been a happy one—he hadn’t been home since before the war. It seemed as if now he held a greater appreciation for it, after France and the prison camp, and then his long recovery in Switzerland. Although everything else seemed to have changed, his home had not—and neither had his love for Myra. He’d panicked when Mother had told him that she was nowhere to be found, and once he was well enough he took the first ship to Liverpool and the first train to London.

Although he had tried to convince himself that he would find her again, he hadn’t expected to run into her at the station. It seemed like nothing short of a miracle—it all was, right from their meeting in the air raid shelter. To think that something so wonderful could come out of such a terrible war…he drove the thought from his mind with a smile as he stared up at the painting of his father in the library. The only thing he could wish for now was that he was here to meet his fiancée.

A voice—her voice—interrupted his musings and he turned around with a grin, wasting no time in leaning down to steal a kiss. Moments like this would have to be stolen, now that they were officially engaged and under his mother’s watchful eye.

Myra beamed, and gave him a little kiss. “I’m sure you’ll be a great father, Roy. Oh, I just can’t wait for our wedding, darling. It’ll be so marvellous!” She was determined to make it absolutely perfect - perhaps somewhere in the countryside as she adored nature - although she would have to consult with Roy, first. After all, she couldn’t completely take control of their wedding.

#alittleeternxty #//they are! and I read it was both their favorite #and yet it's like most people haven't heard of it but it's so good #it should come with a warning label though

“Do you think so?” Roy asked with a smile. He couldn’t wait to be a father, no question, but there was a bit of apprehension that went along with it too. When they did have their first child, he would be completely responsible for the life of another human being in a way he hadn’t before. It was so thrilling and scary at the same time. In any case, it would be much easier to face with Myra by his side. “Neither can I. Will we have it here? I know the town Father is just dying to know whether he’ll officiate.”

"We're alone now, you could kiss me." - alittleeternxty (iDK if you reblogged the meme post onto your main, we need to start somewhere anyway lmao)

The return to Scotland had been a happy one—he hadn’t been home since before the war. It seemed as if now he held a greater appreciation for it, after France and the prison camp, and then his long recovery in Switzerland. Although everything else seemed to have changed, his home had not—and neither had his love for Myra. He’d panicked when Mother had told him that she was nowhere to be found, and once he was well enough he took the first ship to Liverpool and the first train to London.

Although he had tried to convince himself that he would find her again, he hadn’t expected to run into her at the station. It seemed like nothing short of a miracle—it all was, right from their meeting in the air raid shelter. To think that something so wonderful could come out of such a terrible war…he drove the thought from his mind with a smile as he stared up at the painting of his father in the library. The only thing he could wish for now was that he was here to meet his fiancée.

A voice—her voice—interrupted his musings and he turned around with a grin, wasting no time in leaning down to steal a kiss. Moments like this would have to be stolen, now that they were officially engaged and under his mother’s watchful eye.

“Let’s say 60-40,” Myra chuckled, reaching for his hand to hold. “I’d rather they look more like you than me.” She raised an eyebrow at his comment and smiled. “I’ll try my best.” She would certainly need help for the mothering part - though it was something she was looking forward to, Myra wasn’t sure whether she really had the skills to take care of children, but then again, she had never been a mother. It would be something she would be keen to learn.

#alittleeternxty #i wish tcm would do a 75th dvd or re-release or something #this movie is so underrated

“Okay, deal.” Roy affirmed, squeezing her hand as she took his own. “I know you’ll be a wonderful mother--and do you know how I know?” he murmured with a smile as he met her gaze. “Because you’re a wonderful woman. It all seems so unreal, darling, that I could find you in the middle of something so chaotic, so horrible. You were the best thing that happened to me in that awful war.”

"We're alone now, you could kiss me." - alittleeternxty (iDK if you reblogged the meme post onto your main, we need to start somewhere anyway lmao)

The return to Scotland had been a happy one—he hadn’t been home since before the war. It seemed as if now he held a greater appreciation for it, after France and the prison camp, and then his long recovery in Switzerland. Although everything else seemed to have changed, his home had not—and neither had his love for Myra. He’d panicked when Mother had told him that she was nowhere to be found, and once he was well enough he took the first ship to Liverpool and the first train to London.

Although he had tried to convince himself that he would find her again, he hadn’t expected to run into her at the station. It seemed like nothing short of a miracle—it all was, right from their meeting in the air raid shelter. To think that something so wonderful could come out of such a terrible war…he drove the thought from his mind with a smile as he stared up at the painting of his father in the library. The only thing he could wish for now was that he was here to meet his fiancée.

A voice—her voice—interrupted his musings and he turned around with a grin, wasting no time in leaning down to steal a kiss. Moments like this would have to be stolen, now that they were officially engaged and under his mother’s watchful eye.

“You must forget all about that - your mother and I get along very well together.” Though she was hardly one to talk - Myra still felt self-conscious around Roy’s mother, after all she had behaved terribly at their first meeting! Thankfully her mother-in-law had forgotten all about the incident and was always very kind towards her. “Let’s hope our children do inherit your looks!” Myra returned the nudge, playfully. “If I do have daughters, I certainly will not let Madame Olga teach them - I’ll do the teaching myself, thank you very much.”

#alittleeternxty #can we just pretend the movie ended like this #they're so happy gOD

“I’m glad–she’s come to realize how wonderful you are. She sees you as I do.” he remarked, lifting his hand to her cheek with a smile. He remembered the initial letter in which he had declared that they were engaged, and his mother’s obvious reticence to the idea, asking him if he was quite sure of marrying a woman he’d just met. His answer had been the same he had given Myra–that he had never been surer of anything in his life, and that remained true. “Let’s say 50-50, straight down the middle.” he teased. “You’re so beautiful that it wouldn’t be fair if they didn’t inherit any of your looks.” He chuckled at the mention of her stern old ballet mistress, shaking his head. “No, we couldn’t have that, could we? You’ll be a marvelous teacher–and a marvelous mother.”

"We're alone now, you could kiss me." - alittleeternxty (iDK if you reblogged the meme post onto your main, we need to start somewhere anyway lmao)

The return to Scotland had been a happy one—he hadn’t been home since before the war. It seemed as if now he held a greater appreciation for it, after France and the prison camp, and then his long recovery in Switzerland. Although everything else seemed to have changed, his home had not—and neither had his love for Myra. He’d panicked when Mother had told him that she was nowhere to be found, and once he was well enough he took the first ship to Liverpool and the first train to London.

Although he had tried to convince himself that he would find her again, he hadn’t expected to run into her at the station. It seemed like nothing short of a miracle—it all was, right from their meeting in the air raid shelter. To think that something so wonderful could come out of such a terrible war…he drove the thought from his mind with a smile as he stared up at the painting of his father in the library. The only thing he could wish for now was that he was here to meet his fiancée.

A voice—her voice—interrupted his musings and he turned around with a grin, wasting no time in leaning down to steal a kiss. Moments like this would have to be stolen, now that they were officially engaged and under his mother’s watchful eye.

“Mother will absolutely adore you, I’m sure. As for Father, he’s not been very well at the moment - and we’re not exactly on speaking terms either.” Myra looked down, a little embarrassed by this admission. “You’re wrong, Roy - have you seen how small I am? I do hope they take after you and become tall and handsome like their father.” A smile appeared on her face at the prospect. “I think I want at least three.”

“I’m glad--at least we’ll be together when I do meet her. I wish I could have been there when you first met Mother.” He still felt horrible about it, and even more horrible when his mother explained that she had lost track of Myra for so long. It was fate that had brought them back together, he was sure of it. “Course I have.” he answered with a chuckle and a nudge. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt for our son to inherit my good looks at least.” he teased. “But if we did have daughters, they could all be lovely little dancers like you.”

summers-in-sunnydale

Vivien Leigh by Paul Tanqueray, 1942

#little defeatist;

wordsnquotes

You are the finest, loveliest, tenderest, and most beautiful person I have ever known- and even that is an understatement.

F. Scott Fitzgerald, “Letter to Zelda Fitzgerald,” 1939 (via wordsnquotes)

#i'll never let you go;

rUFFLE - alittleeternxty

Roy paged through the books sent over from one of the plants in America. All of his business affairs had been handled by one of his father’s most trusted executives since he had left for the war, and now that the war was over he was trying to ease back into his role as president of the company. In fact, it appeared that they had done even better in his absence, because of the high demand for steel during the war. He only hoped it would continue once he took over again. He made a note to speak to the plant managers on his next trip and turned to the next page of the report, all of the sudden feeling a hand ruffling through his hair. Glancing up in surprise, he smiled when he saw that it was Myra, taking her hand and lifting it to his lips. “Hello, darling.”

"We're alone now, you could kiss me." - alittleeternxty (iDK if you reblogged the meme post onto your main, we need to start somewhere anyway lmao)

The return to Scotland had been a happy one—he hadn’t been home since before the war. It seemed as if now he held a greater appreciation for it, after France and the prison camp, and then his long recovery in Switzerland. Although everything else seemed to have changed, his home had not—and neither had his love for Myra. He’d panicked when Mother had told him that she was nowhere to be found, and once he was well enough he took the first ship to Liverpool and the first train to London.

Although he had tried to convince himself that he would find her again, he hadn’t expected to run into her at the station. It seemed like nothing short of a miracle—it all was, right from their meeting in the air raid shelter. To think that something so wonderful could come out of such a terrible war…he drove the thought from his mind with a smile as he stared up at the painting of his father in the library. The only thing he could wish for now was that he was here to meet his fiancée.

A voice—her voice—interrupted his musings and he turned around with a grin, wasting no time in leaning down to steal a kiss. Moments like this would have to be stolen, now that they were officially engaged and under his mother’s watchful eye.

“Oh, I’m so glad, darling,” Myra gave a sigh of relief. “All right, I’ll start thinking about who I should invite. It won’t be too many people. I’m sure Mother will come, even if Father won’t.” With that, Myra turned towards the painting which he was talking about, gasping as she noticed the resemblance between father and son. “You look a lot like him! Why, isn’t he handsome?” She gave a little laugh, and embraced him. “I hope our children take after you, Roy darling.”

#alittleeternxty #no problem!

“I’m looking forward to meeting her–I hope she’ll like me. And your father–why don’t you expect he’ll come?” he asked, lifting his curious gaze. Chucking at her assessment of the painting, he added, “He was an American, you know. I’ve always taken after him.” He smiled, enamored by the very idea of their children, but shook his head at her comment. He didn’t want them to have his looks. “If they take after you, they’ll be like angels. I’d rather that. If they all took after me they’d be so tall and awkward…” Out of place. They were all things that he had felt as a child, and although he knew it was foolish to think that his children’s experience would be the same ( as he had no intentions of sending them to a boarding school an ocean away, for example ), he couldn’t help but think of his childhood when thinking of any future Cronins.

abravelittlehobbit

Send me "ruffle" For my character's reaction to your character randomly coming up and running their fingers through my character's hair.