#challison

[allisonbrigance-blog]

Happy New Year's Cheers to 2016 love #Challison 📷 @frozen_exposure_photography (at Pensecola Beach)

[hispinksunglasses]

First Meeting. (Childhood AU-Challison Drabble)

Ignore my OTP feels.

___________________

“Your father and I are going to be longer than expected. Why don’t you go play down at the playground on the corner?”

Chase Alteau was eleven. Barely eleven, but playing at a playground was already a preposterous thought. Playing on playgrounds was for children.

But he was an Alteau, and he had decided that it was in his blood to follow orders. He walked along on the woodchip covered ground with a thick leather-bound book tucked under his arm. He seated himself on a bench and promptly shut himself away from the screaming and yelling of the other kids playing around him.

“What’re ya readin’?” Chase looked up at the small feminine voice. A small girl, about nine or ten years old was standing there and smiling down at him. All he could do was blink in response. He wasn’t that used to people his age interacting with him without intent to annoy, insult or harass.

“Romeo and Juliet.” He replied quietly. The girl smiled wider in response and sat herself right down next to him.

“Ooh!”

“You’ve really read it?” His expression was skeptical and surprised. He was fully aware of how ahead he was when it came to his reading level.

“Nope! Hah, but I’ve heard some good stuff about it!” Chase continued to eye this girl. In a nutshell, she was short, brown haired, and a little on the chubby side. Then again, most people their age were. If they weren’t laden with baby fat like her, they were rail-thin and awkward like him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah! …Mind if I look?” He looked down at her hands instinctively. He had lost count of how many times he had been nice enough to let someone see his book and got it back covered in jelly/candy/dirt/peanut butter fingerprints. Her hands looked dry, but they were covered in multiple different colors of paint.

“…That paint dry?” He asked. She paused and looked down like she had just noticed the mess.

“Oh- Mmhmm!” With reluctance he handed over the book. She held it with more care than most people did and flipped through it, not really reading it. With a wrinkle of her nose she shook her head rapidly and handed it back.

“Blah. That’s a lot of biiiig words. Cheese and crackers, you’re super smart.” She said. Chase bit his bottom lip as a blush crept onto his cheeks. He wasn’t used to people just flattering like him this either. His parents weren’t the most generous when it came to praise.

“Aw…it’s not that difficult. Well, it is. It’s a book for older kids. But I can understand it fine. I’m Chase Archimedes Alteau, by the way.”

“I’m Allison Munroe.- But I’m trying to get people to start calling me Sonny, since it’s my middle name. And you have a nice name.” She grinned over at him with big brown eyes that made Chase nervous, warm and a tad bubbly. He hoped that he wasn’t catching a cold, his mother would be upset with him. “Uh…can you explain it to me, then? It sounds like a good story.”

“Nice to meet you, Allison.” Chase said, having not caught the babble about her middle name. The girl didn’t seem to mind. “Yeah. I’ll explain it. Well…it starts in a town, way-way back……”

As Chase spun out the tale of Romeo and Juliet, Allison just seemed to scoot herself closer and closer to him. She was totally enthralled with the story so he gave her a little leniency.

“Wow, that’s a sad ending. Why’d he have to end it that way, Chase?” She asked once he’d finished.

“Well….they had to end the fight somehow. I guess that’s just how he wanted to end it.” Chase shrugged. He hadn’t really thought much about ‘why.’ She nodded, taking his idea into account.

“Hey, have you ever read Bridge to Terabithia?” Allison asked, leaning in real close. Chase had to lean away a little to keep from banging foreheads with her.

“Not really. We were reading it in class, but I sort of skimmed. Seemed kind of boring.” At this, she gasped and put her hands on her hips.

“It’s not boring! It’s the greatest, best story ever! I can’t believe you’ve never read it! You definitely should! D’you even know what it was about?”

“A treehouse, right?”

“Noooo! More than just a treehouse. Okay, now’s my turn to tell the story.” She beamed, her enthusiasm forcing Chase to just sit and listen.

Allison Munroe turned out to be the best storyteller. She unfolded the story of Jess and Leslie just as it was meant to be told, pausing only to bounce about in excitement or ask Chase a quick question. And that enthralled Chase. Every sentence had him hooked on the story line. She’d made a simple old book for children seem like the most wonderful thing in the world, even better than Romeo and Juliet. And Chase Alteau was a boy who loved his classical Shakespeare.

“You’re really great at telling stories, Allison.” Chase finally said once she was finished talking.

“Am I? No one’s ever told me that. To be honest, I think they think I’m kinda a blabbermouth when I tell stories.” She shrugged. Immediately Chase shook his head.

“No way. Being a blabbermouth is different than the way you talk. You’ve got a really great way of explaining stuff and telling it, and I think it’s absolutely great-” He confessed, his sentence getting cut off when the young girl threw her arms around his neck.

“You’re so nice, Chase! Thank you!” She gushed, giggling. She was seriously invading his personal space, but for just once, Chase found himself not caring. “Why can’t all guys be as nice as you? Most of them are all mean.”

“Uh…thanks? I mean, thanks. You’re nice too.” Allison didn’t get a chance to respond. A woman, presumably her mother was standing by the swings and waving her over.

“Aw, I gotta go. It was great to meet ya, Chase.” Allison sighed, hopping to her feet and giving a wave as she dashed off.

“Ah…wait! Where’re you from?” He called after her and pushed his too-big glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“Don’cha hear the accent? Wisconsin!” She yelled back. And then she was gone. Chase watched her leave with her mother before sitting back, slumping a little on the bench.

‘Allison Munroe. Pretty. Story teller. Brown eyes. From Wisconsin.’ He listed out loud a few times, locking it tight into his memory.

Suddenly visiting playgrounds didn’t sound so terrible if it meant seeing Allison again.

[ajjizomsoriginalaccountbrok-blog]

THIS PICTURE MAY BE GORY

SORRY IT KINDA SUCKS I DID IT WHEN I WAS TIRED LOL

I LOVE YOU GRACE, HERE IS YOUR GORY AND CHALLISON, I WILL MAKE SOME EXCLUSIVE GORY IF YOU WANT

YES I AM THAT SHORT, AND THAT IS HOW I SEE YOU LOL

I LOVE YOU SHIPHASSAILED