#and I have a stuffed duck I’m going to be sewing an outfit for | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

miracleboiz · 5 years ago

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Making a Home Ch.3

Kita Shinsuke had experienced a lot in life. He had been raised with his grandmother, a loving foster parent and for some time he followed in her foot steps before finding his own path. He thought his foster care license had expired before getting a call at three am with two small boys thrust into his arms. Miya Osamu and Atsumu, from broken homes but still fighting. Thirty days before his license expires. Thirty days to make a choice, keep the boys or let them be separated into different homes. Thirty days to fall in love with them.

Words: 4k

Relationships: Gen

Warnings: Mention of past child abuse, non-graphic abuse

Not from Kita, but it is mentioned. I will post any warnings before any panic attacks or vague descriptions of abuse.

Read below or on AO3

The twin's gazes dashed around the room, eyes wide and soaking up everything around them. Their grips on each other's hands tightened for a moment before they relaxed, Osamu tilting his head up to stare at Shinsuke.

"What..." He chewed his lip and pulled the fox closer, nearly dislodging the flower on its head. "What's a... weddin' bo-... boutique?"

"Well, it's a shop that sells things for weddings. Both western and Japanese in my case." Shinsuke said softly, stepping out a little further to show them the shop better. "Most shops only sell dresses but we do a lot more here. That is where our tailor makes sure the clothes fit, you can make a wedding registry- a list of gifts you want- over there. We have a card station so you can choose your designs for invitations."

Shinsuke pointed each station out in the wide room, explaining it to the rapt attention of Osamu and the bored looking Atsumu. He led them in, around a set of tuxedos and male kimonos, careful not to move too fast and overwhelm them.

Sugawara was already in one of the mirrored corners, carefully arranging some fake flowers that came from between the mirrors. He glanced up and saw them in the reflection, eyes widening and Shinsuke watched him try to stifle a squeal. Instead he ducked back down, shifting the ottoman chairs instead to curve around the mirror and disappearing into one of the changing rooms.

On the opposite corner, Akaashi was already sitting down, a large ink brush in his hand that was gliding down the page, either a commission or a wedding order. Behind him a large wall of different card stock hid him from the gaze of the average window shopper. He didn't glance up at the sound of Shinsuke talking, probably already zoned out until either his phone alarm rang or someone touched him.

In between the two stations, the wall curved in leading to a decent sized office with two desks. Books of dress designs and venues littered three bookshelves and a wall of ribbons and flower designs rose up at the back. Many customers liked to use their own wedding planner, but Shinsuke had to admit having his own on site made it a lot easier when dealing with customers who tried to do it all without help.

On the other wall there was another mirrored corner, with a shelf coming out of the wall with all of Sugawara and Shirofuku's materials for tailoring. Under the window to the right was the register, currently covered in multiple packages labeled Castle Bakery. Against the wall to the left, wedding dresses and kimonos were posed on mannequins and bridesmaid outfits were on racks.

In the final corner was where Azumane designed and sewed together specialty outfits. Shinsuke could just barely see him hunched over the tail end of a pale peach dress, carefully slipping a needle in and out of beads and the dress. Fabric was already pulled out and laying across his table and two other mannequins.

"You do all of this?" Osamu said when they finished the tour, eyeing the Castle Bakery boxes as Shinsuke came to a stop beside the register.

"I manage it all, and help Azumane design and create dresses. Each place has someone who takes care of it though. So it makes it a lot easier." Shinsuke explained, cracking open one of the boxes that had his name on it. Two muffins sat in the middle with a note attached to the top of the box followed by the ingredient list for each box.

Shinji made these this morning. Don't worry, we watched him. DON'T LET TORU HAVE THE ONES WITH PEANUT BUTTER~ Takahiro

Shinsuke chuckled softly, carefully lifting the two chocolate chip muffins out and offering them to the boys.

"These are fresh from the bakery across the street, are you still hungry or would you like to wait till later?" Predictably, both boys reached for them. Atsumu held his for a minute, frowning at it and reached out to stop Osamu from shoving it in his mouth. His eyes glanced up to Shinsuke then back down, repeating a few more times before Shinsuke intervened.

"Is something wrong Atsumu?"

"What's... in these?" He said hesitantly, eyes down on the ground to keep from looking disrespectful. "I-I just mean, Osamu's allergic to lotsa stuff and he... I..." Atsumu's mouth moved inaudibly, trying to keep calm and Shinsuke wondered how many times Osamu had been fed things he was allergic to by unwitting or uncaring foster parents.

"It's alright. I read Osamu's allergy list last night and this doesn't have anything dangerous to him in it. Would you like to read the list yourself?" Shinsuke asked, peeling the list off for his box and offering it to Atsumu when he nervously nodded. In a fashion that would make allergic-to-peanuts-Oikawa proud, Osamu inhaled the muffin despite his brother's protests, grinning when Atsumu passed the list back agreeing that it was safe to eat.

Atsumu peeled the wrapper off his muffin, carefully nibbling until Osamu reached for it. Atsumu responded by shoving the entire thing in his mouth, chewing and swallowing faster than Shinsuke thought was possible for a child and nearly giving him a heart attack. Atsumu didn't look any worse for wear though, sticking his tongue out at Osamu a moment later.

"Do you want to be introduced to the others who are here then? We can drop off their muffins and then head to the store." Shinsuke asked a moment later, lifting up the boxes and checking the names. Shirofuku's was nearly three times as heavy as the others and Shinsuke had to admit it was amusing that the bakery knew his tailor so well.

The twins looked around, Atsumu looking bored again but he still didn't say anything as his brother nodded. Osamu paused after a moment though, glancing at his brother and then Shinsuke.

"Are you sure it's not a bother?" He asked, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean… You said it was okay… But… I just… I mean… I’m sorry, I’m sorry… please… We can do whatever you want Kita-san… I-I… I don’t… I don’t mean to be rude… ”

Shinsuke crouched next to him, eyes softening with worry. The six year old looked seconds from a complete meltdown, jumping when his brother’s hand clamped down on his wrist. Osamu’s breath quickened and his eyes rolled with fear.

“Osamu?” Atsumu asked, confusion clear on his face and quickly buried beneath panic as Osamu yanked out of his grip. His hands curled into his chest like he was trying to hide them from sight.

“Osamu, just breathe.” Shinsuke said softly, carefully waving Atsumu a few steps away. “It’s alright, you haven’t done anything wrong. You’re not in trouble I promise…. Breathe in for seven seconds…. Now breathe out for eight, you can do it… There you go, great job Osamu, now again…”

Shinsuke talked him through it, relaxing as the boy’s breathing started to slow. His head was still pulled in like he was waiting to be struck, but his hands finally relaxed from their curled position. He glanced up at Shinsuke, then back at the ground, tears slowly leaking out of his eyes.

“Osa-” Atsumu said, startling when his brother jumped again. He reached out for him, but Osamu just shied away, fingers starting to clench again.

Atsumu’s face twisted with panic, his own breath coming out harsher as he started to slip into a panicked state as well. Shinsuke had to assume Atsumu had never seen his brother have an anxiety attack before and was terrified at the idea that he was scaring his brother. Shinsuke was going to have to cut that off as soon as possible or else neither of the two would be okay for hours.

“Atsumu?” Shinsuke murmured softly, turning his gaze to Atsumu’s scared one. “Your brother had an anxiety attack, sometimes when it happens people don’t want to be touched. He’ll be just fine though, I promise. Why don’t we head back to the house, okay?”

“N-no!” Osamu shouted, then flinched. His hands instinctively moving to cover his face, he shook slightly as he lowered them again, not looking at either of them. “Y-you… wanted us to m-meet them. I’m sorry…. I won’t… I won’t be a bother… I’m sorry.”

“Osamu.” Shinsuke said slowly, watching Osamu cling to the stuffed animal. “You are not a bother, I promise. You’re not in trouble either. Remember when I said sometimes you get tired of people and you need to rest? We can rest now Osamu, it isn’t a bother at all. I promise, your feelings are more important than meeting a few more people.”

Osamu buried his face into the fox’s fur, a harsh breath racking through him. Shinsuke wondered how often he teetered on the edge of panic and worry, how often his brain would work too fast and drive his anxiety up until his small body couldn’t contain it anymore. And how often had he been punished for it.

“It’s alright now, we can go calm down for a bit and have some lunch when you’re ready.”

“What…” Osamu’s voice was breathy, nervous and embarrassed, “What about… shopping? Y-You wanted to…”

“We can still go shopping later if you’d like, but you being okay is more important Osamu.” Shinsuke smiled softly when Osamu’s eyes peeked over the top of the fox’s head. “Let’s head back inside and we can talk after we nap for a bit, alright? The store won’t go anywhere. You and Atsumu can think about all the toys you want to look at and new clothes you want to try on.”

Shinsuke stood back up, waving his hand at Atsumu to motion him to start heading back towards the door to the house. Shinsuke barely caught a glimpse of a worried looking Koushi before he was slipping away again before he could accidentally startle either of the children.

Osamu lagged behind, eyes still darting around the rooms like he was waiting for his punishment. Even Atsumu was quiet as he walked, constantly looking back to make sure Osamu was okay and trying to slow down to match his pace though Osamu only stepped away from him, clinging onto the small stuffed fox in his arms.

“Atsumu,” Shinsuke tried to call him but was ignored. There was a flash of annoyance before he let it go, after all Atsumu didn’t really understand what was going on. He just saw his brother suffering.

Shinsuke took a few more steps until they were beside the male mannequins again, opening the door and leading the two to the next door. He opened it, waiting for them to pass him before he stepped into his house.

“Osamu,” Shinsuke called this time, watching the flinch before Osamu’s head lifted to try and meet his gaze unsteadily. “Do you want to stay with Atsumu or would you like to lay down for a bit?”

There was a pause, one that seemed to immediately set Atsumu on edge, before Osamu reached out and shakily took his brother’s hand. The nod was small, barely noticeable but enough for Atsumu to relax slightly. Their hands squeezed each other, trying to pull any sense of comfort from one another.

“Alright…” Shinsuke hesitated, not quite sure what would be the next step. On one hand, he didn’t want Osamu to feel pressured to stay in his room but on the other Kita didn’t want him to get worse-

A tug on his shirt caught his attention and he looked down, blinking softly at Atsumu’s doe eyes staring up at him. Atsumu tugged again, pulling Shinsuke down to his level and leaning up to whisper in his ear.

“Do you have any movies?” He whispered, glancing at his brother as Osamu shifted from foot to foot. “When Osamu has nightmares they help…. Maybe… they can help now too?”

“That’s a great idea, thank you Atsumu,” Shinsuke said softly, watching Osamu perk up slightly, “you two can go sit on the couch while I see what movies I have.”

It took a moment, Osamu still looking hesitant before Atsumu tugged him along. Worried eyes glanced back at him more than once but Shinsuke just nodded until Osamu was comfortably on the couch, leaning his weight on his brother.

Shinsuke turned and made his way to the back office, pulling open the first drawer on his left to look at all the random things Akagi had left at his house. Shinsuke himself wasn’t a big movie watcher, he owned three and he wasn’t sure any of them qualified as kid-friendly as they were all documentaries. However, Akagi considered that a travesty and had a habit of leaving movies and books around that he wanted Shinsuke to look at.

After nearly two minutes of pulling things out, Shinsuke’s hand finally landed on a case. He pulled it out, eyes catching on Studio Ghibli. The front of the case itself was a cute, gentle animation of a small human fish child. He turned it over, reading the back before deciding it would work. He didn’t know much about Studio Ghibli but he did know Oikawa and Sawamura had both bought movies out of the collection for their own children.

Shinsuke returned to the living room, not surprised to see Osamu still curled around his fox, his brother leaning as close to him as he could. They both glanced up as he entered and he dipped his head slightly in greeting, moving to the tv and pressing the on button before moving to turn on the dusty DVD player Akagi had wired in for him. He placed the movie in and sat back, watching it flicker to life.

He grabbed for the remote, barely remembering how to use it. It was different from his old one, instead of a long strip it curved almost in two, with two sticks that Shinsuke was certain moved. For longer than he wanted to admit, he stared blankly at the device until he heard Atsumu’s voice.

“Are… you okay Kita-san?” He asked slowly, shrinking away slightly when Shinsuke turned to look at him. Shinsuke held up the remote in explanation.

“Remember when I told you that I was very boring? That includes not knowing how to use one of these. Do you know?” Shinsuke asked, offering the remote over.

Atsumu took it, looking it over with Osamu before they both grabbed it and pressed one of the sticks. The screen clicked as it moved over from a blue background to a picture of a DVD, Shinsuke watched with interest as they hit another button. The movie went black for a second before fading into an animated scene. They pressed another and music started to filter through the room quietly.

Shinsuke waved for them to keep the remote, moving to grab the blanket on the couch and laying it over Atsumu’s lap who quickly moved it to cover him and his brother.

“I’m going to be over here and make lunch in a few, let me know if you need anything okay boys?” Shinsuke said softly, only getting minute nods as they stared into the screen already enraptured. He watched them for a moment longer, taking in the hiccups in Osamu’s breathing as he tried not to cry and Atsumu’s aggressive fussing as he tucked the blanket as tightly around his brother as he could.

Quietly, Shinsuke moved to the back office again. He grabbed a notebook and a pen, hesitating before snagging a few more movies from the pile he had uncovered. The boys would be bored over the next few days while Shinsuke got them signed up for the closest school and they waited for the weekend to end, this would help stave off some boredom atleast.

He sat on the armchair when he returned, only nodding his head when they looked up at him. Osamu’s cheeks were shining with a few tears that had fallen but his eyes were dry and his breathing was even. A wave of relief washed over Shinsuke as he pulled his gaze away from the two and started to scratch out the characters for their names on the notebook.

He looked at Osamu’s name, glancing up at the child for a moment before starting to write.

Osamu was sweet, naturally inquisitive and playful. He enjoyed his comfort items more than Atsumu seemed to but he wasn’t completely helpless. However, he was a lot more naturally shy than his brother and prefered the background position his brother allowed him to play. He struggled with letting his own emotions be known and feared being punished for them.

He was going to need a much softer hand to nurture him into someone who could stand up for himself. While being attached to his brother wasn’t an issue right now, they would have to be monitored to make sure it didn’t shift into unhealthy codependency. Though Shinsuke wasn’t particularly worried about that right now, Atsumu was protective but Osamu had made it clear he was able to say what he wanted.

Atsumu though, was a little tougher to write about. He hadn’t shown much of his own nature beyond being protective of his brother. He seemed to keep it locked away, eyes only on his brother and any threat that could arise. He was fierce, ready to fight the world for his right to stand up. If anyone was going to get unhealthily attached, Shinsuke would put his bets on Atsumu.

Atsumu hadn’t shown many interests outside of his brother and it worried Shinsuke, even with the snow he hadn’t cared until Osamu had commented on it. He didn’t care much about the shop, unlike Osamu who had been endlessly fascinated by everything. Even now, watching the show, Atsumu was only half watching. His head turned to eye Shinsuke and their gaze met for a moment before he was looking away again.

Hopefully with the start of school on Monday, Atsumu would be able to branch out for himself. Shinsuke wanted to help him break out of the cycle of being Osamu’s unspoken parent and guardian. It would never go completely away, but Atsumu had endless potential he could unlock if he looked into what he wanted instead of how to protect Osamu. Shinsuke wanted to watch both of them flourish, not just Osamu

Shinsuke scratched out the last character, humming softly to the song coming from the tv as he looked over his notes. They weren’t complete, he couldn’t know the boys in one day but it was a step towards finding them a good home. The more information he knew about what the twins needed and how they acted, the better he could assess potential parents and let them know exactly what the boys needed in their life.

Shinsuke looked up again, taking in Osamu’s completely enraptured look on the tv and Atsumu’s fidgeting feet. Atsumu’s gaze wasn’t on the tv again, instead it was caught on the clock above it. Each click was copied by a flick of Atsumu’s fingers against the bottom of the blanket. His eyes roved over the room again, picking through items before landing on the tv as Osamu gasped at whatever was on the screen.

Shinsuke paused as the doorbell rang, watching the boys both look at him immediately. A mix of apprehension and curiosity was scrawled across their face as they watched Shinsuke put the notebook down and make his way to the door.

Shinsuke knew Oomimi had said he would be visiting later with the boys’ files, but he expected a text before anything. No one else would be dropping by without calling first.

A quick peek through the window made Shinsuke sigh as he recognized the wild hair. He pulled the door open and looked up at the grinning face of Akagi with disappointment.

“Hey sexy, where are the little ones?” Akagi winked, before holding up a packet of papers in explanation. “ ‘Mimi got called in to a meeting so I said I would bring this over to you because I want to meet my new nephews.”

“Akagi, I didn’t adopt them.” Shinsuke said slowly as he opened the door, glancing at the twin faces peeking over the back of the couch curiously.

“Doesn’t matter, they’re my new nephews!” He grinned, wiggling his arm and the plastic bag rustled on his elbow. “I brought presents. Heya! Didja tell your brother about me?”

Both boys had perked up at the word present but they shrank down again when they realized they were being looked at. Atsumu looked at his brother before shaking his head.

“I didn’t…. Fox-kun.” He said, wincing slightly as Akagi’s name escaped him. Akagi burst into laughter, stepping into the house to let Shinsuke close the door.

“Close enough, Atsumu-kun. Just call me Michinari or Ojisan. Osamu, I’m Michinari, I helped bring you guys home last night and brought over that little Ruppell’s fox that you’re holding.” Akagi greeted, smiling brightly at him even as Osamu shrank down. Osamu’s gray eyes looked to the fox before slowly pulling it free of the blanket and holding it out for Akagi.

“Oh no, honey, it’s yours. I brought them over for you. They’re yours forever.” Akagi explained, nodding when Osamu’s eyes widened in disbelief. Osamu immediately turned and stuffed it back between himself and his brother, eyes shining as he looked at his brother.

Atsumu looked a little hesitant but he was quickly relaxing again as Akagi moved to steal Shinsuke’s chair. The ex-libero pulled open his bag, pulling out objects of different sizes. He waved a case at Shinsuke with a bright smile.

“I’m glad you got the playstation to work, I was starting to think I bought you that for nothing.”

“That’s what it’s called? And I thought you bought it so you could play it when you stayed over.” Shinsuke said dryly, taking the case he was being offered with a frown. Ark: Survival Evolved, it said.

“This looks inappropriate for children.” Shinsuke could see the twins looking at the game with excitement obvious in their eyes. His heart softened at the hopeful looks, had they ever even had video games before? They probably had to deal with other kids using it against them too.

“I mean, you capture and train dinosaurs, you can change the settings to creative so they don’t have to actually kill anyone but it’s fine, really. I also got Minecraft and Spyro which are super family friendly, but I mean, It’s dinosaurs Shinsuke-kun. Just play with them?” Akagi asked, eyes fluttering slightly as he looked up at Shinsuke. Shinsuke pressed his lips together as he thought it over before he turned to look at the boys.

Osamu was nearly on top of his brother’s back as they leaned closer, eyes on Shinsuke. Hope and excitement glittered in them as the end credits of the movie played, they both gave identical smiles, excitement making them seem to shake with excitement. Osamu’s cheeks were still a little wet and he wasn’t getting as close as Atsumu was but he was branching out, even if it was nonverbally. It was a start that Shinsuke couldn’t ignore.

“Oh… Oh alright, if I can sit with you then they can play this game. But if it’s too violent then you can only play the other two, okay boys?” Shinsuke asked and all three of them let out a cheer. Shinsuke could have sworn Akagi was the loudest of the bunch, his own mind feeling incredibly lucky to have the three of them here.

“I’m going to start lunch then, can I trust you two to keep Akagi from breaking anything?” Shinsuke asked, fighting back a smile at Akagi’s offended shout.

The twins burst into giggles, nodding and sitting back down so they could pat the couch and offer up the Playstation remote. Akagi whined, grumbling as he made his way over with the three games held out for the boys to look at. Atsumu waited until Osamu had grabbed one to look at before taking the other two for himself, they leaned together, looking them over with hushed whispers and soft gasps of awe.

Akagi turned, giving Shinsuke a soft smile.

“I’ll keep an eye on them, go on. They’ll still be here when you get back, you dad.” Akagi teased, turning back to Osamu’s bubbly questions.

Shinsuke gave them one last look, trying to push down the affection rising up. He was a foster parent, he wasn’t looking to adopt right now. Especially not when he was alone and would be raising them by himself.

He paused in the kitchen, listening to Akagi’s dramatic storytelling and sighed. Scratch that, he wouldn’t be raising them alone, he had a family it was just a little different.

#HQ #Haikyuu!!#Haikyuu #Miya Atsumu #Miya Osamu #Kita Shinsuke #Inarizaki #Fanfiction #Making a home AU

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wcmi-22 · 4 years ago

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An unordinary day in the life of A Mad Hatter.

In a daily life of any man, he takes his responsibilities and puts them into a perfectly aligned routine. But those men aren’t the Mad Hatter of Wonderland.

It was another glorious Monday morning when Reginald’s misshapen alarm clock went off. He soon turned it off promptly and when I say promptly I mean pounding the heck out of it until it finally hit the floor thereby silencing it.

Reginald soon got up,yawned and stretched as he brushed his fingers through his white curly hair. He soon heads to the bathroom where he rid himself of his green cotton pjs along with turnip underwear to take a shower.

Now most men would sing in the shower a simple little ditty but Reginald however was not one of those men. Although he did sing, a simple ditty would simply not cut it.

“What’s that playing on the radio, why do I start swayin to and fro.” He sung and as he sang, he really emphasized the chorus to the song and automatically his voice would bounce off the tile to fill the room up with his singing.

After a brief shower, Reginald puts on his long orange bath robe then shakes his hair until it becomes a fluffy mess thereby grabbing his brush and brushing it out until it becomes curly once more. Soon Reginald will look at himself in the mirror to check for any spots or flaws on himself. Once he sees that he is perfect in his own mad way, he starts to brush his teeth and put on deodorant before heading to his bedroom where he finds his archenemy sitting on his bed waiting for him.

��Ah so we meet again old friend!” Reginald says to the stuffed manatee.

Suddenly he lunges at the stuffed manatee until the both hit the ground. Reginald soon pins the plush toy to the ground and gets up.

“Alright you little creep!”he says in a serious tone “I am going to give you one last chance to take back what you said about my mom!”

Of course, the manatee did not respond back but Reginald still heard what he said.

“I’ll kill you!” He says before elbow slamming the toy to ground and wrestling with it. As they wrestled with the toy some how almost winning, suddenly Reginald spots his clock and witnesses the time.

“Oh goodness look at the time!”he states “I’m going to be late for work!”

He soon wrestles the toy down to the ground and dashes to his closet where in seconds flat he gets into his usual attire before heading out downstairs and out the door.

He soon walked down the road to his hat shop when suddenly he was nearing his stopping point once more. There he sees the lovely Alice in her what Reginald would call it “lonely two story abode.” He soon leaps over the fence on loves light wings and terries toward her bedroom window under the same tree where he nearly fell. He soon throws a pebble or two at her window before she angrily opens the window. As she looks down, there she sees the fool grinning with his white gloved hand on his hat tipping it to her.

“Good Morning, Cricket!” He said cheerfully.

“Well, it was until you started throwing rocks at my window!” She said “Didn’t your mother ever teach you not to throw rocks at windows?!”

As he thought of how to respond to her question, suddenly he saw Alice’s attire and with a wicked grin responded.

“Didn’t your mother ever teach about modesty, dearest!” He said slyly pointing to her outfit.

Alice curious looked down to find that her new silk robe showed a little too much cleavage. She gasped and wrapped herself up in embarrassment with a blanket nearby all the while blushing with both embarrassment and anger as she heard the mad man laugh.

“Oh you insidious cad!!! You you...”

As she kept on with her rant, suddenly Reginald noticed his watch and realized he had to leave.

“Wish I can hear more of your beautiful poetry, Cricket but I must get to work, later buttercup!”

He says then dashed out, jumping over her fence once more and onto the sidewalk.

Finally, he made it to his home away from home, his hat shop which had become very popular around wonderland.

As he entered through his shop, he met with one of his employees, Ari the Aracuen bird who was organizing the ribbons in alphabetical order. He beeped a hello to his boss and soon started dusting the display hats with his feathered head.

“Keep up the good work Ari!” Reginald says.

Suddenly, he is met by another one of his employees, the white rabbit who represented all the finances and worked the cash register.

“Good morning, Mr Theophilus the third!” The rabbit said hopping with his clipboard along side him as he walked throughout the store.

“Morning, Rabbit! What’s on our schedule?”

“Well you have 7 deliveries for the 7 dwarves,” Rabbit explained “A hat showing for Lady tremaine and her daughters, 5 hats to fix up and also in regards to the mice!”

“The nice what about them?” Reginald asks the nervous rabbit.

As they made it on top of the stairs to the mice’s room suddenly Reginald was surprised to find the mice had little signs and started protesting.

“I’m afraid they have formed a strike!” the rabbit said nervously.

As Reginald watched the mice, he noticed how some of them chanted “no cheddar without cheese!” While some of their signs said things like “Gouda must be a go up if you want us to sew!”

“Ok,” Reginald finally says then starts to whistle for their attention.

“Alright who is in charge of the strike!” Reginald asks.

Soon a little brown mouse with a red coat, brown shoes and a red hat step foreword from the crowd.

“Jack?” Reginald questions. “What is all this?”

“We tired of not getting cheese cheese like Reggie promises!” The mouse said in contempt causing the mice to cheer.

“Gus Gus show demands mans!”

Soon a chubby mouse with a yellow hat and shirt comes in with a small list of demands and places it at Reginald’s feet.

Reginald soon picks up the little paper and grabs his glasses from his pocket to read the list.

“Let’s see here, A wheel of Gouda, 3 pounds of mozzarella,new clothes, 1/2 pound of cheddar, maternity leave and dental plans?”Reginald read.

“You guys do realize your mice so the chances of going to a dentist are slim.” Reginald explained.

“Dental we like or we remain on strike!” Jack demanded causing once agin the crowd to cheer.

Reginald sighed and said “ok I’ll agree to the dental plan, maternity leave and the wheel of Gouda but as for the Mozzarella and cheddar I’ll go 2.5 pounds. Plus, with this little strike some will have to work over time! Not by much but still we are running a business here!”

The little mouse then huddled the band together and squeaked their little squeaks on the terms.

“Ok we like deal!” Jack said and held out his hand which Reginald graciously shook with his index finger.

“Now back to work fellas!” Jack commanded and the mouse set off to their tasks.

“See rabbit, it’s all about compromising!” Reginald said and soon closes the door and heads to his own little work area where he met his last two employees.

“Hiya Reg!” Roger rabbit said as he made on last bow on the newly constructed hat.

“Hello roger! How are you now?” Reginald says as he takes off his coat and hat and starts to tie his hair back along with put on his apron.

“Better than yesterday!” Roger says as he uses the sewing machine.

“Good good!” Then Reginald opens the window and gives a little whistle. Suddenly that adorable flying elephant, dumbo, comes flying low toward the window.

“Hey buddy!” Reginald greets him. “I need you to deliver these to the 7 dwarves on miner’s lane!” He soon grabs all 7 of the new hats and places them on back of the pachyderms saddle. Dumbo then gives a little toot to say “I’m on it.” To Reginald before flying away.

Throughout the rest of the day, Reginald fixed,made and delivered hats left and right. He dealt with clients who looked around and he even dealt with the tremaine sisters who were quite picky about everything he sold until they grotesquely settled for a hat that was good enough for their standard.

Of course, they always did do this every Monday so it was nothing new for Reginald to handle. Although he wished they wouldn’t come by every Monday and try for once to not rip the hats he makes.Poor things. Of course, on Mondays he would also be able to see Alice from his work shop window and start to day dream from his work. Luckily, and unluckily, the white rabbit would always pull him out of his day dream and back to reality to finish his work.

As the day wore on he soon grabbed lunch at the little sub shop called “Hunka Hunka burnin Sub.” Then went right back to work. Before he knew it, the day finally ended at 3:30pm with all his limbs still attached. There he got on his coat and hat, closed the shop and left to go to the March hares house for tea and dinner as he usually did.

At the March hares house, tea flew everywhere as usual and so did the soup Reginald made for them. Yet, he loved it none the less.

“I saw Alice today, ears!” He said.

“Oh good heavens what did you do this time!” Ears stared in frustration.

“Nothing...” Reginald said innocently until ears gave him his signature suspicion look.

“Ok something but I was just pointing out that her attire was revealing in her silk robe that’s all! So really I was looking out for her modesty.”

“To which you have none!” Ears said.

“That’s not true!”Reginald interjected “I don’t have sanity I’m always modest!”

“Sure!” Ears sighed sarcastically.

After tea and dinner, Reginald went back to his lonely abode on teacup avenue and turned on the television for his favorite program, duck tales while he got out a nice bowl of chocolate ice cream for dessert.

Afterwards, Reginald cleaned up his kitchen along with the living room and bathroom before preparing for bed. Once he has gotten on his green pajamas with his monogram on the front pocket, he soon brushes his teeth, says his nightly prayers for world teas and for his Alice before finally sleeping off to whatever mad dream he has which usually involved manatees, purple squirrels and radishes.

Until suddenly being woken up by the darn cricket to which he’ll look for but again fail and fall back asleep once more.

The End

#reginald theophilus the third #wcmi #when curiosity met insanity #alice liddell #hope you liked it #it’s been a crazy Monday #I hate Monday’s #Send me more prompts or fanfic ideas!!!!!#please let me know what you thought

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yellowmechanicalcat · 6 years ago

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fic: the boy and the bird (AU, plance + gen, part 3)

so when I said fingers crossed for daily updates I apparently meant that I will work on it daily until the next chapter is ready to update. (whoops?) a quick word of warning: things are getting spookier in this chapter! as some of you may have already notice, this isn’t an exact adaptation of OtGW, I’m cherrypicking elements as I go. please watch the original if you haven’t!

the boy and the bird Over the Garden Wall AU. At the Harvest Festival, Pidge and Lance get closer; Hunk is asked to dance. (Slight Pidge/Lance; 3,520 words.)

Part 3/7 (previous)

Pidge had been right about the festival looking like fun. The small town was decorated with garlands of autumn leaves and twisted crepe paper, brightly painted pumpkins and buckets of chrysanthemums lining the dirt streets. A cloth banner was strung between the houses, large painted letters welcoming them to the Harvest Festival.

They followed the sound of folk music to the center of town, where a crowd of people had already gathered while a band played. Everyone was wearing old-timey outfits with carved pumpkins on their heads. Some of the men were wearing suits like the man they’d seen in the cornfield had been, while others were dressed like farmers in overalls, plaid shirts and work gloves. Some of the women wore silk evening gowns, their hands and arms covered by long white gloves, but the rest looked more like pioneer women in calico aprons with plain cotton gloves.

Lance’s foot was already tapping along to the music. “Man, I love festivals!” he said enthusiastically. “I bet there’ll be line dancing later-”

“-and food,” Hunk said wistfully. “Pies and cider-”

“-and games and maybe a costume contest-”

“-caramel apples and sandwiches-”

“You two have very different priorities,” Pidge noted dryly, startling Lance. He’d forgotten about the pigeon.

“Jeez, Pidge, that was right in my ear,” he whined.

Pidge sniffed but tried to shift away before speaking in a slightly lower voice. “Look, it’s not like there’s a lot of room in here, okay?”

When they’d first decided to investigate the town of New Beginnings, it had seemed like a good idea to blend in as much as they could. As Lance had pointed out, the best case scenario was that they would look like everyone else, while at worst they’d look exactly like the couple they’d seen earlier and at least they wouldn’t be the only weirdos there. So they’d stolen the jack o’ lantern heads from the scarecrows in the cornfield, as well as the scarecrows’ gloves.

The plan got more complicated when Pidge had decided to tag along, because after a few pointed questions from Hunk the pigeon had admitted that talking birds were unusual even in this weird-spooky-woods part of the world and that it didn’t really want to attract any attention to itself. That had left them with no choice but to include Pidge in their disguise, although they’d quickly figured out that Pidge would have to share Lance’s pumpkin, since Hunk’s was already a tight fit.

Pidge pressed a little closer to Lance’s neck, feet digging into his shoulder. The bird was trembling slightly. The feathers brushing against his neck were surprisingly soft, although they kind of tickled.

“You doing okay?” Lance asked quietly.

“I’m not a big fan of small spaces,” the pigeon mumbled.

“You must have been really excited to leave the nest, then, huh?” Lance teased, grinning.

Pidge made a stifled noise that sounded suspiciously like a laugh. “Oh, you have no idea.”

The music ended, the band promising to return after a quick break. The crowds began to disperse, finally clearing the way for them to get a good look at the rest of the town square. Just as Lance predicted, they had booths set up for a few simple games, like a ring toss and, bizarrely, bobbing for apples. Plain wooden tables lined the perimeter, places set with plates but no utensils, and people were already starting to claim their seats on the wooden benches.

But it was the long table loaded with platters of food and cornucopias stuffed with vegetables and fruits that interested them the most. They beelined towards it.

“Look at all the food!” Hunk said eagerly. His stomach growled loudly, echoing his appreciation.

Lance leaned in so he and Pidge could both get a closer look at a heaping pile of corn on the cob. The kernels were pale and the ears were still largely covered with silk.

“Is it just me, or does everything look kind of raw?” Lance said doubtfully.

“Maybe it’s like Mongolian barbecue?” Hunk suggested. “You know, you collect what you want to eat and then they cook it for you later on?”

“But there’s no fire. If they were planning on cooking anything, they’d have built one by now, and I don’t smell anything,” Pidge pointed out.

Hunk and Lance sniffed the air, but all they could smell was the damp pumpkin odor from their jack o’ lanterns. Their investigation was interrupted by one of the pioneer-like women in a long plaid dress shooing them away from the table.

“The feast isn’t ’til later! Run along and wait your turn like everyone else,” she scolded, her voice a jarring contrast with the wide, happy smile carved into her jack o’ lantern face.

They mumbled apologies and moved away, although Hunk couldn’t help casting one last lingering glance at the food.

“I think that cat’s staring at us,” Lance said suddenly. He pointed over towards one of the houses on the square.

But Hunk didn’t see any cat. Neither did Pidge.

“There it is again!” Lance said, pointing a few feet away from the first house. This time, Hunk almost caught a glimpse of something black, although he wasn’t completely sure whether it was a cat or just a shadow. Pidge still couldn’t see anything.

“Let’s go find it!” Lance said excitedly.

“Let’s not,” said Pidge with considerably less excitement.

“Sorry, but I’m with Pidge. What’s so great about cats, anyway?” Hunk said. “Dogs are cooler. They can fetch.”

Lance gestured expansively to the rest of the square. “Look, it’s find the cat or join the line for ring toss until the music starts back up, and honestly? I’d rather go pet a cat. Besides, any cat would have to go through me to get to you, Pidge, so you’re safe.”

Pidge gripped Lance’s shoulder a little more tightly. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Hunk could tell when he’d lost. He sighed. “Okay, fine. Let’s go.”

They headed off in the direction Lance thought he’d last seen the cat and ended up in a side street, where a low groan made them stop in their tracks.

A man was sprawled out behind one of the houses, flat on the ground. A carved walking stick had rolled a few feet away from him. He must have tripped and hit his head when he fell down, since the pumpkin he wore had a deep crack running through it.

Hunk and Lance each took one of his arms and slowly helped him to sit up.

“Are you okay?” Lance asked, crouched next to him.

“I’m fine, thank you kindly,” the man said in a smooth, slow drawl. He reached up to check his disguise, sighing mournfully as he ran his fingers across the crack. “This is liable to break apart any moment, though, and I’ve no time to find another…”

“I can probably fix that!” Hunk offered. He shrugged off his backpack and rummaged around inside until he came up with a roll of duct tape. He tore off a few pieces and covered the crack just as carefully as if he’d been sewing stitches. “There we go. It’s just a patch job, but it should hold for a while.”

With Lance and Hunk’s help, the man stood back up, leaning on Hunk while Lance fetched his walking stick.

The man reached up and felt Hunk’s repair job. “I don’t know what you did but it certainly feels much better. You’re a very resourceful young man.”

Flustered, Hunk reached up to scratch the back of his head, but ended up beaning himself when he forgot about his own pumpkin disguise. “Well, any engineer worth his salt should have duct tape on hand. That’s what my dad always says, anyway.”

“What’s duck tape?” Pidge muttered, Lance shushing in response.

The man was distracted and didn’t seem to have noticed. He was looking down at his shirt, making a puzzled humming noise as he patted down his suit jacket and checked his pockets.

“…I seem to have dropped my badge,” he said finally.

Lance turned and spotted a small piece of cloth on the ground, half-covered by some stray leaves. It looked like something was written on it. He picked it up, brushing off the leaves and dirt before handing it up to the man.

“Is this it?”

“My, you’ve a good eye,” the man said appreciatively. He pinned it back on his jacket lapel, the badge now clearly reading ‘MAYOR’ in shiny gold lettering.

“One kindness deserves another,” said the mayor. “I believe I owe you a favor.”

“Don’t–” Lance started to say, but Pidge cut him off with a swift peck to the back of his head.

“Thank you,” the pigeon said, speaking loudly to mask Lance’s whimper. “We’ll remember, sir.”

“You do that,” said the mayor. For a moment, it almost looked like his jack o’ lantern eyes glinted yellow. “Enjoy the rest of the festival.”

He nodded graciously at each of them and wandered off in the direction of the square, leaning heavily on his walking stick.

“Why’d you say that?” Lance complained to Pidge, trying unsuccessfully to reach through the jack o’ lantern mouth to rub the sore spot Pidge had left. Pidge nudged his hand away with another sharp peck of its beak.

“If someone owes you a favor, that’s valuable. You don’t just let that go,” Pidge scolded.

“Yeah, but we didn’t help him so we could get something out of it! That’s not how being nice works.”

Hunk bumped shoulders with Lance. “Stop arguing with yourself, people are staring,” he whispered.

They were definitely getting a few odd looks from the handful of people who walked by on their way back to the square. Lance perked up when he realized the music had started up again. This time, it looked like people were starting to pair off for dancing.

“Yes! That’s more like it,” Lance cheered, dragging a much more reluctant Hunk with him to go watch.

They squeezed through the crowd until they were at the front, ending up next to a tall, broad-shouldered couple. The man was dressed in a brown suit with a deep green bowtie, while the woman wore a cotton dress in the same green color as his tie, a patchwork apron tied around her waist.

They looked over as Lance enthusiastically clapped along to the lively music, which, as far as Hunk was concerned, was kind of embarrassing.

“Sorry about him,” he apologized to the tall woman. “First time here. He’s a little overexcited.”

She tilted her head, her hands flying up to her face as if surprised.

“That’s wonderful!” she said, sounding completely sincere. Her voice sounded younger than Hunk had expected from the way she was dressed. “Is it your first time to the Harvest Festival as well?”

Hunk nodded. “Yeah. I’m Hunk, and that’s Lance.”

“Welcome, Hunk and Lance!” the girl said. “I’m Shay, and this is my brother Rax.”

Rax just grunted, turning his attention back to the dancing just in time for one of the dancers to pull him into a circle, ignoring his loud protests.

Shay laughed at the sight. Lance whooped encouragingly, Pidge quietly scolding him for the unnecessary loud noise. It turned out that Rax, while reluctant, really wasn’t a bad dancer.

A little shyly, Shay touched Hunk’s arm. “Would you care to dance, Hunk?”

“Huh?” Hunk said, startled. “Oh, um, sure! Just a sec.”

He slipped off his backpack and held it out to Lance. “Do you mind?”

Lance shrugged and took the bag. “Sure.”

Shay took Hunk’s hand and led him away.

Being stuck inside a hollow pumpkin meant that Pidge had very little to do but stare at Lance’s face. So the pigeon couldn’t help but notice him sulking as Shay and Hunk danced together. Lance was twitchy, and Pidge could tell that he was disappointed he wasn’t dancing, too.

“Hey, Lance. I have an idea,” Pidge said quietly, trying not to startle him again.

“Hmm?”

“Why don’t we hit up the food table while everyone’s distracted? It wouldn’t hurt to have a few leftovers for later, and it’s not like it’s going to spoil…”

“But what about that lady who yelled at us before? Isn’t she, like, guarding everything?”

“I’m pretty sure she’s going to be busy for a while,” Pidge said. “Looks like she’s a big fan of the band.”

The grumpy guard had indeed left her post to stand directly in front of the band’s fiddler, loudly cheering. Lance had always thought guitarists were cooler, but he could kind of see the appeal. The guy was a showy musician, managing to dance and play at the same time even in his crazy costume.

“… okay, you convinced me. Let’s do it.”

Pidge let out a soft coo of triumph.

By the time the dancing was over, Lance and Pidge had successfully stuffed Hunk’s backpack with enough food to last a long time, and Lance’s mood had improved significantly. Shay threw her arms around Hunk and hugged him tightly as the music ended, Hunk shyly hugging back before rejoining Lance.

“Have fun?” Lance asked.

“Actually, I did. Shay’s really nice. She was telling me how she and her brother have a farm or something? She invited us to sit with them at dinner. Anyway, thanks for holding my stuff, man.”

“No problem,” Lance said cheerfully, thrusting his bag back at him.

Hunk nearly dropped it, unprepared for it to have doubled in weight. “What the—”

“Pidge and I may have grabbed a few snacks for later, don’t worry about it,” Lance said, throwing an arm around his shoulder to guide him over to one of the long tables, where Shay was waving for them to come join her.

Plates of food were being carried from the center table and distributed to the tables across the square. They slid onto the the wooden bench to sit opposite Shay and Rax, Hunk’s chest protector giving him some trouble, but he managed to sit down in the end.

“Remind me why I’m wearing this again?” Hunk said under his breath.

“It’s part of your look,” said Lance.

Before Hunk could say anything else, the crowd broke into cheers. The mayor was making his way to the center of the square, still leaning heavily on his walking stick.

“Speech! Speech!” the crowd called out.

The mayor raised a hand in greeting. “It’s wonderful to see everyone again! It’s good to be back here, isn’t it?”

Cheers and applause.

“As you all know, the Harvest Festival started in the Old Times, when folks gathered together to celebrate another successful year of harvesting souls and feast on the best of them…”

Hunk froze. Beside him, Lance inhaled sharply. Pidge said nothing, but Lance could feel the bird shiver as it nervously pressed against his neck.

The mayor’s speech continued. “Of course, a few things have changed since those days.”

Scattered laughter.

“Today, the harvest of souls is symbolized by the bounty before you, and we gather together in remembrance of how delicious life can be. And with that, let’s feast!”

“Let’s feast!” the crowd roared back in approval.

All around them, people began to take off their gloves and burst into excited chatter, loading their plates with food. Hunk and Lance felt chills run down their spines as they watched everyone reach for and grab and prod at the food.

Their hands were nothing but bones. And with their gloves off, most of their sleeves were loose enough that it was obvious that their arms were bones, too. In fact, there was a pretty good chance that behind those jack o’ lantern grins were just skulls.

And no one seemed to care. They were all perfectly at ease with the idea of having dinner with someone who was part or maybe completely a skeleton.

Lance and Hunk had both come to the conclusion that it was safer to keep their gloved hands hidden under the table until they figured out what was going on.

Lance reached out and tapped Hunk’s knee. “I think we may have a small problem,” he whispered, Pidge still pressed against his neck.

“A small problem?” Hunk replied shrilly, forgetting to whisper in his panic.

Shay looked over at them, holding a tray of new potatoes in her literally skeletal hands. “What’s the problem?” she asked curiously.

Hunk shook his head and let out a strangled laugh. “I don’t know where to start–”

Sensibly, Shay put a potato on his plate, and another on Lance’s. The potatoes were freshly washed but very obviously raw. “Well, why not start with these? Rax and I harvested them ourselves.”

“Oh, thanks. That’s great, really great,” Hunk said, his voice choked, staring at her hands.

“You must’ve worked yourselves to the bone,” Lance said without thinking, then groaned quietly as he realized what he’d just said.

Luckily, Shay just giggled. “The Harvest Festival only happens once a year. It’s worth working hard for.”

“So remind me again what we’re doing here? The Mayor said something about, uh, eating souls?” Lance asked, trying to sound casual.

Shay’s brother snorted. “You really don’t know anything, do you, first-timer?”

“Rax, that’s rude!” Shay scolded him.

Rax just shrugged and turned his attention back to the food, ignoring her.

“Every living thing has quintessence, it doesn’t matter whether it’s animal or vegetable. So we get our quintessence from the food we gather each year,” Shay explained. She gestured to the rest of the table. “See? It’s simple!”

All around them, people were pretending to eat, holding vegetables and fruit up to their pumpkin-head mouths and inhaling deeply. But as they watched, they started to realize that it wasn’t just pretend. They could see something — was it quintessence? — come out of the food and be sucked into each carved mouth. Whatever it was faintly glowed with a pale blue light.

The more light was sucked from the food, the worse it looked. Apples turned brown and rotted, skin practically slipping off and leaving behind only the core. Squash melted into mush, carrots curled and wilted.

But the people’s skeletal hands were starting to look more substantial as the pale blue light extended from the food in their hands and wrapped around their bones. Later on, Hunk would describe it like watching a gelatin mold set, and Lance would argue it was more like a watching fruit slices freeze inside of ice cubes.

Shay inhaled her potato with gusto as it sprouted eyes and dripped moldy puddles onto her plate. “Mmm. Everything even smells better this year. The quintessence is a lot fresher than usual.”

Hunk shuddered. “I think I’m gonna barf,” he muttered queasily.

Lance looked over at him and noticed he was starting to glow with the same faint light they’d seen on the food. Horrified, he realized that it wasn’t just the food’s quintessence that was being sucked in, but theirs as well, tendrils of light beginning to rise from his own arms as his stomach started to churn.

Pidge made a shrill noise of alarm, right in Lance’s ear. “We can’t stay here! We’ll be drained, too!” the pigeon hissed.

Lance abruptly stood up and dragged Hunk with him, startling Shay and Rax. They looked up, half-absorbed food in their bony hands.

“Sorry, just gotta take Hunk for some air,” Lance said apologetically.

He stumbled over the bench as they climbed over, but Hunk managed to catch him before he wiped out (much to Pidge’s relief). Unfortunately, Hunk didn’t let go of his arm, clinging to him the same way he had earlier that morning. If this kept happening, Lance’s arm was going to be permanently black and blue.

“There might not be anything here when you get back,” Rax warned.

Shay, apparently fed up, elbowed her brother in the stomach, causing him to choke and cough out some quintessence. The corn in his hand suddenly reverted from wilted and brown to dry and brittle.

“Don’t listen to him. I’ll save you a plate!” Shay called, the concern audible in her voice.

Hunk could only manage a wheezing noise in reply.

“We’ll be back in a few!” Lance called in a voice that was much higher than normal, saluting as they backed away slowly until they’d turned the corner.

Once out of sight, they pulled the jack o’ lanterns from their heads, tossing them aside and gasping for air. As the pumpkins smashed on the ground, they froze and looked at each other with wide, frightened eyes, but behind them the Harvest Festival continued. No one seemed to have noticed. Their skin was back to normal, the eerie blue light of escaping quintessence no longer visible.

“Time to go?” Pidge suggested in a small voice, wings flapping nervously.

“Time to go,” Lance agreed.

Hunk heaved, decided he wasn’t actually going to throw up, then gave a shaky thumbs up.

They tossed their stolen gloves next to the pumpkins and took off running straight out the gate and down the road, wanting nothing more than to put as much distance as possible between themselves and New Beginnings.

To be continued.

#plance #plance au #pidgance #voltron fic #voltron au #sarah forms voltron things #spoiler: hunk and lance's outfits will eventually make sense

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writing-in-grey · 6 years ago

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We Were Invincible

I met you my senior year of high school. You had turquoise hair and talked to me as if we’d been friends a lifetime. That first day, the day I met you, you told me we were going to the mall after school. The final bell rang and I got in your car, a Volkswagen Jetta older than we were, passed down to you from your sister, who had gotten bored of the plain white paint and spray-painted a Duck Hunt mural on the sides the way bumptious boys adorn their cars with flames. We drove with the windows down and the radio blasting, and even in your ancient Jetta we overtook every car we met.

I had never before walked into a building feeling like I owned the place, but that’s exactly what we did. We walked into the mall with our arms linked and our heads held up high, ready to take the place by storm. Seventeen years old with the world at our fingertips. We dressed up in lavish outfits, posing for each other and fitting room mirrors. We stuffed our toes into the highest heels we could find, strutting back and forth with our hands on our hips and drowning in raucous laughter. We even went into a photo booth, our arms draped around each other, making faces at the camera. When the mall closed, you drove me back to my house and parked in my driveway. The stars were out, and we lay on the hood of your car, talking until the wee hours of the morning.

That is what I think of when I remember you: high heels and photo strips and lying on your Duck Hunt car as we looked up at the stars. And, of course, that feeling – like nothing in the world could possibly touch us. Like we were invincible.

We became inseparable, you and I. At school, we were above the mass populace. We were smarter, we were more charming, we had our shit figured out. We were special. While the rest of the class continued to struggle with the assignment, we whispered and giggled in the back of the classroom, because we’d already finished. While the rest of the school had to each lunch in the cafeteria, we had special permission to eat in our advisor’s office, just us two. While everyone else got caught up in petty high school drama, we were off in our own little world, above it all.

After school, we��d spend hours at the mall. We’d have countless fitting room fashion shows, each trying to outdo the other. We’d search for the goofiest accessories we could find in the Dollar Store and model them for two-minute photo shoots. We’d race each other from one end of the mall to the other, weaving in and out of shoppers and ducking into alcoves to avoid mall security telling us off for running.

I don’t think I spent a single weekend at home the whole of my senior year. Friday nights we’d hole up in your bedroom, queue up some romantic comedy or other on your laptop, and paint each other’s nails. We even learned how to make fun patterns and designs. We’d stuff ourselves with ice cream piled high with syrup and whipped cream, stay up late, and sleep in later.

Sometimes I’d have a change of clothes with me, but usually I’d just borrow something of yours when we finally did wake up on Saturdays. Then we’d head to Michaels and each find a craft project to work on, which we’d take back to your house and start in on with more romcoms playing in the background. That year I learned how to draw, how to paint, how to knit and crochet and cross-stitch and sew. We’d spend the whole day just crafting, half-watching movies we’d already seen or didn’t care about, and talking. Talking about anything and everything. About boys and school and all that drama we were so above. About our hopes and our dreams and our plans once we graduated.

Every other Saturday night, I’d help you dye your hair, which was ever-changing. We’d sit in your tiny bathroom in our underwear, covered in spilled color and trying hard not to choke on bleach fumes. Once I even let you dye my hair, but I picked a bad color and had to dye it back a couple days later. We got it right later, though, when I finally dared to try again.

The summer after we graduated was full of late-night adventures and sleepovers that regularly turned into two or three or even four nights in a row. Sometimes you’d text me at 10 or 11pm, asking if I wanted to spend the night. I will forever associate that summer with late-night drives down the deserted country roads between our houses, windows down, moonroof open, and music blasting.

The day you turned eighteen, I held your hand as you got your first tattoo: a purple butterfly on your wrist. Purple, our shared favorite color, the color of your walls and your bedsheets and half your wardrobe and, quite often, your hair. And a butterfly to symbolize your favorite quote: Just when the caterpillar thought the world was over, it became a butterfly. You had that quote painted on your purple walls, and butterflies littered your life. They hung on your walls, painted or drawn; they decorated several of your t-shirts, skirts, dresses, even your socks; they adorned your wall-calendar and the cover of your journal; they were on your pens and the stationary that you only used for the specialest of occasions (which meant, of course, that not a single sheet had yet been used); and then there was the silver butterfly ring that never left your finger, not even for a moment. And now you had a purple butterfly permanently on your wrist, forever your protector.

I drew you a butterfly card for that birthday – sketched in pencil and filled in with soft pastels, the blues and purples blended together with my fingertips – and you hung it in a place of prominence on your wall before we left for the tattoo parlor. Sometimes I wonder if it’s still on your wall, one college dorm room and three apartments later. Somehow I doubt the card survived when not even the tattoo managed that.

We stood in your driveway on a scorching hot day in the middle of August next to your Duck Hunt Jetta, packed to bursting with everything you’d need at college. You stepped so close to me our noses were barely two inches apart, took both of my hands in yours, and said, “What distance?” You were still laughing as you slid behind the wheel of your car, slammed the door, and pulled out of the drive. I waved until you turned the corner out of sight, and you stuck your arm out of the window and waved back the whole time. Once you were gone, I got into my own car, parked on the street and also packed to the brim, and set off myself. Yes it sucked that our colleges were states apart, but I knew we’d remain just as close despite the miles between us. Like you said, what distance?

College was nothing like high school. It was loud and fast and full, and I was so very small and lost without you. I tried to make friends, but it seemed like every time I opened my mouth to say hello, everyone in my general vicinity would simply vanish, like smoke on the wind. I texted you every time I felt like crying, which was all but constantly. I asked you how you were doing, but what I meant was, are you still here with me? Are you still there to be my lifeline now that I’m finally drowning? You texted back that things were great. You’d joined a theater club and everyone in it was just so nice. They were mostly upperclassmen who had been friends for years already, but within minutes you were one of them. You said that you had bonded with three of them in particular, two junior boys and a sophomore girl. The girl and one of the boys had been high school sweethearts; you were sure they were going to get married one day, and you’d just love it if you got to be Maid of Honor. A wish you were granted, years later.

I tried not to text you every time I needed reassurance. I tried to give you space to be happy at your new school with your new friends. I knew all of that was important, so I didn’t blame you for no longer having time for me. But I still clutched my phone so tightly I thought the casing would crack, just waiting for a text to come through. I was sure that once the chaos that was the first few months of college calmed down, once you’d had time to settle into a routine, then you’d have time for me again. I could wait. I might have been drowning, but I would become a champion at holding my breath.

I even found my own group of friends. It felt like months before I did, but it was only a week and a half. I say I found them, but really it was the other way ‘round. They adopted me, just as you had. And they were wonderful, truly. There were three of them, just as you’d found for yourself. Natalie and Amelia were roommates. It was Nat who approached me first. She said that sitting alone in the cafeteria was “unacceptable,” and I was to join her and Amelia immediately – if that was alright with me, of course. They invited me to their room that evening, and, on a whim, I asked if I could bring along my own roommate, Penelope, to whom I hadn’t said more than two words in the week and a half we’d been living together. I don’t know why she came with me when I asked her, but she did, and the four of us just… clicked.

That night, once Penny and I had gone back to our room, turned out the lights, and Penny’s breathing grew slow and even, I texted you about my newfound friends. I was so excited I thought I’d surely burst, and I knew you’d be excited for me, too. I told you everything, from how we met to what we’d done all evening, and how we had plans to hang out all weekend, too. My fingers were trembling with the exhilaration of it all as I typed, and my thumb missed the “send” button three times. I watched as the words moved from the message box to the big blue bubble, as the word beneath it changed from “sending” to “delivered” to “read.”

I told myself I wouldn’t text you until you texted me, but I always broke first. I’d have some amazing adventure with my friends, or I’d get riled up about an annoying classmate, or I’d just see something funny I thought might make you laugh, and I’d tell you about it. Sometimes you’d answer – something short, like “haha” or “sounds fun” or “ok” – but mostly you wouldn’t.

I tried to forget about you. I tried to lose myself in my new friends, these people who actually wanted to spend time with me. We spent just about every waking moment together, the four of us, making all sorts of fantastic memories. But still what I remember most about that time with them was my hand on my phone, waiting for you to miss me. And sometimes, finally, I would start to let you go, but the moment my fingertips were about to let go was always the moment my phone would ring. You were like a drug I would finally detox from my system, right before someone slipped you back in my drink.

I don’t think I’d ever been as excited for a school vacation as I was for winter break at the end of that first semester. Nor as anxious. I shouldn’t have been, but I was desperate to see you again. I tried so hard not to be, but I was. I think I just wanted to regain that feeling that you gave me, that invincibility, that feeling that I was important. I don’t know why no one else has ever been able to give me that quite like you did. Maybe it’s just because you were the first. But whatever the reason, I was like a child waiting for Christmas morning. Or maybe more like a lost puppy trying to get home.

I texted you weeks before school let out asking when you’d be home and if you wanted to get together. I’d been home for nine days already when you texted me at 10:47pm: “Do you wanna sleep over?”

I left a note for my parents and jumped in the car. The car thermometer said it was twelve degrees outside, but I put the heat on full blast, rolled down all the windows, opened the moonroof, and cranked up the music as I sped my way down the dark, slush-covered roads. I was about halfway to your house when it started to snow, snowflakes falling through the moonroof and drifting in the windows, the few that weren’t blasted immediately back out by the heaters settling on my hair and my eyelashes, but melting before they could do much more.

My safe arrival, despite my less than cautious driving in already unsafe conditions, was just more proof that, with you, nothing could touch me. I let myself in when I got to your house, as I always had. I didn’t even need to use a flashlight as I crept my way through the unlit hallways, so well did I remember them from the innumerable times I’d done this before, and I avoided all of the squeaky stairs as I made my way up to your room; your parents never minded me coming over late, so long as I didn’t wake them. When I rounded the corner of the stairs, I saw light spilling out from around the edges of your door, just like always, and that familiar light filled me the way the spirit of God fills some. I slipped in your door and shut it softly behind me, and there everything was – the purple walls, the butterflies, my sleeping bag and pillow tucked in a corner of the room. And you. You were lying on your twin-size bed, engrossed in your phone.

“Hey,” I said.

“Hey,” you said, without looking up.

“Your hair’s brown,” I said.

“Hang on, I’m talking to Elizabeth.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Okay, no problem.” I don’t think you heard me.

One minute. Two. Three. I took out my phone and started playing a game, just so I wouldn’t have to stand there like a stranger in your room.

“Heeeey, what’s up!” Twelve minutes, but you finally jumped up and hugged me.

“Your hair’s brown,” I said again.

“Yeah, I decided to go back to natural for a while.”

“It looks good,” I said. “Weird, but good. I don’t think I even knew what your natural hair color was,” I laughed.

“Oh no, this isn’t my natural color, just a natural color.”

“Oh.”

“I was so happy you asked me to hang out,” you said. “I was worried you’d forget about little old me.”

“Why would you think that?”

“Oh, you know, just with all the excitement of new people and places, who even has time to remember the little folk back home?” you laughed.

“I texted you a lot,” I said, “but I wasn’t sure if they went through a lot of the time.”

“I love how I don’t even have to reply but you still know I love getting your little updates.”

I swallowed, hard. “So, um,” I said, swallowing again. “Tell me about your friends at school.”

“Oh. My gosh. They are the best. Elizabeth and Benjamin just make the sweetest couple; they’re totally going to get married someday, but I told you that already, didn’t I? But even though they’ve been together longer, I still think me and Lucas are cuter–”

“Wait, you and Lucas are dating?”

“Um, yeah, where have you been?” you said, laughing again. “We’ve been dating for months. And, speaking of, guess who no longer has their V-card?” you asked, pointing at yourself with both hands. “I gave it to him after we’d been dating for a week. How. Great. Is sex?”

“So, did you just get home?”

“Oh no, I’ve been back for about a week and a half. It is so dull here; I can’t wait to go back to school. How did we survive here for so long?”

“It’s a mystery.”

“Well, I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. All this boredom really takes it out of a girl, you know?”

“Right, yeah.”

“Sweet dreams, then,” you said as you turned off the lights.

I unrolled my sleeping bag in the dark, arranging it and the pillow in my usual spot. I crawled in and stared at the ceiling, not remotely tired. I was barely settled when the blackness of the ceiling vanished, replaced by the soft blue glow of the screen of your phone. Through the semi-darkness I could hear the tik-tik-tiking of you texting, a sound that was still ongoing when I finally fell asleep at quarter to four in the morning, and even then I heard it in my dreams.

I woke up before you – not a rare occurrence, but usually we were up within half an hour of each other. Then again, we usually fell asleep around the same time, too; lord only knows how long you continued to text your new and better friends after I fell asleep. I dressed in the dark – the morning light blocked out, as always, by your heavy curtains – and played around on my phone for about an hour, waiting for you to wake. When you didn’t, I grabbed a book off your shelf and made my way downstairs, where I helped myself to some frozen waffles. When I finished the waffles, I stayed seated at your kitchen table and read. It was an hour and a half before you came down, and maybe I imagined it but you almost looked surprised to see me.

Once you’d finished your breakfast, I followed you back to your room, unsure whether or not that is what I was supposed to do.

“Close the door, would you?” you asked as I entered.

I stood by the closed door as you stripped out of your pajamas and rummaged around in your dresser.

“Do you want to go to Michaels today?” I finally asked as you were pulling a t-shirt over your head. It was deep blue and featured a stylized fox face.

“Listen, I’m so glad you came over,” you said, “because there’s something I wanted to give you.” You pawed through the jewelry box on your dresser for a moment or two, then turned around to face me, your hand outstretched, palm up.

Sitting in your palm was your butterfly ring. I hadn’t even noticed that you weren’t wearing it.

“Really?” I asked.

“Really,” you said. “I want you to have something special to remember me by, even when we’re far apart.”

The warmth of your palm against the tips of my fingers was such a sharp contrast to the cold metal of the ring as my fingers wrapped around it, taking it from you. It was heavier than I thought it would be. I slipped it on, internally crowing that you had given this ring to me, not to Elizabeth, not to anyone else, but to me.

That was when I noticed your wrist.

“Hey, what happened to your tattoo?”

“Oh, laser removal. I’m really into foxes now. It’s this thing Lucas and I came up with, where I’m a fox and he’s a bear. It’s so cute. I’ve got, like, fox everything now. See?” you said, tugging at the hem of your fox-face t-shirt.

I glanced down at the butterfly ring adorning my finger – so meaningful just a few moments prior, now little more than a small hunk of metal.

I wore your butterfly ring every day for four months. I would fiddle with it every time I was tempted to keep my hand on my silent phone, waiting for a text that was never going to come. That ring was my methadone, keeping my hands busy to help me kick my addiction. It worked, and it didn’t. I stopped reaching for my phone so much, but the ring became an addiction in and of itself, worse even than its predecessor. That ring symbolized my entire relationship with you – the friend I remembered, who loved butterflies and hanging out with me; and the stranger you became, so willing to throw away everything you’d cherished as soon as you found something –someone – better. That ring was so bittersweet, and possessing it caused within me such intense and conflicting emotions that I could not give up. The highs I felt when I looked at that ring were beyond anything I’d ever known, and the lows were so devastating I thought I was surely going to die. But the thing is they all came at once, those highs and lows together, so that each felt like the other, and I came to associate pain with pleasure, pleasure with pain. I had hoped, initially, that the hurt associated with your ring would help me to let you go; if I wore a constant reminder of the pain you’d caused me, surely I wouldn’t still yearn for your affection. Instead, I grew only more attached to you, desperate for you to love me again, yet still gaining some sick satisfaction when you’d inevitably wound me further. Each scar you gave me became, in my mind, proof of your affection.

After four months of anguish, I took off the ring. I no longer understood a single emotion I had, and I had long ago gone mad with longing. I didn’t know how to fix myself, but I knew that this ring symbolized everything that was wrong inside my head. I was walking back to my dorm room after class when I did it. I was walking over a storm drain, and I stopped. Both feet on the grate. I started shifting my weight from my heels to the balls of my feet and back again just to savor the feeling of the something-then-nothing beneath my feet. I remember thinking maybe shifting my weight like this was like folding a piece of paper back and forth along the same crease, weakening it until it finally rips. Maybe if I shifted my weight back and forth and back and forth for long enough, the bars of the grate would weaken and then snap, and I’d fall right in and disappear forever.

I don’t know how long I stood there, just shifting my weight between my heels and the balls of my feet, the rest of my body swaying almost imperceptibly with each shift, waiting to fall into the eternal void that surely lay just beneath the storm drain. I do know that at some point I stopped. Stood perfectly still, so still I might not have even existed at all. Maybe the people walking all around me couldn’t even see me anymore; maybe I was invisible I was so still. I was so still that even my thoughts stopped. For just a moment or two, my mind was a perfect blank, and I took a breath as I stood there.

Then I raised your ring, still on my finger, to my eyes. I stared at it for nearly a minute, and then I took it off. I crouched down on the storm grate. I took the ring between my thumb and forefinger and held it over one of the gaps in the grate. Time seemed to stop as I held your ring over an abyss, threatening to lose it from this world forever. I think I might have cried then, but I honestly can’t say for sure. I wasn’t aware of any tears rolling down my cheeks, but when the wind blew, it felt wet against my face.

I couldn’t drop it.

Time began again and I stood up and ran back to my room as though the Devil himself were chasing me, your ring clutched tightly in my fist. I flew into my room and slammed the door behind me, still not daring to stop and breathe. I strode across the room to my dresser, and the jewelry box sitting atop it. I flung the box open and dug through the tangled heap of bracelets and necklaces I never wore that lay within. I dug until I reached the very bottom, and there I placed the ring. I piled the old bracelets and necklaces over it again, burying your ring quite thoroughly. That is where I kept it from then on, hidden at the bottom of my jewelry box. Never worn, nor even looked at, yet still not thrown away.

I no longer kept my hand on my phone while out with my friends, but I still texted you whenever no one else was looking.

With the approach of each school vacation, I always told myself that I wouldn’t ask you to hang out. And as soon as I was back in my childhood bedroom, I would always text you to ask if we could. Every yes was the same: me, desperate to remind you how we used to be; and you, dangling me along on a string, gracing me with your presence but never your attention.

After a couple years at school, we each moved out of the dorms and our parents’ houses, and into apartments near our respective schools. Once you moved out, your parents even sold your childhood home and retired to a town by the ocean. I thought surely this was it, the end of you and me. After all, we only ever saw each other when we both went home for breaks, and, with the sale of the house I knew almost better than my own, you would never again have cause to return to the sleepy little town in which we met. I was devastated, and oh so relieved.

But, for reasons I may never understand, you were not yet ready to cut that string on which you held me. Instead, you encouraged me to drive up to your apartment on breaks. I would blast my music for the three-hour drive and arrive exhausted. The three of us – you, me, and Lucas, with whom you now lived – would sit on your couch for hours as you played YouTube videos on your TV, and every time I opened my mouth you’d say, “Shh, you’re missing the video!” Then I’d crash on your couch and drive three hours back the next morning.

We soon graduated college and got Real Jobs™, but not much else changed. You still texted me just often enough to keep me hooked on you, and I would still drive three hours up to sit silently beside you and your boyfriend and then three hours back about once every two or three months, whenever you had time for me. For years, this is how it was, and I was never strong enough to change it.

Then, I met a man.

It was my first time trying a dating website, and he was the first person I talked to upon signing up. The only person I talked to, actually. I messaged him because I lived in New Hampshire and he lived in California and who could be safer to talk to as I eased my way into the online dating pool than a man who lived three thousand miles away?

Falling in love with him was faster and easier than anything I’d ever experienced. A month after we started talking, I flew to California to meet him in person. By the time I flew home four days later, I knew I would spend the rest of my life with him.

Nine months into our relationship, the lease on my apartment was up, my car was packed to the brim with all my worldly goods, and the love of my life was on a Boston-bound plane, preparing to be my co-pilot on a two-week road trip back to California and our first shared apartment. Here it was: the biggest adventure of my life thus far. All I had left to do was to say my goodbyes.

You said I had to see you before I left. Of course, I agreed. Luckily, your apartment wasn’t even out of the way; it was directly on the route we would already be driving. I told you when we’d be passing through your neck of the woods, date and time.

“I work Sundays,” you said. “Can’t you pick another day?”

“Don’t you get an hour lunch break, though?” I asked. “We can just get a quick bite to eat.”

“Saturdays are my day off,” you said. “Come up then!”

“But all our hotels are booked already. We can’t change them.”

“So just come see me on Saturday, go back and stay another night at your place, then start your trip on Sunday. What’s the big deal?”

“The big deal,” I said, “is that we’re already going to be driving seven or eight hours a day, sometimes more, for two weeks straight. I can’t just add another six hours on top of that the day before, not when I’m already driving through that area anyway. Please,” I begged, “isn’t there any way we can make Sunday work?”

“I told you, I’m working.”

“Well then, you can come see me on Saturday. It’ll be fun; you never come to my place!”

“I would,” you said, “but I’m already driving down that way later that week. I’m getting a new tattoo! There’s a parlor that has great reviews just a couple towns over from where you are, actually. So I don’t want to do that many back-and-forth trips so soon after each other, you know? That’s just more driving than I think you realize.”

Saturday, the day before our trip was set to begin, you texted me: “So…?”

That was all you said. So much presumption in such a little word. The expectation that I’d move heaven and earth just to see you one last time before I moved.

I cried as I told you I would not. I told you I was sorry, that I wished I could see you before I left, but it just didn’t work out. You weren’t free when I was driving through, and you wouldn’t come see me, so it didn’t work out.

“I didn’t even know coming to see you was an option!” you said.

That conversation was so recent you barely would have had to scroll up to see it.

“I guess,” you said, “I’m just upset because I feel like I’m never going to see you again.”

It took me two days to respond to that message – two days for my fingers to stop shaking with anger, and with hurt, to be able to type. “I’m sorry you’re upset,” I said, “but let’s be real: I have never been a priority to you, and I am not going to put myself out now just to pretend to myself that I am.” I hit send, and my partner held me as I cried. I buried my face in his chest as I let out gut-wrenching sobs, and I felt his own tears fall into my hair as he bore witness to my grief.

When I finally sat up, wiping my puffy eyes on the backs of my hands, he asked me, “What do you want her to say back? How do you want this to go?”

“I don’t care,” I spat. “I don’t care what she says. I’m done with her, done with all of this. She’s never done anything to show me that I mattered to her, so I don’t care. I don’t care if she says she’s sorry or not; I’m just done.”

He squeezed my hand, not saying anything.

“No,” I said, “that’s not true.”

“Then, what do you want her to say?” he asked.

“Something,” I said.

My partner and I had an amazing road trip. We saw the New York City skyline from the George Washington bridge, and we explored Colonial Williamsburg. I met one of his childhood friends now living in Virginia, and he met one of my childhood friends now living in Pennsylvania. We explored the stunning botanical gardens in Atlanta, and a homeless man helped us change the flat tire we got as we tried to leave. We got caught in a sudden downpour as we walked the streets of New Orleans, as drenched the moment the rain started as we could possibly be. We drove through more ghost-towns than I could count, and we saw sun rise over the Grand Canyon. We stayed in 2-star hotels with comfy beds, free wifi, and free continental breakfasts, and we stayed in 5-star hotels with rock slabs for beds, $20/night wifi, and $15 plus 30% fees on room service. We played word-games to keep each other awake as we drove, napped in McDonald’s parking lots when that wasn’t enough. We drove through rain so thick we couldn’t see the taillights ahed of us, wind so strong it jostled the car, and skies bluer than I ever thought possible. And after two long yet incredible weeks, we finally pulled into the driveway that was ours-not-his, and parked.

“I guess that’s it then,” I said.

“Yup, home at last,” he said, knowing I wasn’t talking about the trip.

“Home at last,” I repeated.

“Still nothing?” he asked, glancing at my phone in my hands.

“Not a single word.”

“I’m sorry, love.”

“I didn’t want much,” I said. “I didn’t need her to apologize or say I was right. She could’ve yelled at me, called me names, told me she hated me, even. Because even if she got angry at me, you don’t get angry at people you don’t care about.”

He reached over and held my hand.

“She did the one thing she could’ve done to confirm what I said – that I don’t matter to her.”

“I know she meant a lot to you.”

I didn’t block your number from my phone, nor did I block you on social media (although I did remove you from my friends list). I don’t know why I didn’t block you. I think part of it is because I hoped you’d actually try to contact me someday. And I think part of it was because I knew you never would. And because sometimes, the only reasons I can remember for not messaging you are the two-hundred and sixty-one days and counting that you haven’t been blocked and have not said a single word to me. The truth is I miss you, and I’m not sure if that feeling will ever end. Because even though you were cruel to me for far longer than you were kind, still when I think of you it is of high heels and photo strips and lying on your Duck Hunt car as we looked up at the stars, back when we were invincible.

#A.M. Grey #We Were Invincible #short story #friendship #emotional abuse #allusions to drugs

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aprilsimpsonhunt-blog · 7 years ago

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Hello and welcome! I just love a good blog tour, and boy do I have a great one to share with you today! I’m so thrilled to share that this post is part of the Monster Mash blog tour by Sewing by Ti!

I have had the most fun terrifying time trying to find my post content this month. I suppose it’s fitting that it’s a Halloween themed post. My 4 year old has wanted to be Sonic the Hedgehog forever (well, 2 years out of 4, anyway), so I figured it was a no brainer. I began buying blue and white fleece and searching for costume pattern ideas months ago. Then, like any true 4 year old, he waited until last week to decide that he didn’t want to be Sonic any more. Now he wants to be Deadpool. Mind you, he isn’t allowed to watch Deadpool for several reasons, one of which happens to be the insane amount of cussing he does. So my son is insisting he wants to be a “Deadpool who is good and nice and doesn’t say bad words”. Haha. I die.

I began searching for ideas and getting things together for THAT costume, only to discover that it was much more involved than I thought. (contoured face mask, etc). So I decided Deadpool would be store bought. Ain’t no mama got time for that. I continued on my Halloween costume mission, thinking I would make something for my daughter. But she’s 2 and doesn’t have any real favorite things, besides the Pink Fong shark videos that she watches on repeat on YouTube. ehhhh…don’t want to make a shark.

After going through this entire process and starting not one, but two costumes (and contemplating a third)…I realized I should probably just go ahead and make myself a costume. I mean I AM the easiest out of the family to photograph (thank you, timer function). But I don’t really have any witty ideas for myself either. Enter Brandi. I recently began working as the social media manager for Aurora Design Fabrics. One of the incredible perks of the job is a MFRB stuffed to the brim with fabric every month. A total dream come true. 🙂

This month, in my box, I received this incredible Witchy Winifred panel. It says “Happy Halloween, Witches!” (bahaha.) I absolutely LOVE IT! So for my Halloween outfit, I took the mystery box fabric that happened to match it almost exactly, (what doesn’t say Halloween like orange and purple?) and created a pair of Ninja leggings. The Ninja pattern from 5 Out of 4 Patterns is probably one of my most used patterns. It’s free if you join their Facebook group. I love that I know exactly how to create them to get a custom fit. There’s no waffling around, adjusting seam allowances and the like. So, a relatively quick sew and I have Halloween pants! 🙂

I did somewhat ok with stripe matching. That is to say, my stripes match in back. I’m not quite sure what happened in the front, but I’m guessing I laid something out the wrong way. oops! For the shirt, I literally just took the scrap I had left of fabric from my leggings and used it for the back. I got lucky, because it was a slightly tapered piece that was essentially a large rectangle, but was a tad thinner on top than the bottom.

Then I took a scrap strip that was about 8″ X 14″ and used it to colorblock the front of the panel, so that the front and back were long enough to cover everything. It wasn’t an exact science. I cut the shape similar to a dolman style, with the sleeve shape included in the bodice piece, so that I could just sew my shoulder seams and side seams and be done. I’m in love with how it turned out. It’s funny that the outfits I plan down to the last detail sometimes flop, yet when I just throw things together, they end up being my favorite things. I have worn this outfit about 20 times since making it. I love that my stripes look like they match all the way down my body in the back. (TOTALLY unplanned! haha)

If that quickie outfit wasn’t enough for you, you can revisit the Halloween strike offs I sewed up for RP custom prints in the post here: Welcoming fall with new fabric! and the post about Beanpop’s Halloween round here: (retail is currently open for this round!) : Beanpop’s Zombies go back to school, Duck Butt style. I realized much after the fact that I could have just posted some of my pictures from those outfits with a tutorial, but I’ve already done that why do that when I can link it? I will include a few pics below, though, as I’m still so in love with them all! We did a chucky themed (overall/suspender style) shoot with Chucky and friends fabric, then I created a Carrie themed dress for my daughter. For the zombies fabric, I used their French terry to create a set of joggers with a hoodie. They’re still some of my favorite outfits, and most likely what I will wear for halloween anyway. 🙂

I hope you’ve enjoyed my stop on the tour! Do you have any favorites? Think I should have stuck with my original costume plan? Let me know in the comments below! Thank you so much for stopping by. Be sure to check out all the other bloggers included in the tour! 🙂

Until next time,

Sewin and Swimmin,

Ready to join us? Don’t miss a single stop on our October Tour!

October 1st: <a href=”https://sewingbyti.blogspot.com/2017/10/monster-mash-intro.html”>Sewing By Ti Intro</a> *** You are here.

Monday, October 2nd: <a href=”https://sewingblue.com/2017/10/02/monster-mash-tour-aang-from-avatar/”>Sewing Blue</a>

3rd: <a href=”http://wp.me/p7TjRR-W3″>That’s Sew Lily</a>

4th: <a href=”https://www.blogger.com/”>Hazelnut Handmade</a>

5th: <a href=”https://wp.me/p8JXOY-oc”>Seams Sew Lo</a>

6th: <a href=”https://sewingbyti.blogspot.com/2017/10/halloween-2017-m.html”>Sewing By Ti</a>

Monday, October 9th: <a href=”http://www.thatssewamy.com/past-projects/monster-mash/”>That’s Sew Amy</a>

10th: <a href=”http://wp.me/p92Tov-dt”>Stitched By Jennie</a>

11th: <a href=”http://wp.me/p8iJqc-F2″>Hazelnut Handmade</a>

12th: <a href=”https://www.seamssewlo.com/2017/10/12/diy-halloween-costume/”>Seams Sew Lo</a>

Friday the 13th!: <a href=”https://www.seamssewlo.com/2017/10/12/diy-halloween-costume/”>Crafty Like a Rox</a>

Sunday, October 15th: <a href=”http://mermaidsden.com/2017/09/30/halloween-dog-collar/”>Mermaids Den</a>

16th: <a href=”http://wp.me/p8b2aJ-e7″>Very Blissful</a>

17th: <a href=”https://robynneandthebobbin.wordpress.com/2017/10/17/monster-mash”>Robynne and the Bobbin</a>

18th: <a href=”https://sewingbyti.blogspot.com/2017/10/halloween-2017-more-htv-fun.html”>Sewing By Ti</a>

19th: <a href=”http://wp.me/p8gM17-kG”>Octaves of Color</a>

20th: <a href=”http://tenille.brien.com.au/?p=2964″>Tenille’s Thread</a>

Tuesday, October 24th: <a href=”http://adventureswithbubbaandbug.com/2017/10/24/monster-mash-blog-tour”>Adventures with Bubba and Bug</a>

25th: <a href=”http://myheartwillsewon.com/monster-mash-blog-tour/”>My Heart Will Sew On</a>

26th: <a href=”https://mamoosehandmade.blogspot.com/2017/10/monster-mash.html”>Ma Moose Handmade</a>

27th: <a href=”http://wp.me/p4WgVF-9h6″>EYMM</a>

28th: <a href=”https://mermaidmamadesigns.wordpress.com/2017/10/28/monster-mash–tour”>Mermaid Mama Designs</a>

29th: <a href=”https://thefairydustbin.blogspot.com/2017/10/monster-mash-tour.html”>The Fairy Dust Bin</a>

Monday, October 30th: <a href=”http://www.doctorabotonesblog.wordpress.com/”>Doctora Botones</a>

Happy Halloween, October 31st: <a href=”http://wp.me/p7RgEC-dh”>Sew Like a Sloth</a>

My first costume! The Monster Mash Blog Tour with Sewing by Ti Hello and welcome! I just love a good blog tour, and boy do I have a great one to share with you today!

#5 out of 4 patterns #aurora designs #blog tour #costumes #DIY #featured #halloween #handmade #mermaid mama designs #ninja leggings #selfish sewing #Sewing #sewing by ti #wardrobe

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