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wizkiddx · 3 years

Note

Congratulations on 500 followers!! Could you do nr 2 with Tom please <3

thankyou <33 im very in my feels abt friends to lover atm, so ik this is a completely unoriginal concept but here we are

warning: nothing much- maybe homesickness? (+ the fact tom has poor choice in popcorn )

^^^ sorry I couldn't not put this on here and I will reuse it lots n lots

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“Right I got two options annnnddddd there is only one correct answer.” Tom hummed up at you, pulling his tired gaze away from the phone screen and up towards the kitchen where you were standing triumphantly - having just raided his cupboards. From behind your back you whipped out a bag of popcorn in each hand.

“Sweet…. or salty?” Sighing with a small chuckle Tom shook his head at your playfulness. He didn’t know how you did it but you always always made his smile.

“I’m not a psychopath…” You huffed in relief, already turning around to throw the salty back in the cupboard where it belonged. “So salty of course.”

You were trapped in a house with an absolute psychopath.

You scowled at him, for having such poor taste, expecting some sort of argument to start. That wasn’t the case though, instead he just stared at you expectantly.

He must really really be unhappy.

You’d sensed it on set that morning - it wasn’t hard to miss. Not when it was your best friend, who for the past two months you’d been spending at least 6 hours a day with whilst shooting. Even when you were supposed to have a day off, when Tom had some solo shots or vice versa, you’d still come to keep the other company. It didn’t make sense but you both just sort of liked it that way.

This wasn’t your first rodeo working together either. Your first joint project had been almost four years ago, when both of you were barely adults, still figuring everything out. Ever since it had been bumping into each other every so often, always with an easy and effortless relationship.

Your current director had noted your chemistry at an awards show (the man never switched off) and decided in that moment he HAD to cast you together for a project. And a year later, here you both were, shooting in Australia for what was set to be a record breaking new release.

And it had been going great - better than great even. But as soon as Tom had shown up to makeup this morning, you’d known something was up. It was fair to assume it was something from home, maybe even just a bit of homesickness, or perhaps something more severe. Either way, the situation was probably exacerbated by the fact he didn’t have his brother or bestfriend or manager or normal syltist with him right now. Tom was pretty renowned within the industry for always having a massive entourage - which was normally made up with his family and friends. This time though he was going it solo.

Today had been long and you’d had to do press at stupid oclock in the morning last night for your current release - which meant your plan had always been to leave promptly and collapse into bed as soon as physically possible.

But Tom needed your company. So you hadn’t. Instead, you’d somewhat subtly invited yourself to his rented house for a movie night - blaming it on your director wanting you both to study the relationship dynamics in ‘out of sight’ (a J Lo and Clooney romance movie).

“You think you know a person and then they loose all your respect… just like that.” You sigh jokingly, gesturing to the bag of ‘foul’ popcorn your costar seemed to like.

“Well we’ve come to a crossroads.”

“It’s been nice knowing you but this…” you scoffed and dramatically rolled your eyes “… I see no way out.”

“Isn’t it better if we have a bag each? Then I might manage to actually get some before you scoff them all.”

You yelped in protest, though really you were just grateful he was still up for a bit of a laugh. He had been much less jokey the whole day, though was seeming to warm up a bit.

Once you had poured the two bags of popcorn into two separate bowels and prepared the film on TV; you plopped yourself onto Tom’s sofa, so your back was against the corner and your feet were over his lap (it wasn’t weird, just normal for the two of you). Instinctively, Tom lightly grabbed your ankles, repositioning you on his thigh slightly before leaning across the pull the blanket over the both of you. Whilst he smoothed out the crinkles in the fluffy navy fabric you took the opportunity to poke your toe into his side - garnering his attention.

“I take it you don’t wanna talk about it?” After he froze, Tom then nodded jerkily. “But if you change your mind, you know I’m here right?” His demeanour changed at your second statement as his body literally sagged into the cushions, with a grateful if small smile.

He respond by mouthing an ‘I know’ and that was enough for you. Shuffling down the side a bit you pressed play, settling in for the evening. Tom still had a hand resting on your ankles, occasionally rubbing his thumb up and down the bony bit.

Honestly you didn’t really see what your director was going on about when he raved about their on screen chemistry and it seemed that neither did Tom. It wasn’t a scathing commentary that gave it away, instead it was his silence. Which you quickly realised was the he had drifted off, his head lolling a little so he was facing you, palms now completely lax on your legs. It was whilst you were just taking in the sight before you, that a buzzing cut through the otherwise soft noise from the TV - which you had turned down for Tom’s sake.

It wasn’t your phone but you instinctively still reached for it from the coffee table and seeing that the name just read “Harry H” you thought it’d be fine to answer.

“Harry?” You whispered into the receiver, slightly cupping your hand round your mouth just to make sure you weren’t too loud for Tom.

“Hello?”

“Harry it’s me”

“Who?” You’d met Harry countless times, though given the fact Tom had been alone all shoot - you shouldn’t of expected the kid to be able to recognise your voice.

“Oh sorry Y/n um Y/n L/n”

“Oh no my fault sorry Y/n. How are you?” The conversation was jilted, you could practically feel the awkward energy radiating all the way from the otherside of the world.

“I’m alright thanks, how about you.”

“Yeh not bad I uhm… I - is my brother there?” Oooh. How to answer that question.

“Um sort of, we er… we were having a movie night and he’s fallen asleep. It’s why I’m whispering like a weirdo.” Harry laughed at that and you continued. “Is everything okay? You need me to wake him?”

“No no, mum just said he was having a rough time so was going to cheer him up with my exquisite sense of humour but if you’ve bored him to death then no need.”

“What can I say I’m just talented. Anyway I should be heading back to mine anyway so um I’ll let you go?”

“Oh yeh no worries, and uhm thanks-um thanks for keeping an eye on him.”

“Someone has to” You chuckled softly back, before bidding a final farewell to Harry.

Having hung up the phone, you leaned over to gently place it back on the coffee table but making a mental note to put it on charge before you left. Your next job was to manoeuvre your legs away from him without disturbing him but before you could even start planning the movement, you noticed his weary eyes blinked over at you. Freezing, your mouth made a little ‘o’ shape as you winced at yourself for disrupting his peace - today really wasn’t the day for that. There was a silence as Tom swallowed thickly, attempting to shake off the heavy lull of rest before he spoke. “Will you stay with me… please.”

Undoubtedly, your body didn’t play it as cool as you wanted it to. Thinking you’d heard him wrong, your chin protruded forward and his eyes widened. “ Sorry not like-not like that just um-just on the sofa… theres-theres spare blankets and I can-“

“-course T, no worries…Oh and um your brother just phoned if you-“

“I know.” He spoke softly and with a nod, but didn’t move at all, apparently no interest in calling his brother back.

With a stammered nod, you stood up, finally removing your legs from his touch in order to nip to the loo. You splashed your face with water, ate some toothpaste ( better than not brushing your teeth at all) before going to collect Tom’s quilt off his bed. By the time you re-entered the living room, Tom hadn’t appeared to have moved at all. The hood of his purple jumped was still up, the blanket still only half covering him, the excess lying cold were you had been sitting. He laughed lightly at you trying to wrangle with the king size duvet and get it in without tripping over yourself or knocking anything over.

“You sure you don’t mind? I’m just being stupid and-“

“Honestly I’m too tired to walk back to mine so this is perfect.”

“You live across the road.”

“Thats like 50 steps too far.” You deadpanned back, as he raised his eyebrows and locked you direct eye contact - which you very stubbornly returned.

The both of you sat like that for a minute, Tom eventually gave up with a sigh as he motioned for you to lie back.

There wasn’t an issue at all with space. A listers rental homes were never lacking in space - the grey sofa was a U shape, with ample space for the both of you to lie down. Each of you took a respective corner, your legs meeting in the middle and gently brushing against each others.

“Thanks for babysitting me today by the way.”

“I wasn-“ You were about to deny it, except one look and Tom saw straight through you.

“Thankyou Y/n/n” Seeing there was no way out of receiving his thanks, you instead opted to just shut him up. Nudging his leg with yours and leaving it touching you murmured you last words of the evening - eyes already closed.

“Fuck off Holland, ‘m tryna sleep.”

~~~~ let me know if you have any feedback or anything (but pls not too mean this isn't proof read so blame that) <33 ~~~~~~

tagging : @thefernandasantana @lovehollandy12 @hallecarey1 @crossyourpeter @hollandfanficlove @msmimimerton @thegirlwiththeimpala

#tom holland fluff #tom holland x reader #tom holland #tom holland blurb #harry holland #tom holland fic #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n #tom holland angst #peter parker

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boldlyvoid · 3 years

Text

Amoreena | Chapter Three

Chapter Three

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 2.8k

from the beginning <3

Y/N set him up with a pair of her father's old pyjamas, giving him a spare room to sleep in for the night instead of the couch, she figured he'd need privacy in the morning and not a 7-year-old attacking him at the crack of dawn. He was so grateful for their day together, hugging her goodnight and slipping away into the room to think about everything.

He took a moment to just sit on the bed, looking around at how she decorated. It was pretty plain, just a bed and some light green walls. Books gaining dust in the corner, clothes and blankets folded on top of the dresser against the wall, the only personality was the photo on the night table and the quilt on the bed.

There was a reason it wasn’t used anymore. The photo on the table was of her grandparent's wedding, it was black and white and older than him. They looked happy and in love, her grandmother was a spitting image of her, no wonder they were so close.

It made him feel a little emotional to know he was in this room. The memories it had with her, the connection to her grandma that she clearly wanted to keep. Otherwise, this room would be used for something other than housing the man they met at the park for a single night.

She was trusting him in this space, leaving him alone for the night to deal with his brain on hyperdrive, giving him the opportunity to stare at the ceiling as he remembered the day in glorious detail.

Drifting off into a peaceful slumber quicker than he figured he would.

—

He awoke to the feeling of someone holding his face, the soft touch of flesh on his cheeks. He fluttered his eyes open into the early morning sunshine, “good morning cutie,” Y/N whispered.

“Am I dead?”

She smiles as she laughs, leaning down to press her forehead against his shoulder, he wraps his arms around her on instinct, holding her as close as the night before.

“You looked like an angel,” he whispers an explanation.

She pulled back then, returning her hand to his face as she looked at him, “you’re beautiful in the mornings too.”

“What time is it?”

“7:30,” she confirmed with a small smile. “Amoreena is feeding the baby goats with her poppy, she’ll be in for breakfast in a few minutes if you want some cereal. My grandpa’s stuff is in the closet if you wanted something cozy, it’s a foggy one out there.”

He was so in love with her at that moment, nothing but happiness and wonderful words left her mouth. She was more euphoric to him than any drug, rushing more serotonin to his brain than any one-night stand managed to do, and he hasn’t even kissed her yet.

He noticed then she was in her pyjamas, a cute nightgown like his own mother would wear when he was a kid. Cows jumping over the moon displayed on the chest, it was adorable. She was everything to him.

“I’ll see you downstairs?” She says as she stands, removing her hand from his face as her fingers lingers on his skin, he didn’t want her to leave.

“Yeah,” he smiled, watching her leave as he sat up.

He put his slacks back on making sure he had his lactose pills in the pocket, a red sweater from the closet and a brown ranch hat. Wanting to fit the part of Farmhand while he was with them, and to see if it would make Amoreena laugh at him.

He kept a travel toothbrush in his satchel for times when he was sleeping in places he didn’t belong. Using the bathroom and making himself look as presentable as possible, he really, really wanted them to like him enough to keep him around.

Y/N was packing Amoreena’s lunch in the kitchen when he finally wandered in, taking a moment to look at what he was wearing. She smiled at him, placing her hand on her heart, “My grandpa loved that hat, you look great.”

“Thank you,” he says softly as he takes a seat at the counter, watching her carefully cut the crust off a sandwich.

She has a special sandwich cutter, pressing it into the bread and revealing the two dinosaur-shaped halves. Putting them in a little baggie and adding them to her pile of healthy snacks in Amoreena's lunch box.

“You’re the best mother,” the compliment rolling off his tongue without his permission.

She blushed lightly, “thank you, I try.”

Like a herd of elephants, Amoreena was running up the porch steps and swinging the door open, causing the chimes to bang off the wood before it eventually smacked the house.

“Gentle!” Y/N called down the hallway, “don’t get mud on the floor.”

Amoreena took her boots off neatly, hanging up her coat and cowboy hat before joining Spencer at the counter. “Good morning, Spencer!”

“How’s the kingdom this morning?” He asks out of pure curiosity, greeted with the purest response from her.

Amoreena’s eyes lit up like she didn’t expect him to believe in her fantasy world. What she didn't know was how easy it was for him to call this the kingdom, a far off land of true freedom and happiness. It was a little perfect world that didn’t feel real to him yet.

“It’s great, you’re so nice,” she sighed, laying her head on the counter. “Can I have some lucky charms?”

Y/N smiled, “sure, you know where all the bowls are big kid.”

Amoreena stormed around the kitchen, pulling out two bowls and spoons, not asking if Spencer wanted any but placing a bowl in front of him any way. “You need breakfast, it’s important.”

“Of course, Lady Amoreena,” he said softly, digging the pill from his pocket and placing it on the placemat. “Can I have something to drink?”

“Orange or apple?” Y/N smiled, opening the fridge door and waiting for his choice.

“Orange, please.”

“See,” Y/N looked at Amoreena, “even adults use manners.”

It made him laugh as she rolled her eyes at her mother with a fake sigh. It was nice to see that they had a mutual respect that was strong enough to play around like that, It was admirable to see them be friends, not just family.

“I’m going to get changed for the day,” Y/N announced then as Amoreena got situated back at the counter. “Be good, shout for me if you need me.”

Then it was just him and Amoreena eating cereal in silence.

She picked out all the marshmallows first, eating them before the cereal, and then finally drinking all the milk from the bowl, he has never seen a kid eat that fast.

“Was it good?” He laughed to himself, watching her wipe her mouth on her pyjama sleeve.

“The best,” she smiled back at him. “Are you going to be here a lot?”

“I don’t know yet,” he was honest. “But I’d like to be.”

“It would be nice, I've never had a dad,” she said it like it was nothing. Like the weight of the words weren’t supposed to knock the wind out of him.

“You know,” he speaks before he even thinks it over. “I never had a dad either, my mom raised me all by herself. She's my best friend in the whole world, she is the reason I love books and why I love the world, you’re lucky to have someone who has a heart big enough to love you for both parents.”

“You’re lucky too then,” she smiled back. “But you’d still make a good dad regardless.”

“Thanks,” he whispered, smiling softly as she put her bowl away and ran up the stairs.

—

Amoreena gave him a big hug at the bus stop, waving to him from the window as he stood with Y/N at the end of the driveway, his phone non-stop vibrating in his back pocket trying to take him away from the most perfect moment in his whole existence.

He finally looked at it when the bus pulled away, 8 texts from Penelope and 4 calls from Derek. It looks like they all knew he quit, and they want to see if he was okay. He sighs, putting his phone back in his pocket, taking Y/N’s hand instead, walking back to her house.

“I called to take the day off when I was changing, told them Amoreena got me sick,” she says lightly as she bumps her shoulder into his.

She was now wearing a light green sundress, it flows in the breeze as she walks, stepping in front of him to skip lightly, twirling around as they walk, she makes him smile uncontrollably. Then she’s letting go of his hand and running off into the field, Spencer chasing after her cautiously. Rubber soles of his shoes slipping on the dewy grass as he follows.

There’s an open field behind the barn, cows wandering around the far edges as the fog starts to settle its war with the sunshine. She stops then, catching her breath and waiting for Spencer with an arm out for him to walk into her embrace.

Holding him in the sunshine in the middle of her kingdom.

“Whatever the light touches is yours,” she whispered the words from the lion king, “If you’d like to be mine?”

He wanted to answer, but his phone wouldn’t stop buzzing against her hip. She reaches into his pocket and takes the phone out, answering it without breaking eye contact.

“Ex fed, Spencer Reid’s phone,” she smiled.

“who is this?” A males voice asked.

“Spencer’s girlfriend,” she answered, “he’s fine. If you’d like to see for yourself and join us for tea in the garden?”

“Um, sure, you’re at some farm right?”

She looked at Spencer confused, “yes?”

“We’re pulling up now.”

“What?” Y/N turned around as she noticed the line went dead, a car rolling down the driveway and following the path all the way towards the barn.

“FBI remember,” he laughed. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she leaned in and kissed him softly, he held her there for a moment, knowing his friends would be staring at the display of affection they were putting on.

He almost wished he could have seen it from their point of view. How she pulled him in, dipping under his hat, holding his cheeks in her hands as she pressed her lips to his softly. The view behind them was impeccable, the fields of wheat blowing in the early sunlight as he held her hips.

When she pulled away he could swear he saw a halo around her head, smiling at him with love in her eyes, matching his own. He pushed his hat up as he rested his forehead on hers, “I’ll be yours.”

“I figured,” she smiled, taking his hand and walking with him towards his friends.

“Hi,” he waved at them.

“What has happened in the last week since we’ve spoken?” Derek didn’t skip a beat, holding his arms out as he shook his head.

Penelope rushed around the car towards him, “why did you quit?”

“I’ll go put on some tea, meet me out back?” Y/N said softly, tapping his shoulder as she slipped out of his grasp and passed them all.

“I can’t do it anymore and you know why,” Spencer whispers. “I’m done, Derek, I need a life, a family, something to make me actually want to get up in the morning before I whiter away to nothing.”

“Okay,” he nods, reaching out to pull him into a hug, “you deserve that.”

Penelope hugged him too, the both of them wrapping their arms around him in the middle of Y/N’s land, he knew they’d understand. He just wish they all didn’t have to feel like this, like he was letting them down.

“Come on, you’re going to love Y/N,” he changed the subject, fixing his hat again as Derek laughed at him.

“Since when did you want to be a farmer?” Penelope teased him.

“Cowboys are like FBI agents right?” He smiles, leading them towards Y/N’s backyard. “Um, seriously though, I met her at the park on Saturday.”

“It’s Monday…” Derek added in a concerned tone.

“I know, it’s insane but we’re both tired of waiting for the right time, so we’re making it the right time, she has a kid and a life and she works at a library, she’s calm and beautiful and everything I need,” Spencer explains, stopping abruptly so that Y/N wouldn’t be able to hear him. “Fuck it, y’know?”

Derek’s face lit up, Penelope shook his arm as she giggled, “yes! I support this, fuck it and be happy.”

“Way to go pretty boy,” Derek patted his back, “I always knew you’d do it.”

It was nice to introduce them, Y/N sat close to Spencer as she learned all about the last 15 years of his life. Funny stories like the time they scared him in the dark at a crime scene, how nervous he used to be, even showing Y/N photos of him from over the years with the weirdest haircuts, she couldn't believe how cute he used to be. Gushing to his friends about how perfect their weekend together had been so far.

He got to know her more than too, learning with Penelope and Derek as she shared parts of her life. She was only 35, she actually has 7 siblings who have so far produced 4 nephews and 11 nieces for her, Amoreena being the oldest of the bunch. She’s lived here since she was a baby, born in the room she sleeps in actually.

Her whole life existed in this kingdom full of love and life. She had a huge family and enough love to keep it growing forever, it was her perfect world and now it’s his too.

It was the best morning of his life, watching his best friends and the women he knew was going to become the love of his life, mingle so gleefully. They were all free now, living in the real world where things were good and happy.

He wanted to stay there forever, but they decided to head out around 9:30, leaving Spencer and Y/N alone in the backyard finally. He turned his phone off then, tossing it onto the table and pulling her into his lap.

“I think we need to talk about this,” he said softly.

“About what?”

“How it’ll work, the rules for me being around Amoreena, I don’t want to jump right into stepdad mode and piss you off or be too distant and make you think I don’t want to be here,” he worried out loud. Giving her a glimpse into his mind and how it worked.

“I don’t mind you falling into the role of her father, you are a lot like Steven,” she looked at him softly as she spoke, her fingers trailing along his jaw lightly.

“Her father?”

“I tell people that yeah, but I don’t know,” Y/N admitted, not a care in the world about who he really was.

“You’re a literal ray of sunshine,” the words fell from his tongue.

“I don’t like being unhappy, so I choose not to be,” she admits, biting the inside of her cheek as she smiled at him. “And I think I’d be the happiest with you.”

“I'm glad you feel it too,” he whispers, leaning in and pressing his lips against hers again, softly as the first time.

“I’m also scared,” her words touch his lips ever so softly, “I’ve already lost too many people, please don’t leave me.”

“My girlfriend died in front of me,” the words are harsher than he expected them to be. but she had to know that he understood. Loving someone, planning a life with them, and watching them get ripped out of existence is the hardest thing someone could recover from, but they were doing it.

She pauses, “so you know what it’s like?”

He can only nod, “I understand wanting to keep something special and safe and failing.”

“Seconds are just as good as firsts," she whispers, leaning in close enough to kiss him. Resting her forehead against his, "if not better because you value what it can become.”

“I’m falling in love with you,” he announces without a second thought.

“Good,” she finally kisses him, resting her lips against his lightly before speaking again, "because I think I fell in love with you a few days ago."

He can't help but kiss her again and again, holding her in his lap as he spread kisses over her face. Her cheeks, her forehead, her chin, the tip of her nose, both eyelids and finally her perfect lips. It's soft and gentle like the first one, holding him softly as their lips brushed together.

Kissing in the sunshine for as long as they wanted without a single distraction or care in the world. She was exceptional, her life was perfect, he was so unbelievably happy to be sharing it with her. To be granted access to the happiest place on earth, his own little slice of Heaven with the two angels that kept it running.

tag list: @shemarmooresfedora @spookyspence @spencers-dria

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid self insert #spencer reid request #criminal minds smut #criminal minds imagine #amoreena

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get-shiggy-with-it · 4 years

Text

Scream Therapy

Pairing: Tomura Shigaraki x gender neutral!reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: extremely vague allusions to mental illness, metaphors about wounds, angst with a relieving ending, let me know if i’ve missed something

AO3 mirror

So you know those tiktoks where people go out into the woods and scream? Just like expel all the shit that’s been holding them down into an open field and let the earth reclaim all their dark, restless energy? Reveal the burdens that have been creaking in their joints and trapped in the prison of their ribs for the trees to swallow?

I’ve been thinking about that and Shigaraki a lot.

Like the rest of the league too, but mostly Shigs.

Just imagine:

It’s late, it always is when shit is going down at the hideout. The League of Villains is practically nocturnal at this point. Shigaraki’s mind is a loud place—lot’s of rabid, train tearing down the track lines of thought that clatter and roar and gush toxic coal smoke.

So as annoyed as he makes himself out to be, he doesn’t actually mind the din of the bar all that much. Twice and Toga chattering in the corner, random bits of too loud laughter and the clink of Kurogiri polishing glasses as he tells off Dabi for the umpteenth time about smoking inside—hell, even Compress rambling about the health benefits of high quality wine to nobody in particular is somewhat...comforting?

That’s not quite the right word, but their noise settles around him a bit like a thick quilt and dampens the rampage inside his head for a while.

He thinks about a lot of things.

Some good, most bad, all obsessive. He’ll get stuck in these loops sometimes, small questions evolve into bigger, more complicated webs, and suddenly it’s been four hours and he’s done nothing but stare at the same spot on the wall just left of his desktop monitor.

Sleep is a terrifying venture for much the same reason. Once he gets caught in that cycling it’s so hard to break out, and that’s when he’ll stumble down the stairs and sequester himself away at the end of the bar.

There he will sit and listen to the incessant white noise of his team—which is frustrating too but infinitely better than whatever anxiety coated sludge his brain will come up with if left to its own devices, so he bears it.

And then there’s you.

Who you are isn’t entirely important.

Maybe you’re just another member of the League, dedicated to helping your boss spread villainy across the city. Maybe you’re a morally ambiguous civilian who just stumbled in much like a stray cat into a depressed college student’s apartment and simply never left.

Whatever the circumstances, where you came from doesn’t matter.

To him, your contributions to the din are just another layer of insulation against the storm. He couldn’t really care less what you do, or where you go when you weren’t there. As long as your voice could offer a different type of grating against his ears than the silent throbbing of his head when he is alone, then your presence is justified.

Shigaraki only takes notice of you when you leave, when your voice is no longer adding to the uproar drowning out whatever new thought spiral he was trying to claw his way out of.

It’s very late then. That odd, in between time when it’s closer to the sunrise than to it’s setting but somehow also the darkest portion of the night. Of course, it’s never totally dark—not with all the light pollution laying an ever present, glowing haze across the horizon—but it’s as close as it gets out here to pitch black.

He catches the tail end of your coat, a glimpse of your shoe soles as you slip up the stairs and climb the wrought iron ladder that leads to the roof. Shigaraki often catches himself wondering how you figured out exactly how to avoid each board that creaked. He thinks sometimes it’s because you like going unnoticed, that too much attention makes you feel just as shaky as he gets when he’s been inside his head too long. Or possibly you just don’t want to wake anyone up in the rare moments that some League members are actually asleep.

Regardless, he watches you go and feels strangely...compelled to follow and because he rarely feels compelled to do anything unless it’s furthering the downfall of hero society, he does.

He takes an unsteady step, then another until the brisk, cusp-of-summer air is washing over him. It bites through his thin black top and the worn holes in his jeans, but the sting feel likes something.

And since he almost always feels nothing at all, it’s good.

You’re stood a few feet from the edge of the building, where the ledge has begun to crumble away from age and poor maintenance. The wind is strong enough that it makes your limp arms sway by your sides. Shigaraki is so thin now, he’s almost afraid for a moment it might blow him away. He’s found himself feeling so insubstantial as of late, it’s shocking when his feet don’t lift off from the roof entirely. He crosses the distance towards you slowly.

If you hear him approaching, you don’t show it.

Normally he wouldn’t start a conversation of his own volition but he did follow you up here and the silence is getting a bit deafening, even with the breeze.

“What are you doing here?” he asks.

It’s simple, but it’s all he can think to say. Funny, with how many words that run through his head, he can never find the right ones when he wants them.

You turn then, and your face is...well it’s a face. He tends not to look at people’s faces much—doesn’t want to see their expressions when they look at him, but from what he can tell you aren’t upset that he’s here at least.

“I love the city at night.”

That’s all you offer in response and he knows somehow that you’ll keep talking even if he doesn’t answer. That you know how much he hates the quiet but can’t ever fill it himself.

“When you’re up high enough, you can pretend the streetlights are stars,” you divulge, as if it’s some sort of great, long kept secret.

Maybe it is.

Maybe you have a lot of secrets. You seem to him like the type of person who would. Who keeps life changing truths tucked under your tongue to drop suddenly over convenience store dinners and cheap beer.

He thinks that maybe he’d like to know them.

“It’s always so alive during the day, the streets I mean,” you continue, eyes trained out on the buildings below, tracing constellations from block to block. “But I can’t shake the feeling that it’s rotting too like….”

You trail off and don’t finish the thought, but you don’t have to. He knows what you mean: like the city is a wound that’s festering. That all the people and the heroes that corral them like cattle are just an infection waiting to spread.

“What are you doing here?” he asks again, because he hasn’t been able to come up with anything else.

Your gaze flits over his face this time, and Shigaraki almost misses the small smile that plays at your lips. He’s close enough now that you could touch him, and you almost do, shoulders just inches away from brushing. But you don’t close the gap.

You touch the others, a lot actually, though he gets the sense you’re the type to ask first. And with his mind running on overdrive every waking second, he gets overstimulated easily. He should probably be thankful you aren’t as familiar with him. That you bother to notice the distance he keeps even when he rarely pays you any mind.

Maybe you’re thankful for that too.

“You know, scream therapy is a very effective and cheap alternative to professional intervention,” you say matter of factly in response.

He waits for you to continue and you do.

“There’s no one out this late but heroes on patrols and they won’t come to help us, so this is a perfect opportunity to give it a try.”

He can feel his brow knitting together and you raise your hand for a second as if to smooth your thumb over the wrinkled skin. Shigaraki doesn’t move, but watches your fingers pause in mid motion and drop back down.

There’s a strange charge in the air between you—a spark he distantly wishes would ignite if only so he could stop churning in his gut.

“How do you do it?”

He’s never asked so many questions of anyone in his life. But he finds he truly wants to know.

And you’re the one that can show him.

You breathe deeply beside him, letting your eyes drift shut and taking a step towards the ledge. With hands balled into righteous little fists, you bend a bit at the waist and you...scream.

Shigaraki isn’t quite sure what he’d expected, but for some reason it wasn’t that.

He’s heard shouts before, cries for help or out of fear, but nothing like this. The sound seems to bubble up from some deep, dank pit inside you and bursts forth from your mouth like a geyser spewing boiling water from the earth. It’s long and low and loudloudloud. It isn’t a sound he could ever imagine you making, but it rumbles in his chest as if it’s his own.

Just watching has a weight lifting from his shoulders.

You keep going even when he knows you should have run out of air. But you aren’t really making the noise, you’re just letting it escape. He’s not sure how he knows that but he does.

Your voice cracks and snaps and rages forth and you scream in a way he feels in his very bones. The garbled, awful sound is so clearly understandable despite the wind that carries it away.

It says: I am free and young and can feel none of it.

And then it’s words. Words that tumble from you in a torrent.

About your family, about what’s been done to you, what you’ve done to yourself.

About the lies and the injustice of it all.

You’re heaving by the end, deflated as though all the screams had left behind an empty space—an abscess drained and ready to heal over or fill back up.

“It’s your turn.”

Shigaraki stares at you, silhouetted by the dull, silver glow of the city and panting. You both look at each other for a moment, reveling in the odd connection that sometimes forms between strangers who know far too much about each other.

He doesn’t think he could top that, but the energy you’ve created is invigorating and he’s determined to ride the wave while he has it.

Taking a step, he joins you by the ledge again, and you back up as if allowing him into the spotlight. The wind will swallow whatever he says, it will eat the words like a starving behemoth and he finds himself ready to feed the beast.

He has to dig deep, scratch at old sores to make them bleed again, tear at scabs so he can let the contaminating thoughts leak out. Once he feels like he’s breached far enough, Shigaraki takes a breath.

And he screams.

His body doubles over with the strength of it, foot slamming down onto the roofing and four fingers fisted in the hem of his shirt.

It hurts coming out, rips at his vocal chords and has his throat raw to bleeding after just the first few seconds but he pushes past it.

He wonders if this is what a runner's high feels like, when you’ve pushed beyond the side stitches and knee aches and your blood finally rushes with all those elusive feel good chemicals he never has enough of.

Whatever it is, the feeling is addicting.

Shigaraki is dimly aware of you in his peripheral, encouraging the tsunami thoughts in his head to be thrust out into the uncaring arms of the city skyline.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t have to search for the words. They simply come. All his frustrations, some he wasn’t even conscious of, spill fresh and steaming like blood. Physically, his body remains but somewhere in the depths of his mind he is younger and hurt and alone and trying desperately to scream.

“I destroy everything I touch!” he roars at the apathetic, grey sidewalk below.

After the last word leaves him, he feels the same weightlessness he’d seen in the sag of your shoulders. The same snapping of the coil slack in his spine.

And suddenly, with this glorious, awful sense of revelation, Shigaraki realizes that everything in his head has gone quiet.

He’s over taken by a silence that requires no filling, a peace that he’d imagined only existed at the bottom of abandoned wells, far away from any chubby child’s hands that may toss foolish wishes down them.

He thinks about kissing you then.

And he knows now that this thought has always been there, but it was drowned like a subway rat in the aftermath of the hurricane brewing in his brainstem. He has always noticed you no matter how hard you try to blend into the background. Your voice has always been a bit better at shutting out the unending, worthless choir in his head.

He wouldn’t have followed anyone else up here—not Dabi, not Spinner, not Compress or even Kurogiri.

He can see that now. In this new enlightened state, everything is so much clearer. Though he is quickly thrust back into the present, into his body once again, as another kind of soft weight settles on his shoulders. Your coat is skin warmed and smells like you and everything he’s ever loved in his own screwy little way. He realizes then that you’ve been trying to talk to him this whole time.

“Shigs,” you call again and tuck the coat tighter around his shoulders, “you were shaking.”

Shigaraki nods, feeling relief from the cold he hadn’t quite been aware of till now. He’s not sure if you’ve ever addressed him so informally before, but he decides he likes the nickname.

It feels a bit like a gift.

“Better, yeah?”

He’s not really sure if it’s better, but it is different and it’s been impossibly long since anything has been different, so he thinks it must be good.

“Yes,” he says.

It’s a general yes, both to your question and to you, whatever that might mean. He doesn’t say anything more because he’s done enough talking and you nod like you understand.

Neither of you moves to leave the roof, but you do inch closer to him this time, closing the gap and tucking him into your side. Your arm is slung gently across his shoulders and he finds the weight of it relieving.

That seems like it shouldn’t make since but it does—a paradox of sorts, weight being a comfort.

Then the sun begins to rise and it’s as if he’s seeing you in a new light.

Your profile outlined by the stark daybreak rays, so horribly strong despite the scream he knows is forming again under the surface.

And Shigaraki wonders if you see him that way too.

#tomura shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki x reader #bnha x reader #tomura shigaraki imagines #gender nuetral reader #slight manga spoilers #bee.writes

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sadiesdolls · 3 years

Text

Another multi-day Creativity Report!

So I’m really into quilts now I guess? I never used to like them because they were such a big part of that kitschy Americana prairie revival County Living Magazine look that was popular when I was a kid, which my mother LOVED to the point of forcing me and my sisters to wear handmade bonnets and pinafores to any and all occasions that required any type of costumes or formalwear for years and which I therefore HATED with the FIERY PASSION of A THOUSAND SUNS—but that’s another story. Anyway, lately I’ve been seeing really cool modern quilt patterns made with neat contemporary prints and I’m realizing that I only really dislike that sort of Laura Ingalls Wilder flour sack calico pinafore smock cosplaying-the-1880s-in-the-1980s nonsense. Quilts can be cool now!! Have you seen that Polaroid pattern???

I really love the idea of just taking some time and blowing through ye olde fabric hoarde for a while to clear up some space. That first one I made was almost all from my massive stash of impulse-bought remnants I’d got to make doll clothes, and I’d either abandoned the project or used a tiny scrap of it and then I was just sitting on the rest in case I decided to make 38 more of the same thing, I guess. I really like all the prints and I love that I finally got to use them for something I’ll actually use and look at! It’s a really unusual and striking color combination that I put together myself! A lot of the assembly work is relatively mindless which makes it relaxing, but the results are so rewarding! It shows off the precision of my sewing skills in a big, satisfying way that people can see and appreciate even if they think dolls are weird!

On Tuesday I added a simple backing to my first quilt using some old? not velour and not minky but something kind of like that? fabric that’s been sitting in my stash for so long I forgot what it was originally supposed to be. Probably a historically inaccurate ren faire cloak lining?

I have a lot of things like that laying around too, big long yardages that someone bought to use as a drapery behind a display or something and later gave to me because they know I sew, or recycled drapes and things, or fabrics that I got with the idea of making a cosplay or a historical costume so I needed a ton of it but then the thing didn’t get made… big chunks of nice fabrics that would be perfect for these backing pieces! I’ve just been storing it all, it’s taking up like half my hobby storage space. But making these quick simple quilts is a super satisfying way to destash while getting the satisfaction of finishing a cool project! And they make great gifts for the right people because the work that goes into them makes them so valuable but no one is willing to pay for them, haha! Get that fabric out of my house!!

And I say “quilts” because I’m making at least three more, haha. Yesterday and today I’ve been working on another jelly roll race for my dad:

He loves blue! A lot of this one is made up of old quilting fabric from a hoarde that belonged to my partner’s grandmother. She had a lot of that traditional country quilt aesthetic type stuff, tiny florals in awkward colors and ginghams and things. A lot of it’s good for doll scale, which is why it was given to me, but well… you can probably guess I haven’t used much of it. There were quite a few prints in there that remind me of shirts my dad has worn, though, so this was a good opportunity to use some of that up. I also used some special prints that I’ve collected over the years because they reference things I like—and he likes those things too because we’re very similar, haha.

Next, I’ve gathered up stuff from my hoarde in my partner’s mother’s favorite colors to make her a jelly roll race too……….. and even though the point of this exercise is to use up old fabric, I splurged on a bunch of Halloween themed prints at Joann’s the other day so I can make a really nice witchy aesthetic quilt for our bedroom after I’ve had a little more practice. I might look at a different pattern for that, I don’t know yet.

Anyway, tealdeer, piles and piles of old fabric does not spark joy but I couldn’t bring myself to do anything about it because of the potential—and making quilts somehow completely defies my expectations and does spark joy.

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mcfanely · 4 years

Text

Ivory and Gold

With Ninjago finally falling into a state of calm again, the Ninja finally find a chance to take a well deserved break after the whole Prime Empire debacle. What better to have time off than to visit the Kingdom of Shintaro upon official invite of King Vangelis, for his daughters birthday celebration. Only, Cole can’t help but feel that he’d already been to the ivory city before. The name at least rung a deeply hidden bell in his mind, the only issue was that he couldn’t place the memory. 4518 words

It wasn't every day that being a ninja coincided with celebration and relaxation, but sometimes karmic justice did work in their favour.

Though it did always seem that whenever they donned their gis, it was for anything but a normal day. That the action of pulling on their masks, making sure all their weapons and armour were in place, checking the fit of the clothes and the tightness of their belts to prevent any mishaps during possible battles. It inherently meant danger. It meant that something had gone wrong with the world again, that there was another big bad on the horizon and it was their job as protectors to prevent the world from plunging into the hands of whatever evil and dark force had decided to try and play their hand and take over.

Yet this time, things had been a little different. Generally, the kingdoms within Ninjago kept to themselves, as much as everyone else did. They interacted, yes, traded goods and services, but that was as far as anything really went. It was a state of harmony, a working relationship.

Cole had heard about the Ivory City of Shintaro a while back, he didn't specifically remember who had mentioned it initially but the information was stored somewhere in his mind. He'd seen it too, or at least he'd felt he had. Stood on the deck of the Bounty, staring in astonishment as they descended amidst the towering structures that made up the city. Turrets that reached high into the sky, made to look even more vast due to the peak of the mountain that the kingdom already resided upon.

Their duties as ninja was to protect life, maintain a visage of hope. Be people to look up to, and to be relieved to see.

Sometimes, it also included showing face. It included being given opportunities and experiences that Cole would never have expected to have should he have led a normal and mundane life like anybody else. Such as being invited to a generally fairly closed off kingdom to celebrate the birthday of one of the heirs to the throne. Princess Vania, it wasn't a name Cole was very familiar with.

Honestly, he wasn't familiar with anything there. Even as they docked and promptly met with and escorted through the complex and winding hallways of the kingdom's palace by a guide with wings no less. Golden sheets that almost looked like silk flowing in an invisible wind, and it looked as though any form of flight with them seemed impossible. Yet still, the man floated gracefully above the ground.

Nothing about the kingdom was ringing any bells other than the distant inkling that this wasn't the first time he'd been there, or that he'd heard of it. Faces, names, they were all completely foreign, but the feeling the place provided…

It was so familiar, right on the tip of his tongue.

"Earth to Cole," came a voice, and Cole promptly snapped back to reality with Jay's face far too close to his own. "You're thinking pretty hard."

He took a short step back to place some distance between the two of them before answering. "Yeah, I guess." Cole took a brief second to actually take in where they had ended up in the castle. The floor they were walking on was polished to perfection that it almost felt like sacrilege to be walking across it. Patterned with gold lines that stretched as far as Cole could see, turning corners as the floor did, glinting and glimmering in the sun as it passed through the windowed walls. "Just, you know, taking everything in." And he was. He may have been distracted, but he was taking in the splendor of the kingdom.

"Awesome, isn't it?" Jay said in a wistful tone, his pupils practically blown wide. They both slowed down in their pace just slightly. They were still following along behind their winged guide and their friends, just a little bit further back. "It's not every day that we get invited to anything to do with royalty--."

"Well, I mean, we have." Cole shrugged loosely, not going into much more detail on the subject. He didn't need to anyway, since Jay just gave a slow nod, his eyes briefly tracking over to Lloyd, who seemed to be sharing a conversation between Kai and their winged companion.

"That was, you know, ninja stuff." The lightning ninja replied, in time that strongly implied the idiom of 'water under the bridge'. "We were there to do a job. But here, it's to have fun." He seemed fairly ecstatic about that fact.

They'd all been told of the reason for the trip not long before they'd actually set off. No real precursor, more of a 'pack your bags, we're heading off the following morning'. The invitation had been carefully constructed, a cream envelope with gold embossing announcing that the contents were for all of them to read.

You have been cordially invited to the Shintaro Kingdom to partake in the birthday celebrations of the crowned Princess Vania.

It had read funny, and Jay had mentioned that it sounded portentous.

An engagement that included all the ninja. It wasn't a battle to fight, it was a party to attend. Down time that they all agreed they needed and deserved.

"Finally, something that's not stressful." Sighed Jay as the group came to a flight of stairs, which led up briefly to a huge standing white door, arched with golden and near cerulean blue tones that made the white stand out even more, if that was even possible. At this point, their guide turned back with a bit more of a measured expression. It was calm, but also the face of a man doing his job.

"You are about to be introduced to the King of the Kingdom of Shintaro. He's been looking forward to your arrival." the man said with a smile, "We've all heard of the great deeds you've done. It's a pleasure to have you here. Now, King Vangelis awaits."

The man turned back to the door, flying a little higher to its centre, "It is with great honour," He began, the booming voice resonating around the now open throne room. Cole's mouth dropped at the magnitude, and it's beauty. It seemed to be an expression shared by everyone as they stepped forwards.

"That I present the famed Ninja!"

To say the day was busy would be an understatement, but Cole knew that the following day, the day of the actual birthday celebration would be a whole lot more hectic and exciting. They'd been given a proper tour of the castle after they'd met with King Vangelis, followed promptly by a walk around the city with the same royal guard as before guiding them through streets that were all filled with people setting up for the following days celebrations. There was a sense of calm to the place, a nice warmth and camaraderie that was displayed by anyone they had met. Everyone worked together, shared tasks and helped out in order to have everything done before the sun had dropped behind the horizon. Between walking through thin streets, sidestepping people walking down the paths with arms full of colourful bunting, Cole had spent a good portion of the day lost in thought.

It was always a problem when he noticed something he couldn't quite put his finger on; and this kingdom just made him feel weird. The foreign familiarity of everything, the cleanliness of the air he breathed in struck a chord in his lungs, the way the sun dipped down below the halo of clouds that circled the peak of the mountain, below the city limits. How the orange colour still glowed from underneath the blanket before it finally disappeared behind the horizon line for the day. It was incredible.

Déjà vu inducing, but incredible.

Eventually, they were all guided to their rooms for the night. Guest rooms in the Palace of all places, an entire hallway dedicated to bedrooms specifically for visitors to the kingdom. As rooms went, they were lavish. Four poster beds adorned each one, huge amounts of room space, closets and cabinets that would go unused in their brief stay in the sleeping quarters, but it was more than what Cole had anticipated. What with going from sharing a room both at the monastery and shared living spaces in the reduced size of the Bounty, to finally getting his own place to sleep when they'd remodeled and rebuilt the burnt down shell of their old training ground, it was nice to have that privacy maintained. Anyway, if Cole needed anyone then he could just head to the room to the left or right of him and find one of his friends to talk to. Privacy didn't mean constantly staying alone.

Yet, Cole was alone with his thoughts. Laid out on top of the beds quilt, the light from the day now faded fully into the din of the night, it was a time when he was meant to be winding down, not letting his mind run wild.

He just couldn't stop thinking.

It was one thing, to have a minor inkling at familiarity, but it was another thing to be so sure that he'd heard of a place before to such an extent that somewhere, deep down, he'd seen this place before. He'd seen the climbing walls of ivory white, the buildings topped with cladding of the best blue and the most perfect gold that gave such an ethereal quality to everything. It was such a unique place. Anyone who'd ever set eyes on a kingdom like Shintaro would forever have the place branded into their memories. There was nothing like it in the whole of Ninjago, yet there Cole was with one arm draped over his eyes in an effort to bring sleep to him even in his energised state, sifting through his memories for anything that would help him make sense of the feeling that had planted itself in his chest.

It brought with it warmth, a softness, the sensation almost tinted with rose in the best way.

There was something that Cole was missing. Forgetting.

However the darkened room, the softness of the mattress beneath him, the calming silence that the night always brought about; even plagued with an active mind, sleep was never really far away.

Cole fell into it, the comforting and restful silence.

For what felt like a blink.

He felt his eyes crack open far too soon, though he must have been asleep. His legs were now tangled with the bed covers and he'd migrated over onto his chest, hair falling in his face and what looked like a less than glamorous drool spot just beside his pillow. He had been sleeping.

The dim blue light of the early early morning fizzled through the windows, providing a bit of light into the previously darkened room.

Cole could go back to sleep easily, all he had to do was let his eyes slip closed.

Then a noise met his ears. It was faint, the sound of shuffling almost. Enough to make his brow furrow and get him to sit up in bed, though a short glance around his room didn't reveal anything to him other than that his vision was still blurry from sleep.

Then the noise happened again. Much clearer this time. Distinct, even, enough that Cole's eyes were open and alert in an instant.

He wasn't sure how he'd missed it, but Cole was sure that barely a second ago he had been alone in his room.

Now…

Well, now he was staring into the eyes of… Something. It was short, purple skinned and had a mouth of sharpened teeth. A hood was pulled low over its head but it seemed as equally shocked to see Cole awake as Cole was to see the nightly visitor.

Everything happened so quickly after that. The intruder started to make their escape, but even in the dregs of sleep, the earth master was quicker. Barely two steps away from the bed and the creature was laid out on the floor with Cole standing above him.

He was about to speak, to question the reason behind why this… thing was lurking in his room. Where he'd even come from?

Before a tiny glint of gold caught his eye.

Cole's eyes flicked briefly down to the locket around the intruders neck, clicked open in their brief struggle. It held two pictures inside, and before he realised it, Cole was reaching for the small piece of metal. Tugging it from the other person's neck, the chain breaking at the clasp, the pictures that were held reverently inside froze him to the spot. Half stood up, clothes still crinkled from sleep, the creature on its back just at his feet going all but forgotten as he stared at the faces that looked back from the black and white images.

On the left side, the unmistakable face of his father. A small smile on his face, as he was looking over the expanse between the open locket, over to the picture that was held in the opposing side.

A face that Cole had feared would fade from his mind for years. Being left with nothing much other than fond memories, though they were few and far between. Context and details lost over time, fading as many old memories did. The visage of his mother looked back up at him, as beautiful as she'd been the last time he'd ever seen her. He couldn't have asked for anyone better to have helped raise him.

Then, puzzle pieces began to slowly slot together, and a memory that had never even crossed his mind for a second was now pushed to the forefront.

It was clear, scarily so, for how buried it had been.

"What do you mean you're leaving." Came a high voice, almost whiny and temperamental. Small hands reached up and grabbed onto the closest thing they could reach, that being the bottom of the woman's shirt. The material was soon balled up in the child's palms, fabric stretching as it was pulled down .

There was a quiet sigh, and arms reached down beneath the young boy's arms, scooping him up as if he weighed absolutely nothing. Dark hair, in vast need of a haircut dangled in front of his eyes, it was fluffed up and looked like he'd been rolling around on the grass, or messing around in some undergrowth if the twigs and loose pieces of foliage tangled in the strands were anything to go by.

Lilly looked down at her son with a soft smile, then leaned forwards, pressing a prolonged kiss to the cheek of the boy in her arms.

Cole squealed in retaliation, voice high and arms flailing as he failed to free himself from his mother's unrelenting grip. Still, the kiss went on until eventually, finally, she pulled back. Only to dot smaller briefer ones over his cheeks and nose.

"I already told you yesterday, sweetie." Her voice was soft, but measured, as though they'd had this conversation a few times before. She crouched down, placing Cole back onto solid ground, then ruffled his hair even with all the earthly mess accumulated in it.

"But you're going to be gone for so long." Cole crossed his arms over his chest, his face dropping into a sulk.

Lilly crouched down more to her son's height, even though her toddler was still quite on the shorter side than his peers. "Only four days, Cole. I'll be back before you know it. It's only a short trip to Shintaro, your grandfather needs a little bit of help with something and he needs me there."

Cole looked up, brow furrowed in far too much suspicion for someone so young. "Because you're strong?"

"Yes, honey, because I'm strong."

"And- and," He paused, his fingers looping into a couple of the torn holes in the hem of his shirt, picking at the loose threads there. "And, you'll be okay? You'll be back? Because, you know, you're--" The words were muffled as he brought his hands up to his mouth, the sleeves of his jumper blocking the words.

Dutifully, Lilly leaned forwards further until Cole could move closer to her ear to spill his small secret.

"Because you're more fun than dad…" He whispered, and she pulled back with a wide smile and silently shaking shoulders.

"We'll keep that between the two of us." The words sounded like she'd gained some type of achievement. "But I promise, I'll be back. And whilst I'm gone, you're in charge?"

Cole's eyes only widened, "Really?" He grinned.

"Really, sweetie. Really. I need to have my little man looking out for my other older man."

Cole slowly came back to reality, still stood stock still in the centre of his bedroom, the locket held reverently in his grip as the blurred sleepy feeling that had overtaken his vision was replaced with a slight sting which could only mean the onset of tears.

He shook his head, drew one sleeve over his eyes to catch any stray droplets, before his attention shot immediately down to the floor.

The empty floor.

Cole cursed.

He'd been so caught off guard, so caught up in memory he was surprised he even remembered that whoever the intruder was, they'd disappeared as promptly as they had so suddenly appeared. The floor was bare, no inch or indicator that there had even been anyone there in the first place, or if Cole had just been dreaming.

The locket in his hands stated otherwise.

He stared down at it, his feet moving him back over to the edge of the bed in autopilot, where he slumped down and kept staring.

He'd always been told he looked a lot like Lilly. By anyone that had known her, the comparison was always drawn. Or at least, they did draw it. They looked at him, old family friends, long time neighbours. They all reverently stated that he was just like his mother.

Until any comment like that slowly came to a stop.

Cole hadn't heard it much at all, following her passing at least.

His fingers traced their way over the image, moving with the contours of her face, captured and frozen in an everlasting expression of peace and contentment.

It was the exact way he remembered her, that small smile that was always there. The warmth in her expression, even towards the end.

Cole hadn't been allowed to see her as she'd only gotten sicker and sicker, but he remembered her laid in bed at home. He'd spent most of his time there, sat quietly with a book or sharing headphones and music with her to keep her company. He could never have imagined that one day he'd leave that room and he'd never see her again.

"That same song again?"

The words came out of nowhere, an internal and forgotten dialogue that dragged sharply at Cole's heartstrings.

"Well, if you want to change the song, you can be in charge of the music," He was sitting on the right side of her bed. His mother was laid just under the covers, her back propped up with a couple pillows and her hair was pulled back from her face with a hair-tie. Even around the usual expression on her face, she was clearly sickly. Her skin was paler, a grey tone permeating the darker tone. There were bags under her eyes, ones had just got deeper and deeper with each passing day. Cole was sat cross-legged on top of the covers, music player held in his hand and a single earphone hanging from one ear. His mother had the other one.

She held up one hand to stop him, "No, no, the technology is far too complicated."

He closed his eyes, before holding the player up to her, "You literally just press this arrow button--"

"As I said, sweetie, far too complicated."

"You grew up with this tech as much as I did, mom."

That seemed to catch her out for a second, but she just chuckled and shook her head. "No, no, I didn't. This is, why you're holding the music box--"

"Player."

"And I'm just listening to it." Lilly said plainly, then rested one hand on her son's knee afterwards, squeezing lightly. "Though you don't need to be sitting there flicking through songs for me, don't you have homework? Or friends to write letters to."

At that point, Cole knew that she was just trying to make him laugh. Phones were a thing and she was fully aware of that factor, if the grin that split apart her previously stoney facade meant anything.

Cole laughed, resting his head back against the headboard. "I'm spending today with you. I'll get my homework done tomorrow, I promise."

"You'd better." Lilly smiled, threading a hand through his hair. He just paused for a second, allowing his eyes to slip closed at the contact, "Otherwise we'll have to tell your dad that you did it and then rush to get it done last minute, all the while trying not to get caught in the lie."

Cole just grinned even more, "You're words, mom, not mine." He held up his hands in mock surrender. "I'll sit in here tomorrow and do my work. Deal?"

"Or," She spread her hands, as if she was going to impart a revelation upon the world. "You could sit outside, because it's been sunny the past few days and you've been cooped up with me." Lilly pointed to the window of the room. The curtains were drawn, they always were. It kept the room dim, the light from getting too harsh, but there was a warm glow from the sun permeating the material.

Cole sighed. He could sit outside, he could sit in the middle of the flower beds. Sure, it would frustrate his dad and track mud back into the house, but with the sun shining down on everything, the colours and the smell floating in the air around him; it would be worth it to get his school work done outside. Yet, there was also the fact that he wanted to sit and spend time with his mother. He wasn't a child, he wasn't sheltered from the world. His mom had been sick for a while and she only ever seemed to get worse and not better.

He could see how it affected family life too. It was rare that Lilly got up out of bed anymore, and with his dad out working it left Cole with the lion's share of chores and jobs to get done. He didn't mind, how could he? It kept everything clean, his mom didn't get worried and his dad wasn't stressed over the unfinished tasks when he came back home from a performance or rehearsal. But it was clear that what was happening to Lilly was affecting everyone. Smiling was hard to come by whenever he left her bedroom, he was always partially focused on a task along with wondering if his mom was okay.

Which was why it made it easier sitting with her and getting stuff done. If he was worried, all he had to do was look to his left and see that she was fine.

It made the day easier to handle.

"Cole, you're going to sit outside tomorrow, right? Have a quiet day, leave chores alone for a while. Go on a walk or something." Lilly offered with a tilted head, "No rush to get things done."

"Other than homework."

She nodded in agreement, "Other than homework. Which you will do--"

"Outside." They said in unison.

Cole smiled and leant over to press a kiss to his mom's forehead, "I'll have a quiet day tomorrow then, mom."

"You'd better."

That night, he'd walked out of her room like he did every other day. The following day he'd brought her breakfast, then walked out into the middle of the bed of chrysanthemums with a maths textbook slung under his arms. The day had been far too unassuming for it to be anything but normal.

Cole hadn't thought that the final memory he shared with his mother would be something so mundane. She deteriorated rapidly afterwards. He was kept away from it, prevented from going into her room. He knew the reason behind it, the attempt to shield him from what must have been the last few days of his mother's life.

But staring down at the picture in the locket, a face that he hadn't seen, hadn't thought about properly for years, it brought everything crashing back. Every birthday, every small conversation. Every night spent with his dad's old record player spinning in the corner of the room, his small hands in her sure grip, his feet - donned in fluffy socks - were stood on top of hers as she danced her way around the living room of his childhood home, guiding Cole's movements.

She'd been to Shintaro, she may have even walked the same halls he'd walked that morning. He may have literally followed in her footsteps.

Though that realisation fell into the background as the first of the tears dripped slowly down his cheek and landed as a dark mark on the bed covers. More only continued to follow as he looked at her picture in his hand. One of his dad, the other of his mom; their family back together again in a way that Cole had never imagined, or expected to happen.

The tears wouldn't stop flowing, the hiccuped breathing that came with crying was silenced by his own hand clamped over his mouth.

He'd just had someone in his room, but he didn't care about it during the moment. He'd found his mother's locket around said creature's neck, but that fact moved to the outer reaches of his awareness as Cole sat on the edge of his bed, head and shoulders slumped forwards as if acting as a barrier between the world around him and the precious memory held in his hands.

Even with his found family in rooms both to the left and right of his own, he stayed where he was. Tears falling slowly and silently, shoulders shaking minutely. The rising sun had begun to show itself now, a line of hazy orange flowing warmly into his room. Cole could get up, he honestly should go and get someone and tell them about what had taken place.

He just found he couldn't move. He didn't want to move, he didn't want anyone to see him in the state he was in.

Crying over memories that were so far in the past, long forgotten until that one moment. The warmth and happiness of his mother's smile, her soft voice yet foreboding and stoic demeanor.

Cole could wait until everyone else was awake before he mentioned what had happened.

For now, he was content to sit in the comfort of the memories of his mom, his palm closing as he clicked the locket shut.

AO3

Thank you, @existentiallyrandom, you’re so galaxy brained!

#ninjago #lego ninjago #lego #cole #cole brookstone #cole ninjago #jay walker #jay #kai #lloyd #cole's mother #lilly ninjago #ninjago season 13 #ns13

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goldinavonlea · 5 years

Note

Prompt: Anne/Gilbert courting they’re in Anne’s room and then marilla returns so Gilbert has to sneak out lol!

OKAY HERE WE GO! I actually finished something for once! It is TOO LONG and SELF INDULGENT and I had the BEST TIME! A few people have expressed interest in this (madmen, all), so I’ll tag you in then post with a cut, or you could rock on over to read it on Ao3! @platonic-oxymoron, @jump-on-winds-back, @chocolatelatte121, @andim-pirate, @neliel-deathberry

So without further ado (or only the brief ado it takes me to figure out how to cut on desktop)…

Summer had arrived in Avonlea. In all truth, summer had arrived in Avonlea several weeks earlier, but the inclement internal weather of Anne’s life of late had rendered the view rather cloudy from her window for a while there, and so perhaps it was better to say that summer had arrived—finally—in Anne.

And what a summer it was.

The Snow Queen had advanced her reach so far that year that, with Anne’s window thrown open to the warm breeze, her outermost boughs reached past the casement and allowed the scent of blossoms to settle without having to do the tremendous injustice of cutting any sprigs loose. In the deliciously lazy few hours after lunch, the sun was in its prime and perfect position to extend its rays into the gable room, that so beloved tree stepping in again to render the light not sharp or overbright, but soft and golden and glorious, throwing shifting patterns on the floorboards. All the air was warm, perhaps under other circumstances too warm but with the light wind, the shade being indoors offered, the lack of necessity—there, in her own space—for long thick stockings or fussy aprons, no one to tell her to roll her sleeves back down her arms, rather than oppressive the afternoon seemed sweet, a little sticky but not unpleasantly so, stretching out slow and endless like toffee.

The house was quiet, Matthew tending the back field and Marilla having retreated to Rachel’s for the afternoon, leaving Anne alone but for the beating embodiment of her sudden shift in seasonal outlook, making himself quite at home as he lay, barefoot and trousers rolled to the knee, nose in a book with his head hanging upside-down off the edge of Anne’s bed.

He had more freckles, in the summer. Anne could count them all, if she wished to, but for the moment found herself quite content to sit propped up against the footboard, a book of her own in her lap, watching.

Well. Almost content.

“I don’t believe for a moment that actually works.”

“Sure it works,” came Gilbert’s reply as he lazily turned a page, the book obscuring his face for a moment though she could hear the smile in his words. “The brain needs oxygen to function, oxygen is carried in the blood, blood is as amenable to the affects of gravity as anything else, therefore: lying upside-down makes your brain work better.”

“There’s a logical fallacy in there somewhere, I can smell it.”

“Oh can you?” Gilbert asked, the smile in his voice broadening. “Where?”

“Don’t know,” Anne replied with a sigh, flicking a strand of hair out of her eyes. “It’s too hot to think: ask me again in Autumn.”

“I strongly suspect neither of us will remember to raise the argument again come Autumn.”

Anne snorted. “Me, miss an opportunity to point out a flaw in your intellectual argument? I think not.”

“Well that’s true,” Gilbert agreed, his smile finally reappearing to Anne’s eyes as well as her ears as he set his book down, still open, on his chest. Blinking at her a few times (and looking rather comical doing so, being as he was upside down), he sighed. “I’ve been reading the same three pages for half an hour and I don’t think I’ve taken in a word of it.”

“Probably too much oxygen to the brain,” she quipped back, before setting her own book aside. “I never would have thought there was any circumstance that could deter me from the written word, but even I am struggling to process much from the page on so compellingly syrupy an afternoon,” Anne said, swallowing down a yawn and swinging her legs round so that she could lie back besides Gilbert, eyes drifting shut. “It’s like bathwater: I just want to fall asleep.”

“If you fall asleep now you won’t tonight, and then you’ll have hell to pay from Marilla when you refuse to get up in the morning.”

“Oh why should we get up in the morning, anyway? There’s so much day to be getting on with at the moment, surely some small portion of it could be given over to that most delightful and rare of luxuries that is the lie-in?”

“I thought mornings were for chores around here,” Gilbert said with the grin of one allowed entirely free reign over his own comings and goings.

Anne groaned. “Oh don’t, it’s summer: a season much too romantical to be tainted by the likes of laundry before ten in the morning. And don’t think I can’t feel your smugness without looking at you, Bash keeps you on entirely too long a leash.”

“Hey, I do laundry!”

“You do laundry precisely when you do everything, which is at whichever point in the day suits you. I love Marilla with the depth and wholeness of my heart, but Lord in Heaven does the woman love a schedule. I swear, once I have my teaching certificate and the promise of endless, uninterrupted summers, I won’t be getting out of bed before eleven a single day of them. I won’t even sleep that long, I’ll just wake up and stay in bed for hours and hours and hours, simply because I can.”

Gilbert’s grin softened at this, all teasing and fond. “I don’t reckon you could last ten minutes in bed after waking up without being bored to tears.”

“I certainly could,” Anne insisted, warming to her theme. “I’d keep a veritable mountain of books on my bedside table and spend the whole morning just reading. Maybe I wouldn’t even bother with a bedside table: just pile up all my books on the floor and balance my coffee on top of them.”

“If you don’t plan on getting out of bed,” Gilbert began slowly, clearly aware that he was walking into a trap and full of the imminent delight of being thus caught, “how do you suppose you’ll be getting ahold of coffee?”

Anne paused, then rolled her head ever so slightly to the side and cut a pointed and speculative glance at Gilbert.

The beaming, boyish smile that overcame his face was thrilled.

Gotcha.

“Now that seems decidedly unfair.”

“Well,” Anne sniffed, returning her gaze to the ceiling. “Doctors don’t get summer holidays.”

“That is a sore wound and rubbing salt in it is actually very cruel.”

“Oh how you shall suffer, upheld as you shall be as a paragon of upright gentlemanliness wherever you go—”

“I’ve no doubt you plan to make that very difficult.”

“Positively fawned over by your grateful patients bringing you flowers and cakes and… and jars of various preserves—”

“From which you will get equal if not greater enjoyment, so you are, in advance, welcome.”

“People naming their dear children after you—”

“God, I hope not.”

Anne pulled up short at that, snapped out of the playful exchange as she turned again to Gilbert with a frown. “Well what’s that supposed to mean?”

His face screwed up in evident distaste. “We have to swear an oath, you know: Do no harm. Not sure I’d be able to say I was honouring my promise if my presence lead some poor child to being named Gilbert.”

“What’s wrong with Gilbert?” Anne asked, contrarily offended on his behalf. “I like it.”

He gave her a look that suggested she might have gone quite mad.

“Well I do! I don’t think I’d considered it all that much prior to coming to Avonlea, and… I will admit for a while it did prompt a thrill of what I generally assumed to be rage, but now… names are just words for people, aren’t they? Gilbert is the word that means you, so naturally it has to be one of my very favourites.”

Again his faced softened, became something that wasn’t exactly a smile but was so unflinchingly open, so tender, Anne was of half a mind to look away. She didn’t.

“You know,” he said, absently tangling their fingers together on Anne’s faded quilt, “for someone who seems to relish in being mean to me you can be incredibly sweet when the spirit moves you.”

Anne shrugged. “I contain multitudes.”

Like that, the broad, delighted grin was back. “That’s Whitman—Song of Myself.”

“I know. I might have to wait until sunset at the moment but I have managed to do some reading.”

“And you chose to read Whitman.”

“Of course,” Anne said, genuinely a little baffled that he seemed so very pleased by the fact, as though it wasn’t obvious the copy of Leaves of Grass would leap directly to the top of her extensive to read list the moment he placed it in her hands. “I know it means a lot to you.”

He simply blinked at her for several moments, before his mouth went crooked in a wry smirk. “I might start handing you copies of The Lancet, just to see if you could force yourself through all that dull writing.”

Anne, forsaking for a moment the mantle of a mature young woman, stuck out her tongue. “Now who’s mean?”

“I suppose we’re equal.”

“Well then, rejoice old world, for all is as it should be.”

He squeezed her hand, his eyes soft and brown-sugar warm, something in them that, even in the summer, always seemed to remind her of Christmas. He smiled. “Yeah.”

Anne wasn’t sure, with all the years and years of promise she had ahead of her in order to test the truth of such a belief, that she’d ever grow accustomed to this part. For all the marvellous, sweeping romances she’d read through the years not one of them had ever truly provided any great detail on a kiss, shying away into the vagaries of metaphor which, while lovely, paled in comparison to the focus and specificity of the real thing, and to that entire grand pasture (until recently existing entirely unbeknownst to Anne even in her wildest imaginings) of all that was around a kiss in and of itself.

For example, this: those breathless moments leading up to it, wherein contact became an inevitability and yet still—even after several seemingly eternal weeks of increasing familiarisation with one another—the thrill of nerves, the restless, impatient aching in the palms, the sides of the neck, the small of the spine that those eyes, suddenly heavy, brought forth in her. The fading out of the outside world, only ‘fading out’ wasn’t quite right, it was more like fading in, all the focus that had been spared for other things narrowing its scope (and how could she ever have imagined that a narrowing of scope might bring such a rush of muchness!) until all it encompassed was her, and him, and them—this thing that they became together, united in purpose and humming like one of Miss Stacey’s wires, the length and breadth of them startling and electric and alive.

God, he hadn’t even touched her yet. Perhaps attempting this with their heads hanging off the edge of the bed wasn’t their wisest of plans: the whole thing left her light-headed enough when she was the right way up.

Still, Anne had never been one to back down from a bad idea, and Gilbert had never once tried to dissuade her—only ever asked for the chance to join in.

He asked her now, with the tilt of his head, his breath warm in the already warm room, the soft downturn of his softer eyelashes blurred to dark brown smoke from this close (and he really was terribly good at getting that close without Anne entirely realising it was happening. Probably she should ask how he did it, but really she already knew that the answer was magic).

Anne, as she was so often inclined to do where he was concerned (now that she had allowed her inclinations the free reign they rightly deserved) said yes.

Oh, she was certain she’d never get used to this.

It started soft, as it usually did, the barest brush of lips that sparked and made her breath catch, reminded her that she was breathing at all. His fingers, still intertwined with her own, tightened their grip involuntarily, and even with her eyes closed Anne could feel the furrow of his brow, that little line of concentration and control that baited her, bothered deliciously at her until she inevitably managed to soothe it flat, until he relaxed and melted into it like clay under her hands.

That wasn’t just yet, though: that part came a little later.

For now it was delicate and fluttering, not indecisive but unhurried, a little awed. There was no reason, Anne had concluded, no reason at all why placing one’s mouth on someone else’s ought to be so thrilling to every last thread of her, except for the fact that every point of contact, every movement of his lips against her own (a little firmer, now, a little longer, a little more intent) sang with the knowledge that this was Gilbert, Gilbert with the good heart and the gentle hands and the lopsided smile and the brilliant mind, and that that mind had chosen in that moment to put his mouth to her, to kiss her this way and then that, that of all the things that he could have elected to be doing right then it was kissing her that he wanted… that was where the thrill lay. Kissing in general, she supposed, might well be fine enough, but kissing Gilbert…

He shifted his attentions from Anne’s top lip to the bottom, and she pressed her sudden advantage to slot them together properly, like puzzle pieces sliding into place. Surely no-one else would fit her the way he did? Surely they were made for each other, when they worked together so well?

Ever so gently, his teeth scraped against her lip, and any question marks in her thoughts turned to dust.

Loathe to lose the contact, Anne decided against trying to sort out which fingers belonged to who on their entangled hands, instead rolling onto her side just enough for the hand she had spare to reach Gilbert’s face, trace the high of his cheek, the cut of his jaw of which she was so inexplicably fond—perhaps because its sharpness under her palm felt so very real, perhaps because the roll and motion of it took her back, again, to the mechanics and deliberation and will—his will, Gilbert’s!—behind his mouth on hers, or perhaps because of the way that every time she touched him there he shivered a little, and she felt the kick of it in her bones. She felt rooted, certain of and one with her skin in a way she rarely had the luxury of experiencing: she knew she was solid, and grounded, and there, because Gilbert was, and she had moved him. What a power that was, she thought as her fingertips skimmed the shell of his ear, found their way to the curls at the nape of his neck (which she had found she was also tremendously fond of)—to know that she could put her hands on him and he would move for her, just like that. She couldn’t entirely fathom what she’d done to deserve such a thing, but then she felt the instinctive shift of her own spine under his hand as it found her waist, and realised perhaps that was it: the utter trust it took Anne to be able to respond to him without thought or hesitation was a gift that earned the same in return. It was about balance, and faith, and equality, in this as in all things between them.

She loved it.

She ran her fingers down the line of his throat to his collarbone, felt him draw a sharp breath straight from her own lungs as his hand flexed, tightened against her waist, and then gave her breath back in the shape of her own name.

“Anne.”

She wondered whether that was one of his favourite words, too—it certainly sounded that way, when he said it—and decided it was only fair she got the same opportunity to voice the name of her own joy that he did.

“Gil.”

Things blurred and sharpened then, the passage of time becoming hazy and malleable even as otherwise minute details—the exact pinpoint location and pressure of his thumb against her ribs, the back of her foot brushing against his shin, how she could just feel his heartbeat against her palm with her fingers hooked over his shoulder, the only fast thing in a world gone slow as honey.

What a thing, to feel with her hand the impact she had on the heart of him; to know his love (he loved her, he loved her!) as something tangible, this thing she’d longed for no longer only curled through the landscape of her imagination but right there, held close, a rhythm against her skin.

His mouth sought out her throat, the exact spot just above the collar of her dress where her pulse beat strongest, and how could she do anything but smile, laugh breathlessly at the reassurance he was searching for? Yes, she said, with her fingers tangled in his curls, with the tilt of her head to make room for him, yes, Gilbert Blythe, I love you too.

And so they went, the tick of Anne’s clock forgotten amidst the heady sweetness of being together, and close, and in love in their own little corner of the world, into which nothing else might enter and from whence no-one might remove them.

Or… almost nothing. Almost no-one.

Divinely and determinedly distracted as she was, even Anne’s dubious sense of self-preservation cut sharply through that most pleasant of fogs at the creak (oh blessed creak!) of the kitchen door. Gilbert, who had eventually corralled enough mental direction to unwind their joined hands and set about one of his favourite pursuits—the utter destruction of whatever sense of order Anne had managed to impose upon her hair—displayed less wisdom, taking a few moments to respond not to the sound of the door itself, but the sudden tension of the girl in his arms.

“Anne?” he asked, withdrawing with evident reluctance from the crook of her neck, eyes dazed, colour high in his cheeks and—and this Anne noticed with a dangerously distracting level of satisfaction—his hair just as dishevelled as her own would inevitably be.

“Shh,” she hissed, utterly still as she strained to hear any further sound from downstairs, as yet hopeful that she might have been imagining things.

Footfalls, sharp and eminently recognisable. Anne’s eyes snapped back to Gilbert’s, wide and alarmed as the same sudden understanding dawned on his face. “Marilla.”

Sitting bolt upright (and fighting the sudden head rush the movement prompted), Anne let out a soft curse she’d never have voiced in any other company, hands flying to one of her braids as Gilbert followed suit, the protocol for such a disruption already perhaps an undignified level of established.

“I thought you said she wouldn’t be back until five?” Gilbert whispered sharply, doing, Anne had to admit, an admirable job of not becoming sidetracked as he combed his fingers through her hair and set about reconstructing her right braid.

“She’s an autonomous being, Gilbert: evidently she changed her mind! See this is precisely why we should meet at your house instead of here.”

“And risk Hazel wandering in? If you’d like to explain to Bash how his mother came to have a heart attack then be my guest!”

“You have a barn, don’t you?”

“You have a barn!” Gilbert replied, sounding just a little hysterical as he fumbled with her ribbon and dropped it. Twice.

“My barn is regularly occupied by both Jerry and Matthew, idiot.”

“And mine by Bash.”

“Better Bash,” she said, turning her focus to the potentially tricker task of flattening out Gilbert’s hair into some semblance of decorum, “than Marilla.”

“I… that’s fair. Okay, what am I doing?”

Anne bit her lip, casting about the room for escape routes. “You could climb out the window?”

“Out the window?” he repeated, managing to sound simultaneously amused and horrified. “Anne, I’d land directly outside the window downstairs, do you not think she might notice?”

“Well what if I climbed out the window?” Anne asked, rather clutching at straws at this point.

Gilbert was evidently trying to swallow down laughter. “What good would that do?!”

“Fine, okay, okay you’re just going to have to be quiet and hope she doesn’t come in here, and then we’ll… figure it out.”

“Anne, what do you—”

“Shut up, shut up she’ll hear you just, just shh!”

“Alright, alright I’m—” he stopped mid sentence, falling abruptly silent at the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Again they stared at each other, eyes locked in panic, although it became rapidly obvious that this was a mistake as Anne felt a fit of giggles bubbling up her throat.

“Anne? Anne, are you up here?”

Praying that the Good Lord (being entirely responsible for sending trouble her way) might allow her passage through her current trials unscathed, Anne swallowed the laughter down and attempted to even out her voice. “Afternoon Marilla!”

If the look on Gilbert, eyes screwed shut and the back of his hand pressed to his mouth as his shoulders shook silently, was anything to go by, her attempt had failed.

“Oh, you are home! I’d not have expected to find you inside on a day like this,” came Marilla’s voice again from the other side of the closed door.

“I… it’s only, you know,” Anne began a little desperately, thwacking Gilbert with the back of her hand as the trembling of his suppressed laughter increased, “sunburn is such a tremendous pain to be dealing with, I thought I’d better not chance it.”

“Well now. How uncharacteristically responsible of you.”

At this Gilbert threw his head back, having to turn his hand to cover both his mouth and nose as tears pooled at the corners of his eyes, the suggestion of her responsibility whilst she desperately fought to evade the detection of a young man in her bedroom clearly proving itself too much for him. Not today, and perhaps not even tomorrow, but some day soon Anne was going to push him into the Lake of Shining Waters for this.

“Yes, well. Thanks.”

“Well I’m only back for a minute or two—Rachel’s gotten it into her head that she absolutely must furnish you with a new quilt when you leave for Charlottetown, honestly that woman has too many sons and is far too intent on spoiling other people’s daughters,” Marilla added in a undertone which threatened to unbalance Anne’s tenuous grasp on herself and reduce her to Gilbert’s level of amusement, “so she’s sent me back to collect all my patterns that she might judge the most appropriate.”

“That’s… that’s very kind of her. She really needn’t trouble herself.”

“As I have endeavoured to explain to her, though she’s having none of it. Still, I don’t suppose it can do any harm—I do hate to imagine you getting cold all alone, come winter.”

Something about the tone of Marilla’s voice bled the hysterical amusement from the moment, leant it a fond softness that Gilbert clearly felt too, since he was able to uncover his mouth and reach for her hand, thumb brushing softly across her knuckles.

Anne squeezed his fingers. “I won’t be alone.”

“No,” came Marilla’s reply, before a pause. Anne, who was well acquainted with Marilla’s various pauses, could hear the smile in it. “No, I don’t suppose you shall. Well, anyway, I just thought you ought to know my return may be a little later than I’d anticipated, what with Rachel on a mission, so you and Matthew may have to fend for yourselves for dinner. Stick to the stovetop, mind, and don’t be laying a finger on the cake in the pantry, it isn’t for you as you well know.”

“Yes, Marilla, I know.”

“Good. And enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

“You too,” Anne replied, the tension slowly draining from her shoulders as she heard the footsteps retreating back down the stairs and then, a few moments later, the opening and closing of the kitchen door.

A further few beats of silence, and then a great relieved sigh from her co-conspirator. “Well. That was a bit close.”

Anne, entirely without hesitation and displaying the height of dignity, picked up the small cushion Marilla had sewn for her and whacked him over the head. “You rogue, you utter disaster of a man, could you not have made a little more of an effort to contain yourself? She could have heard you!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” Gilbert laughed, sounding anything but as he raised his hands in defence.

“You are not, scoundrel, you’re no good at lies and they don’t become you so you’d do much better not trying. See if I invite you here again.”

“Perhaps it’d be wiser if you didn’t,” he replied, still evidently amused. “Wouldn’t want Marilla thinking you aren’t responsible.”

“Oh she already knows I’m not,” Anne said primly, standing at last from the bed and smoothing out her skirts. “It’s your dishonourable conduct she’d be shocked by: she thinks you’re such a nice young man.”

“Most do,” Gilbert agreed cheerfully, leaning back against her headboard with that lopsided grin again, entirely at his leisure. Oh how intolerable of him, to make her love him so even when he was being absolutely insufferable. “And what do you think, Miss? Do you find my conduct to be dishonourable?”

Though he smiled, Anne was attuned enough to him by now that she could detect the undertone of sincerity in the question. Seating herself again on the bed beside him, she raised a hand to his face then ran it back through his curls, flooded with impossible fondness at the way he leant into the touch. “I believe… that there surely cannot be anything dishonourable in offering a young lady precisely the affection with which she longs to be treated.”

“Well then,” he said, his hand coming up to cover hers where it had come to rest against his cheek. “Can’t imagine anyone else’s opinion matters all that much.”

Anne grinned. “Except Marilla’s.”

“Except,” Gilbert said, tilting his head in deference to her point, “perhaps Marilla’s.”

They sat like that in tender silence for several long moments, before Anne sighed and broke it. “You do realise you have to leave now, right?”

The wide-eyed, childlike disappointment on his face was Anne thought, tremendously comical. “What, why?”

“Because if you don’t we’ll only end up having this exact palaver again in a few hours.”

“We’ll keep an eye on the time!”

“Do you have the faintest idea what time it is now? No, don’t look.”

Having been instructed away from the small clock on Anne’s bedside, Gilbert narrowed his eyes. “… One…ish?”

“It’s half past three,” Anne informed him, unimpressed.

Blatantly disbelieving, Gilbert sat up to get a look at the clock himself. “It never is, it can’t…” He stopped, blinking at the hands. “Are you sure that’s right?”

Anne grabbed his hand and pulled, tugging him up from the bed. Probably her pillows would smell like him that night. “Come on, out.”

“No, Anne, come on, don’t make me go home: Dellie’s teething, the crying’s unbearable.” He fought her as she dragged him to the door, not hard but enough to make her laugh at his recalcitrance. And to think, she’d once thought mystery and melancholy to be the grand romantic ideal: how much better this was, to love and be loved by someone who shared his feelings with her unreservedly, however fleeting or ridiculous they might seem.

“Then don’t go home,” Anne suggested, pulling him behind her down the hall, then giving him a gentle shove in the direction of the stairs. “Go for a walk, get some fresh air: they say it’s terribly good for you, Doctor Blythe.”

“Sunburn isn’t,” he argued, somehow managing to reach the ground floor without falling as he took the steps half-backwards, eyes still on her as she followed him. “It’s a terrible pain to be dealing with, I hear: I could be laid up in bed for days, and then how would you feel?”

“Find some shade,” Anne said, restraining a grin as she held the kitchen door open for him.

“Surely, being the far greater adventurer of the two of us, you’d be much better at such a search than I would,” he said, standing firm in the doorway and giving her a look of such utterly unconvincing false innocence she couldn’t help but laugh. “Come on, it’s a beautiful day: how could you stand to miss out on it? And think—it’s a matter of weeks before we’re off to the city, surrounded by smog and buildings and the great urban sprawl.”

“Eight weeks, which is in fact two months.”

Gilbert elected to ignore this correction. “Think how badly you’ll long for a summer afternoon with trees and flowers and rivers then. Can you really throw away this chance, when it’s right here for the taking?”

Anne crossed her arms, fighting a smile and doing, she knew, a very poor job of it. “I suppose it is a glorious day…”

“Glorious,” Gilbert agreed, nodding enthusiastically.

“And I wonder… have I introduced you to my very favourite tree yet?”

He tilted his head, considering. “The Sugar Maple, up near the Andrews’ place?”

“Elm, outside of town—past the old bridge beyond the schoolhouse?”

“Then no, I don’t believe you have.”

“Well then,” Anne said, answering his triumphant grin with one of her own as she fetched her hat from the hook by the door and slid into her boots. “Who am I to deny the most wondrous call of summer?”

“Who indeed?” Gilbert replied, grabbing hold of her hand and pulling her beside him, out into the sun.

#anne with an e #awae #avonlea writes #shirbert #anne shirley cuthbert #gilbert blythe #awae fic

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inkdrinkershadowsinger · 4 years

Text

Thoughts/ Background The Deathly Hallows Part Two

The introduction music is so haunting. The castle in all its glory is haunted by dementors and fog. Snape is solitary. Everything is singular and empty on the grounds. The only color we see at Hogwarts during this time is during the final battle when McGonagall pushes Harry out of the way, and we see that flash of fire from her wand. That’s when you know stuff is about to kick off.

Griphook sounds so lost as to why Harry would bury Dobby. The divide between creatures and wizards, between goblins and wizards has gotten so great that neither side even thinks to assume that the other possesses even the smallest hint of kindness or humility. This is a fic all in itself.

What are the goblins stake in the sword? What is with the mention of the tiara in the books? I feel like Rowling had more to say about this topic, but for some reason she didn’t.

I hate that Fleur seems to be so meek in this movie. I want her to be this badass fighter chick, the kind of person who the Goblet of Fire would chose once again to play one of the most challenging games ever, the kind of person who would leave her country and family for an amazing opportunity and adventure, but her character wasn’t given much time or space to be free to show itself in that manner.

Wandlore is super fascinating. Is there a book about wandlore? Like a companion book like Quidditch Through the Ages? I feel like there should be.

It looks like that is a quilt patch behind Harry’s head. It would have been a gift from Mrs. Weasley.

It always bothered me that Luna was just like, “Yeah, I’m going back to school.” They just locked her butt up in the dungeons, and then she decides to go back to a school where the people who locked her up are currently in power and could torture her for information about the whereabouts of Harry Potter, the person she literally just escaped with. I think, that’s why this scene was cut from the final cut of the basic DVD versions.

Ron is so quick here to be like, “They suspect us. They suspect us.” But the silence doesn’t go on for that long. It feels like someone with such an iron gut gets antsy really quickly, and not antsy like sweating a bit, but antsy like he’s about to start crying. It just seems weird. One of the basic security measures to the bank might be that they have like a gas that leaks through that makes people feel paranoid or something like that. You want to get 200 galleons out, but what happens if you get robbed on the way out the door? Better to only get 100, thus keeping money in the bank under the goblins eyes. It would help keep out thieves as well, petty and otherwise.

None of the other goblins think that something is off with the behavior of this one goblin who seems to be in a positon of authority?

Goblins are keyed into the various vaults? Which means that they could seal them at any time as well, right? Is this in the books?

Hermione, baby, your Gryffindor is showing, and it is SEXY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Lol

Those goblins are like, “Assume the fire breathing position.”

You can see how deep down they are. And I know this isn’t real, but to think that that dragon would have only had that small opening of real light shining down on it all that time is truly depressing.

Litearlly, they all deserve to bite it after what that dragon was put through.

“And he’s homicidal.”

“We plan, we get there, all hell breaks loose.” I feel that.

I always assumed that Voldemort when to Gringotts and killed the goblins. But no, he summoned them to Malfoy Manor, and then killed them. Why would he do it like that?

That mirror is rectangular, but I always envisioned the mirrors as being circular.

Why does Aberforth tell them that the Order is finished? He knows that it isn’t. This whole speech of his is very demoralizing. But Harry dgaf…..

This, “I trusted the man I knew” attitude is why Harry named one of his children Albus Severus.

Hermione is the one who asks questions of Aberforth, and yet, he directly responds to Harry. I always thought that was odd.

And Aberforth has been helping them the whole time? Then why the speech?

Neville badass Longbottom.

Another nod to the books.

I wanted some more information about what was going on in Hogwarts while Harry, Ron, and Hermione were on the run. I wanted to hear more about what Dumbledore’s Army were getting up to while the others were hunting horcruxes. There were tasters of it in the book, but I would have loved to have had more of it tbh.

Fact: Neville’s plant from five is the mascot for the Hogwart’s resistance.

“She gots lost of those, hasn’t she?” This line from Seamus at the very beginning of this movie just made it so perfect. This movie is a gosh dang masterpiece.

Snape had such a hard job. I mean, I know people hate on Snape, and I can understand their reasoning, but I have a soft spot for the man. Maybe I read too much fanfiction because fanfic!Snape and canon!Snape are two very different individuals.

Harry’s name among these students is the stuff of legend. The way they all look around and start talking carries that spark of hope that good rumors sometimes have.

Harry, “Perfect timing group.”

People back up when Harry faces Snape. People move the hell out of dodge when McGonagall draws her wand.

Snape takes out the two Carrows behind him before he apparates out of the school.

Padma gets zero dances at the Yule Ball, and then Voldemort invades her mind. Great.

Pansy, my darling, there is a time to speak and there is a time to stay silent. Read the room.

Filch, ditto.

Why do all of the magical, “evil” Slytherins allow Filch, a squib, to lock them up?

Even the portraits are getting out of there.

All the kids in the background are completely flummoxed.

“Boom!”

Say that five times fast. No, say it once without messing up and you get to be bff’s with Maggie Smith.

This spell is sick, this music is sick, McGonagall is a queen. When I saw this in theater, my skin got goose pimples. “Do your duty for our school!” It is just so amazing, and iconic. This whole scene makes me feel so empowered, and pumped like I’m about to head into battle, like I’m about to defend my home and my life.

My thoughts on the diadem and the other founders objects can be found in a post that I made. My thoughts are strong, and though they aren’t canon, they are still unspoken canon.

Voldemort is like, “I was about to monologue. Why you speaking to me?”

“You okay, Freddie?” Don’t come at me like that, writers.

We all died laughing in the theater when Ron said that. “Harry talks in his sleep.” Harry only speaking parseltongue when around snakes theory is still enforced when you think about the snake Pettigrew sneaking around the whole time.

Exactly why the fuck does Remus need Tonks more than her small child? I never understood this line, and I never liked them as a couple. Thought the book version was creepy, and the movie version unrealized.

Some movies really don’t need to be split into two for the ending *Divergent trilogy* but this one really benefitted from having two films. I wouldn’t want this huge battle scene and character plot and humor to be lost.

No one thinks to cast a spell to catch Neville??? This is like the first flying lesson all over again.

Go, Mr. Weasley, you are on fire.

Kingsley, whip their arses with that fancy shit. LET’S GO!!!!!!

Harry reached out to Ginny first. This movie is so lacking in any real chemistry between these two actors and characters that it is almost painful. This is one instance, that I never noticed before, that makes all of their other interactions less cringey to watch.

Neville almost died on that bridge. He might as well tell Luna how he feels. I love this and can fully ship canon book couples with canon movie couples at the same time. Thank you very much.

That kiss between them is so weird. I just can’t.

Hermione in this scene is proof that men rattle your brain with smooches. Lol

So, if you are using the room of requirement for something, and someone who already has been in that same room, and wants it for the same reason that you do, they can get in as well? But not if they want it for the same reason, which is why Umbridge couldn’t be get it in Order of the Phoenix.”

There are so many Easter eggs in this scene in the ROR. You can see a chess piece from 1, pixies from 2. It just enforces my headcanon that the house elves use the ROR as a sort of dumping ground for the random stuff that they find at the school.

Harry is so gosh dang blasé about seeing Draco again. He’s just like, “What’s up, dude?” He is not concerned in the slightest that he has three wands pointed at him right now. They are just causally chatting about whose wand each other has got.

The statue of the pig right behind Harry and Hermione. It would make sense Voldemort would try to totally remake Hogwarts, and I think that would go into removing those odd little things that make the castle a bit quirky. The castle looks bleak and unnaturally bland compared to the other movies. It would make sense that he would want statues of hogs also taken out.

You see the lanterns that Slughorn had at his Christmas party.

Why is the fire morphing into different animals? The phoenix attacks Draco, Blaise, and Goyle, the tiger chases Ron and Hermione, and then the snake goes after Harry. And then they all converge on the trio? Why make it animals? Is there any significance to this? I never noticed that they were actually animals before.

Finding the brooms perfect. Saving them perfect. Killing the horcrux then kicking it into the flames. Perfect.

The music while the trio are fighting to get to boat house is so haunting and lovely and it’s like it calls to every nostalgic atom in your body.

Really, death eater, you’ve got time to stop and cast the cruciatus on someone in the middle of this warzone?

I love that Hermione was the one to blast Fenrir away from Lavender. So touching.

Aberforth, Mr. IT IS ALL GOING TO END HORRIBLY WHY EVEN TRY, has enough hope and good memories to cast away that many dementors. Yeah, he’s fake.

Voldemort just doesn’t like that Snape is taller than him.

I just wanted a touch of the friendship that was expressed between Lily and Snape in the book. Harry understood it, and said it perfectly at the end of book seven. I wanted some of that to translate to screen. It wasn’t just because Snape had some weird crush on her it was because they were friends, best friends. Ron and Harry and Hermione friendship. The next time someone comes at me with that bull I’m just going to refer them back to the facts.

This is probably the first time that Snape had ever been allowed to really look at Harry as a person rather than someone who is supposed to hate him. It is the first time that he could be unguarded around him.

Snape hired more healers. Why else would they be there? He knew that with the group in charge that as in power, that they would be needed.

I can’t stand this barrage of lost souls. It is painful, and I get flashbacks from when I read the book for the first time, and the pages were covered in my tears.

It doesn’t look like Snape even has anything in this office. It looks barren. He knew he had no time to get comfortable in his position.

That tree is beautiful.

I love their friendship. I will always love their friendship.

Look at Snape and all those books. Lily and Snape, the studious, top of their year duo with the Marauders who eschew libraries but still manage to succeed. I don’t need to think hard to imagine the rivalry. In fact, I did imagine it, and wrote some down in the thing, message me if you would like part of the thing.

Hermione knew, or at least, strongly suspected that Harry was going to have to do what he sets off to accomplish, for sure.

I love that when Harry walked into the forest to face down death that he had these people, these guardians, these people who at one point or another swore to protect this boy with everything that they have get to be the ones that are with him at the end just like at the beginning. Things are different for them, and different from how they thought it would be when Harry was born into this world, but they still kept their promise.

“Does it hurt?” This is something that a child asks. We forget that Harry, here, is only supposed to be 17 years old, that’s a kid. Added to that, you have the very real

“We’re here, you see?” Perfect.

“Stay close to me?” “Always.”

My thoughts mean nothing in the perfection of this scene.

Hagrid is still looking out for Harry’s best interest. He is the only adult worth a flip in more than half of these films.

“The boy who lived come to die.”

I know Dumbledore is like, “The man” here, and the mentor or whatever, but I would have really have liked to have the person who met Harry at Kings Cross had been Snape especially after harry had just learned the truth. Way more dynamic.

Narcissa straight up lied to the most dangerous wizard ever. She deserved that pardon for her family. All she wanted was out, and to take care of her son, and I respect that. Don’t give a dang for the rest of the world when they would gladly let you burn. Take care of number one even when number one is a group instead of a single entity.

You hear that noise when Neville picks up the hat, and if you read the books, you know what he just found. He was out there preparing and scouting for another battle, and Hogwarts rewarded him.

Hagrid carrying in Harry’s body was so painful to watch. Visually, there little death parade plus the music just puts you in this anxious state. Pinpricks.

The acting by Bonnie Wright here is superb. The lack of chemistry is not equally weighted on her shoulders.

Luna looks at Draco like she is sick. Then like she is sad. I hate it. She was wishing for something else there for sure.

The way Dean Thomas looks at Voldemort in this scene is the way that I feel about that weird af hug.

Voldemort has to restrain himself from killing Neville on the spot for interrupting him.

Neville has never in the course of these movies failed to speak when needed. He stood up to the trio in 1, and he spoke up against Seamus and nearly everyone else in the common room in Ootp. Neville stands up for what is right.

All of those death eaters are like, “Fuck! This boy came back to life again? What are the Dark Lord’s AK’s broken? Nevermind, fuck this shit, I’m out.”

That music when Neville regains consciousness. YES!

See, if Voldemort didn’t play with his food, he might have won.

NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!!!! When I say people cheered and screamed in the theater when Molly said and did this epic shit I ain’t kidding. IT WAS AND STILL IS ONE OF THE MOST ICONIC HP QUOTES OF ALL TIME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ONE OF THE BEST, MOST EMPOWERING QUOTES!!!!!!! We all want Molly Weasley to have our backs like this.

The whole ending of this movie is LEGENDARY!!!! I went to the midnight showing for the release of this movie with a bunch of other diehards, and seeing Neville cut the head off of the snake, and watching Harry finally beat Voldemort with the elder wand. I mean, we were literally just in such a state of excitement and yes and hallelujah, it was insane.

Neville and Luna. I see y’all.

Percy is talking to Arthur, reconciling.

That guy behind Cho is definitely about to shoot his shot with someone.

Filch, bless his heart.

Ron and Hermione. Harry knows. Harry blesses this union. Harry has been the number one ship captain this whole time, and now he is rewarded.

I like that Harry snapped the wand in the movie. See, if book Harry had snapped the wand, the Cursed Child would have never graced our consciousness with its heteronormative agenda. Scorbus is life. Fight me.

This series has had such a serious impact on me. I love it. I spend hours upon hours inside of this universe every day as beloved fanfiction writers play inside of it’s territory. It made me a reader. It helped me when I wasn’t sure what was next for me in life. It gave me entertainment and enjoyment, and still does. I love it, and I hope that I always will. We cling to the thought of magic because we hope that it is really, we hope that like in this world where there is magic that cannot be easily be explained exists. We hope that in our world, too, there is that same kind of magic that can wrap itself around us.

I think that kind of magic is real. I just think that we have to look for it, remember it, talk about, cherish it, and spread it around for others who have forgotten to look for it themselves. And great literature, like this series, helps us to do that.

That is why it will be remembered for generations to come. At least, if I have anything to say about it.

#Harry Potter #Harry Potter and the deathly hallows part two #Harry Potter thoughts #Harry Potter anaysis #Harry Potter background #harry potter meta

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the-lady-of-stars · 6 years

Text

My Love, My Life

Requested by @mayansthings

Poe Dameron x Reader

Summary: Reader is a pilot and is in love with Poe but doesn't admit her feelings because Poe is always flirty with everyone. Unbeknownst to the reader, Poe might just love her back.

You soared precisely through space, shooting down TIE fighters one by one. You shot accurately, slicing through three fighters in one shot.

“Great shot, Pipsqueak!” you heard Commander Dameron through your comm.

Pipsqueak. The nickname Poe had given you one night when you and the rest of Black Squadron were drunk after a celebration. There was no particular reason for the name, but when you're drunk things are 50 times funnier, and Poe found it hilarious. So that was you now. Pipsqueak.

“Not too bad yourself, Commander,” you smirked.

“Oh yeah? Not too bad, huh? Watch this then, Pip!” Poe made a sudden turn at a ninety-degree angle, taking out four fighters in one shot.

“Well look at you, Flyboy,” you joked.

“Oh you can look all you want, Sweetheart. Go ahead- take your time. You wanna go land on a planet somewhere so you can get a closer look? I wouldn't blame you. I’m a sight for sore eyes.”

“Well I don't know about sore eyes but you're sure as hell giving me sore ears.”

“Hey, hey. You love my voice really, Pip. Want me to sing you a song?”

Before you could quip back you heard Snap groaning through the comms “I’m gonna shoot at least one of you two down in a minute if you don't stop flirting.”

This was then followed by a “Get a room” from Karé, making your face heat up.

Poe made some comment back to them about them being a miserable old married couple but you were too embarrassed from his flirting to register it.

The mission had been a complete success. Black Squadron had taken out an entire First Order dreadnought together. Now you were entering the atmosphere back on D’Qar, ready to celebrate your victory. You slowly lowered your ship down next to Poe’s, sighing gratefully as you reached the tarmac.

You raised the canopy of your ship, throwing your legs over the side and hopping down. You pulled off your helmet, giving it to your engineer before following the rest of the squadron back into the base.

After the quick debrief with General Organa, you made your way to your room, walking beside Jessika who stayed in the room next to yours.

“So?” she began, smirking at you.

“So?” you replied, confused as to what your best friend was on about.

“You and Dameron, huh?”

“What? No- Jess no! We’re just friends!” you exclaimed in shock.

“Y/N, friends don't flirt like that” she teased, making your face heat up again.

“Jess, you know Poe. He talks like that to every girl on base. It’s nothing special. That’s just how he is!” you reasoned.

“Y/N. He does not talk to any other girls like that. In all my years of knowing him he hasn't talked like that to anyone except you.”

“Jess!” you groaned, rolling your eyes at her.

“Whatever you say, lovebird. See ya at the party tonight. Make sure you make yourself real pretty for Poe!” she blew you a kiss before disappearing into her room, making you roll your eyes again.

You trudged into your room tiredly, heading straight over to your bed and flopping down onto it. The long mission you'd been on had taken its toll on you, the thin pillows and worn down quilt feeling luxurious in your state. Just as your eyes were about to succumb to sleep, your holopad beeped, indicating a message.

You picked up your holopad from your bedside table, seeing that the message was from Poe. This made your heart flutter, your little crush on your Commander giving you tingles. The message read:

“Hey there, Pipsqueak. Nice flying today. You’re almost getting as good as me. Well- almost. No one’s better than me. My ‘best pilot in the Resistance’ title isn't going anywhere any time soon.

Anyway, I wanted to ask if you were going to the celebration party tonight. If you are, then I was wondering if you'd allow me to escort you there. I’d like to spend some more time with you.

Let me know what you think, Pip.

- Poe”

Butterflies swarmed your stomach. Surely Poe wasn't asking you on a date- was he? No, he can't have been. It was probably just as a friend. Either way, you weren't going to turn down the opportunity. You replied:

“Hey, Poe! You flew good too, but I wouldn't get so cocky. That title can't be yours forever. I’m coming for you.

Despite the fact I’m about to steal your title, I’d still love to go to the party with you. Maybe I could teach you a few tricks. Meet you at eight?

- Pip”

A few minutes later, you got a reply.

“Oh yeah? Think you can beat me, Princess? I wouldn’t wanna get a pretty girl’s hopes up but you’re gonna have to try harder to take my title.

I’ll be outside your door at eight. See ya later, Pips. I look forward to it.

- Poe”

You squeaked, pulling your holopad to your chest. Clearly you’d squeaked louder than you’d thought, as you got a message from Jess.

“You good in there, Y/N? What was that noise for? - Jess”

“Poe may or may not have asked me to the party with him.”

“What!? You serious? Oh stars, tell me more! I need all the details! I’m coming over now. - J”

As expected, a knock sounded at your door moments later. You got up and opened the door, Jess leaping in and wrapping her arms around you.

“Y/N! You’re going on a date! With Poe!” she squealed.

“Yeah, yeah. Cool it. We’re just friends- I told you earlier.”

“Stars, Y/N, you're so oblivious! Come on. We need to start getting you ready right now. You go shower while I pick you out an outfit, then I’ll do your hair and makeup.”

“Jess there’s really no need for this-”

“Quiet! I will not accept anything but a yes. Bye Y/N, have fun in the shower!”

You groaned, grabbing a towel and heading into the bathroom under the orders of Jessika.

After you were nice and clean, you made your way back into your bedroom, seeing that Jess had picked you out a short black dress which was tight around the bodice and had a flared skirt to accentuate your figure and some matching black heels with red soles.

“Really, Jess?”

“Yep! No arguing. You are gonna look hot by the time I’m done with you.”

You pulled on your dress, sitting down in a chair Jess had pulled out and allowed her to do your hair and makeup. She gave you a deep smokey-eye, accentuated with a little bit of gold and a perfect cat-eye. Then she made your lips a sweet cherry red. Jess moved to your hair, curling it all perfectly and setting it with spray.

“Oh, Y/N, look at you! Damn, Poe’s not gonna be able to take his eyes off of you for a second.”

“Thanks Jess, I appreciate it.” you smiled.

“Anything for my best friend who should totally trust me more,” she winked, heading off to get herself ready. “I’d better be a bridesmaid at your wedding!” she called out, just as the door was closing so you couldn't respond.

- Time Skip to 8pm -

You heard someone knocking at your door. Poe! It was eight already. Well here goes nothing, I guess.

The door slid open to reveal Poe, dark curls freshly cleaned and falling around his face. He had his iconic leather jacket on over a white t-shirt and his matching brown trousers. His jaw fell when he saw you.

“Damn, Pipsqueak. You look gorgeous!” he gasped, cheeks reddening.

“Thanks, not looking too bad yourself, Dameron.”

He blushed even more, biting his lip and reaching out his arm for you to take.

“Shall we?”

When you both entered the bar, heads turned to look at you both. The two dreamiest Resistance members were here together, not going over lightly with people. You got sharp glares from jealous girls who wanted their turn with the great Commander Dameron and Poe got dirty looks from all the men who had their eyes on you. It didn't matter though, Poe was yours tonight.

You sat down at a table with the rest of Black Squadron, receiving whistles from Jess and Snap who you both rolled your eyes at.

“Well damn, look at you two. All dressed up and such,” Snap smirked.

The jokes went back and forth, getting both more stupid and yet somehow funnier after every drink you had. After about two hours, Poe said he needed a quick breather, asking if you'd like to accompany him on a walk. Naturally you'd agreed, taking his hand and allowing him to lead you outside, ignoring the Squadron’s drunken comments all along the lines of “don't have too much fun.”

Poe led you to a lake on a part of D’Qar you’d never been to before. The moon was the only source of light in the darkness, reflecting calmly in the water. The trees swayed in the gentle breeze, the leaves making a gentle sound along with the crickets in the grass and the serene babbling of the lake. You were far away from base, so those were the only sounds you could hear.

Poe sat down at the base of a tree at the lake shore, opening his arms as an invitation for you to join him. You settled down against his side, watching him pull his jacket from his shoulders and drape it over yours.

You tilted your head to the side, resting it on his shoulder in a motion of gratitude. You both remained silent for a while, until poe slid one hand into yours, interlocking your fingers. This made you look up at him, noticing the moonlight reflecting in his eyes that were the same shade as a sweet chocolate. His curls seemed to float in the wind, practically calling for you to touch them.

“Y/N?” He spoke very quietly.

“Mm?” You hummed in response.

“I- I’ve been meaning to tell you this for a while now. Ever since I first met you I knew there was something different about you. I’ve always felt a connection to you. I know it sounds weird but- I can't seem to pull myself away from you. Every time I see you I can barely think straight. And when I see you putting yourself into danger on missions? Hell, protecting you is the one thing that occupies my mind. I don't know if you feel the same way, and please don't feel pressured at all to say yes just for my sake, but- would you consider being my girl?”

Your heart was pounding at his confession. You ran your thumb over the back of Poe’s hand.

“I feel it too. The connection.” you looked down at your intertwined fingers before continuing. “There’s just something that makes me want to be with you all the time. To keep you safe and to make you feel loved.” you whispered.

“Really?” Poe asked.

“Yes, Poe. And to answer your question- I’d be honoured to be yours.”

Poe’s lips pulled into a smile, making you do the same as you looked back into his eyes.

“I love you, Y/N,” he confessed.

“I love you too, Poe.” you spoke softly.

He looked down into your eyes, exhaling slowly before leaning down, ever so gently pressing his lips to yours. Your eyes fluttered closed, sighing and pushing your fingers into the hair on the back of his head.

Slowly, you pulled apart, resting your foreheads together.

“You’ve made me so happy tonight, Y/N.” he sighed.

You smiled lovingly, completely smitten for the man in front of you. You pulled him into another kiss, this time more passionate and expressive of your true feelings.

You both headed back to base, hands clasped tightly together. When you arrived you were a completely different person than you were before you left. You weren't alone any more. You had Poe now and he had you, and neither of you planned on giving each other up any time soon.

#poe dameron x reader #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron x you #star wars imagine

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danfanciesphil · 6 years

Text

New!

too high (can’t come down) by @danfanciesphil

Suspending himself 7,000 feet above the rest of the world seems likely to be a sure-fire way for Dan to escape normality, and isolate himself for the foreseeable future. The Secret of the Alps, a small hotel tucked into the side of the Swiss mountains is too niche for most avid adventurers to have heard of, making it the perfect place for Dan to work as he sorts through his problems. Unfortunately, privacy is a coveted thing, and as Dan soon finds out, the hotel harbours one guest who values it more than most.

Rating: Explicit Tags: Enemies to lovers, snow, mountains, skiing, hostility, slow burn, secrecy, longing, repression, nobility, classism, cheating, eventual sex

** Hi! Welcome to my new chaptered phanfic, which I shall be updating weekly if possible. I think it’s going to be every Friday, although this may change according to my unpredictable schedule. I hope you enjoy! **

Ao3 Link

Chapter One

The sheer craziness of Dan’s plan doesn’t fully sink in until he’s suspended 7,000 feet up the side of a mountain, inside a violently rocking cable car in the midst of a blizzard so thick that the glass windows are opaque white. Dan’s tour guide, Kaspar, is a true Swiss native; he’s sat on the one wooden bench inside this small capsule, animatedly jabbing at a game on his mobile phone. Kaspar’s utter indifference to the snowstorm is probably the only reason Dan isn’t screaming in fear right now.

“Is it much further?” Dan manages to squeak.

He grips the handlebar running around the interior, knuckles white. His other hand is clasped around the handle of his suitcase, which is desperately trying to escape and skid off across the floor.

“Not far,” Kaspar replies distractedly. He glances up at Dan from his phone; whatever he sees in Dan’s expression - pure terror, probably - is enough to make him put the phone away and pat the space beside him on the bench. His life in Kaspar’s hands, Dan goes to him obediently, swaying with the violent rocking and then falling onto the bench. “Do not fret little Dan,” Kaspar says, thumping him on the back with a wide, cheery smile. “You will not be needing to come back down for many more weeks!”

If this is supposed to calm him, Dan is not convinced that the Swiss are a compassionate bunch. Kaspar is as chipper as his orange, puffy boiler suit might suggest. He also has a purple and yellow bobble hat pulled over a mess of blondish curls and whiskers. Dan has tried to bundle up, having been well aware that the Alps are famously a little on the chilly side, but Kaspar’s outfit is still far superior. Dan imagines Kaspar is toasty warm, whilst Dan’s hands are on the verge of falling off his wrists inside of their gloves.

“Is there another way up?” Dan asks. Or down, more specifically.

“Ya,” Kaspar replies, nodding. “The small airport in town rents out private planes. But they are not cheap, little Dan! Wait for your first paycheque!”

‘Little Dan’ is a baffling nickname considering Dan is six foot, easily, but he chooses not to point this out, assuming Kaspar has his reasons. “Maybe I could hitch a ride with some rich guest or other, next time,” he says, gripping the edge of the bench.

Kaspar laughs heartily, his whole body shaking with it, so that the cable car shudders alarmingly. “What guests?”

After a very unpleasant experience of actually jumping from the cable car doorway - "I cannot stop today, little Dan! I am needed back at the base. You will be fine, just bend your knees as you land, ya?” - Dan dusts the worst of the snow from his trousers and suitcase, then waves to Kaspar, who leans heart-stoppingly far out of the door to call goodbye. Dan watches morosely as the cable car continues on towards its turning point, then judders slowly back down into the blizzard.

Somewhat reluctantly, he turns to find himself in front of what looks like an enormous, luxury log cabin, if it could house fifteen people. There’s a big balcony running across the entire width of the upper story, decked with tables and chairs. The building is made from an umber wood, which stands out vividly against the pure white snow caking its roof and eaves. There’s a sign, partially obscured by the snow, that reads ‘The Secret of the Alps’, which is the only indication that Dan is actually in the right place. No other options available now, Dan trudges through the calf-deep snow to the front door; he does not have the energy right now to admire the picturesque scene this little building makes, nestled into the side of the mountain, nor the spectacular view it faces, which Dan doesn’t let himself turn to admire just yet.

The moment he pushes the heavy door open and steps inside, Dan is engulfed in a pulse of delicious, thick warmth. It’s so glorious that he almost tears up, but thankfully restrains himself, and just rubs his hands together, appreciating. He stands still under the heater for a moment, slowly feeling the cold dripping from him, quite literally it turns out, as he notes the puddle forming at his feet.

“Welcome!” a comfortingly British voice says from nearby. Stood behind a desk ahead of him is a short, buxom woman wearing a fitted charcoal suit jacket and matching skirt. She’s in her mid-thirties, maybe, with dark hair tied up in a tight bun, and a short, severe fringe. Everything about her screams neatness and professionalism, which is a little jarring, in the middle of nowhere as they are. Before Dan can introduce himself, she marches over to him and grabs one of his hands. “Dan Howell, I presume? I’m Mona Kemp, the manager of the hotel. We’ve spoken via email, of course.”

Dan nods, finding it all of a sudden quite difficult to catch his breath, perhaps partly due to the altitude. “Yeah, of course. Great to meet you at last.”

Her hand is ringless and smooth, very pleasant to grip. Having been deprived of human contact for a few days now, Dan finds it a little tricky to make himself let go. Thankfully, she either doesn’t notice, or pretends not to. “You must be absolutely exhausted,” Mona says, taking his suitcase from him. “It’s late, so I thought we’d start with the basics tomorrow morning, let you get a good night’s rest. Does that sound alright?”

“Yeah, fine,” Dan says, glad that he’ll have an opportunity to recover from his harrowing journey before setting to work. “Thank you.”

She’s already wheeling his case along the wooden floor towards a set of floating stairs, leading up to a second storey, which is partly visible as a mezzanine that juts over the front desk. She stops at the base of the stairs, smiling briskly at Dan as she hands the case back to him. Mona digs into her jacket pocket and draws out a key, which she then drops into his hand.

“You’re right at the top, I’m afraid. There’s only three floors, but as I’m sure you’ll find out, heaving bags up three flights of stairs like these,” she kicks at the floating step nearest to her with her pointed boot, “is a bugger.”

“Right,” Dan says, forcing a smile. “Probably best to start practicing then.”

“Love the enthusiasm, Dan,” Mona says, returning the smile. “I’ve asked Louise, our chef, to make you some tomato soup and a grilled cheese. I’ll bring it up to you in about an hour, shall I?”

At the mere mention of something so delicious, Dan’s stomach rumbles, making Mona laugh. Dan laughs too, embarrassed. “That would be fantastic, thank you.”

“Well, Dan,” Mona sticks out her hand for the second time, and Dan takes it greedily. “It’s a pleasure to have you. I hope you’ll enjoy yourself, and that you’ll find your way quickly. We run a small but high-quality establishment. It’s a quiet job, but a pleasant one, particularly if you’re more of an introverted type.”

“I definitely am,” Dan assures her. “I think I might be the perfect fit.”

Mona smiles broadly and removes her hand from Dan’s. “Excellent. Well, let me know if you need anything. I’ll be here at the desk.”

“Thank you, Mona,” Dan says, trying to load the words with the gratitude he feels. He looks upwards, unsure. “Just... up the stairs?”

“Just keep climbing until you can’t get any higher. You won’t miss it,” Mona replies briskly, already back behind the desk.

Dan nods, pocketing his key, and bends to lift his case. It turns out that Mona was not lying about what a bitch it is to drag a heavy case up three flights of stairs that have huge gaps between them. Dan trips at least ten times, and bruises his shins, but eventually he makes it to the top floor. There are only two rooms up here - seven and eight. Dan’s key says seven, so he pays no attention to the door next to it, and lets himself in.

It’s a bigger room than he’d been expecting, but decorated pretty much exactly how he imagined it would be. Wood-panelled walls, a double bed with a dark blue duvet and a thick grey quilt, an electric heater, a chest of drawers, and a tiny en-suite with just enough room for a toilet, sink and bath. There’s a vase of plastic flowers on the bedside table, along with a lamp, fitted with a navy lampshade to match the bed.

Dan closes the door behind him, shucks off his coat, then pulls off his gloves and his jumper, all of which fall to his feet. He sits down on the bed, takes a deep breath of thin, mountain air, and bursts into tears.

The daylight in the mountains is a blinding, fierce sort that Dan has not experienced before. It gleams off the acres of snow draped over the peaks, burrowing into Dan’s room through the thin slices between his curtains, and waking him instantly. He set an alarm before he went to bed, but it’s been rendered redundant now. He lies in the warmth for a few minutes, then forces himself to emerge, trudging into the bathroom. He showers, cleans his teeth, then goes to unzip his suitcase, still packed from the day before. He’d slept in the clothes he arrived in, which was undoubtedly a bad idea, but he couldn’t bring himself to root around for his pyjamas, exhausted and drained as he’d been after a long, tearful evening.

As he buttons his white shirt - the one his mum bought for him just before he left in what might be one of her five or so selfless acts throughout motherhood - he stares out of his window at the dazzling view of the mountain, utterly hypnotised. The troughs and peaks of the slopes, iced in pearlescent white, are entirely unblemished.

Actually... almost entirely.

As Dan’s eyes gradually adjust to the brightness, he begins to notice a small blip in the landscape; a tiny, scarlet fly in the ointment of the picturesque view. He squints, fingers stilling on the shirt buttons as the figure moves steadily towards the horizon, leaving a faint trail of snow prints in its wake.

Startling him away from the window, Dan’s alarm trills, and he goes to switch it off, forgetting the mystery figure. He pulls on a pair of trousers, some thick grey socks, and boots. With a final, cursory glance in the bathroom mirror, Dan gathers himself as best he can, and heads out of the room. He descends the first set of stairs to the floor where all the other guests’ rooms are, then down another flight of stairs into the mezzanine area. Dan had paid little attention as he passed through it last night, but now he sees this area has been made into a cosy seating space, with a big fireplace, several sofas, armchairs, and a few tables and chairs dotted about. There’s a big television in one corner, and he spots some tall wooden shelves crammed with board games and books, and a large basket full of various patterned blankets, above which a sign reads: ‘help yourself!’

To Dan’s right are a set of double doors, nestled in the centre of some enormous floor to ceiling windows. Beyond the glass is a balcony, the one he’d seen from outside, long and wide, and dotted with tables and chairs. Even from here, just staring through the window, Dan can see that the view beyond the balcony is divine. It looks out onto the same expanse of brilliant whiteness that he can see from his own room’s window. Just then, Mona appears at the top of the stairs leading up from the lobby, a big, dark puffy coat zipped around her.

“Oh! Dan, you’re up, fabulous.”

She bustles past him, wrenching open a door hidden in the wood-panelled wall, which reveals a small cupboard. From within, she takes out some checkered tablecloths and a big wicker basket, the latter of which she shoves into Dan’s hands, and beckons for him to follow her. The box is very heavy, Dan quickly finds, but he ambles along behind Mona as best he can as she marches towards the balcony doors. The scent of something delicious catches in his nostrils as he goes, and he breathes in deeply, stomach gurgling. Noticing the sound, Mona looks over her shoulder, smiling knowingly.

“I have the same reaction to Louise’s cooking,” she says, then points to what is not, apparently, simply a lifelike painting of an industrial kitchen as Dan had initially thought. What it actually is, he now understands, is a serving hatch - a square cut out of the wall separating the kitchen from the mezzanine area to make it easier for food items to be passed back and forth. Beyond the hatch, in the kitchen, a blonde woman in a white chef’s smock and hat dances back and forth between the various pans sizzling on the stove. “She’s a wonder,” Mona says. “Caters for the hotel entirely on her own. Three meals a day. Guests and staff.”

“Wow,” Dan says, eyes widening as he steps through the balcony door Mona holds for him. “Is it normal to have just one person do all that?”

“We’re a small business, Dan,” Mona says as if this is enough of an answer, and follows him out. The moment he’s out of the pleasant, close warmth of the hotel’s interior, Dan is plunged into an icy stream of frigid mountain air. Though the day is still, a biting chill nips at his exposed fingers, his neck and face. He nearly drops the basket with the shock of it. “There may not be many of us, but we all play our part, and we manage fine.”

Dan is focusing too hard on not shivering so violently he drops the basket to respond with actual words.

Again, Mona chuckles at him. “We’re out of the wind here thanks to the positions of the peaks, but it still gets damn cold. You might want to think about more layers in future.”

Dan tries not to let his teeth chatter as he asks, “what are we out here for?”

“Setting up for breakfast,” Mona replies, already flinging the checkered tablecloths onto the tables.

“We’re serving breakfast outside?”

“Of course,” Mona says, then turns to flip open the lid of the basket in Dan’s hands, which Dan now understands is full of crockery and cutlery - hence the weight. She pulls out some plastic clips to secure the tablecloths. “One of our best attractions is our ‘breakfast with a view’. We pop the heaters on, of course, and there are blankets if anyone gets too chilly.”

“Oh,” Dan says, glancing at the few tall electric heaters between the tables, and feeling stupid. “Right, I see.”

“Don’t worry,” Mona says with a sympathetic smile. “You’ll get used to things. Start putting the plates out? Two per table.”

Dan smiles back, grateful for her kind, swift demeanour, and focuses on his given task, moving speedily to set each of the six tables. They lay out napkins, plates, mugs and cutlery, and by the time they’re finished, Dan no longer feels as cold. Mona switches on the heaters one by one, complimenting Dan on how diligently he’s getting on with things, and how it took her half the time it normally does to set up out here with his help.

Dan thanks her awkwardly, not really sure why simply doing his job requires praise, and lets his eyes wander to the view once more; idly, Dan remembers that distant crimson figure from this morning.

“Is it safe for people to ski up here?” Dan finds himself asking. “I didn’t read about any ski runs or anything.”

“No, no,” Mona says, her head snapping sharply from side to side as she straightens the cutlery. “Skiing or snowboarding is not a good idea up here. We’re tucked away, so not many people have properly explored the area. It’s all rather treacherous unless you know what you’re doing, so don’t go wandering off on your own. You can stress that to guests if they ask you, as well.”

The crimson mystery-person is on the tip of Dan’s tongue, but it occurs to him that it may well have been a sleepy mirage, brought on by the shock of the sudden change of lifestyle Dan has hurled himself into without warning. He’ll wait for a follow-up sighting before giving any cause for Mona to call up mountain rescue for an imaginary extreme-sports-junkie.

“So, what time do we serve breakfast?” Dan asks instead.

(Chapter Two!)

#phan #phanfic #too high

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sitinthelight · 5 years

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Zach’s gone for a few days!

I have the day off today :D I’m in a cheerful let’s get shit done mood!

The reason Zach is gone is pretty sad. He left to see his grandmother who is really sick as her stage 4 cancer is progressing and they don’t know how much time she has left.

Even with everything going on between us, I kind of wish I could have gone with him to see his family and give them my best wishes. I love his family. I will miss them, even if they hate me. They’ve been the closest thing I’ve ever had to a big family and they’ve shown me so much love and adoration. His grandmother who is sick gave me a sewing machine that I finally just learned how to use and it’s a really nice one. She was going to teach me quilting but I’ll probably have to take classes at a hobby shop for that eventually.

So that’s pretty sad but honestly, with him out of the apartment, the sad and negative atmosphere has lifted. It’s just me and the pets (: I’ve already worked on cleaning the kitchen and while realistically, I know I can’t get the whole apartment cleaned in one day, I can fucking try. I’ve been listening to a ton of Kevin Abstract. Like, Brockhampton is really great and I love listening to them but sometimes they can be either tooooo slow (with the newest album) or too heavy. Kevin Abstract is just perfect for what I’m feeling right now and I’m really enjoying it. I don’t know how I got into rap and hip hop and some r&b but like, when I’m in the mood, it’s great. Lizzo has also been my favorite artist to do my morning workouts to.

I do want to make this day off count. Because my next day off is literally next Wednesday. My shifts are mostly 6 hour shifts so they don’t take up so much of my day but like, I never want to do much except relax after work. Zach left his PS4 so I can play Persona 5 (:

Scott got me into it and I’ve been slacking at playing (along with let’s go Eevee) so I may play a bit after I get off work tomorrow.

Zach has been reassuring me that he’ll be fine if I break up with him and it’s been, comforting. Really weird. But comforting. I know most break ups are premeditated to a degree, but this is a little weird to go through. I don’t think he will be fine, but him saying that does make me feel a little better and does show he is being more mature than I thought he would be about the situation. He doesn’t know for sure that I’m breaking up. Honestly, I am having doubts about it myself but like, I need the space to grow. I want to focus on myself and what it takes to make me a better person mentally and physically.

Physically, I’m doing pretty well. I’m having a lot of fun switching up my diet. I slipped up and ate like 3 donuts yesterday because Zach bought a dozen from Krispy Kreme. Like, we have the Original Krispy Kreme location in this city! A lot of things originated from here! Krispy Kreme is one of them.

I should have stuck to just one. I woke up feeling kind of sick and like a sugary bile wanted to escape by going up my throat. I feel better now but I did skip breakfast because of it and just have been drinking a lot of water and a cold brew.

I’ve been experimenting with meat alternatives. Meatless meats and tofu. It’s been an interesting journey and honestly, I feel like I could go vegetarian or even vegan one day. Maybe not full fledged vegetarian. I think I’d still want meat like once or twice a month but I’ve never been that big of a meat eater so I think I could manage. But I found a brand that makes meatless meatballs and ground beef and I’m blown away by how good it is. I also found a way to prepare tofu so that I actually enjoy it rather than forcing myself to eat it so that’s been pretty cool too.

Part of me is pretty excited to share these things with my mom and sister. My sister is doing better with healthy eating. My mom slips constantly. I get my lack of self control from her. She’s diabetic so it’s problematic so hopefully living with me for a little while can help them get into better eating habits.

I’m honestly already looking forward to this period of just going to work and taking classes. I’ll still feel stressed on multiple levels but I won’t have to deal with the negativity that Zach creates and it’ll take a load off of me. I also am already looking forward to moving to Charlotte. I don’t know what kind of job I’ll be able to land over there so I know I won’t be able to immediately get an apartment for a good price in the perfect location or anything. But all I need is a generally safe place to live (being a young female with only mace to protect myself with). I’m already planning on redoing my room design. I have a color scheme in mind. There is a chance that I might already have a roommate but it’s way too soon to know because both of our lives are constantly changing and that’s a-okay.

Charlotte is a cool place. Always things to do. Interesting bars to go to (God, I miss bar hopping and dancing). Temples to visit because I want to learn Vietnamese and more about the culture in general. They have an airport because I do want to travel more. Tons of community groups and clubs and chances to volunteer for things I believe in and want to support. So many opportunities to see my favorite bands and musicals. Lots of places to go shopping. It’s not too far from a lot of cities in NC where I want to go gem mining (I want to join a rockhounding group). I also want to take dance classes or martial arts once I’ve established a stable career and have finished school. Charlotte is hella expensive but I totally see why a ton of people are still moving there.

That’s my current longish term goal. Short term goal right now is to make the transition to moving to Wilson and saving money for Charlotte.

I’m almost done paying off one of my medical bills! That means I’ll have finished paying off two :D and that’s so exciting because then I’ll just have to focus on the credit card debt (most of it is medical too, the irony). All to prepare for student loan debt which intimidates me but I’ll survive. So many people have it worse. I know someone who owes like $70,000 and omg will we please elect an presidential candidate who wants to help eliminate or soften the blow of student loans and just high tuition prices in general.

Like, Biden right now is ranking highest on the list of favorable Democrats who are officially in the running. But I’m just not feeling him. He hasn’t come out with a lot of specific stances yet and is just kind of coasting off his general likability and popularity. I’m kind of disappointed to see him topping the list when there are so many good candidates out there right now! All have their flaws but I’m more focused on how they can change the overall election climate and how this country functions. Because this current president sucks. I’ve given up keeping up with news stories. So maybe I’m a few days late on learning about the newest school shooting or revolutions and riots happening in other countries. Not seeing all of that at once on my newsfeed keeps me from feeling hopeless and overwhelmed and honestly has really helped me mentally. I deleted facebook for like a month and now that I have it back, I honestly have barely opened it.I didn't miss it.

Also, in regards to my last post, I don’t think I’m a bad person. I make unwise decisions but I’m human. I can’t help the emotions I feel, just how I react to them so I’m just going to try being better. My head feels clearer now and like there are still concerns that I have and a lot of hard things to get through, but I’ll get through them! I’ll be fine no matter what direction I end up in or what happens! If the thing with my ex doesn’t work out for whatever reason then so be it! I’ll get over it! I’m pretty, I’m smart, someone out there will find me super interesting and once I start going to therapy, I can learn how to talk to people and make more friends and I’ll be fine in the long run. I just want to focus more on what I want and be selfish for a little bit. I think that’s okay. I think I deserve that.

Cordelia is napping next to me and she’s laying on her back and making funny little snoring noises. Her foot is twitching. Omg, she’s so cute. I’m kind of excited that I probably get to keep her even though she is a little menace. I’m hoping that she’ll grow out of it once she’s past her kitten/young cat stage. So it may be a few years but heres to hoping she’ll become a chill cat.

#personal

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chrishansler · 6 years

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24604

This is my last night in this house. It is empty. It is quiet. And it has the same peace, the same sense of “home” it always has. We’ve lived in this house for 24 ½ years. Nine months after moving our young family back here from California, nine months into a new church plant, we bought this brand new home in “Orchard Park” at 24604 57th Ave. E. in Graham. Lisa and I were 30. Bobby was 5, Johnathan was 3 and Annie was 2. It was exciting. The paint was fresh, the front lawn was new and the yard was big! We had no plants, no trees, no back or side yards, no fence – just a nice patch of grass in the front of the house and a vision for what could be.

The yard was full of rocks like all of Graham soil, so we paid our kids 1 cent per rock if they picked them out of the back yard and piled them in the back. 😊 We didn’t have any money so I build a dirt sifter and I raked and sifted rocks out. Raking and sifting, raking and sifting. I was occasionally able to buy a truck load of sandy loam soil to spread in the back yard, and our friend and new church board member, Duane Nelson worked for Emerald Turf farms. So sometimes at the end of the work day he would take a pallet of sod that they were throwing out and bring it to me. So I would plant some seed, lay some sod and do what we had to do to create a back yard we would love. For a long time it wasn’t pretty. It was like a patchwork quilt of every shade of green and brown throughout the back yard. And we still didn’t have any trees. But that would soon change.

Mom and Dad were selling their house on Golden Given so I took their young Northern Spy apple tree. They had some wild evergreen starts growing in their back woods, so I took some 3’ Douglas fir, a couple of Cedar tree sprouts and a little pine tree. Working for Northwest Building services I had the opportunity to take a couple of beautiful Sunset Red maple trees out of a strip mall that was renovating and getting rid of them. It took a flatbed and six guys to move those trees. One went in the front yard, and one in the back corner on top of an area that had been raised by all the rocks we raked and moved. I took one of Debi’s rhododendrons that Mom Hansler had planted when she lived in that house. Eventually our yard began to take shape with vine maples from mom & dad’s new property, as well as a dark red ornamental hazelnut tree and a beautiful mountain ash that mom gave me. We built our cedar fence and we planted pear, apple, peach, cherry, and Asian pear trees.

I built a play house with an attached swing set for the kids. The neighbor boy Torsten peed in that play house. That will forever be his legacy in our minds. I put a little pond in the raised area in the back with little goldfish and koi. We had a little garden on the side of the house. It was the perfect yard for wiffle ball. We would have neighborhood home-run derbies with awards. We played volleyball, badminton and I hit plastic golf balls back there. One time Annie had a party and we played kickball with her friends but one of her big high school friends ran me over at home plate. We had so many great times around the fire out there, looking at the stars, roasting marshmallows, watching movies projected on the back of the house, and even having a live backyard barbecue concert by Rod Nash one time back there!

We had church gatherings in our home. In the early days of our church we had a “small group” at our house with 17 adults and 24 kids. It was nuts, but it was so beautiful and fun. We’d have friends over and play games into the late hours of the night. Our kids played hard – sometimes too hard, sliding down the stairs in sleeping bags and leaving dents in the front door that I can still see as a glance over there – happy little memory dents.

We had the perfect yard for dogs – large and fully fenced. But it wasn’t enough for Dottie, our first Springer Spaniel. She was fast, she could jump high, and she was naughty. She would jump the 4’ fence like it was nothing and she wasn’t always nice to the neighbors so I had to build her a dog house to try to contain her. It didn’t. She got out and had a one-night stand with a stray neighbor dog, horrifying all of the neighborhood children who witnessed it. Dottie went to live with a nice elderly couple who would let her live inside their house. So we got Jill. Jill was a good dog, but mom and dad needed a dog so Jill became dad’s dog. Jack was the first black lab I ever owned. He was also the first big dog I ever let live inside the house. Jack was a big, lumbering, always-panting friend to everyone. He was truly the “best dog of all the dogs.” He loved the back yard. And now, no dog has ever loved our yard like JJ loves our yard – chasing squirrels, driving out crows and catching frisbees. It is his domain.

But it wasn’t only dogs at this home. We had Misty – the beautiful, albeit sometimes cranky, cat. Skitty – a stray neighborhood cat that we sort of adopted. Furball was a great little gray cat. But he liked to be inside and outside. He always got excited when we came home, until that fateful day when I didn’t seem him as I pulled in the garage with all of the kids in the suburban. It was terrible to lose him. We buried him near Misty in the back yard. That loss resulted in getting two half-brothers, Shadow and Fuzzball – loving, independent cats. Fuzzball is sitting next to me on one side and JJ on the other on this last night in the house. We have also had fish in the pond, and those fish attracted raccoons, a big grey heron and a bald eagle! And I have loved watching the countless chickadees, finches, pine-siskins, sparrows and swallows. John always had swallow babies in the birdhouse mounted next to his bedroom window.

And on Christmas our house stole the neighborhood show. The streaming lights down from the star, the driveway lights, the post lights, the light-post Christmas tree, the snowman, the outdoor music and the nativity from Pastor Gene. Sometimes God would even give us a little snow to make it really pop.

The kids grew up here. The house was literally their classroom for many years. They each had their own space and they made it their own. John with his video games, K’nex and candy; Bob with his music, maps and reading; and Annie with her entrepreneurial spirit – with ever changing wall colors, clothing designs and even selling candy out of her room to the boys for a profit one time. So much laughter rang through these walls.

When we bought the house Lisa and I thought it was significant that we were right in the center – perhaps to make a little difference in the neighbor’s lives around us. Lisa quickly made a best friend in Pam Davis, and our kids played together. We remember Blain & Cindy, Luke and the twins; Gary & Kim across the street, Jim & Sharon and Kelly & Iris. Kelly still lives here too, and I said goodbye to him today. I married Steve & Brenda in their home. We tried to show love to Jeff & crazy Wendy behind us – even paying for and building a fence for them with some church friends. I used to walk the neighborhood and pray with Len Phillips. Adam & Nikke, Chloe, Lila, Amelia and now Josiah have been such great neighbors – taking care of our animals when we’re gone; sharing sugar, eggs, flour; letting each other in countless times when we locked ourselves out, and always shouting “hi” from wherever they were. We’re really going to miss them. Maybe we made a little difference here. I hope so.

I’ve prayed every day in this house. I’ve prayed for Lisa and each of our kids. I’ve drafted vision here for new adventures that have become reality. I’ve wept over heartache, disappointment and loss. I’ve sat by the pond and just listened so many times. I’ll miss walking my dog to Centennial, talking to God, listening to scripture as I go.

This year has been really, really tough. When dad died I came home and walked through these trees that grew in his yard originally, and they reminded me of his deep roots, his love for outdoors and beauty, and his quiet strength. Mom needs help – she needs to be with family. And this week, as we were preparing for our move, Bonnie died of cancer. Then, within the hour of Bonnie’s passing, Lisa received biopsy results confirming breast cancer. We haven’t really been able to savor these last days here because we are trying to survive some pretty devastating news. But we will miss it here. It has always been a place I couldn’t wait to get to. I’m so grateful for that.

Tomorrow we will begin new dreams in a new place. There will be new trees to plant, new fruit to harvest, new friends and new places to walk, run and ride our bikes to. Maybe this will be a place where our kids-in-law come and grandkids. That place will ring with love and laughter to. We will share life with mom there for a while. I will walk with Lisa as she beats cancer in a new neighborhood. She says that in that community it “always feels like a vacation.” That is my hope – that it will be a refuge for us, for our kids and family and for our friends.

Now I’m 55, Lisa is 54, Bobby is 29, John is 28 and Annie is 26. The house I sit in tonight is older, the carpets are worn, but the yard is mature and beautiful – full of life and growth. I hope the new owner loves it and enjoys it as much as I have. I hope they mow straight lines in the lawn and put up Christmas lights. I hope they sense the peace here. Thank you God for our home.

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lady-luck-courier · 7 years

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Baby sitting

Re-posting this because tumblr hecked up the formatting, but this is one of my first fanfiction writings I am ever publishing and my first NV piece! Inspired by @nuclear-reactions amazing reactions I hope you enjoy!

I had faced everything the Mojave has to throw at me

I have faced a quarry full of deathclaws

I have sent ghouls into space on pre-war rocket ships

I have traveled to kill my attacker and ended up seducing him

I have been a peace keeper and an assassin

I brought Caesar's legion to their knees at the second battle of the hoover dam

I even found a goddamn sex bot to get onto the strip

But this, this is the hardest challenge I will ever have to face.

The little bundle in my arms shifted again, my heart was pounding as I hurried through freeside, a rifle strapped to my back, a pistol on my hip, and a diaper bag over my shoulder. I got a few strange looks from the residents, a few thugs eyed the soft quilt piled in my arms as if to get a better view of what was swaddled inside. I went as fast as I dared to without jostling the precious cargo in my arms.

I kicked the door open to the lucky 38, trying to remember who I’d seen this morning and who i’d sent on supply runs and who was still home. Arcade was still home.

“ARCADE” I screamed as the elevator doors slid open

I heard a crash one room over, Arcade rushed to see what the cause of my panic tone was, he was still holding his coffee mug, sloshing the liquid around, his glasses askew and his shirt untucked

“Six!? What’s the matter? Where’s the injury” his eyes flew over my face, completely missing the bundle in my arms

“Nothing Arcade, but look what I found!”

I gently unwrapped the blankets, a round baby's face appeared in a state of peaceful dream. Arcades eyebrows shot so far up his face I feared they would fly off

“A baby. Six, where the hell did you find a baby?”

“Well”

There was only one thing I hated more deathclaws, and that was the legion. And the legion hated me more ever since I threw a wrench into their plans. So when I went out into the wastes on a solo scaving mission just outside of south vegas I was on high alert for any attacks they might send out. Geralt city was one of the smaller towns more often passed over but caravanners have been saying there was a small lake full of fresh radiation free water and nature was slowly taking a foot hold once again, so I saw no harm in checking it out. Dawn was just breaking, the perfect time between the ferals slinking back into the darkness and when the weather was only in the double digits. I slunk in between the shadows and broken walls, coming across some scrap metals and a few drained energy cells.

I thankfully I saw the legionnaires before they saw me. They stood in the town square, four of them in total surrounding a caged cart. I crept out further and eavesdropped

“What should we do with the cripple?”

He whacked the side of the cage and I could see the small frame of someone wince inside

“Kill her right now?” one suggested

“No, let’s sell her for a discount. If not, well we can keep her for some personal entertainment”

They chuckled

It made me sick hearing them refer to a person as a piece of meat. I unslung my hunting rifle and peered down the sight right at the first ones head, the one who suggested keeping her for entertainment

He dropped like a sack of flour. All the others heads whipped around trying to find the source

“Hello boys!” I stood up and waved to them “Remember me?”

They yelled and charged at the girl with a high powered hunting rifle with spears and swords, and they wonder how I’ve been picking them off so easily.

I looted bodies for the control for the collars around their slaves necks and picked the lock off the cage. Two women, a man and a child were inside. One of the women walked with the aid of a crutch

I helped her out of the cart and she studied my face with wide eyes

“Who are you?” She asked “NCR? Brotherhood?”

“Courier” I answered holding out my hand “Six”

She pulled me into a hug and sobbed thanking me before limping off following the others, it occured to me they were a family. I watched them until they became small spots on the horizon. Right before I left that cart forever I heard a baby cry.

Arcades jaw hung open

“Yeah” I said “I need to get the others, Arcade, hold her”

He jumped and flinched back as if the suggestion sucker punched him

“Me? No!”

“Acrade” I asked my eyebrow arching “Are you afraid of the baby?”

“Not afraid! Just terrified of dropping the little thing, you know their skulls aren't fully developed and-”

“So you never held a baby before in all the years you worked with the followers?”

“No, I mean- I know how to hold one but-”

I pushed her into his arms, he immediately locked up and stared at the infant

“Now i’m going to get everyone else, i’ll be back soon” I said sharply turning back to the elevator

“Six. Six? Six, please don't leave me with the-” the elevator doors slid shut cutting him off

I came back an hour later with everyone in tow, when the doors slid open we all saw a stiff Arcade trying to shush the now awake and crying baby, it looks like he hasn’t moved from where I left him this morning

“Thank god” He sighed “She just started crying, please help”

The poor guy looked like he craved death and the babies face was red and snot and tears trailed down her face. Everyone rushed out and started to crowd around the baby, effectively making her cry harder.

“Can I try something?”

Everyone's head snapped towards Boone. Arcade sighed in relief and quickly pawned her off into his arms. Boone carefully took her and gently tucked her head under his chin and held her against his chest, supporting her head and neck with his hand he breathed in slowly through his nose. She quieted down immediately. You could feel the shock radiate off everyone in the room. I stared at him wide eyed

“Where’d you learn that Boone?” I asked

He took a moment to respond, gently swaying back and forth

“When Carla told me, I tried to get my hands on every parenting book I could find, some were more helpful than others but I figured if I knew what to expect it wouldn’t be so terrifying”

It was a little strange to see him be so delicate with something, and as the baby started to babble softly everyone caught a glimpse of Boone’s rare smile.

“What’s her name anyway?” Arcade asked

“I-” I stopped “I have no clue, not like she had a name tag or anything.”

Everyone looked around as if for an answer

“Kelly” Boone said “Lets call her kelly”

No one argued

Kelly was kept quite against the snipers chest, until a smell started to permeate through the living room.

“Smells like...shit” I wrinkled my nose

“Bingo” Raul said “Change it boss”

“I dunno how” I replied “Does anyone?”

Silence fell across the living room

“I got it boss, but I can only do it if Boone lets her go”

Raul held his hands out and Boone grudgingly gave up the infant

“You got a diaper bag?”

“Yep!” I hefted the bag up and let it slap against my side

“Good, come with me you’re gonna help me out”

I trailed behind Raul into one of the spare bedrooms and watched him work

“Wow Raul, seems like you got some experience with this” I commented handing him a clean diaper

“Well, I had a big family and they liked dumping their bawling bundles of joy onto us so they could get some rest, so I got good at this pretty quick. I didn’t mind though” His rotted digits secured the safety pin, Kelly giggled happily and grabbed Rauls fingers. Big eyes looked at him with absolute trust and innocence, she shook his hand back and forth and smiled. I thought I saw a tear or two leak out of his eye.

“Raul, buddy, you okay?” I asked placing a hand on his shoulder

He sniffed “I’m great”

Veronica was great with kids, or so she kept insisting. So when Boone left Kelly with me and Raul to shower veronica saw her opportunity. Kelly was happily smacking one of the forks against the floor, giggling when it got stuck in the carpet. Babies were weird. Veronica crept up behind her

“Veronica” I asked, her hands froze halfway to the kellys stomach “What are you doing?”

She only winked and started to tickle Kelly’s side.

She began to shriek and cry

“Oh dear” Raul muttered before returning to his tinkering

“Ver, I really don't think kelly likes that” I said

“No, the kids at the brotherhood loved me, I just-”

She tried to gather the screaming bundle in her arms to bounce her and blew raspberries on her cheek.

Kelly screamed louder

As if his “baby-is-crying” sense was tingling, or he heard kelly screeching, Boone marched into the living room and swept kelly away glaring daggers at Veronica

Veronica sat in shock and hurt

“But...Kids love me, I was the cool aunt”

“Ver, I think kelly is just a little young for the roughhousing” I patted her shoulder reassuringly. She feel back against the carpet and covered her eyes with her arm, defeated

ED-E hovered around the makeshift crib Raul constructed for Kelly, Listening to her babble and playing the sounds back to her make her giggle and coo as we all tried to come up with a plan for taking care of her. The two seemed as if they were studying each other, ED-E gently poked at Kelly with his antennas and kelly in return grabbed at them and tried to stick them in her mouth. His victory anthem make Kelly shierk with joy for some reason and she loved sticking the barrel of the laser rifle in her mouth (the only way she would release it was the when his danger warning played). Three times I had to make Boone sit down and keep him from dismantling ED-E, promising that ED-E wasn't going to hurt Kelly. I looked at all the people at the table, a patch work of broken and beaten people, and I felt a warmth swell in my chest over the obvious concern they had for this little baby that was dropped in our lap.

“So, Kelly will be staying with us for the foreseeable future?” I asked lacing my fingers and resting my chin atop them, all of them nodded in unison. I smiled lightly and turned to look out the window, showing an orange colored sky. For a moment it felt a little bit of innocent, pure, unfiltered hope returned to all of us. Maybe the world wasn’t such a hellscape after all, and there was hope.

#courier six #MK #craig boone #arcade gannon #veronica santangelo #ED-E #raul tejada #I also wussed out and didn't write all the companions cause I don't feel confident in my writing

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jeremystrele · 3 years

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Seven Local Kids Design Brands We Can’t Get Enough Of!

Shopping

by Amelia Barnes

Selection of V. Happy Co Alphapics Prints in A2 and A3. Plant and planter by Ivy Muse. Lockers by Mustard Made. Floor cushions by Sage x Clare. Taco by Make Me Iconic. Bag/key tags by V. Happy Co. Burger greeting card on locker by V. Happy Co. Photo – Amelia Stanwix. Styling – Paige Anderson. Art direction – V. Happy Co

V. Happy Co Alphapics Letter G Print + Letter C Print. Timber bed by Plyroom. Bed linen and Mathilda Crochet Cushion by Sage x Clare. Locker by Mustard Made. Wire basket on top of locker by Mustard Made. Letter B Bag Tag (on locker) by V. Happy Co. Oval Play Mat in Sage by jnr.life. Hot Chips Tall Lunch Bag by Doo Wop Kids. Floor cushions by Sage x Clare. Photo – Amelia Stanwix. Styling – Paige Anderson. Art direction – V. Happy Co

Letter B Print by V. Happy Co. Plyroom Ava Cot. Plyroom Dedo Wooden Storage Box. Linen and cushions by Sage x Clare. Mustard Made ‘The Shorty’ Locker. Doo Wop Kids Trucks Tall Lunch Bag. Plant and planter by Ivy Muse. jnr.life play mats and shapes. Letter A Bag Tag by V. Happy Co. Make Me Iconic Healthy Tummy Brekkie. Photo – Amelia Stanwix. Styling – Paige Anderson. Art direction – V. Happy Co

Whether you have kids of your own, or just occasionally buy gifts for other little people in your life, it’s always handy to be across the latest and greatest brands for kids.

From personalised art prints to Melbourne-made furniture, there are so many fantastic options currently on offer. These seven brands are just a handful of our local favourites!

Selection of V. Happy Co Alphapics Prints. jnr.life Play Mat (oval, rust), Play Mat (round, linen); Play Room Mate (gull/lobster); Play Go Round (ocean and gull) Play Arc (cloud). Mustard Made Wire Basket. Make Me Iconic Loose Change Binoculars. Make Me Iconic Healthy Tummy Brekkie. Photo – Amelia Stanwix. Styling – Paige Anderson. Art direction – V. Happy Co

Playmat in Sage by jnr.life. Photo – courtesy of jnr.life

New V. Happy Co Art Print – Robot Face Print (800mm x 1200mm, available framed for Melbourne pick up). Mustard Made ‘The Skinny’ Locker. jnr.life Play Mat (oval, rust); Play Room Mate (gull/lobster); Play Go Round (ocean and gull) Play Arc (cloud). Make Me Iconic Loose Change Paddle Ball. Letter A Bag Tag by V. Happy Co. Photo – Amelia Stanwix. Styling – Paige Anderson. Art direction – V. Happy Co

jnr.life

In a market saturated by clutter, Nikki Davis and Ashleigh Pyke saw an opportunity to enter the children’s interiors space with a more sophisticated and considered design approach.

Their label, jnr.life launched in 2018 with high quality quilted play mats, but their latest venture is jnr.play – a collection of soft play-shapes made in Melbourne for both indoor and outdoor fun.

‘We create useful play essentials for junior life (right from birth) that nurture the imagination and encourage play without forsaking a stylish sensibility suited to grown-up environments,’ says Ashleigh.

These are the kind of kids toys you’ll proudly keep on display in the home, and can even double as furniture.

‘We design for tots but appeal to a contemporary aesthetic with uncompromising detail and durable, premium textiles,’ says Nikki.

jnrlife.com

Maxi Round World Map Backpack by Doo Wop Kids. Letter E Bag Tag by V. Happy Co. Photo – Amelia Stanwix. Styling – Paige Anderson. Art direction – V. Happy Co

Photo – courtesy of Doo Wop Kids

Doo Wop Kids

Sydney-based label Doo Wop Kids are bringing personality to gender-neutral kids fashion with their printed clothing, backpacks, hip packs, lunch bags, and handbags.

‘Doo Wop Kids create products that allow children to express themselves through bright colours, fun prints and loud patterns – without any rules,’ says Wendy Zakaria, who founded the label in 2015.

‘As a brand, we align ourselves to further the freedom of individuality and creativity within our children.’

With prints ranging from ‘70s inspired florals, to cheeseburgers, ramen, and world maps, Doo Wop Kids’ pieces are sure to make you smile. Items are made in both Australia and Indonesia.

doowopkids.com.au

Aussie Food Set by Make Me Iconic. Photo – courtesy of Make Me Iconic

Mustard Made ‘The Lowdown’ Locker. V. Happy Co Letter E Print. Letter E Bag Tag (on locker) by V. Happy Co. Australian Ute by Make Me Iconic. Australian Stacking Burger by Make Me Iconic. Plant and stand by Ivy Muse. Photo – Amelia Stanwix. Styling – Paige Anderson. Art direction – V. Happy Co

Make Me Iconic

After 10 years living in Europe, Natasha Skunca returned to Melbourne and realised the gap in the market for stylish souvenirs depicting local icons.

‘The city has so much to offer that is unique, stylish, and contemporary and I wanted something in our home that brought those elements to life,’ says Natasha.

A decade later, her label Make Me Iconic is still going strong, and has evolved from tea towels, cushions and artwork to also offer beautiful, wooden toys. Amongst their best sellers are remakes of the Australia Post street mailboxes and Melbourne’s famous yellow and green trams.

‘Our wooden toys also simply don’t go out of style, and tend to be more timeless… [They] keep kids busy and they are actually doing some serious learning right before your eyes,’ says Natasha.

There’s also non-Melbourne specific souvenirs for those based elsewhere in the country – such as glass ornaments, wooden versions of Arnotts biscuits, and sequinned accessories.

makemeiconic.com

Selection of V. Happy Co Alphapics Prints. Taco by Make Me Iconic. Locker by Mustard Made. Photo – Amelia Stanwix. Styling – Paige Anderson. Art direction – V. Happy Co

Letter A Print Alphapics Print by V. Happy Co. Photo – courtesy of V. Happy Co

V. Happy Co

V. Happy Co creates playfully designed art prints and more, to inspire both big and little folk.

Founded by designer Vanessa Perilli in 2019, PR expert and brand strategist Esther Navarro-Orejon joined the business in 2020.

Among their most popular products are the Alphapics prints – a unique illustrated alphabet to encourage language awareness, while also just looking great in any kids’ room! V. Happy Co also creates personalised art prints of kids’ names – the perfect gift for new parents. All products are proudly made in Australia.

V. Happy Co were the masterminds behind the now-postponed Happy House event… so stay tuned to their socials for the rescheduled date, as well as new products coming soon!

vhappyco.com

Mustard Made ‘The Shorty’ Locker in Mustard. Photo – courtesy of Mustard Made

Maxi Round World Map Backpack by Doo Wop Kids. Letter E Bag Tag by V. Happy Co Mustard Made ‘The Skinny’ Locker in Ocean. Letter A Bag Tag by V. Happy Co. Photo – Amelia Stanwix. Styling – Paige Anderson. Art direction – V. Happy Co

Mustard Made

We’re big fans of Mustard Made – makers of colourful lockers for kids bedrooms, playrooms and adult spaces alike!

Lockers are available in a range of sizes to serve as versatile storage solutions. The Twinny for example makes for an ideal wardrobe, The Lowdown can be a TV console, and The Shorty is a bedside table alternative. The only problem is choosing a favourite colour!

‘Our lockers are designed to be simple, beautiful, and above all, super versatile, no matter how big or small you are,’ says Becca Stern, who co-founded Mustard Made with her sister Jess Stern in 2018.

‘It’s all in the little details, from the matching keyring to the flexibility of the shelves. We really want our lockers to last so they can grow with you as your clothes get bigger.’

mustardmade.com

Letter B Print by V. Happy Co. Plyroom Ava Cot. Plyroom Dedo Wooden Storage Box. Linen and cushions by Sage x Clare. Mustard Made “Shorty’’ Locker. Doo Wop Kids Trucks Tall Lunch Bag. Plant and planter by Ivy Muse. jnr.life play mats and shapes. Letter A Bag Tag by V. Happy Co. Make Me Iconic Healthy Tummy Brekkie. Photo – Amelia Stanwix. Styling – Paige Anderson. Art direction – V. Happy Co

Plyroom Ava Lifestages Cot. Photo – courtesy of Plyroom

Plyroom

‘Thoughtful’ and ‘understated’ are not words commonly used to describe children’s furniture, but not all children’s furniture is created by Plyroom!

Among this label’s wider furniture collection are several pieces specifically designed to grow with children, and last a lifetime.

‘Children’s spaces are often cluttered and busy. Our pieces sit lightly in the space and create a natural canvas for calm,’ says Plyroom director and founder Elise Heslop.

‘As families grow and needs change, our pieces can adjust and adapt to growing children and spaces as life changes. The Ava Lifestages Cot (pictured), for example, is also a desk, junior bed, and two-tier cot.’

Plyroom products are made in Australia and Italy.

plyroom.com.au

Sage x Clare kids wares. Photo – Armelle Habib. Styling – Heather Nette King.

Photo – courtesy of Sage x Clare

Sage x Clare

A leap of faith saw Melbourne based designer Phoebe Bell found Sage x Clare in 2013, and she hasn’t looked back since!

The homewares, apparel and accessories label expanded to include a baby and kids range in 2017, offering a vibrant range of bed linen, cushions, wall hangings, blankets and muslin wraps.

‘Creating handcrafted pieces full of charm, colour, pattern and texture is the heartbeat of this brand,’ says Phoebe.

Sage x Clare’s soulful and textural wares are designed in Melbourne and made in India. ‘Each piece has such detail that it’s a joy to be surrounded by them,’ says Phoebe. ‘To hold these pieces in your hands and know that someone has learnt a time-honoured craft to create them is the most special feeling of all.’

sageandclare.com

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weddingideas1234 · 4 years

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Creating a Rustic Wedding 101

If you want a laid-back, casual vibe on your big day, then a rustic wedding may be for you. This style uses nature-inspired elements and outdoor spaces in order to create a relaxed environment that encourages mixing, mixing and having a good time (with a bit of country flair). Keep reading about how to pull off a rustic wedding and some of our favourite rustic decorations and other ideas for all the details to add to your celebration. What does a rustic wedding mean to me?

Nature and the outdoors are the great components of the rustic wedding style. Rustic weddings are often associated with rural locations, such as barns and other countryside venues, but you can pull off this relaxed aesthetic almost anywhere with the correct approach. Typically, a rustic wedding style is a combination of farmhouse, vintage, and robust elements, such as wooden logs, burlap, baby's breath, mix-and-match vases, barrels, and galvanised metal. By adding sleek details, such as chandeliers, greenery garlands, candles, and twinkle lights, you can achieve a classic rustic wedding style. What are the best venues for a rustic wedding?

For rustic weddings, barns, ranches and farms are the most obvious venues. These types of venues easily lend themselves to the rustic wedding style because of their rural locations and informal settings. For vineyards, mountain lodges, and recreational parks or campgrounds, the rustic style is also suitable.

Some barns or farm locations may close for the winter and early spring, especially if your area is notorious for heavy snowfall. This means that you are more likely to be limited to traditional indoor venues during the winter and, as a result, you may need more decor to achieve a truly rustic effect. Ask about the inclement weather policy of the venue if you find a barn or farm available during the winter, and don't forget to create a "Plan B" if there are other ideas for Mother Nature. Finally, barns can be very draughty in the winter, so ask the venue if space heaters are supplied if needed. If not, you will need to take the added cost of renting them into account in order for everyone to stay cosy and warm.

For a rustic wedding, what are the good colours?

One thing that we love about the rustic wedding style is that it is super versatile. It works with many different colour palettes, and each one can help you achieve a different look depending on the decor you choose.

Popular rustic colour palettes are yellow and navy, burgundy and orange, or coral and turquoise. Stick with a softer pastel colour palette, such as blush, dusty blue, mint green, or even gold for a more 'rustic chic' look. How is it that you decorate your rustic wedding?

The style of the rustic wedding focuses on handmade details, rough accent pieces, and repurposed vintage items. You have to decide before you choose your wedding decor if you want your wedding to be traditionally rustic (more on that in a second) or something along the lines of a 'rustic chic' look.

The traditional rustic decor is heavy on the outdoor elements, such as hay bales, twine, raw wood pieces, and antlers. At traditional rustic weddings, burlap table runners, mason jars, and baby's breath are also popular. You may even add seasonal details to play up the pastoral theme, such as sunflowers in the summer or acorns and pumpkins in the fall.

All about creating a laid-back yet elegant setting is the rustic, chic style. The basic elements are retained in this traditional rustic style twist, but romantic and classic details are added, such as loose greenery, whitewashed chairs, muted metallic accents, and basically anything that you would see in a Fixer Upper episode.

For rustic weddings, what are the best flowers?

The rustic wedding style is all about creating a welcoming feeling, so for the bouquets, centrepieces (see our favourite ideas here), and other floral arrangements, you'll want a loose, slightly undone look. Nothing that feels too perfect or overly arranged, in other words.

With most types of flowers, the rustic style works well, but we particularly like sunflowers, hydrangeas, daisies, roses, delphinium, dahlias, poppies and lots of greenery (imagine wildflowers you might see growing in a country field). The baby's breath goes hand in hand with the rustic style, but some other floral accents that look just as beautiful are Queen Anne's lace, craspedia, goldenrod, and even cotton puffs. At a rustic wedding, what are you going to wear?

Generally, rustic weddings allow for more casual dress codes because of the informal atmosphere associated with rustic wedding venues. If your ceremony takes place in a 200-year-old barn or a field at the edge of a forest, for instance, asking your guests to wear tuxedos and floor-length gowns may not be the most practical route.

You'll also want to consider the venue when choosing your own attire. If you are wearing a wedding gown, slimmer silhouettes in lightweight, breathable fabrics are ideal for rustic settings. This provides you with plenty of freedom to move around easily, a must if you get hitched outside. A more casual dress code also means that your accessories should remain relatively understated, but do not be afraid to have some fun with them! This is an opportunity to wear stuff that may seem out of place at more formal venues, such as swapping your stilettos for a pair of sandals, flats or even cowboy boots!

If you're wearing a suit, opt for a more casual style in a lightweight material, like seersucker, cotton or linen. These options still look polished without being overdressed, and they're ideal for warmer temperatures. Wool suits are a great choice for rustic weddings held in cooler weather. For the ultimate laid-back look, skip the suit altogether and sport a button-down with dress pants, a tie, or suspenders. What type of food do you serve at a rustic wedding?

For rustic wedding cakes, we love the look of buttercream frosting that will give your cake a slightly more relaxed look. For each tier or skip the allover frosting, dress up with fresh flowers or greenery and opt for a naked or semi-naked cake instead. For extra rustic flair, Fondant offers a smoother finish to your wedding cake and can be decorated with a faux bois pattern or burlap ribbons.

Only some of our faves are homemade pies, doughnuts, waffles, and even pie pops. A prime opportunity to try out some alternative dessert ideas is rustic weddings. Pies are especially festive for fall weddings, since you can incorporate seasonal ingredients such as pumpkins and apples. You can serve pies or send your guests home with pre-boxed slices or mini pies as favours, in addition to your traditional cake. We also love cupcakes, candy apples, and flavoured kettle corn as rustic wedding treats. Our favourite Rustic Wedding Ideas

Ceremony of Hay Bale Seating

If you are exchanging your vows outside, this creative seating idea is spot-on for a rustic wedding. Even better, when you get married at a farm or other venue that already has hay bales on site, just add assorted quilts and blankets to dress them up.

A wooden ceremony arch is a staple décor piece when it comes to rustic weddings. We love this birch branch backdrop, decorated with flowers inspired by greenery and garden, and you can either make your own or source one from a local rental company for events.

Loose, over-flowing wedding bouquet

To add to the laid-back vibe of a rustic wedding, bring an oversized bouquet filled with vines, greenery, pampa grass, and other botanical accents. Focus on using wildflowers and cheerful blooms, such as daisies, sunflowers, roses, ranunculus, and poppies, to achieve that farmer's market-inspired look.

Cowboy Boots

What would a rustic wedding be without cowboy boots? Not only are these shoes suitable for a rustic aesthetic, but they are also practical if you have an outdoor wedding and do not want to ruin a pair of new shoes (or deal with uncomfortable heels and laces).

Costume Lightweight

Even with an informal dress code, you can wear a suit if you are having a rustic wedding. Finding the appropriate style is the trick. Look for suits made from cotton, linen, or tweed, which are on the less fancy end of the spectrum. Another option: skip the full suit and choose a coat and jeans for sports (no rips, though, please!).

Throwing blankets for fleece

If you are having an outdoor wedding, even in the height of summer, it can be cold when the sun goes down. Providing a basket of fleece blankets is a cute and practical solution that your guests will appreciate.

Decoration Wagon

Whether the waggon is purely decorative or you use it in a practical way, like wheeling a young flower girl down the aisle or displaying ceremony programmes, it is a perfect addition to any rustic wedding theme. Choose one in a colour that fits the rest of your décor to jazz it up, and then add streamers, greenery or flowers.

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