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#i would make a map but . the venue is so small i dont think its necessary ahaha. take that as a person who gets as lost as zoro. trust me.
alicenpai · 9 days
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goodies for this weekend at BAMTORI's aapi fall market (toronto) on sat sept 21!! will be in the east wing at table 3 with @nappotuna. it's free to attend WAHOO 🥳🥂
for more details, please refer to @bamtori_studio's instagram page! it will be held on sat sept 21 from 11 AM to 7 PM, at tyndale university, just a stone's throw away from finch subway station. please do stop by if your'e in the north york/toronto area!! completely FREE to attend & for all ages! :3c
some notes:
- due to the size of the event, my large prints will not be on display, although they will still be available for sale!! labels for print sizes will be up + feel free to ask for a larger size.
- as stated before, anything marked as "last chance" means they won't be reprinted once sold out. for example, all buttons (recently including minky buttons) will not be restocked. a lot of them have gone during my shop opening, so if you want em, grab em now!
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Hiii!! How are you doing today?? I hope that you're well and staying healthy, happy and hydrated. Could I please have a matchup, with a male haikyuu character if that's okay with you??
My personality type is INTP-A/INFP-A my T and F are split 50/50.
My star sign is Aries, rising sun is Capricorn and moon is Pisces.
I use she/her pronouns.
I really like doing anything creative, so whether its writing, drawing, baking, or even cooking, I find it really relaxing and chill to do
Hate going outside and in public, it makes me really nervous and anxious especially if I'm alone
But when I go out with someone I always hold onto the bottom of their top of their sleeve because it makes me feel better
My love language is quality time/ words of affirmations, and I show love through acts of service, affirmations and a little bit of physical touch.
I'm a very open minded chill person, very witty and love corny jokes or dad jokes.
Not open with my emotions, I like to keep them to myself and dont like sharing them, but I will always be willing to listen to your problems.
I dont like doing high effort things, unless it's for other people. Like the only motivation I have for making revision notes for college is so that I can share it with those in my class if they ever need them.
I'm a very laidback borderline lazy person.
I'm a very practical person, and I can do quite a lot of stuff that might not necessarily be useful, but could be, like I can read maps and do bearings, and I know how to do most things, I dont know why, I just do.
I like to think I'm a very well rounded person, in terms of academics as well. I got straight A's in all my subject exams and yeah
Thank you soooooo much, I hope that this is enough. Make sure you're taking care of yourself and drink lots and lots of water 😊😊. Thank youu 💞💞 xxx
Romantic Matchup
Osamu Miya
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How y’all met
Cooking class
The school had a cooking class and you two got partnered up for a assignment
The assignment was to take two cultures and make a fusion dish
Osamu chose japanese in the form of onigiri so he let you pick the second sulture
So you chose mexican
You decided to make Sweet Rice Onigiry
Omg it was BOMB
Yall got a A+ on that assignment
And osamu really had fun making it with you
So you basically just became his cooking buddy
He would invite you over to crate some crazy dishes regularly
And slowly but surely he began to fall for you
It started off small
A little blush whenever y’all touched hands
Him thinking of you whenever he sees a certain food
Then it grew
And grew
And grew
Soon enough the poor man couldn’t get you out of his head
Everything reminded him of you
He caught himself counting the minutes till he could see you again
So he confessed
It was really blunt actually
But also very indirect
Essentially he just gave you a bento box with a love note in it
And long story short you accepted his confession ❤️
What they love about you
Hahhhhh
Ok so according to my Dating Osamu Headcanons
Mans is the king of food puns
And he loves how he can always make you laugh with those
Ngl it boosts his ego when you laugh at his jokes
Ok kinda weird but...
He likes how anxious you are
He finds it so cute when you cling into him in public
Says it makes him feel like your “protector”
Lol ok Osamu
He loves how laid back you are
Now don’t get me wrong Osamu isn’t lazy per say
But he definitely is more laid back than others
Very nonchalant if you will
So he’s happy that your the same way as he is
Ok quick one
He loves how you’re a good listener
However
He wishes you would open up to him more :(
But he makes it known that he’s always there for you
Favorite Things To Do Together
Ahh
He loves to cook with you
Duh
But
He likes the ENTIRE process of cooking with you
From the planning
To the shopping
To the cooking
To the cleaning
He loves it all
SO COOK WITH THIS MANSSS
Random Hc
Every time you cook together it turns into a fusion dish
You guys invented “dessert onigiri”
You guys went on a road trip once and got lost
Your map reading skills really came in handy that day 😉
He hates to admit it but...
He relays on you when it comes to schoolwork
He always goes to you for notes
But makes it up for you with kithes 😚
Astrology
Aries+ Libra
When Aries and Libra come together in a love affair, the inherent polarity of the Zodiac is invoked.
Aries and Libra are directly opposite one another in the Zodiac — 180 degrees apart.
Each Sign possesses qualities that the other lacks; combined with Libra’s natural yen for harmony, this can be a relationship that enjoys great balance.
Aries is the Sign of Self while Libra is the Sign of Partnership, and the differences continue: Aries is impulsive, excitable and ready to jump right into something new and exciting, while Libra is indecisive, peace-loving and prefers a calm, smooth approach.
Aries can learn from Libra that their own way isn’t necessarily the best way.
Aries is ruled by the Planet Mars and Libra is ruled by the Planet Venus.
This is a great match, as these are the Planets of Passion and Love, respectively.
Venus and Mars go well together as they’re the two sides of the love relationship coin.
They’re universally recognized as male and female and this relationship is a good balance of masculine and feminine energy.
Venus is about the beauty of romance while Mars is about the passion of romance.
Overall Aesthetic
Foodies 🍱
Songs
Deathbed- Powfu
Baby I’m yours- Arctic Monkeys
Lost in you- Khai Dreams
Stolen Dance- Milky Chance
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mythiica · 4 years
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amber astrolabe | ikevam | leonardo
title |  amber astrolabe fandom | ikemen vampire character | leonardo da vinci  genre | angst, bittersweet warnings | well i dont kill anyone, but i dont make any promises for your feels intended gender audience | neutral audience  word count | 2.1k pov | second person  check out the others in this collection | comte, mozart other comments | reuploading! i decided to edit it a bit before doing so, sorry for the wait
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The museum looms in front of you, practically swallowing you with its grand glory as it reaches for the sky. Sunlight sparkles in the new windows, yet to be touched by peoples’ hands as they stare into the street. Even from the outside, you can see the top of the arched glass roof letting natural light pour in.
          You remember it when it was the train station and how you would sneak past the guards to climb the stairs hidden behind the walls. Tipping your head back, you squint hard against the bright sun to spot the window of your old room on the top floor. 
         It’s a bad idea to return to the museum– this beautiful building hosts so many memories that are not as wonderful. Still, against your better judgement, you pay your admission ticket like any other tourist that clamours through the doors of the Musée d'Orsay before melting into the crowd. 
         In honor of the museum's grand opening, more people have gathered to see the new displays for themselves. You were specifically interested in the exhibit that you had read about in the newspaper a few days prior. After nearly five decades, the lost works of a famous artist have resurfaced. A trove of sketches – namely hundreds of half-finished drawings of an unknown woman. Pieces of her face were scattered across blueprints, hidden on the backs of oil paintings, and even etched into the lacquer of strange wooden contraptions. 
         You walk past the main exhibit, not really having an interest in seeing the Mona Lisa again. Still, the painting smiles at you from over the churning sea of heads, as if she knows something you do not. 
         Now in the traveling exhibit, you take your time, pacing around to admire the art. You marvel at the broken wing of a plane that did not survive a test run, awe at the elaborate blueprint of a flying machine with gold sails, and even laugh at the obligatory comedic comment that this mystery artist must have had an obsession with someone. 
         However, from the corner of your eye, you notice something glinting in the spotlight just a few meters away. As you approach it, you can’t help but be a tad bit sad to see that it has lost its original shine over the years – in fact, you had held the astrolabe when it was brand new. The hands of the device point towards the end of the exhibit just beyond the corner, but you don’t pay it much attention. Instead, you search your memory, thinking hard to collect the pieces of the past before you can fall against the events that transpired nearly a lifetime ago. 
“Cara mia, close your eyes. I have a gift for you.” 
         “If you drop a screw in my hand again and say you found it behind my ear, I’m going to throw it at you!” 
         His laugh rumbles deep in his chest, but you close your eyes to humor him. Without wasting a moment, he takes your hand and presses a cold, circular object into your palm. “You can look now.” 
         Your eyes flutter open, but you don’t know what to say. “A pocket watch? Did you steal this from Arthur?!” 
         “No.” He pulls the lid back to reveal a much more complicated interior. You take a moment to admire the fine engravings around the edge of the disk before your eyes graze over the centre of the object: an oblong piece of metal resembling the hands of a clock stretch across the diameter, overlapping the intricate second layer that sits atop what looks like a miniature map of the world. It is a deep copper color, and you immediately think of his eyes. They are nearly the same shade of amber, so deep and intoxicating that you wonder if he made it like this on purpose. “It is an astrolabe.” 
         “Well, it looks like you took a watch and a compass and made some… strange hybrid. What does it do?” 
         When he cups his hand over yours, your breath catches in the back of your throat. His hands are so large and warm. “It’s used to calculate the position of the Sun and other stars in the sky. Here, I’ll show you.” Now, his fingers lace with yours, the astrolabe pressed between your palms. It fits there perfectly, as if it were made to be held by your hand and his. 
         The two of you step over the incredible mess that has accumulated over the past week. No matter how hard you try, this place always remains a mess. It is no use to scold him for it now, for he has something set in his mind – nothing you say or do will be able to draw his attention away from showing you what this strange device is capable of doing. 
         He allows you to climb up the winding staircase first. 
         What a gentleman. 
         Then again, it’s the perfect opportunity for him to place his free hand on your waist. To ensure you don’t fall, he explains with the slyest of smirks. 
         Upon reaching the roof of the building, he leads you to the large telescope pointing towards the night sky. A breeze ruffles through your clothes, so he pushes you between the device and his body.  Warmth radiates from his chest, so you lean against him slightly as he explains what he is doing. 
         “This telescope is completely uncalibrated, alright? Cara mia, are you paying attention? Look inside. You’ll see that it is not pointing at anything memorable.” 
         You smile to yourself. He always is so passionate about his work. To humor him, you take a peek through the lense. There is only darkness. 
         “I see.” 
         “Now, if you’ll give me a moment…” Lifting the astrolabe to the sky, he fiddles with it, mutters to himself, and then changes a few settings on the telescope. It swings around to point at a seemingly equal void in the sky – you cannot see anything of importance against the night sky, but he nudges you slightly, prompting you to look through the lense once more. 
         “Is… is that Venus?” 
         “It is!” 
         You lean back and squint, trying hard to see a flicker of green against the black. However, your eyes are too weak to spot anything. “That’s very impressive.” 
         “Oh, but that’s not all!” He side steps around an open box of art supplies and turns over a large piece of paper. It is obviously a flying contraption, but it looks so strange… like it is straight out of a steampunk novel. And is that gold on the sails? How is this thing supposed to fly? 
         Raising an eyebrow, you take a seat on the small stool next to the lamp resting on the ground. “What is it for?” 
         A grin captures his lips. “I’m taking you to the stars. No more sitting around on Earth. I’m tired of this place. When we wed, I promised you a life of adventure. We left the mansion, and now we’re living in the closet of a train station. This isn’t the glamorous life you should have.” 
         “I think it’s pretty fancy, actually–”
         He shakes his head with a laugh, and his dark brown hair falls over his forehead. “We’re going to fly amidst the galaxies that make up the vast universe. How tiny we are, compared to them.” He whips around. “Imagine, reaching your hand out and catching a handful of dust from the time of creation. How amazing that would be…” 
         You laugh, but don’t correct him. Instead, you take his hands between yours again and kiss his calloused knuckles. “Where would you like to go first?” 
         He leans his head against yours and points at the horizon. “Sirius. It is one of the brightest stars in the night sky.” Turning to meet your gaze, he brushes his thumb against your cold cheek. “There is only one star that rivals its beauty. Would you like to know which one?” 
         “Of course.” 
         “A moment, if you please.” 
         Taking a dramatic step backwards, he plays around with the astrolabe until it clicks into place. The long hand is pointing directly at you. 
         “I don’t understand,” you tell him. 
         “Cara mia, you are the brightest star here tonight. You will always be the most beautiful star as well. Trust in that.” 
         You flush at his words, and it is hard to contain your smile. “You’re such a smooth talker, why can’t you put some of that effort into cleaning your room! I swear, it looks worse than it did when I first arrived here. Remember that time I found a mouse amongst your things?!” 
         “Don’t bring Lorenzo into this, he’s done nothing wrong!” 
         The two of you break into a fit of laughter, and that’s when he puts the astrolabe in your palm once more. “This is yours though.” He’s looking at you again with those pools of ochre mischief. “In the case that we are separated before we can reach the stars, use this to find me. Go towards Sirius, and I will meet you there. I’ll wait for you.” 
The white noise of the museum filters into your mind as your eyes flutter open, and you ease back into reality. Tears roll down your cheeks, but you do not move to wipe them. 
         Looking at the astrolabe again, you see the tender scratches against the metal: his initials coupled with yours. An impressive layer of grime dulls the shine of the device, making it less impressive than how it looks in its natural state. 
         A week after he showed you his plans, a tank of a train exploded, plunging the east side of the station in flames. As the fire grew, it stretched to the opposite side, where the hotel was. You had begged him to escape before the roof collapsed, but he insisted on returning for the astrolabe and his telescope, because he had been using it to calculate stars the night before. 
         As you had expected, the wooden beams were not strong enough to withstand the fire but, by some stroke of luck, he managed to thrust you to safety before everything collapsed. 
         Neither him nor the damned astrolabe made it through. 
         A painful hatred for the device burns in your lungs, so you turn away from it and nearly run into someone. Tossing an apology into the air, you hurry forward and move past the rest of the salvaged artworks without paying them much attention. Guilt tugs at your heartstrings and weighs your feet down, retarding your motions. 
         Despite the tears blurring your vision, you throw your head back and glances back at the astrolabe. You don’t know if it is taunting you or trying to tell you something. And yet, your eyes follow the long hand forward, just beyond where you’re standing, until you realize that it is pointing directly at the final, most impressive display of them all. 
         It towers over your head, stretching up the entire length of the wall. Pieces of blueprints, canvases, loose papers, wood, and more are all arranged to create a larger than life depiction of– you. 
         The eyes.. Her nose.. That beauty spot on her cheek that you hate… it is all there. He had to have reproduced it all from memory because you don’t remember him taking any photographs or sketches of her. 
         In the bottom corner, you see a plaque: 
         Believed to be a portrait of his lover, our favourite artist would have had to spend years creating this piece: in fact, our experts needed months to put the pieces together in order to reveal a face! In the left margin of the paper with her eye, the phrase ‘my star’ is written, so we have named her ‘Étoile’ for reference. Who was this woman? It was thought that this was lost to a massive fire in the nearly five decades ago, but the recent excavation proved fruitful in its treasures among the basement of the Gare d'Orsay when preparations for the museum began...
         You hear his voice loud and clear in your mind. 
         Cara mia, I am waiting for you, but do not rush. When you are ready, join me, so that we may explore the world beyond this one together. 
         Unable to contain your emotions anymore, you break into sobs. The sadness ebs from your broken heart and stretches through your body, making your legs click in place. You lose your balance and fall to the polished tiles, clutching your chest in an attempt to relieve the pressure. Other guests swarm to your side, offering you help or to call for someone, but you ignore them all. 
         Even overwhelmed with memories, you can feel the warmth of his promise, just as if he were standing beside her. 
         I’ll meet you again, Leonardo. 
         I’ll meet you at Sirius. 
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angrylizardjacket · 6 years
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ask your destiny to dance [17] {Roger Taylor}
[masterpost]
It takes Roger exactly two weeks to realise he doesn’t know Ash nearly as well as he thought he did. There’s a lot to glean about a person from their room, and what they say, but not everything, not even close to everything.
“So I guess you’re working tomorrow?” Roger asks, leaning against the bar as Ash polishes a glass. It comes as a surprise when she makes a face, shaking her head. “We’re going on a pub crawl, if you wanna come along then.” 
Ash takes her time before answering, hanging up the glass and pulling another from the rack before she finally speaks.
“I can’t, I’m busy, sorry.” And she sounds... uncomfortable about it. Roger’s never known her to be uncomfortable about anything that didn’t relate to her home life, and she can see the moment he jumps to that conclusion. “I’m going to Paris in the afternoon,” she says quickly, and Roger’s taken aback, “I don’t get home until late; train times, you know?” 
“A day trip to Paris?” He asks, and Maureen leans over to Ash with a small smile.
“Is that where you go on those Saturdays? That’s cute, Ash, little routine trips to France.” She flicks Ash with the end of her tea towel, to which Ash smiles despite herself, blushing and flicking Maureen back.
“Oi, I’m just going to Paris, nothing cute about it. I’m allowed to have hobbies, you know.” She argued back, and Maureen snickered, smiling fondly at the ginger before she tucked her tea towel into her back pocket and went back to cutting lime wedges. “I’m going to The Louvre.” Ash explained to Roger, cheeks still faintly pink.
“The Louvre?” There was a surprise in his voice that Ash had expected, and when she looks up at him, she still seems a bit defensive.
“There’s free entry once per month; first Saturday at six.” She pauses, and when his expression brightens, hers falls and she feels like she’s said too much.
“Do you go every month?” He sounds delighted at the prospect, and Ash wants to defend herself, but then he says, “you shouldn’t be catching the train so late, it’s dark even at six, love, you must get home at like midnight; just let me drive you.”
“Rog, you don’t need to do that,” but her grin is more relieved than anything else, the tension leaving her shoulders as she goes back to her work, “you guys are going out tomorrow, and besides, it’s not like I’ve never done it before.” 
“I can get on the piss with them any time; this only happens once a month.” And the way his words make Ash smile, quietly pleased, he’s already pretty sure it’s going to be worth it.
Things between them have been... weird. Good weird, sure, but that doesn’t make them less weird. They haven’t really had time for an actual date yet, they just sort of show up at each other’s homes and watch TV and make out whenever they don’t have work or rehearsals of a night. It’s been good, it’s felt safe. 
When Ash sits on the curb outside of her dorm, she feels nervous more than anything else. It’s not a feeling she’s used to; she’s never been nervous around Roger before; it takes her probably too long to realise how much she wants this to go well. When he shows up, just after midday, he’s beaming from the second hand station wagon that he’d gotten since recording the album. There’s a map in the passenger seat.
“I’ve driven there before, but not for a while, you’re going to have to direct me.” He advises as she buckles her seat belt, putting her sketchbook and thermos by her feet and unfolding the map.
It’s a long drive, just over five hours, and Ash is nervous for about three of them, which is only compounded by getting lost twice, and eventually Roger pulls over.
“You’ve been tense since I showed up; what’s wrong?” He asks, and Ash sighs heavily, picking up her thermos and pouring herself a small cup of tea.
“I don’t exactly go blabbing about the fact that I make semi-frequent trips to Paris, alright?” Ash admits, and she takes a sip of her drink, looking out through the windshield. Roger’s not sure what that means, how to respond, and after a minute, she adds, “Freddie doesn’t even really know.” And she finishes the tea, putting the thermos back, and Roger’s still quiet. When she finally looks at him, his expression is fondly amused.
“You’ve made me feel all special.” It’s far too genuine to be a joke, and Ash lets herself smile back, rolling her eyes at him.
“Don’t let it go to your head.” She warned, and Roger’s smile sharpened as he pulled back onto the road.
“Too late.” But he reaches over to rest his hand on her knee as she opens the map up again, and her heart grows warm, her anxiety easing. They turn up the radio for the rest of the trip; Ash hums along to the songs she only knows the tune of without too much hassle, yet somehow can’t seem to actually sing a note to save her life. She finishes butchering Elton’s Crocodile Rock at the top of her lungs, and Roger’s sides hurt from laughing, and she’s grinning in a way that means she knows exactly how terrible she is and how much it amuses Roger.
“I have other skills.” She says dismissively, grinning with her nose in the air as the radio host announces another song, and instead of answering, Roger sings along to the radio like he’d written the melody himself. “Showoff.” Ash laughed, and Roger’s eyes crease as he grins.
“I don’t have other skills, I gotta make use of this one.” He replied, lightly, and Ash’s expression softened.
“Oh shut it, you’ve got at least two other skills, probably.” She played along with his joke, watching him as he sings along to the rock song blaring from the radio, and it’s relaxed and easy, and she finds herself wondering why she’d been so worried just a few hours before. 
They hit Paris at a quarter to six, and grab some fast food before heading to the gallery. There’s people everywhere, and the line isn’t exactly short to get in, more than a few of them are uni students like them, looking to get in for free, and Ash says hi to a few; the fact that she goes here enough to know other people who do this regularly to is still something that baffles Roger a little. He’s worried she’s getting nervous again when she takes his hand - they’re not the sort of people who hold hands - but when he looks at her, her eyes are shinning and bright as she looks up at the building; she’s excited. 
Ash goes quiet in the gallery, looking around with wide-eyed reverence at the works around them. They move past the entrance slowly; Ash gazes at the works with their plaques memorised, while Roger reads them, fingers laced with hers. 
“Oh, hello.” Voice reverential, Ash greets a statue at the end of the hall like an old friend, and introduces Roger as such. “This is the Venus de Milo, she’s almost two thousand years old, god, look at that marble work, imagine how sharp it would have looked back then,” and then it’s like she’s opened a floodgate, and she’s tugging him along, rambling along the way about each piece they pass, little facts not on the plaques, things she can cite from the top of her head. Above everything, she’s passionate, pulling out of his grip to clutch her hands to her chest and looking up at headless sculpture of what Roger thinks is an angel, and what Ash clarifies to be The Winged Victory of Samothrace.
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Ash’s moon-eyed gaze was focused on the statue’s marble garments, but Roger’s only got eyes for her. When he doesn’t answer, she looks to him, catches the way he’s smiling at her, and she feels her cheeks heat up. “What?”
“You really love this stuff, don’t you?” It’s a sincere question, and it’s as if he can see her responses flit through her mind, sarcastic, dismissive, an eye roll, flippant, she passes them all, takes a moment to really look at him, taking her time to breathe in the whole situation before responding.
“More than anything.” It’s a sincere answer, and it catches him off-guard. Ash is many things, but unapologetically enthusiastic is not one Roger’s familiar with.
Turning on her heel, Ash leads further in to the gallery, but it’s finally hits him how much this means to her, this place, these works, bringing him here. They’d been together for barely a fortnight, but they both know it’s felt so much longer than that; she’d taken a gamble, bringing him, he has no doubt she’d have left him in London if she didn’t want him to come along, and something tightens in his chest. 
He doesn’t dwell on it, he takes it in stride well enough, peppering her with questions along the way that she seems thrilled to answer. Tucking her arm into his, they make their way through the building, the babbling turning to banter easily as Roger provides his own commentary on each piece as they pass, which serves to make Ash laugh.
They get to a small painting on the top floor with a border that looks bigger than the picture itself, and Ash has gotten quiet again. 
“Who’s this?” Roger asks, the two of them stepping close to get a closer look.
“The Lacemaker.” Ash sounds a little awed, and when he looks down at her, Roger sees how fondly she’s smiling at the little painting. “She’s my favourite.” 
“’course she is, she’s like you.” Roger answers easily, and Ash makes a face, laughing a little self consciously.
“No she’s not, shut up.” She doesn’t sound like she believes him, a bit of a laugh in her words, but she’s resting her head against Roger’s shoulder and he wraps an arm around her.
“Same focus.” Roger muses, and when Ash looks to him, surprise and confusion on her face, he just grins. “When you sew, you’ve got the same look on your face, same focus.” He explains, and there’s something in Ash’s awed expression that he can’t place, and she pulls away from him too fast for him to really identify it.
She’s pretty sure she loves him.
It’s fucking terrifying.
She can’t look at him, stepping out of his grip as she feels tears well in her eyes as her emotions overwhelm her, not that it’s an uncommon occurrence, Ash has never set foot in an art gallery and not cried, but Roger didn’t need to know that. She’d really been doing well today, too. Usually she gets lost in the scope and detail of The Wedding at Cana, or even comes to obsess over the little details of The Lacemaker, but she’s also usually alone and can get away with it. 
“That’s- Rog, that’s really sweet of you to say.” And he can hear in her voice that she’s trying not to believe him, that she can’t let herself believe him. And when she turns back, she’s wiping at her eyes, and he wants to try and comfort her, but she’s already walking past him briskly, leading to the next painting.
“There’s something I’ve... well, I’ve always wanted to try here.” He hears her say, voice firm as if she’s trying to move quickly past whatever the moment she’d just had was. She leads not to the painting, but to one of the weirdly low, backless sofas that are scattered around for people to view the paintings from. This one’s empty; Ash looks around for security, and seeing none, steps up onto it. 
“And what’s that?” He asks with a smirk, the sofa giving her only about two inches of height on him. He doesn’t ask why she’d almost started crying, and for that she’s thankful. Instead, his hands come to rest on her hips, and he’s smiling at her in that way that sets her heart aflutter.
“Don’t ruin this.” She warns very quietly, amused smile on her lips, and Roger quirks an eyebrow.
“Ruin what?” He asks, shooting for innocent, a million different things running through his mind that could make her smile, but would definitely ruin the moment; he bites his tongue. 
Ash cups his face in her hands, and she can’t help but laugh as she leans in to kiss him. It starts sweet and tender, her lips soft against his, but he wraps his arms around her, pulling her close and deepening the kiss. There’s people moving around them, most ignoring them, some stare, but neither of them seem to care. She tastes mostly like the tea she’d sculled in the car when they’d arrived, and she’s got a hand in his hair when he presses kisses from her jaw, trailing down her neck, and she laughs, a little giddy. He pulls back, if only to see her bright eyed and blushing. 
“Let’s go home.” She says softly, and Roger’s never agreed to something so quickly, his heart elated to see Ash giggling and mischievous as they backtrack through the gallery, knowing that he and the art were the things that made her smile like that. 
“I didn’t ruin it.” He sounds a little smug when he says it as they walk through the streets of Paris back to his car, and Ash glances at him out of the corner of her eye, snorting.
“I could see you holding yourself back from a one-liner about pinning masterpieces to walls or something like that; I appreciate your discretion.” She tells him, deadpan, and Roger gives her a self-satisfied grin.
“It certainly wasn’t easy.” He agrees, but she still reaches out and takes his hand. When they get to his car, he goes to head around to the driver’s side, but she pulls him back for a moment, pressing a kiss to his lips. After a moment, he’s got a hand on her hips, pressing her against the side of the car, and she sighs against his lips, her arms around his neck. Her legs slide open easily as she pulls him closer, letting him slide a knee between her thighs.
“Christ,” Roger breaks away from the kiss, murmuring the word against her neck as her nails graze his scalp.
“Thank you for today.” She whispers softly, and he can hear the smile in her words. He presses a kiss to her shoulder.
“Any time, love.” He steps back from her, enough to see her fond smile, and to give one in return, before he heads around to the driver’s side and they both get in the car.
It’s well past midnight by the time they get back, and Ash follows Roger up to his flat with a yawn, flinching as the door opens and Brian, Freddie, and John all greet them with a cheer, obviously taking a pit stop in the middle of their pub crawl.
“I was starting to sober up; the walk between the last pub and the next is directly smack bang in the middle of here.” Freddie claims with a surprising amount of confidence considering his words make no sense.
“No- this place is on the way to the next pub.” John corrects, and Ash has to giggle at the sight and sound of a drunk John Deacon. It never fails to amuse her, he’s surprisingly confident and well spoken.
“Yes! Deaky is right! You two can join us!” Freddie brandishes and subsequently spills on Brian, who’s sitting beside him.
“Go if you want, I’m knackered.” Ash yawns, giving Roger’s shoulder a nudge, moving past him to his room.
“Actually, I think I’m right, I’ve been driving for a while,” Roger says, making to follow Ash, only to hear Freddie boo loudly, and John call out after them.
“Where’d you guys go?” He asks, and Roger answers over his shoulder.
“Art gallery.” He answers, and he hears Ash snort from his bedroom.
“That’s... Rog, that’s surprisingly cute, didn’t know you had it in you.” Brian smiles at him, and Roger feels a little patronised by the pride in his flatmate’s voice. He flips Brian off, along with the rest of them, since John was grinning like the cat who got the cream and Freddie looked like he was three seconds away from actually ‘awe’ing. 
“Did you kids have fun?” Freddie calls, sounding nothing so much like his own mother, wearing a shiteating grin, which only got wider as Roger told him to piss off, slamming the door once he got into his room. 
Ash was standing by his bed, pulling off the shorts she’d been wearing all day, already wearing one of his shirts. Roger can hear the others on the other side of the door already laughing and talking about something else, all three of them trying to convince themselves to get up and move on to the next pub. She gives him an amused smile and Roger just rolls his eyes at his friends’ whole situation.
They don’t speak, though Ash’s yawn triggers one in Roger, and when he’s stripped down to his boxers, she’s waiting for him beneath the covers. When he kisses her, it’s a thank you for the day, and she hums a soft, contented noise against his lips. They’re too tired to even fool around, and Ash wraps her arm around him as he turns to lay on his side, pressing her chest to his back, pressing a kiss to his shoulder blade before they fall asleep.
the ususal suspects: @deakydickfanpage @hollyissuchahoe @laueecakee @smittyjaws @crystalshines2909 @i-am-sarah @legendsaresooftenwarnings @2ptonpt @benhardy24-7 @maiilovely @mickey-yr-a-goner @butter-times @heyyouitskay @tired-eyes-fairy-lights @yepimthatperson @missieluvsmurder @ironqueen98 @ceruleanrainblues @banhbao329 @fantasticchaoticwho @ko-kitty @seven-seas-of-hi @mimisfangirlfantasy @aadjuric @rogmobile @cardybenhardy @snacfu @perriwiinkle @the-strange-fan-girl @finite-incantatem-7 @tapetayloe @florencewelchismybiggod
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witchyinthekitchen · 6 years
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This is a Vent Post about my Mother, Please do not reblog
This post is probably gunna be all over the place/time with things that I can remember/recall so bear with me here.
-Being told to make my own food bc mom was too busy with brand new baby (I was between 5-6 so poptarts were about all i could manage. I'd asked for a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.) (my brother was a VERY finniky baby. If you weren't holding him he'd scream till his face went purple.))
-Tried to share interests in Anime/manga with her, when I asked her what she felt about it she said she couldn’t get into it and that it felt like a chore. (13-15 ish)
-Told her I needed therapy bc I was having suicidal thoughts. She took me, but then took me out once I started getting upset about the things i’d been talking about in therapy with my therapist because I'd come home in a bad mood.(15-16 ish)
-Went to Mother Daughter Group Therapy with her (there were other mother daughter combos) and she stormed out in the middle of it saying that we were only attacking her and not my dad too. (was 15-16 ish)
-Got into an argument about who i was voting for in the 2016 election while on vacation at Disney World (Hint it wasn't Trump like she wanted)(24 ish)
-Tried to gaslight me about trying to get everyone together to talk wedding stuff saying how she tried but that it all fell apart. (I have texts of her canceling it the day before we were all supposed to get together.)(26)
-Gets super defensive/upset any time I talk about “other mothers” in my life (MIL, BM)
-Has been super hot and cold with me during wedding planning and making passive aggressive comments about everything: Tell him to buy new pants for the engagement shoot 'bc I dont want him wearing baggy clothes -SO's Lost over 20lbs+ for the wedding and i'm so fuckin proud of him- “I don’t want to pay for hard alcohol for SO and his friends to drink at the wedding.” As if ½ the people invited weren’t all just her friends? ((All our friends live out of state/country so half the wedding is family and HER friends/neighbors.)) "I’m sure H*(SIL) and K*(MIL) have good counsel for you on _____," (Why would you say this when i'm asking for YOUR opinion? If i wanted their opinion i'd ask them.)
-4 months before the wedding she’s trying to talk me out of my venue saying we need to go look at the ones SO and MIL had suggested.
-Wants me to keep (BM)'s relation to me a secret even though i’m pretty sure 85% of the people who know me and are coming to my wedding know i'm adopted.
-Angry that I was moving out of the house at 21 with my SO she told his mother she hoped we’d fail. (In her defense she'd just been diagnosed with breast cancer and I'd done poorly in my last semester of college so parents thought it would be a good idea to take me out of college for a semester so i could live at home and basically be at my moms beck and call while also being expected to work 2 jobs (they'd told me the instant that the semester was over that i was expected to work 2 jobs) -That's at least how I was viewing that whole situation before I moved out- )
-As a kid I remember wanting to run away a lot. (Never away to a friends house but always to a park to live under a bridge like the goblin I am (lol)) (is it obvious I use self depreciating humor to get through things that I'm uncomfortable with? haha)
-I'd always hide things from her, even small things like a puzzle book i'd bought myself from the elementary school book fairs. i even began writing my diaries in code so she couldn't read them. Not that i ever caught her reading my diaries or what not but thats how afraid i was.
-The only things that stopped me from killing myself was the distressing thought that my mother would be more upset with blood on the floor than me being gone. (It was a constant worry of mine when I was having ideations.)
-When i was getting close to graduating high school the librarians told me they had a bunch of excess old books they were getting rid of and one of them happened to be the "Toxic Parents" book i've seen several other posts refer to. I took no other books besides that one. I hid that from her too. Looking back through it i remember there was a checklist in the book and i'd filled some of it out when i was younger. I most definitely am a people pleaser.
-We've never really been able to "talk" about things together like how my dad and i do and i think she's really jealous about it.
-The only way I feel comfortable talking to her is Via Email/Text because then that way i have a copy of all the things she's said. because i often forget things. (I honestly don't know how bad my memory is or if its gaslighting but i hope its just me being forgetful and not the latter...)
-I literally cannot let my SO do the dishes because my Mom would always do the dishes/clean when she was mad and bang pots around loudly and just even those sounds set me on edge.
-Her telling me that the careers i wanted to get into (IE: the Arts/Theater/Music) wouldn't make enough money and that they'd be fine as Hobbies but not as careers.
-She's continually trying to push me into a Customer Service Job because i'm so good at making other people happy. (talked to dad about this and he says i'm a very big people pleaser who doesn't like conflicts -cue nervous laughter about wedding planning-)
-Being around her for long periods of time is so physically/emotionally draining. I know that's probably a result of always being on edge with her and I always feel bad that I feel that way.
-Because she's said she hoped I'd fail (me and my So when I first moved out) I'm terrified of telling her anything personal going on in my life for fear that she'd take it out on me or use it against me (i got super anxious/scared when she came up to see me on my end of town once because we'd be stopping at the mall where i used to work and i hadn't yet told her that I'd quit that job.)
-I want to have a relationship with her. I want us to do fun Mom& Daughter things but at the same time I'm scared of letting her get too close to me again just to have it fall apart again.
-When I moved out (21) i went VLC with my whole family before i even knew what VLC was. I barely saw them (except for certain holidays/events.) I didn't talk to my dad for about 3 years because of this and am just now recovering that relationship with him (been 5 years now since I moved out)
-After I get married my plan is to move to CO. During that time i don't remember if my mom has mentioned if she'd miss me, but i do recall she has made multiple points to tell me that my dad says he would miss me.
-I had to beg for a 16th Birthday Party. She finally caved half a year later after I'd talked to my Therapist about it.
-pretty sure i'm the SG of the family (possibly Cousin 1 being the GC because she went to same University my mom did)
-Other family members on her side have stepped in to provide financial help to me on the promise that i wouldn't tell anyone. (probably to stop any gossip of favoritism)
I Don't know if she's an N or just really bad at expressing herself but her hot and cold attitude really sets off my anxiety that i've done something to piss her off and that she won't talk to me about it for a few weeks and then acts as though nothing is wrong/nothing happened. Planning my wedding is the MOST contact we've had in 5 years since i moved out and went VLC and i've been trying to use this as a way to bond with her better but anytime i think i'm getting somewhere Something happens and she's upset again. A phrase i've found myself come into saying recently is "I can't fix something that I don't know is wrong." So i've tried to take that approach when it comes to her. I know she's an adult and can choose for herself if she wants to talk about whats on her mind. I can't force her to talk if she doesn't want to but the anxiety it causes when she gets into these moods is really debilitating. I'm terrible at letting things go (especially if i think its my fault)
I'm Not Her Therapist, but if she has an issue with me I wish she'd just tell me instead of the Silent treatment for a week.
Trigger Topics that I've learned to Avoid at All Costs:
Anything about "Other Mothers" in my life.
Politics & Racism
Anything in the Past that happened.
My moving out
Anything that paints her as a "Bad Mother"(aka this whole post probably)
This post is a mess and I'm rambling. Thanks for sticking through this Brain Dump while I process. 
-Edit 2:
More things i'm recalling: For Christmas one year in front of my whole family (I was between 8-10 ish) she got me a set of underwear with the days of the week labeled on them and told me in front of everyone that "Maybe this would help me remember [to change my underwear daily]..."
One of my final years in high school I somehow managed to get a Cold Sore. My First Cold Sore ever and my lip where it broke out swelled up HUGE. I woke up the day it appeared ( a weekend thank the gods) and horrified went downstairs to tell my mom about it. I don't recall any words of sympathy other than "Cold Sores are caused by Herpes." I just remember breaking down into tears.
I mapped out a "Quiet Walking Path" that avoided all the creaky floorboards and steps in our house.
I get extremely anxious whenever I would hear my parents footsteps coming up the stairs. It got to the point that I could distinguish their steps on Carpet.
I jump/flinch (visibly) at loud noises, even if I know they are coming (movies songs ect.)
Routinely friended/unfriended me on Facebook before deleting it entirely (due to 2018 spying/hacking allegations)
I don't know if she means for these things to be hurtful but as someone who doesn't enjoy confrontation and is extremely sensitive to others feelings it just hurts y'know?
-edit 3: Attempted to talk to mom about her saying she hoped we'd fail via email. went about as well as expected. =Well, that clears a lot of things up. We only wanted you to be independent and happy, and it appears you are. End of story!
And for what it’s worth, I’ve said a LOT of things over the past 6 years that you didn’t hear about. And I’m not really sure where you heard “I hope they fail.” But I’m sure your source is 100%, and certainly not something you’d want to clarify with me.
I hope you got your apartment all squared away in Colorado. You should be under the 60-day notice by now! Woo hoo!
Let me know when you all are coming to get your stuff out of the house.
I’ll have it packed and ready for you.
-Mom
Am i reading into this too much? because it sounds like she's being hella passive aggressive about this.
-Edit 4: 7-19-18 Been venting about wedding planning being stressful on fb away from my mom since she doesn't have one anymore. I didn't realize she had fms reporting to her about my posts as she just randomly mentions via text that she wants to help me have fun while planning and that she wishes she could make it a happy time for me.
Edit 5: 9-26-18 Wedding is over finally. had our honeymoon and got moved out of our apartment back into my MIL's house. During the move we had to put all of our stuff into storage which includes Wedding gifts and thankyou notes. So Mom has been hounding me about getting them done and i've informed her several times that all of that is in storage and i havent been able to yet. She said not an excuse go buy more thankyou notes and write them all. I asked if Emailing a thank you would work, she says no must be hand written and mailed out (also who's paying for 100+ stamps: Me) Well Tonight she informs me that she's doing all the ones from her/my side and that she doesn't care if we do them for DH's side since SIL didn't send any thank you notes either. Cue big long talk with DH about all of this and he says not to worry about her being passive aggressive like this. Go and check my Email to find she sent an Email to me only with writing saying
"Dear all,
Thank you so much for attending --- wedding. Your presence was so important to me, and I know to the kids as well. Thank you also for the lovely wedding gifts you sent or brought. I know they are appreciated and will be enjoyed by the newlyweds. It was very kind and generous of you!
Unfortunately, --- is unable to send thank you notes, but I did want you to know that your gifts, and your presence at the celebration, were very important to all of us, and very much appreciated.
Fondly,
MOM"
currently I'm choosing not to respond and I wonder how our relationship is going to be going forward from all of this... I was so happy that the wedding was over so i wouldn't have to deal with this petty drama bullshit anymore but I guess thats just too much to ask for.
-She's also unfriended me on facebook again. I'm tempted to just block her to stop this wishy washy stuff from happening again.
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