#and I put all my wool blankets for craft up on top of them

[pinkscarf2]

The Best Quality Gift Pink Scarf

Our Anastasia Fringe Scarf is produced from attractive ruffled material that may be a touchable mix of textures. It's a comfortable addition for the new season and is out there in many hues making this pink scarf the proper yr round accent. Our Catherine poncho is one that all the time appears to call your name when you’re looking for a comfy-chic ensemble. It options lovely floral pattern detailing for an artsy and femme look. It's easy to put on, super cozy, and lightweight!

Our woven hijabs are crafted from sustainably produced bamboo fiber with an incredibly light,... Our soft, stretchy Premium Jersey is easy to style and outrageously snug... We exist to celebrate YOU, with nice products like a pink cashmere scarf and uplifting content to complement your life and nourish your soul. Meat Loaf and Steinman did not just stumble over the concept of rock parody on their struggle towards Top 40 heaven. Sign up for 15% off full price types on your first order. Orders placed between 7pm on Thursday and 2pm Saturday might be delivered on Monday.

Fluid and beautiful draped scarves are the proper approach to gown up any outfit and put on artwork where you go. Scarf Room is delighted to offer clients this quantity 37 star design scarf. Adorned with woven squares, this pink blanket scarf is super gentle. Perfect pink blanket scarf for Autumn / Winter months. Lightweight scarf may be worn draped gently over the shoulders or doubled across the neck for a more relaxed effect. Our lightweight scarves can be found in an enviable palette of lovely basic and on-trend colours and have a simple plain weave with mild fringing to finish the look.

Pashmina is the standard name for the very most interesting grade of cashmere wool.

In-store and on-line prices and merchandise may range.

Made In The South 2016 winner, Susan Carson has the innate ability to create lovely and timeless wanting pieces impressed by nature.

When I noticed it for the primary time in 2017 I thought it seemed like a ribbon, which is well known to be linked to most cancers.

Read all about our newest collaborations, capsules and collections, in addition to packages and initiatives inspired by you.

This scarf drapes fantastically which makes it simple to put on as a scarf or wrap around your shoulders as a scarf. Our beautiful, versatile scarves are handcrafted from lightweight, breathable, 100 percent cotton double gauze cloth and hand-dyed utilizing our personal mixtures of latest colors. Extra delicate and comfortable to put on, these lengthy scarves are finished with a small hem creating a modern look with many various styling options. The gauzy weave is light and ethereal making them great for all season put on.

Khaki Scarf

I acknowledge that my information might be processed in compliance with the General Terms and Conditions of Use and the Privacy Policy. Needs to review the safety of your connection earlier than proceeding. UNICEF Market's Pink Scarves for Women Collection helps UNICEF save and shield the world's most weak youngsters.

Wrendale Designs Dachshund Mirror £9.99 Handy for life on the go and the last word purse essential this beautiful little pocket mirror features an adorable dashchund.

Save as a lot as 33% and get access to special experiences if you buy 10+ tickets.

We are also grateful for the passion and dedication she poured into her household, career, and legacy.

Scarves have held a distinctive place within the evolution of formal and casual put on for lots of of years.

It boosts the Cute aspect of the holder in a Contest.XYAn item to be held by a Pokémon.

International orders can take up to 30 days to be delivered, although most are delivered inside 14 days. All domestic orders embody monitoring information that will be emailed to you after your transport label has been generated. A splash of this tropical blue silk shawl provides a warming dimension to your fall attire. Even as the autumn season becomes cooler, you’ll be swaying with the tides of adoring and amorous attention, as you sparkle and breeze via your day.

Ladies

But remember- there’s beauty in decay and it’s part of natural dye, that some colour would possibly fade as you like, wash and use your scarf every day. Penny Pincher has been in business over 23 years and we stand behind everything we promote. Over the years we now have become very educated for what to look for with every luxury designer piece. We are trusted worldwide for our designer consigned objects. Luxury houses and varied designers helped elevate scarves and long, flowing wraps as a desirable trend accessory in the course of the twentieth century.

Small Accessories

Hamster Bamboo Socks Wrendale Designs £7.ninety nine A deal with for your feet, this glorious pair of socks features an adorable hamster stitched onto super delicate bamboo materials. As well as being naturally anti-bacterial, moisture wicking, super delicate, warm and breathable, our socks are sort to the environment too. One size (women's) 100% Oeko-Tex Bamboo with nylon stitching. Each pair of socks comes with a superbly illustrated gift bag making an exquisite reward.

Employee gross sales and regular products can't be bought on the same time. Please take away the present merchandise from the cart earlier than including the brand new one. The Astrology Midi scarf may be tied round your neck or head to raise your everyday look. This measurement is also excellent to drape as a top or why not fold it in to a bag.. This lovely pink scarf is 12" x 60", plus 3" tassels on each ends. It is traditionally crafted by hand to provide you a superb modern accent.

Cashmere in its purest form is a pure insulator, preserving you cool in the course of the day and warm on chilly nights. The quality cashmere from NAKEDCASHMERE becomes softer with age, travels well, and may final a lifetime. Pictured above is the halo method of wearing a hat. The front of your hat is raised up and the hat sits on the again of your head. There are two main strategies of measuring your hat dimension + are based on the type by which you put on your hat.

5 Clothing Chains That Promote The Very Best Quality Cashmere

The Buyer shall pay the Product worth and the Product supply price all at the identical time. The «Checkout» type has fields for coming into the Buyers’ surname, first name, the Product supply tackle, the Buyers’ contact cellphone number and email tackle. All the fields of the shape are necessary for the Buyer. Buyer – a legally capable bodily person both aspiring to order/purchase or ordering/purchasing the Seller’s products for private, family, house or different non business needs only. In order for belongings you've added to your favorites are all the time available to view and order, we offer you to enter in your personal account or registration. Product images is for illustration only.

The one that acquired it was very pleased.

This product is made of natural fibers and utmost care must be taken while washing and ironing it.

I had an odd question and emailed customer support and so they were able to shortly assist me out.

If you happen to discover a must-have scarf to decorate your individual wardrobe, we can't blame you! From elegant and complicated to whimsical and boho, we have a shawl to fit the style of each woman. Whether for yourself, or someone you're keen on, we'll ship your beautiful scarf with care and unsurpassable presentation.

I love these scarves so much I ordered them in many other colors. The Ovcio is asuper soft POCKETABLE scarfdesigned to maintain you warm for the unprepared chill. As nicely as our fantastic knit, pale pink cashmere wraps, you’ll discover chunky knit cashmere blankets in a variety of lovely tones from shiny pink to cassis pink. Our more muted tones embody the dusky pink cashmere blanket wrap.

Supply Charges & Occasions

It makes the right reward for anybody who loves delicate issues . Please join Kashminas gentle universe, by subscribing to our publication. You immediately receive a 10% low cost code - and after you’ll obtain distinctive provides, and prelaunch of all new designs. Get occasional cashmere inspo in your inbox and study extra about sustainable fashion - and why cashmere is such an exquisite uncooked material for clothing.

Hand crafted with love- this ultra nice scarf is made of prime quality fibre, also referred to as 'pashm' that comes from the cashmere goat in the Kashmir region of India. The weave covers the floor with a diamond sample, a traditional Indian weave, generally known as 'chashm-e-bulbul', or 'eye of the nightingale'. The material is very wanted for it's extraordinarily lightweight, soft, and sturdy qualities that pulls on generations of ancestral talent. Thanks to extra-durable 100 percent cashmere, this scarf is a cold-weather layering important.

Long and enveloping, it is trimmed with fringes on the end. 100 percent cashmere material makes the headband very very gentle, what you pay deserves what you get. Natural cashmere material makes the headscarf away from pilings if stock properly.

"Simply One Of The Best Cashmere I've Ever Known"

By entering your email handle, you authorise us to make use of your knowledge in accordance with our Privacy Policy and e-mail you when the merchandise is again in stock. Your order will be elegantly wrapped in our signature Fendi package. Add a private message to ship an exclusive reward. All our scarves are woven in a clear and environmental factory line, there shall be no smells whenever you get it and provides it to your friends as gifts. You have 7 days from item supply to ship this item again to the seller.

Ultra Soft Rose Cashmere Scarf / Wrap / Shawl /

Yes, e-mail me provides, fashion updates, and special invitations to gross sales and occasions. If you have an account, sign up along with your e-mail tackle or telephone number. Enjoy the heat of Cashmere Pashmina with this pastel-colored scarf. I wish to obtain an e mail notification if certainly one of my saved merchandise is on sale.

Universal Standard prizes itself on a few things—quality, sustainability, longevity, and measurement inclusivity. Each piece in its assortment is offered in sizes 00 to forty. In different words, should you stay patient, J.Crew could probably be your key to high quality, affordable cashmere. Discover the way to type our girls's and men's cashmere assortment.

All prices are listed in Canadian dollars and the ultimate cost of shipping is calculated at checkout. Orders are processed and shipped within 24 to 36 hours. For extra data see our delivery & returns page. Unisex ultra light-weight 100 percent baby cashmere scarf with eyelash fringe edges. All our products go through rigorous high quality checks earlier than dispatching. However, in some case we may miss out on some minor manufacturing defect.

#Pink Scarf #Youtube

[mctreeleth]

I have reached the point in cleaning my apartment where everything is about a million times messier than it started out, and now I need to fix it all. So it is time to go have a lay down.

#I went through the boxes on top of the closet and got rid of a whole heap of stuff #mainly clothes that I was like ''I will probably want to wear these again occasionally'' but because I had forgotten them I guess not #and then because three of the boxes were empty now I put all my winter bedding in them #and I put all my knit fabrics in one of them because stretchy fabrics are for cold weather clothes #it is thrifted cotton sewing season right now #and I put all my wool blankets for craft up on top of them #which is nice because now I can look at them all rather than them being bagged up #and because the top of the closet is 50cm deep they didn't need to be folded up over and over to fit #trying to fit them in the 30cm shelves in the sewing room would have made them all uneven and prone to falling out #washing is all done I just have a big canvas ikea bag worth of sheets to take to dry at the laundromat after dinner #then I need to cut up/throw out this old craft foam #put all the stuff I am donating into a big bag #another bag for the stuff I need to take down home #and then do *something* about the sewing room #at least I have freed up some space in there by moving all the stretch knits and the blanket stash #it is still a cluttered mess though

[lovelyspencers]

Paper Rings

Synopsis: Spencer and pregnant fem!Reader spontaneously get married in Las Vegas

Word Count: 1.3k

Content Warnings: allusions to sex

❝ I like shiny things but I’d marry you in paper rings ❞

Y/N and Spencer exit the clinic his mother is placed in with their hands intertwined as she traces mindless patterns on the back of it and occasionally gives it a gentle squeeze.

The November air is flush and he had wrapped her up in his grey cardigan and the scarf he had knitted her for Christmas. Besides being a genius, his measures had been terribly wrong and she looked like the purple wool ate her alive every time she wore it.

Still, she looks adorable. The cold paints her nose in a faint red and he stops in his tracks solely to place a kiss atop of it, admiring how she scrunches her nose in response and he can’t stop himself from peppering her face with kisses.

She’s wearing the same sweater she wore on the night they first met, except the baby blue garment with puffy clouds on them looks way better under the soft glow of the sinking sun than the harsh fluorescent lights of the club his team members had dragged him to all those years ago — and back then she didn’t have a small baby bump to cover.

They are quiet, undoubtedly thinking about the same thing as only the running engines of cars and birds chirping as they settle down for the night fill the silence. His mother had brought up a question that dreaded both of them and Spencer’s mind has been occupied with it ever since.

“When will you guys finally get married?”

He proposed to her two years ago and while the initial thought was to get married as soon as possible life got in the way or more frankly a false conviction and the aftermath of his trauma.

The only thing that gave him hope as he was robbed of his freedom, his most treasured possession, was the thought of Y/N. He glanced at empty walls, envisioning all the pictures their house would be plastered in if he ever got out of there.

He went to sleep despite his concern that people might come after him because at least in his dreams he got to see her and then he’d feel safe even if it was just in his imagination.

His thoughts solely revolved around her and the future they shared if he was strong enough. He imagined her in a white ball gown and the way her eyes would brim with nothing but utter joy and love as she finally became his endlessly.

When he did survive and the fresh air outside of the confinement of prison fences reached his nose and he fell into her soothing embrace, the scent of her shampoo still the same and her touch still was full of love, all he could think about was how he never wanted to be separated from her ever again.

But they were too busy trying to fix his invisible scars to even think about drowning in the stressful process of planning a wedding again. And when he did feel like himself again with the patience and care of Y/N (as well as some long-overdue therapy session), she got pregnant and they were too busy in their own little bubble to even acknowledge the still missing rings on their fingers.

It’s not like Spencer has any doubts about spending the rest of his life with her. He knows it every morning he wakes up next to her, their blanket fully draped over solely her body and her head laying on his chest, the sun peeking through the curtains and bathing her in a glow that made her seem celestial.

He knows it every time she kisses him, her lips always tasting of strawberry chapstick and her hands softly playing with his hair as she tries her hardest to convey her love to him in the simplicity of a kiss. He always understands her secret language because truthfully he’s trying the same.

He knows it every time he walks in on her singing and dancing in the kitchen, so blissfully unaware of the horror in the world he’s constantly exposed to and giving him a glimpse of peace too.

He knows it every time she pulls his body into hers and gives him her all. The sounds that leave her mouth when he proves to her that there’s no one that knows her as much as he does and her features when she falls from grace with him.

Honestly, he’s known that he wants to spend entirety with her ever since he first laid his eyes on her.

But as always his fears get the best of him. He’s been separated from her once and he knows how much it hurt her and how can he claim to love her when he put her through that? How can he claim to love her when he’s still uncertain that he can protect her from all the evil that’s lurking in the shadows.

As he looks at her, the afterglow illuminating every imperfection on her face that he would mesmerize and admire for entirety if he could, all his fears and insecurities fade away like fallen leaves and he’s never been more certain about wanting anything more than finally call the love of his life his wife. Now.

“How mad do you think our friends would be if we got married right now?”

“What?” Y/N turns to face him, a shaky smile spreading on her face as she fiddles with the ends of her scarf.

Spencer isn’t surprised by her disbelief. The most spontaneous thing he’d done during their relationship was kissing Y/N on the porch of her house after their second date and well, get her pregnant.

“Marry me,” he repeats, mirroring the soft smile that adorns her face as he absently plays with the engagement ring on her finger, “Like right now.”

She wraps her arms around his neck and chuckles before placing a chaste kiss on his lips. “I don’t have a dress. We don't have rings and I’m kind of pregnant right now.”

“I’d say you’re very pregnant right now,” he laughs as he places his hand on her stomach, something he’s been doing almost subconsciously ever since they found out that they were expecting — and that exposed their little secret multiple times already.

She nuzzles her face in the crook of his neck and peppers kisses there, muttering incoherent love declaration. “You really want to marry me in a shitty chapel when I barely fit in my clothes anymore?”

He nods and places a kiss on the crown of her head, breathing in the scent of her floral shampoo and resting his head on top of here. “I do. To be honest, I’d marry you in paper rings.”

Noticing the worries in her eyes, he grabs her face and cradles it like she’s the most precious thing he ever had the pleasure of holding. While he does want to marry her desperately, his number one priority is always that she feels comfortable and if that means that he has to wait forever for her then so be it.

“I don’t want to pressure you and If you want a fancy wedding then I’ll gladly give you that. I’d wait a lifetime for you.”

The sound of her laugh fills the otherwise empty parking lot, the kind that brightens up his days that would otherwise be doomed in black and white as she places a lingering kiss on his lips.

“I know. But I don’t need a fancy wedding, I just need you.”

She grabs into the pocket of her jacket, pulling out a random poster she had picked up earlier and starting to fold the material until she crafted a rather messy ring.

“You ready to get married in paper rings?”

#spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid #mgg #my writing #mgg fanfiction #mgg fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[maryellencarter]

So the final cause, if I recall my Aristotle (I was terrible at Aristotelian logic, or at least at what the badly illustrated homeschool textbook said was Aristotelian logic), was that my apartment has been growing irregularly more squalorous for months. Occasionally I would have a bout of energy and put my groceries in the pantry, but for the most part I've been doing well to keep up on the laundry. The proximal cause was... probably the coloring books.

Anyway, this morning I put on pants that were not sweatpants, probably for the first time in months, because going to get vaccinated is a festal occasion and one ought to look one's best. (I put on my cute top with the frilly shoulder straps and the little rosettes, too, since I figured it'd be smart to wear something sleeveless. And my combat boots with the pastel tiedye laces, in case of hiking, which also turned out to be smart. I was decked out.)

So then I went and showed a number of people my ID and my appointment email, and they poked me with a timy needle -- not as small as the one they used in the ER for the insulin that time, I didn't even feel that one, but a very nice thin needle compared to my usual standard of needles, which are the ones they use to try and get blood *out* of you, and often fail when you are me. Then they made me sit down for fifteen minutes in case I took an allergy, and then they gave me a lollipop (I got blue cotton candy, my favorite flavor) and a sticker with a hashtag on it and I left.

Then I got to wend my way back from the place where the vaccinations were happening -- it was a big event on the college campus, since they have a lot of nice big rooms and wide open spaces there -- and it happened I was coming back from a direction I do not usually wend my way from, and I dropped into Michaels. Usually I go to Joann's, because they have fabric, which Michaels doesn't, and Michaels is generally a bit froofier in the sorts of craft supplies they stock at least locally, but the Michaels and the Joann's are right across the street from each other, and I still haven't heard anything about my special order on the floss color that Joann's was out of. Michaels doesn't have the full range of DMC colors, but I took a look and they did in fact have the color I needed.

Then I wandered around some, because Michaels actually does have a bigger yarn selection than Joann's, and I found some Patons Kroy (my absolute favorite sock yarn for feel and texture) in a colorway I didn't loathe, which is *not* something I've been able to find since they stopped making that one colorway with all the orange and black and gray stripes, which I loved dearly and can't remember the name of. So I was like "this will be just the thing for that one lace scarf I was looking at that needs wool yarn in case it has to be blocked to look right", because knitted lace is like that and you can't block acrylic. You can "kill" acrylic but that's different and I'd rather not.

Um. Anyway. Then I wandered around some more, because I get into Michaels so seldom that it's handy to look at what-all they've got while I'm there. Over the past... week or so I have had a sudden bout of wanting to color in coloring books, because that happens to me sometimes; there was an impulse trip to the Walmart way out in the boondocks on the unlit road for Crayola colored pencils, because I decided I was not going to pay eight times as much for Prismacolors.

(The really infuriating thing about coloring books, in my opinion, is that right now you can either find the kiddie newsprint coloring books which are with us always, of course, or you can find "adult coloring books" which are *in-fucking-variably* filled with horses and lions and whales and other large charismatic mammals covered in what look for all the world like quilting patterns. If I wanted to color a rendition of a quilt filled with tiny stripes and polka dots, I'd get some graph paper! And the dots and lines and so forth are so tiny that you can *only* color them with colored pencils, because that's Adulty.)

(Yes, I know they sell coloring pages on Etsy and places. I've been avoiding the print shop for at least a month and a half now, when if I would put the things on my thumb drive and go to it, I could start getting my student loans out of default. I would never wind up printing coloring pages off of Etsy. No, I don't know why. Print shops scare me, perhaps slightly worse than post offices.)

Um. Where was I? So I had gone way far out to the Walmart nobody goes to which therefore often has interesting things in stock, and I had discovered that Crayola still does the glitter crayons I had coveted as a tiny, and they also make double-ended scented markers, which are like the coolest thing ever to the tiny early-nineties child I still am in my heart. So as of this morning, my kitchen counter was completely covered with... things. There was already the sewing machine and the Dr Pepper that doesn't taste like an old shoe, and the peanut butter and the elephant-shaped porcelain wax-warmer, but there had been a narrow slot where I could put a plate and eat my meals -- my only table having been co-opted a year ago by my workstation. Now that slot was filled with various Crayola products and a coloring book with mermaids in it, which at least had a few pages that could be colored partly with markers or crayons, instead of being entirely minced into geometric shapes barely larger than a pencil lead.

SO, what happened after I got vaccinated and found yarn and floss, is that I found out that Crayola still makes the *pearlescent* crayons I coveted even more as a kid. I had gotten one in a little sample pack included with my big 64-box, and it was very precious to me. It's long gone now, of course.

So of course then I bought the pearlescent crayons, and then I bitched at Leia for a while about how I didn't have any coloring books I could use these wonderful crayons *on* unless I wanted to go back to the Lisa Frank newsprint of my youth. (They did actually have Lisa Frank. I strongly considered it. But my tastes have evolved beyond newsprint.)

Then I googled some things, and I found Walmart listing a Crayola mandala coloring book. I went to look for it, and I didn't find it, but I did find a different coloring book with "stained glass" style pictures (sadly not on actual tracing paper, but it occurs to me that if I could source some tracing paper, which it further occurs to me that I haven't seen in years although admittedly I haven't been looking, that I could *trace them* and color them and tape them on my windows like the tacky '90s kid I am), which GLORY HALLELUJAH has spaces big enough to fucking color in!

...Michaels also had neon and metallic Crayola crayons. I might go back. They were 24-packs of each. The single silver and gold crayons from my mom's 64-pack were pretty much only used for Easter eggs in our house, so as not to use them up. I just -- I have a wealth beyond imagining of special effect crayons and markers available to me, and I'm struggling to find anywhere to use them. This seems backwards.

So anyway, then I also found a cute sundress big enough to go over my ass, and then I sat in the furniture section for a while and pondered buying a new table so I wouldn't have to keep stacking coloring books on top of the peanut butter jar in order to eat, and it occurred to me that if I took down my Christmas tree, which I've had up since the Before Times (having gotten it from in fact the same Walmart east of anywhere after all the rest in town were sold out of the particular model), then I would have a space along the back of the kitchen counter where I could hypothetically put a table.

So, because I am a sensible and moderate individual, I bought a thing of string to tie up the Christmas tree branches with, and did not buy a table yet. Then it was time for D&D, so I hurried home and put my vaccination card on the fridge and got into the voice chat and started taking down the Christmas tree.

Then it was five hours later, and I had started konmari-ing the whole apartment in order to have somewhere to store the Christmas tree, and I had discovered that my closet shelf was almost entirely full of empty cardboard boxes, so I had pulled all those out and rifled through them to make sure they didn't contain anything important, and after rescuing three cards from a friend and one glasses chamois, I stuffed most of the boxes in a trash bag, jammed the condensed Christmas tree and all the winter blankets and my air mattress and various other wintry things into the giant box my office chair came in, managed to get that giant box up onto the closet shelf (I have some soreness around my injection site but I honestly don't know if it's a side effect of the vaccination or a pulled muscle from wiggling a very large heavy box into a very tight space over my head), and moved the Goodwill oddities into a midsize box that I think I brought my workstation home in, but they just moved the remaining onsite agents into a much smaller room so I don't think I'm going to be asked to bring my workstation back for a while, and when I do go to bring it back I think the monitors will fit nicely in my washtub.

(I'm giving Goodwill my crockpot. After I forgot the garbanzos in it for three days until the chicken broth started to stink, I decided I am not a person who needs to own a crockpot. Also something like eight skeins of rather ugly yarn because I bought too much for the baby blankets I was making.)

(I'm not sure why I own a washtub. It's bright blue and plastic. It does have a use, which is to hand-wash my weighted blanket in occasionally, as of course you can't put twenty-odd pounds of glass baubles in a washing machine.)

(I certainly did make some life choices that led me here, did I not.)

Annnnyway, so now I have an almost empty three-drawer Rubbermaid dresser, an entirely empty and extremely large Rubbermaid tote (I'm pretty sure I could trap myself in there, but I haven't tried), a mostly empty square ottoman which is also a storage box, and a royal shitton of tiny things like office supplies and party favors that don't *go* anywhere.

"A place for everything" is the really hard part, you know. I achieved it once. Then I moved out of that apartment and have never achieved it again. Once things *have* places, then even if you don't have the spoons to put the peanut butter jar back in the pantry right *now*, you know it has a spot between the Hormel and the Chef Boyardee, and it's way easier than "oh god if I open the pantry there won't be any room and I'll wind up putting the peanut butter under the bathroom sink with the Johnnie Walker Black or maybe over the kitchen sink on top of the Thermacare back wraps."

(You're supposed to store whisky upright in a cool dark place, okay. None of the upper cabinet shelves are tall enough, so I could have put it either directly over the water heater or directly next to the oven. Instead it lurks behind the toilet paper, next to the Clorox wipes and the pre-pandemic Lush bath bomb, which I should... probably use at some point.)

Erm. So then I was pondering what-all storage I would need to source in order to begin having places in which to put things, *findable* places which is the real grail, and -- I think I took a pause to read Dreamwidth and someone linked me a plushie trilobite, okay. I haven't yet entirely decided whether to buy it, but it occurred to me that I definitely have no home for a plushie trilobite, any more than for the amazing Zaeed plushie currently trapped under my cross stitching or the Star Wars Build-a-Bear who was supposed to make Ewok noises until three weeks of freeze-thaw cycle in a malfunctioning package locker did for his electronic squeaker, or the poor American Girl doll languishing inside the ottoman.

So then I was like "we used to have that little net corner hammock for stuffed animals when I was a kid, we never could get it mounted right, but perhaps with fewer cooks that would be a good option". So I googled for one, and all I could find was an assortment of JUMBO five-or-six-foot-long double-deep toy hammocks, obviously necessary to keep your child from drowning in the flood of stuffed animals that have taken over beds in the past thirty years.

(Okay, I was pretty toy-deprived as a kid, the 1980s were not in general what you would call a time of less stuff in American households. Still. I have a twin bed. I can hardly even *find* a toy hammock that wouldn't be bigger than my bed in some dimension.)

So then, it being the aforementioned five hours later with a lot of D&D combined with hard physical labor in the middle, I said to myself, said I, "Hammocks are made out of net, and nets are made out of strings." And by god, if there is one thing I'm better at than another, it is making things out of string. I've never actually gotten around to trying out the whole process of making an actual fisherman's net, which is much more closely related to tatting than to knitting, but I have yarn and most of the possible knitting or crocheting supplies I would need to invent things.

Which, at long last, explains why I have paused to write this halfway through creating a triangular filet crochet toy hammock out of sparkly yellow yarn.

Joann's is having a 50% off sale on plastic storage whatsits tomorrow, but I think I'll probably spend a large part of the day putting office supplies into ziploc bags and hanging them in rows on the wall with pushpins so as to figure out what-all I in fact own.

#i feel like this probably needs at least a few warning tags #but i have no idea what those would be at this point

[written-beyond-the-grave]

Wonder

They say we live in the moment, that the past is always gone, and each day is something new, a stepping stone into a future we dream of even in the cold. For you, that was snow, those wintry days of bluster and ice. You see the earth of yesterday covered as white as any new page and the toddler in me rises as if armed with a rainbow of crayons, eager to set that right. Yet today, you were happy to simply walk in it, create a few footprints of your own. You watched them tumble, those feathered crystals, their chaotic flight to form a blanket that could not be more uniform, more orderly. Yet for some their destination is to come to your hand, to alight upon those ungloved fingers and let your warmth be their spring melt: and to also toss a snowball at the unsuspecting yeti.

You barked out a laugh as you caught an oblivious Phil in the face with the snow, it was all short run due to Phil making a large snowball that’d definitely cause some damage if it hit a human. Making a sprint to dodge, your snow boots crunched under the fresh now to behind a forgotten sled. The impact of the snowball caused the sled to push you first face into the snow, though muffled you could hear the chucking Phil and the other Yeti’s made. Pushing yourself up from the sled with your mitten protected hands you made a show to shake the snow from off your wool coat and black braids that cascaded down from under an aviator hat.

“Nice job Phil,” your frozen lips mumbled, “Now back into the Kremlin I go.” You made a short walk back to the entrance of the Pole, well, one of its many entrances. As per usual the Pole was covered in ice, but not as much due to it being mid July. The bottom half of the workshop that was commonly encased in a block of ice was now sporting a thin layer. That also meant that there was danger of falling icicles as one narrowly missed you by a hair. You froze and stared at it for a minor moment, “That’s nice,” before going in. 

The absurdly pulsing heat in the workshop was a rude awakening to your nearly frozen lungs and somehow turned your lips number the they already were. Leaving you winter gear at the door on their respective hooks and cubbies you made your way to your favorite place: the kitchen. Now matter how many times you’ve been in the workshop, it still amazed you. The various tall columns of sturdy wood, the signature red accents with hints of silver and cold. All questionably mixed in with architecture made of solid ice that did not melt in the sweltering heat of the Pole. A feat for the ages, you called it. Your feet in thick socks took a stroll to the kitchen, looking every which way of everyone's hard work. Since Christmas was a little more than halfway there the yetis and elves had cranked up their work ethic, you could tell by the madness going on. Fighter planes were taking test drives under the skylight, zooming past bubbles carrying nuts and bolts, and a few fairy dolls. The floor was littered with a toy army reenacting what could be the Siege of Yorktown, red coats versus blue.

Choooooooo. Choooooooo.

“Woah!” you yelped as a train almost tripped you up. It left an impressive cloud of steam as it went by. Madness indeed. Stopping in front of a worktable full of Rock ‘em Sock ‘em robots there were two elves that decided to micic the fight going on. You let out a small cackle as Steven got knocked off the table from a right hook by Susan, the nearby watching elves erupting in cheers and another half looking disappointed as they turned to Sal and started to pass him off coins. Gambling Christmas elves, also a regular off the books occurrence. 

Pushing past the kitchen door you greeted Gretchen, a yeti who was head honcho of fit for a Yeti, or North when he came in for a late night snack. The appliances were a bit too large for you to utilize without a stepping stool of some sort.

“What’s on the menu for today?” You quipped as you took a seat on a tall stool, it had extra foot rests so you could climb. Gretchen made a series of hand motions and grunts, then turned around and pulled out a bowl of soup with grilled cheese on the side.

“Ah, your famous three sister’s tomato soup and grilled cheese supreme, huh? You always know the way to my heart.”

Gretchen looked away abashed and shrugged.

You took a big spoonful of your soup and promptly started to puff out your cheeks and blow, it was hot. But then again you never did like waiting for food to cool down. Gretchen gave you a low look and shook her head in amusement letting you enjoy your lunch she went back to meal prepping. Dipping your grilled cheese into your soup you looked around the kitchen admiring its trimming. Black marble table tops with deep redwood cabinets that had white oval patterns on the edges and snowflake embellished wall edges gave a sort of shine to the atmosphere. That and the floating crystalline chandeliers, each piece was somehow connected to all the others and moves in a circular motion around the ceiling. 

Another bowl of soup and a tray was put beside you.

“Again?”

Gretchen gave a nod.

Of course.

You finished up your soup, “Guess I’m off for delivery.” You got off the stool and took the tray and went on your merry way. Although the Pole was incredibly large there was always a shortcut, out in the corridor was a large pulley system that could take a package out almost anywhere in the house. Pushing the tray into the box and climbing in you pressed a hammer symbol button on the wall and watched as the door closed and felt it surge. While on the short ride you pulled out your watch and checked the time, the north star was on the bottom right hand corner. Dinner would be soon.

The elevator staggered to a halt and slowly opened out to a blindingly lit floor from the direct sunlight. You cautiously stepped out, you couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen a fraction of the floor in this place. Taking the tray out into your hands you marvelled around. There were beakers, some empty, some filled with liquids and concoctions, bubbling or sparkling in the light. There were crystal balls, wands, staffs, wrenches, gears, tools of both magic and technological trades both jumbled together across the tables. Books were crammed nearly to the ceiling as space had ran out long ago on the floor to ceiling bookshelves. Row after row of neatly lined up books with their spines facing outward, colour coded with dots, advanced engineering section arranged in alphabetical order, mythos section, folk magic section with low shelves and floor cushions, comfortable leather arm chairs, tables for quiet study, muffled stillness.  Prototypes of planes, wooden cars, and train parts stood as if trophies on the ledges of the room. Even an old record player with a horn, a mini piano, matryoshka dolls, and a glass case of some floating shadow made an appearance 

And in the middle of it all, crouched over a desk in his signature red sweater, was North, looking completely in his element in this mix of science and magic. Where color-coded wires formed their own abstract meaning, mathematics meets craft, form meets function. Where technology erupts from the hands of artists and the minds of philosophers, the heart of the truest believer, or the eyes that saw wonder in everything. In his huge hand was a tiny bottle with a single black diamond, which he was frowning at thoughtfully.

You’d met North, or Nik, as you’d like to call him about a year ago in a small cafe in Paris. It wasn’t too hard to spot a 7’2” densely built man in a small coffee shop, nor ignore his French with a Russian accent. Meeting, well, being in the presence of father Christmas was a complete accident. But, what wasn’t was him taking notice of the river chapel you were beginning to sketch that was right next to the cafe. It was tall, spiky, and completely gothic. One of France’s oldest architectural structures you had heard. With a half eaten croissant by your side and a cup of cold espresso you had settled down. All until North looked around for a moment and took in your character. 

His first thoughts, you looked dainty: the white layered romper added to that effect and the sunlight on you directly made you look ethereal. Like liquid gold in the most conventional of places, or a sunflower bathing in the sunrays. Your hair was put into two puffs on your head with a braiding pattern in the back to keep your curls from going a stray. 

“Maybe try tilting pencil to the left, yes?” You paused for a second and put your hand on your chest looking up. There stood a tree of a many, an absurdly long white beard that was an accent to largely innocent looking deep blue eyes and bushy graying eyebrows. The mystery man’s hair was put into a bun and across his arms there were two things tatted as far as you could tell with his long sleeve rolled up.

Naughty.

And on the other arm: Nice.

“I’m sorry, what?” Who was this man, and what gave him the audacity to talk to you? Couldn’t you mind your business in peace?

“Your sketch.” He gestured with a large meaty hand, “Maybe it would do good to tilt pencil to get desired effect, no?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” You picked up a Russian accent, what was a Kremlin doing this far near the equator? He pulled out a seat, but before he could sit he gave you the silent question. You nodded and North went ahead and sat down.

“May I?”

You wordlessly handed the pencil and watched the man go to work, he looked concentrated as he started back out the window and cobblestone walkway to the chapel. You watched his big hangs engulfing the pencil work, he made some quick strokes and shaded in some parts lightly as he went. 

“Like so.” Finished he pushed the sketchbook back to you. It was well timed since at that moment he was called up for his order. You should see what he meant by tilting the pencil, the slanted edge gave the sketch depth and made the lines bulky and gray enough to seem like bricks. You looked back outside to the warm light, he even got the gargoyle statue in the corners correct.

He came back with this beverage and sat down, “You like?”

“It’s alright.”

He almost spit out his, from what you could tell, a frappuccino with peppermint. Who does that?

“I’m sure you could do better.” He bit out in a laugh, “What brings you to Paris?”

“I got tired of the winter of the big apple.”

“Ah, a New Yorker I presume? Should be used to the cold?”

You leaned forward and grabbed your forgotten cup with your hand and took a long drink. “I could say the same for the Russian. What? Get tired of the frosty frosty?”

He shrugged. “Something of the sort.”

“Something of the sort,” you repeated, “You don’t strike me as sitting in a small cafe and enjoying the pending sunset type.”

He leaned forward and took the candy cane out of his drink and munched on it, “Then what do I strike you as?”

You did a quick analysis, “You seem a little too jolly to be out here, you’re a little far from home, hmmm?” You mused, “You’re… big, I assume a worker of sorts. Maybe a factory? But then again you do a grandfather type fatherly vibe going on. But I think I’ll stick with the private manufacturer owner… What do I strike you as?”

North was surprised you deduced that much in such little time, you almost had the right idea. Almost. “Depends,” he huffed and pulled his arms across his chest and gave you a deep gaze, “Are you naughty, or nice?”

The air was thick and suffocating, you had only been there for a good forty minutes and a husky Russian was giving you quite a plight. You went through the checklist in your head: tattoos, a gold ring on his thumb that made him look like a pimp, man-bun, thick accent, eyes that looked too genuine, and a soft interior that didn’t match his exterior. An oddity that conflicted with your scheduled time in Paris before you hit Germany, an oddity that you had no time or desire for… However, when in Paris, do as the Parisians do. 

You stared at him for a moment, “Name’s (y/n).” You held out your hand.

He shook your hand, you could feel the warmth and the calcoususes that graced his hand. The greeting was surprisingly gentle for a man of his size.

“Nikolai.”

“Delivery from the polar express.” You walked up behind him and placed the tray far off from his papers and creative process going on his desk. You pushed up your tippy toes and kissed his cheek, you felt the hairs on his long white beard tickle your nose.

He leaned into your touch and you felt his cheek heat up slightly. “Sunflower!” North snaked an arm around you and pulled you into a hug, you giggled.

 “What’s on the schedule today Nik?”

“Djinn is stuck in diamond, may have been a few thousand years old.” He turned around fully to show you the tiny bottle, “Have yet to find place of storage.”

You stared at the bottle for a moment, “You cease to surprise me with you always bring in here. Last week a seemingly cursed puppet, and the week before that was an actual cursed clown doll that kept switching places around the shop.” You shuddered at the memory, never in your life had you felt violated by a clown doll barely two feet suddenly appearing behind you in a mirror. A bellowing laughter pulled you out from your thoughts, North slapped his belly.

“Clown is gone now,” he paused and wrinkled his eyebrows, “hopefully.” 

At that you tilted your head and narrowed your eyes questionably, how the hell did you end up here?

“Hilarious.”

Another chuckle erupted. You turned around and walked closely to the window formed by ice, actually, more than half the floor in North’s special experiment room was made of ice. Looking outside the yeti were still out there this time talking the reindeer for walks, hard to believe but Blitzen was giving them a hard time. 

“Almost forgot to mention, guardians will be over for dinner and game night. Been a while seen we last met.”

“Game night?” You turned around to face North and leaned against the cold ice. “You mean… Bunny will be there?”

You stifled a smile as you saw North’s shoulders freeze.

“Sunflower－”

“Say less!” With an enthusiastic voice you bounded up back to North’s desk, and this time slowly pushed the tray towards him that he ignored the first time around. “Eat… you’ll need energy for game night.”

His big blue eyes met your chocolate ones, in opposition for whatever your voice signalled for the night. He didn’t like it, game night was fine. However, you and the Easter Bunny were not a good mix. Last game night ended up with paint splattered everywhere at the Bob Ross themed night and a hopping mad Aussie. In your defence, color theory had no place in abstract design when art had no meaning but to be consumed by an audience… a philosophical approach of course. And this sparked a mini passive aggressive argument between you and the Pooka, one thing led to another and what was previously a nice community den turned into a colorbomb of curses, laughter, and acrylic. After that it became known not to leave you and Bunny alone on artistic matters. Civil was not a word in your vocabulary. 

Sighing, he dug into his soup not wanting to know what you had planned for this night. He’d hold Sandy on standby if anything occurred. Grinning in success you gave the hulking man a quick hug and bounced off.

North shook his head in, whatever fire you were prepping for, he didn’t want the smoke.

  Dinner had been a success, you had gotten Gretchen to whip up some Americanized Chinese food. Not the healthiest, but when working with ancient spirits it was important to introduce them to average human delicacies. Thus the table had a large bowl or lobster fried rice, egg rolls, sweet and sour lo mein with bourbon chicken. MSG had never tasted so good.

“So, how are Mr. and Mrs. Claus doing?” Jack teased conventionally sitting in a chair for once, slouching back he took a sip of his cider. “All is well in paradise? And the master bedroom?”

Tooth dug her elbow into Jack’s ribs.

North put his hands above his head and smiled with glee, “Jack, why would not all be well? Has new evil come? But, eh, why would something be wrong in bedroom?” He tossed a confused glance to you, while you were busy stuffing an egg roll in your already filled mouth. It was no surprise that the innuendo went over North’s head, he wasn’t very adept in sarcasm either. 

Swallowing down your food you answered. “Amazing, it’s like a white Christmas. Every. Night,” then gave Jack a wide toothy smile as Tooth choked on her drink and Sandman made a series of symbols summing up that Jack got owned. You’ve never seen a three hundred and some spirit go as red as a strawberry before. 

“Nice going show pony,” Bunny piped up after having a taste of the vegan egg rolls. “Now, dinner was amazing, but we came here for game night.”

North cleared his throat, “And you’re right Bunny.” North let you take it away.

You smirked and pulled out a larger than normal deck of cards, “I present to you all… Uno.”

“So, a card came?” Jack reasoned.

If your smile got a tad bit more malicious showing off your pearly whites. “Not just a card came. Total warfare. Us humans have been playing this for years, its broken up friendships, marriages, and sacred barber companionships. The true test of skill.” You seemed to have mistified Sandy, he was leaning over the table staring at the box in your hand with heightened curiosity. “So lets play!”

Was it just a game of Uno? Yes, but did you find some way to spice things up? Indeed. You had taken the liberty to write down a few options on the special cards in uno. With the help of a sharpie marker you marked down two options on every card, either do as the card said or do the dare. In your reasoning Uno was already too much of an easy game the guardians could figure out, so why not cause more calamity? During the dinner you watched Sandy and Jack go ham with the cider you accidentally spiked with North’s peach flavored Vodka.

“... And then, Man in Moon decided to replace my fear with wonder, and hope an－”

“Uno.”

“What? You were all playing without me!”

“Well, you looked pretty involved in that story,” you shuffled some cards around in your hand and glanced back up, “now draw four.” You got comfortable on the red velvet carpet and crossed your ankles. Everyone was spread out on the rug, Jack Frost sat himself criss-cross while Sandman lazily lounged on him. The tooth fairy, or Toothiana was more invested in the cup of steaming hot chocolate than the game before her while the Easter Bunny was slowly gaining a steady hand of cards. 

North grumbled into his beard and retrieved the additional cards. He glanced down at his hand and huffed, this game had been going on for about thirty minutes, it was time to put things into motion.

You put down a draw four card and it was Jack’s turn.

Draw the whole deck or streak down the hall naked.

“Wait… wait.” It was a minute before Jack could catch up. “I think this card is defective.” Wanting to see what Jack was going on about, Bunny took a look and his ears stood up at attention, already knowing why he turned to look at you all cozy.

“Shiela, what is this?”

“A draw four card.”

“But, what’s on it?”

“Options, I know you both can read.”

He gave you a flat look.

You rolled your eyes and sat up straight, “I took the liberty of making Uno interesting, besides spiking the punch, I may have redacted some of the rules of Uno for my own purposes.” You felt North shift beside you, “And I may have used Nik’s high grade bottle to do so, but that isn’t the point.” You shuffled around and pulled out a small stack of cards and passed five randomly to each player. Taking the rests and shuffling them to the deck in the middle, while doing do, “So Jack, you make your choice?”

He shared a look with everyone.

And ten seconds later he was down the corridor screaming. Huh, you really thought he would’ve taken the whole deck. Stunned into silence the group recounted what they just tried to not see. Everyone could only assume the horror the yeti and elves were witnessing as you heard echoing alarmed yells from the yeti and falling items. You’d have to apologize to North later.

“Bloody show pony.” Bunny sighed.

“So who’s next?” North questioned trying to move things along. “Sandy?”

Sandy glowed a lazy gold and pulled out a skip card that Toothiana could get herself skipped or prank call an ex. She chose to skip.

Up next was Bunny, considering you all were playing stacksies he got rid of more than half his cards and put down a draw four on top of a skip leading it to North.

“Take 34 cards or finish… the whole bottle of alcohol. Bloody hell, Sheila you’ve gone mad.”

North could only stare at the card intently and close his eyes in prayer, of course it had to be you. 

You nudged the bottle, or what was left of one of his favorite bottles. “Drink up big guy.” You know he needed it with what was left to come in the game.

Wordlessly he unscrewed the bottle and downed it.

Oh, it was going to be quite a game.

You know how people say ‘wow last night was totally a blur’ after a trip from Vegas, or one night from Miami? Or when people sing along to Katy Perry’s Last Friday Night as she recounts the questionable teenage acts she’s done before she hits her midlife crisis? Or possible a disaster remake of The Hangover. You never really got that sentiment until now because last night really was a blur. You tried to rock and bring my what happened last night but all you can come up with Jack stripping, Bunny’s explaining how breeding worked between two Pookas, Sandman projecting one of the most erotic dancing you seen to date via sand, tooth knocking out from a complete sugar rush, and North’s tribute to Rick Roll. You're so somehow got back into your bed and you can only assume North had something to do with that as he usually always does. 

Rolling over in the heavenly plush mattress you scooted over to your side of the nightstand. A cup of coffee, it was still steaming and an advil. Definitely North. You smiled at the thought and popped the pill then the coffee, he even remembered you loved vanilla bean. As you continued to drink your coffee you began to feel the pounding headache leave you, but the room was still somewhat spinning. Putting the empty cup back on the nightstand you stretched forward and felt your shoulders pop.

“Jesus Christ.” You yawned and pulled off your bonnet. You surveyed the room for any signs of north. His red robe laid on the armchair of his study desk, and his side of the bed was cold. Crawling over to check if his slippers were gone, there were still there. Huh. Knowing North, he could drink so a hangover wasn’t an actual thing for him.

What time was it? You hopped out of bed and shimmied to the curtains, preparing yourself for the sunlight to harass you. But that never came, either meaning that you slept into the night or it was some ungodly hour before dawn. “You’ve got to be kidding.” Trudging into the bathroom to brush your teeth and check the time, you noted that it was approximately six in the morning. This early, and North was already gone? You slipped a silk robe over your shoulders and headed out in search of the big man himself. After questioning a few yeti and stopping for a breakfast burrito you found North. All the way in one of the Pole’s lower compartments, the training room.

North was practicing with his sabers when you arrived. You had to stop for a moment to appreciate it. Every time you thought you’d seen everything the Pole had to offer, there was something new to find.

The room was large, probably so the guardians could all practice in it at once if they had to, to get used to fighting together. Something you’d seen them do from time to time. The walls could have been anything, under all the padding. The floor was covered in a thick layer of something that gave underfoot, and you weren't sure what it was beyond gentler on someone taking a tumble than wood or stone would have been.

One section of the wall near the doors was full of hanging weaponry. You pictured the fabled “ole Saint Nick”, a jolly man that was all about the children versus the reality of the man who owned all those weapons. 

At the moment, North was the only one in the room. He had his sabers in hand – blunted practice ones, you wondered if they were as heavy as the real thing, from where you were standing they seemed just as heavy. But North made it look easy – and he was going through a strenuous routine.

It was on North had been doing for awhile, if the sheen of sweat was anything to go by. After all, North was built more like a  bear or barbarian weightlifter than the 'bowl full of jelly' he was called; he was husky for sure, but was still muscle. There was strength under that layer of fat, stronger than people gave North credit for.

At some point North had taken off his shirt, full torso on view and honestly you did not mind. You got a nice view of his back muscles and a large intricate compass tattoo in the middle of his back. It was large, in the middle of the compass lay a crest of some sort with two sabers meeting in the middle. Outside of that harsh black ink spread into eight points, each facing north, south, east and west and everything in between. The main arrows were in the same thorn-like pattern as the rim of the inner compass. And above the north pointing arrow laid a phrase I am the master of my own fate, and under that were words written in perfect cursive calligraphy I am the captain of my soul. The true words of a bandit. Your eyes roamed farther up his back and saw a tiny almost ignorable detail, a small star to the right, well ,the second star to the right. The north star that always pointed to home. All of that shining by the sweat pouring down North, pulling your eyes back down you caught a small peak of the bandit tramp stamp he had gotten one drunken night. You stifled a laugh, you remembered the story behind that one. 

Watching as North continued his routine, this time going ballistic on a wooden dummy. You took an easy walk behind him and viewed him up close. 

“Hey big red,” you greeted.

 North staggered quickly and turned around in the same motion to point his wooden saber directly at your face almost touching you. If it was anyone else your face would have been bashed in but, looking into his startled eyes you probably should stop sneaking up on him. Last victim was a bowl of cereal. North was still breathing hard as he awaited for his mind to catch up to what just happened.

“Sunflower.” He heaved out as his chest dropped, “Did not see you!” He opened his arms wide and you got a good look at his chest. As broad as it was, it was equally covered in curly as white as his beard, there were some hints of black. Before you could veto his hug, you were already wrapped up in his arms. You listened to his heart race.

“Good to see you this morning.” You muffled, and tried to pry his hands away from you, man was this guy a space heater.

He let you go. “After game night, I send guardians home and take you to bed. You fell asleep after Jack’s 8 mile reenactment.” He looked at you closely and pushed a stray braid behind your ear, “Was an interesting game night.” The bottle of vodka North had gulped down earlier did not help erase his memories of what happened a couple hours before. 

“I could tell by the hangover, thank you for the bedside assist.”

North nodded and went to put his sabers back in the armory, you followed.

“So, I gotta ask you, big guy… Come ‘ere often?” Your eyes raked down his back, and you saw his muscles tense as he shuffled away from your view. This was new. You blinked for a few seconds in surprise. You would’ve never thought of North as being body shy or ashamed of anything for as long as you knew him. He was always fearless, impulsive, and more of a ‘think things later’ type of guy if the occasion called for it, but never… self conscious. If anybody was, you always figured it would be you, comparing yourself to North's friends. All completely exceptional people who keep the world safe, with seas sof stories and accomplishments to achieve, places they’ve been, or...the list was cut off abruptly as you realized how long North had been quiet.

“Hey,” You said moving closer to North, “You know I didn’t mean any harm.” You put a hand on his back to help alleviate some pain, but it only made the man a bit more tense. “Um...” you paused, searching for the words. The right ones were refusing to come to you, and you didn't want to make this worse, especially if he was reading things wrong.

Fuck it.

“You know I love you, right? All of you.” you said.

You were rewarded with a blush spreading across the parts of North's face you could see and the tops of his shoulders. 

He began to turn around. “Is very nice, what you say,” North said, one hand hovering over his belly. “But...” North wouldn’t meet your gaze, knowing better you dropped the subject and moved back to give him some space. Mumbling out an apology you took your leave. Making a few turns you found one of the dumbwaiters and crawled in. North would be in the training room for a while mulling off his thoughts, or his private study. Pushing the hammer symbol you were now back at his magic lab. You wouldn’t just skip over what happened with North just a minute ago. 

Taking a seat at his work desk you let out a deep sigh and leaned your face on your palms. Santa Clause, you were dating Santa Clause. Also known as Saint Nicholas, St. Nick, Kris Kringle, Pelznickel, St. Nikolai, and formerly known as the Bandit King. All multiple names for the same face, same body, and same soul. All affiliates to a man who brought joy to the world once a year, operated a toy making syndicate for hundreds of years, fought evil on a regular basis, and tinkered with magic and science on a borderline mad scientist type of way. A being who had a laugh as loud as lions and spread happiness everywhere, that never understood sarcasm, and was hard on himself and unsure at times if the toys that he did make were even worth while.

You closed your eyes in thought. Why haven’t you ever peaced together than North ever had issues himself? Sure you helped him out of toy slumps, but what you witnessed today was far beyond that. The jolly giant himself wouldn’t even look at you.

North was, and is, the Guardian of Wonder. By definition he literally saw wonder in everything around him and puts that into his toys and other creations. The lights in trees, the magic in the air, a diamond in the rough, and any tough situation he found something redeeming.

You didn’t know when you started to walk around, but your legs led you to a particular item. A snowglobe. You tentatively reached out and gave it a closer look, it was of Hunley’s Circus, one of your first official dates.

But, how does one see wonder in everything but themselves? Better yet, how do you make the guardian of wonder who's ever really cared and loved others, give a little love to himself? You rolled the snowglobe in your hands a little more, deep in thought. 

Lightbulb.

As quick as the idea came, it flashed away. But you knew exactly what it was. With one final look at the globe you put it back into its rightful place and headed out the room. What you had planned would take all day to execute correctly, but you knew it’d be worth it by tonight. But, all you had was time. And time was your new best friend.

 Twas the night to a long day, and as predicted North had been avoiding you. North couldn’t draw his eyes away from the mirror. His shirt tossed aside, he locked his eyes onto the expanse of skin splayed out in front of him. North bit his lip and focused in on the extra fat accumulated around his middle, his fingers deftly trying to flatten it out to no avail. Deciding to take a break from the self torture North put back in his white night shirt, he was sporting a reindeer themed onsie with the top half wrapped around his waist like a jacket. 

Making his way to your shared bedroom where he was sure you were asleep by this hour, he stepped in and immediately felt sus. There you were, braids down giving you an innocent look and one of his white shirts that contrasted nicely with your skin. The only source of light was from the lamp on your side of the bed. You closed the book and placed a bookmark to come back to it later.

“Hey, Sunflower.” You smiled brightly at his greeting and motioned for him to come to bed. The bed dipped under his weight as he pulled his legs over the bed to rest properly. You crawled over  to him and gave a quick peck on his cheek then went back to your side and slipped under the covers as North did, not forgetting to turn off the lights. In the dark you shifted around in bed to face North back, it was now or never.

“You never answered me,” you began as a whisper, “You know I love you, right?”

North didn’t bother to answer, but you continued.

“You wanna know how I knew? It was Germany, at the circus. Some kids couldn’t afford tickets to get into the circus and were sitting outside listening to what was going on inside. Their eyes were shut so tightly. We were on our way to that circus when you stopped for those kids, you were so concerned about why they were out there on their own…”

“Why long faces?”

“Sir, w- we don’t have enough to buy tickets so we’re doing the next best thing.” A young boy with fiery red hair supplied holding his sister by his side. They were twins.

North got up from his squat and looked around for a second and then spotted a balloon cart. “Wait here.” Leaving for a few minutes to purchase some balloons, North came back with a smile. “You’re just in luck,” he took out an orange balloon, “the real show has just started.” He began to inflate the balloon and when it was a decent size he molded it into a poodle, and handed it to the little girl who stared at him in awe.

He then took a green balloon and white balloon and molded it into a turtle for the young boy, “Here!” With a laugh he handed the boy his turtle. “Do you want to know what’s special about these creatures?”

“N-no,” the boy answered and his sister shook her head as well.

North eyed them both, “They fly for the heart’s of the truest believers.”

The boy gave him a skeptical look, “No way mister.”

“Ahhh, but am telling truth? See,” he pointed his head to the girl’s poodle and saw it begin to take flight around her and stop to nuzzle her nose. This elicted a gasp from the young boy and an inaudible ‘no way’.

“How do I make mine’s float?” Desperately looking to North for answers.

“Believe.” It was a simple command, but the boy looked in distress as he tried. North slapped his belly and chuckled.

“Looks like you did it.” And he did, the turtle was swimming through the air and doing a figure eight. 

You smiled from the sidelines watching the interaction, this was far better than a circus. North stepped back and placed a hand on the small of your back ready to lead you to the circus, but you stopped him.

“I think we have a little time before the show actually starts.” You reasoned with him as you maneuvered yourself back to the kids. 

You never knew the look North was giving you that moment, but it turned to be one of his most treasured memories.

“No, please look at me.” You began to sit up straight in the sheets, “You know I love you. And I’m not talking about you when you’re happy, but when you’re sad, angry, and down right depressed… ya know?” At that he slowly shifted up, but facing away from you in bed, at that you slowly moved closer and sat behind him and leaned your head against his back, “but, I don’t think I ever showed you how much I love you.” 

With that you reached up and quietly took North’s shirt off you to reveal a mustard yellow lingerie set and slowly moved yourself up North’s back and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Let me show you,” you whispered in his ear and hoped he'd allow it. 

“Please.”

North slowly turned around to meet your gaze, slowly pulling him back onto the bed you moved to straddle his torso as you ran your hands slowly up his arms. 

“You know what I love the most about you?” You questioned while your focus was still on his arms, rubbing them gently. You could feel the muscle tense and jump at your ministrations. “Your hands,” you slip your hand into his and played with his, “it's created so many marvelous things.” You brought it up to your lips for a quick kiss and held it near your chest. “Its punched through who knows what, fought so many battles, and sustained so much damage, and yet it can still be gentle. Drying tears, or holding me tight when I need it.”

You were looking at him, taking your free hand you tilted his head to have your eyes meet. “They’re calcoused, but know passion when you trace my face when I’m asleep, or rub circles on my back when I can’t sleep.” You leaned in closer and got quieter, “They’re hands that love.”

And then kissed him, North’s lips were slightly chapped in contrast to your soft ones. He kissed you back and squeezed your hand, pulling back you put his hand next to your face and held it there. Pulling your hands down, you toyed with the bottom of his shirt and nonverbally asked permission. He didn’t make a move to stop you, so you slipped it off as he lifted his hands to aid you. Placing your hands back on his chest you raked your hands through his hair and kissed him once again.

Gradually you moved your kisses down his neck and past his stomach and over his thighs. As you made your journey, you gave his nipple a little suck and nip, and you took his onesie down too. You slowly spread his legs and got between them, without breaking eye contact you began to kiss between his thighs. You could feel him tense again.

The room was suddenly illuminated, North quickly looked up and saw that the usual wooden ceiling was temporarily changed to a night sky. Looking at you he searched your eyes for an answer. You gave no tells. It seemed as if the sky was truly in your joined presence, North stared a little more and noticed the one star shining brightly than the rest. The second star to the left.

“I love your thighs,” you gave his thick thighs a squeeze, “You're so sexy." you half moaned, half sighing you kissed a lazy, open mouthed trail along the curve of North’s thigh as your hands smoothed up and down his flesh. You stopped to grope gently at the supple skin of his thighs, quivering with tension as North struggled not to instinctively shy away.

“Trust me.”

You continued up and body and splayed yourself over his belly and laid a soft kiss on it. He was burning up and you could tell. 

“I-I trust you.” Came a breathy whisper. He couldn’t believe you were doing this just for him, North’s eyes moved up your body and slowly relaxed at the attention.

You took a point to admire his belly, as round as it was and decorated with stretch marks that were shades of pink and purple. 

“You talk down on yourself, and don’t even see the wonder of yourself.” You began and slowly traced a stray mark that curved onto his back. “You don’t even realize how you carry the autonomy of the universe within your skin. The holy bodies that made you the way you are decided to leave a mark, a reminder of where you come from.” You laid another kiss as you began to make your way back up, “A place of infinancy, a place of wonder, and place were the north star guides you home from way up above.” You wrapped both arms around him, “A plac- no, kingdom of beauty that I refuse to let you crumble.”

North’s eyes began to water, but you continued, “A perfectly constructed man, who has a heart purer than gold or the untouched waters of the amazons, with the spirit of unbridled fire, and voice as loud as thunder.” You slowly wiped his tears away as you felt his arms come to circle around you. 

“A man worthy of love.”

You stared directly into his eyes, even while crying he still looked heavenly.

“You’re beautiful.”

You breathlessly whispered and watched North crumble completely into cries and whimpers. Holding him close you ran your hands through his hair and massaged his scalp, you kissed his temple and let him let it out. You let him know what he was, not his body, but his hands, his mind, his own north star.

His own piece of wonder.

#rise of the guardians #north x reader #poc reader #poc!reader #black reader #black!reader #black! reader #african american reader #rise of the guardians imagine #rise of the guardians x reader #jack frost #nicholas st. north #nigga it's nikolai foh #toothfairy #toothania #sandy #sandman #i did it to em #angst #tmnt x reader #elijah mikaelson x reader #tvd x reader #all yall getting tagged frfr

[dancingbaek]

To End in Ice and Fire | Part 4

Being born with a particular birthmark is the lurking fear every parent has in their hearts when they bring a child into this dark world. Your parents are the only ones who have never received relief when creating life, because they knew your soul would be damned for eternity when he finally comes to claim what’s his.

Moodboard // Prologue // Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4

You’re warm.

 That’s the first thought you have when you become semi-conscious. You had fallen asleep cold – cold and terrified. But you’re warm and content now, snuggled under… blankets?

Your eyes open groggily, your vision focusing on the heaps of blankets spread over you. The plush pillows beneath your head are practically begging you to close your eyes once more, but you hear the soft crackle of fire in one corner of the room. The opposite corner of the one in your bedroom. Where am I?

The question causes you to push up on your elbows to get a better look at where you are. The walls look like stone with a thin layer of gold pressed over them, perhaps showing the pinnacle of wealth. The floorboards are a reddish wood, your blankets being cream fur and wool and linen. The fireplace is broad and grand, the fire taking the bite out of the winter air wafting in from a crack in the giant window in the room. Swinging your legs over the side of the bed, your feet meet cool floorboards and manage to knock away some of the sleep still clouding your mind.

The murdered boy.

The walk to the church.

The demon waiting.

Everything comes flooding back to you, and your heart speeds in sudden fear. The demon brought you here, it must be his home. He used some sort of black magic to put you asleep to make sure you wouldn’t know where you were. Or perhaps it was just to make sure you wouldn’t fight him. Either way, you were panicked and ready to bolt.

As quietly as possible, you padded over to the cracked window. Peering outside showed the estate’s overgrown grass and out of control garden, with an expanse of forestry beyond it. The sky was dark and cloudy, and the ground was at least 3 floors below. There goes the idea of sneaking out the window.

You move away, going to inspect the fireplace. There’s a fire poker leaning against it, and you pick it up, feeling the weight in your hand as you give an experimental swing. It’s got heft and it feels like solid iron. Somehow you doubted it would offer much protection if all the rumors you had heard about this particular brand of evil were true. However, it would have to do, so you continued on.

You found your slippers set next to the bed, and you slipped those on before you moved to the door. The handle was unlocked, so you twisted it slowly and pulled it open. Thankfully, the door didn’t creak, so you crept out. The walls outside were stone, lit up candles in gold sconces placed evenly down the hallway. Tapestries were sometimes between them, but you hardly took notice as you continued down the hallway and took the first set of stairs you found.

It led to another hallway, same stones, same sconces, and you pushed forward. An uneasy feeling had made its home in your stomach, having moved through an entire floor and not hearing one whisper of a voice as you went, not a single creak of a floorboard, not a single instance that would lead you to believe you were anything but completely and totally alone. The second staircase was easy to locate, because it was a grand set of split stairs that led to the foyer, and beyond that, a set of dark-wooden doors that undoubtedly led to freedom.

Having decided you were alone, you picked up your skirts and rushed down the remaining steps. You crossed the expansive foyer with long strides, practically throwing yourself at the doors when you reached the. Each hand tugged at a doorknob, but neither of them budged. Abandoning that idea, your left hand joined your right and you tugged at one doorknob with all your strength, but it didn’t budge, let alone turn. Having already worked up hope to escape, your hopes dropped, and you kicked the door in frustration.

“Ouch!” You hissed, leaning down to clutch your foot. Your slippers did nothing to shield your toes from your lashing out, and the white-hot fury you felt start to build was doused with water as you heard a low chuckle sound from behind you. You straightened immediately, turning in you spot with wide eyes to see who had snuck up on you.

It wasn’t your demon. My demon? You briefly thought and expelled the unexplainable drop in your stomach when you realized it wasn’t him. It was a different demon-man, slightly shorter, with poutier lips and thicker brows. The eyes were a similar ruby red, and his skin was like paper.

“My brother won’t like you trying to break things in our home.” He spoke, and his voice sounded just as melodic as the other’s had.

“Why am I here? Who are you?” You demanded, finding your voice after a moment of gaping. Your hand tightened around the fire poker.

“He should have talked to you before bringing you here.” The demon sighed, tilting his head a bit as he regarded you for a moment. “My name is Junmyeon. Yixing had to step out to… well, he had to step out for a bit. Consider me your babysitter. Are you hungry?”

“Am I-am I hungry?” You spluttered at him, thrown off by the nonchalance and apparent disregard for the situation you were in. “Do you both kidnap girls so regularly this doesn’t surprise you?”

“Like I said, Yixing should have talked to you.” He shook his head. “I apologize for his behavior; he doesn’t have a lot of interaction with humans outside of our usual capacity. However, if you come sit down for breakfast I can answer some questions you might have.”

“Breakfast?” You question in confusion. You risked taking your eyes off the demon to glance around, noticing each window had heavy curtains hanging over them, blocking out any sun that might be coming out.

“Well, admittedly breakfast for you might not be for a couple more hours. You’ve been asleep for over a day though, so I believe you should be hungry. Humans still eat three times a day, yes?”

As he spoke, shock rattled through you. Asleep for a day? You couldn’t believe it. The nerves in your stomach wouldn’t allow you to eat, but he hadn’t made any move to harm you. If the other one could make you sleep for over a day with just a few words, you had no doubt this one could kill you without breaking a sweat. This might be the only way I get answers.

“Okay.” You respond, unsure. The demon – Junmyeon – nods and turns on his heel, leading the way back he that he most likely came. He seemed to glide on air, his movements graceful and entirely inhuman. You followed tentatively, still holding the fire poker in one hand. Glancing around didn’t yield many results – the place was sparsely furnished. You supposed demons didn’t have much need for material things.

He led the way into large dining area. The ceilings were high, a single chandelier hanging above the middle of an expansive marble table. A spread of fruits, breads, different meats, and sweet treats were spread out across the top of the table, candles lit intermittently throughout. The great windows in this room were covered with the same thick curtains.

“Please sit where you like.” Junmyeon offers, standing off to the side of the table. You manage a small nod, choosing the seat closest to where you just came from. Junmyeon took the seat across from you at the table, and you set the fire poker at your side for easy access. He never mentioned the weapon, never looked at it, and at once you knew you first thought was correct – if he wanted to hurt you, nothing would stand in its way. You felt silly for even trying.

“Why am I here?” You ask him again, gazing at him from across the table. The candles closest by cast shadows across one side of his face, and outside of the light one eye looked almost normal, just a handsome face sitting across from you.

“You must already know why you’re here.” He responds, eyes trailing down to rest over where birthmark was on your collarbone. Your hand flies up to cover it, your cheeks burning lightly. You see his eyes widen a bit, swallowing. It was the most human thing you had seen him display so far, but it felt predatory. You shift in your seat, suddenly feeling even more nervous.

“I know what I’ve heard about it.” You admit. “But I want to know what you think. Why he thinks he has a right over my life.”

“You’re his.” Junmyeon says simply. “You were made for him, crafted specifically by a higher power in order to give him companionship. That mark you have is just intended to bring you together faster.”

“He’s not human. Neither are you.” You find yourself arguing. “I’m meant to be with someone like me, someone who won’t steal my soul and damn me for eternity.” You don’t know where the sudden fire comes from. Perhaps it’s at being referred to like a pet or maybe it’s because he speaks like God intended to give his creations to demons, but you were not having it.

“You should eat.” Junmyeon says, not feeding from your sudden anger. “Your next meal will not be until midday, Yixing will be disappointed if you starve yourself further.”

“I don’t care what Yixing feels.” You mutter, but pile the closest things onto your plate anyways. Junmyeon’s lips twitch in amusement.

“You will.” He shrugs a bit, picking up an apple to bite into it. You blink in surprise but decide not to question it.

“What is he going to do with me?” You voice wobbles towards the end. You had to know if you had any chance of returning home, of having a normal life again – or if you were going to die in a foreign place surrounded by evil.

Junmyeon looks away after a moment, lips pressing together lightly as a faraway look glazes over his eyes. “I’m not sure.” He admits after a moment. “I don’t think he thought much further ahead than just finding you.”

“That’s comforting.” You bite out, but simmer down when Junmyeon cuts his gaze back to yours.

“Eat.” He says, standing from his seat. “Perhaps I will answer more questions for you tomorrow. For now, eat. Any doors that are locked are impermissible to attempt entrance. Attempting to leave our home will end in vain.” He walked around the table before he paused. “And please return the fire poker to its rightful spot. It will not help you here.” His eyes shined in something akin to humor, but you weren’t quite sure that was possible for a being like himself. He left the dining area without a noise.

Your fury burning out ignited hunger pangs. You decide Junmyeon was right, you had to eat – if you wanted to escape you would need energy and starving yourself was not the answer. You avoid the meat altogether, sick thoughts running through your head about what it could possibly be. Instead, you choose to focus on the fruits and breads. It isn’t the healthiest breakfast, but it fills you up and you decide it doesn’t taste poisoned.

When you finish you stand from the table uncertainly. Outside of attempting to break into any locked rooms, Junmyeon hadn’t left you with any substantial information about what to do with your day. Not being allowed outside drastically cut down on things to keep you distracted. You decide it wouldn’t be a bad idea to familiarize yourself with the layout of the estate. As far as you knew, it was just Junmyeon and Yixing who lived here, and one of them was apparently away.

Remembering to grab the fire poker, you move out of the dining area. You move through the lower floor easily, and outside of the foyer and dining area, there’s a large ballroom with access to the dining room and foyer. The kitchen is connected to the dining area, but it’s locked and you don’t push Junmyeon’s rules. You go up the entrance stairway and come from the opposite way you came from. There were few doors unlocked, one leading to a sitting area with a plush couch, loveseat, and a few armchairs, while another door led to a library roughly three times the size of the Count’s. You resist the urge to comb through the titles and continue on your way.

The last unlocked door on the second floor grants you access to a larger room. Inside, the windows are still covered, and the lack of lit candles causes it hard for you to see. Squinting and taking a tentative step inside, your eyes adjust after a few moments of strain. Just barely you’re able to make out the shape of a grand piano sitting in the middle of the room. Beyond it are other shadows of what seem to be instruments like a violin and a bass. Unfortunately, your parents had never deemed it necessary for you to learn to play like many other young ladies would, so you back out of the room and shut the door quietly.

The third flight of stairs yielded no results other than the room you woke in. Deciding to peek behind the curtains you saw that the sun was crawling its way up, casting reds and oranges over the sky. Sighing, you decided to go back to the first floor and peek behind the curtains. Not so surprisingly, beyond the glass window were bars of metal, perhaps put there just to keep you inside. Feeling the most discouraged you have felt since the day the witch called you out in front of the square, you trudged back to the library. At least you had an assortment of books to waste away your time.

The rest of your day was spent reading. In any other situation you would be excited to be met with such exotic and new texts, however being locked away without any human interaction, against your will at that, had a way of sapping your enjoyment in totality. No one comes to summon you for lunch or dinner or even tea, so you curl up in an armchair for hours on end. Luckily you had thrown open the curtains in the library, so the sunny sky retreating behind the forestry was your hint that the day was ending and soon your source of light would be gone.

When the sinking sun has officially robbed you of your reading light and your eyes ached for the strain, you set aside your book and get up, stretching your legs and arms. Padding lightly back to your room, you decided to take a look in the closet. A few pieces of clothing were hung up, and you located something very modest to wear as sleep clothes. You lay down in bed after sliding out of your slippers, pulling the blankets up around your neck. Maybe you would die here, alone of old age, instead of him ending your life. It was a more chilling thought than you imagined. You turn on your side, closing your eyes, trying to keep the coldness away.

As you’re beginning to feel the tendrils of sleep penetrate, a soft melody floats up from the floor below. Your eyes open tiredly, recognizing the sounds of a grand piano, and you realize it must be coming from the one you had found earlier. The full, rich sound of each key being pressed resonated throughout you as it took on a more melancholic feel. Despite the deep-seated sadness emanating from whatever piece was being played, it was steady and smooth, somehow offering comfort as your eyes slid shut, lulling you into another dreamless sleep.

-

Uh, surprise? I promise I wasn’t waiting for Yixing’s birthday to post this, I’m just a shitty person.

#yixing #exo #yixing scenario #yixing angst #exo scenario #exo angst #yixing fanfiction #exo fanfiction #lay #lay scenario #junmyeon #suho #yixing au #exo au #lay au #kpop #kpop fanfiction #exo vampire #my sun

[torestoreamends]

Poetic Justice

3.1k words, G rated

When Albus discovers that Scorpius kept Delphi's wand, it reawakens painful memories and reopens wounds that have barely healed...

If you want someone to blame for this, @ohscorbus is your woman. 

Read it on AO3

*

Albus thought Delphi’s wand had disappeared. He hoped it was lost forever, lying in the shadows on a church floor in the distant past. It hadn’t been presented as evidence at the trial; someone had said it hadn’t been recovered. That had helped, knowing the object that was the cause of so much pain, that was used for murder and torture, was gone forever. So what is it doing here in the present, in the fourth year Slytherin dorm, lying in Scorpius’s top drawer?

It feels so unreal and out-of-place, sitting here in this bright room, in this space of perfect safety, and Albus stares at it in horror as he tries to comprehend what he’s seeing. The dark wood, fine grained with flecks of silver in the exact shade of her hair. The sharp tip, whittled into a cruel spike. The curved handle, almost too lovingly crafted, like one of her skin-crawling caresses.

Suddenly all the memories of a few months ago come crashing in on him at once. 

Scorpius’s screams cut through the darkness like a knife. Albus’s throat is raw with yelling his name. He can hear himself sobbing as he begs Delphi to stop. She throws him to the floor with a spell that feels like lightning and leaves his whole body crackling with pain. There’s a flash of green light and a rushing of wind in Albus’s ears. An unmoving body lies on the dew-drenched grass, and the weight of reality crushes Albus: one of his classmates is dead and it’s all his fault. 

He feels rough hands dragging him up off the ground and holding him fast. That wand, that ruthless instrument of evil, points right past him, grazing his cheek. When the spell comes and Scorpius convulses and collapses from the pain, Albus feels like he was the one who cast it. 

It’s all his fault. All of it. Scorpius writhing and gasping on the ground, Craig staring sightlessly up at the grey dawn sky, Cedric running into the shadows of the maze to meet his doom, the metal and glass raining down as she disappeared into the sky.

Darkness presses in from all sides, squeezing the air out of Albus’s lungs. The world has narrowed to a point even finer than the tip of that wand. There’s the polished oak of the drawer beneath his fingers, the ground somewhere a very long way beneath his feet, and there’s Delphi’s wand. That’s it. Nothing else. And Albus is being swallowed up by a crashing tsunami of horror and guilt and sheer, mind-numbing panic. 

“Have you got the Pepper Imps ready?” 

Scorpius’s voice sings out behind Albus, but he barely hears it. It doesn’t feel nearly as immediate and present as the past does. The memories are all right here, and Scorpius could be miles away. 

Albus grips the drawer as hard as he can for support. It’s the only thing that he knows is real and tangible. It’s solid, holding his weight even when his legs are shaking too much for him to stand. He bows his head and snatches at what little air he can get. His lungs are hollow and empty, his chest gets tighter and tighter, and he can hear his own desperate gasps, which mingle with the screams inside his head to create a horrible cacophony that drowns out everything else. 

“Albus,” Scorpius’s voice says out of the darkness. “What happened? Are you-“ 

Albus feels something brush against his arm, and then Scorpius’s voice falters. 

“Oh. Oh... I didn’t mean for you to... Merlin, Albus.”

Albus doesn’t know where the tears come from, but suddenly there are floods of them, hot and angry, constricting his throat and streaming down his face. Normally Scorpius’s presence would help, but today, Albus feels like he’s boiling over just from the sound of Scorpius’s voice. 

It’s impossible to get enough air to talk, so Albus’s voice comes out in a hoarse squeak. “Wh-why do you have- I don’t... understand.”

Scorpius curls his fingers round Albus’s arm. It’s the sort of touch that on any other day would centre Albus and bring him back to himself, but this time Albus hears the blood pounding in his ears as confusion and bewilderment well up inside him. 

“Albus...” Scorpius’s voice is trembling just slightly. “Y-you need to breathe. You look like you’re about to-“

“I’m fine!” Albus tears his arm out of Scorpius’s grip and stumbles away. His head is spinning but he can’t breathe and he can’t stop crying. Even when he closes his eyes he can still see the wand right there, pointing at Scorpius, about to unleash the sort of pain that no one should ever have to experience. 

“I-I just... don’t understand why you... why you kept it.” Albus gulps as a wave of desperate tears overcomes him, and he buries his face in his hands and sobs. 

“It was an accident, to start with.” Scorpius’s voice is still shaking and he sounds like he’s on the verge of tears too.

“An accident?” It comes out much louder than Albus meant it to, an incredulous snap of a question. 

“An accident,” Scorpius repeats. Despite the tremor in his voice he sounds calm and steady. “My dad handed it to me, so I put it in my pocket to give to someone later. But after that, everything happened so fast, and...”

Albus can see it all. The dual flashes of green light. Life extinguished right in front of his eyes. His dad collapsing to the ground and Albus going with him, clinging to him, his own desperate sobs shaking his body as he buries his face in his dad’s shoulder. 

He sinks onto the edge of the nearest bed as his legs give out, and he curls in on himself, bracing his hands on the mattress, head down, breaths coming in shuddering snatches that barely make it any deeper than his throat. The bed squeaks and dips beside him as Scorpius sits down too, then he feels a gentle brush of fingers against his arm. 

“Are you sure this is the right time to-“

Albus jerks his arm away. “Go on.”

Scorpius twists round and sits cross-legged next to him. Even out of the corner of his blurred vision, Albus can see that his eyebrows are knitted together with concern. 

“Well, like I said. It all happened so fast after that. Dad took me back to the Manor and I... I forgot. We had hot chocolate, and hugs, and it became the least important thing. I didn’t find it again until the day I got back here.”

“That... that was months ago,” Albus mutters. “You could have got rid of it. You should have-“

“I didn’t want to,” Scorpius says. He tries to make it sound light and airy, but it hits Albus like a train and his head flies up. 

“What?” He stares wildly at Scorpius, trying to understand what on earth he’s just said. 

Scorpius nods and twists his hands together. “I didn’t want to...” He spreads his hands then plants them on the bed next to him and starts fiddling with a crease in the blankets. 

“But...” Albus doesn’t know what to say so he stops speaking and concentrates on trying to breathe. It’s difficult to find a rhythm. He can’t inhale deeply enough to count himself through it. And he’s so perplexed by Scorpius that his mind keeps wandering back to panic-stricken bewilderment. It’s impossible.

For a second Scorpius messes with the blankets, then he draws in a breath. “I... realised that it reminded me of things.”

“Nothing good,” Albus interjects.

“Actually, you’re wrong.”

Albus sits back, staring at him. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that we survived, Albus. You survived. I survived. All that pain, the worst she could do, the worst that anyone can do, and we got through it.”

“But... But Craig... He didn’t...” Albus presses a hand to his chest and snatches a painful, rasping breath as he sees once again the body sinking gracefully to the ground and lying still. One second alive. The next, lifeless. 

Scorpius shifts over next to Albus and puts a hand on his shoulder, rubbing small, fast, comforting circles into his skin. “I know you feel guilty, but it wasn’t your fault. There was nothing more you could have done. You told him to run. You tried to save him.”

“But... But if I’d listened to you. Properly. We would have destroyed the Time-Turner alone, without telling anyone. Then he wouldn’t...” Albus closes his eyes and buries his face in Scorpius’s shoulder as more tears dribble down his cheeks. He’s trembling all over and he can’t seem to stop, but Scorpius wraps an arm round him and holds him tight, stroking his hair.

“I know,” Scorpius murmurs. “I know. But keep listening to me. We survived. We beat her, and now she can’t hurt anyone else.” He pulls back and Albus looks at him through a hazy sheen of tears. “You saved the world, Albus. You and that blanket. And whatever happened before that? We can’t change that — we tried that before and you know how well it went. But we can change the future. We can do whatever we want with that. It’s ours.”

“But you didn’t need to...” 

“Keep it?”

Albus nods and wipes his eyes. His breathing has eased a bit now. He’s still wheezing, but it feels as though there’s now some oxygen in the world. He can feel the blankets beneath his legs and the carpet under his feet. He unfolds one arm from across his chest and picks up a fistful of the blankets, letting the rough wool slide through his fingers. It reminds him that he’s safe. He’s in his dorm, with Scorpius, and the past is a very long way away. 

Scorpius gets up to give Albus more of the blanket, then perches back on the edge of the bed, one leg crossed beneath the other, picking at the toe of his sock. “It seemed like the right thing to do. To keep it. It felt...” He tilts his head to one side and thinks for a second. “It felt like... if I kept it she wouldn’t have any power over me anymore. What can she do if she doesn’t have a wand? It felt like I was keeping that bit of her that makes her anything at all. It makes me feel in control. Knowing that I’ve got her wand locked in a drawer with my sweets and my socks and my books.”

Albus cracks an unsteady smile. “Yeah, I don’t think she’d like that...”

“Exactly! Nothing’s scary after having had my smelly socks next to it.”

Albus wipes his nose on his sleeve and looks across at the drawer. “Can I see it?”

“You don’t want to see any of my socks, Albus.”

“No, no. The wand. Can I-?”

Scorpius hesitates. “Is that a good idea? Right now?”

Albus takes a shaky breath. “Of course not. When has anything I’ve ever done been a good idea? But I want to... It was a shock before. Seeing it. But I think I can handle it now.”

Scorpius looks doubtfully at him.

“I promise,” Albus insists. 

“I...” Scorpius twists his hands together, then he gets to his feet and goes over to the drawer. “If anything happens I’m putting it away again.”

“It won’t.”

Scorpius doesn’t look convinced but he reaches into the drawer anyway, as Albus braces himself, fingers twisted tight in the blanket. 

When Scorpius turns round, he’s holding the wand flat across both his palms. For all his talk of having power over it, there’s a reverence there that makes Albus’s skin crawl. He’s making it look like the dangerous magical object that it would be if Delphi still had her hands on it. 

“Stop that,” Albus snaps, shuddering. 

Scorpius pauses. “Stop what?”

“Holding it like that. Like it’s important.” He gets to his feet and goes over to Scorpius. “Give it to me?”

Scorpius holds it out to Albus, and Albus can’t fail to notice that his hands are shaking. 

“Why did you keep it? You don’t like it either.”

“I told you. Keeping it felt more- It would have been so easy to give it to the Ministry, and I don’t think Malfoy the Unanxious does the easy thing.”

Albus nods and swallows hard. “Can I...” He reaches out for the wand, and Scorpius draws his hands away an inch.

“Are you sure, Albus? It’s- it’s not nice to touch.”

“Positive,” Albus murmurs. 

Scorpius offers him the wand, palms open, free for Albus to take. Albus hesitates, working himself up to it. He screws his fingers into fists, squares his shoulders, then opens his hands and brushes his fingertips over the dark wood.

It’s slightly rough to touch; Albus had expected that. What he hadn’t expected were the waves of icy animosity rolling off the wand. It’s so cold his fingertips feel as though they’ve been burned and he pulls his hands away.

“It still feels...”

“I know. Isn’t it awful?”

Albus nods and stares down at the wand. “Scorpius... I get it. I know why you wanted it, but this...” He gestures to it and shakes his head. “This isn’t good.”

Scorpius’s shoulders slump. “Do you think I should hand it in? I can give it to McGonagall. She’d probably put me in detention for about a year, but then it would be safe at least.”

“No.” Albus frowns at the wand. “No, I don’t think you need to get rid of it. But we should make sure it can never be used again. Do you agree?”

Scorpius gives him a curious look. “What do you suggest?”

Albus reaches out and hovers his hands over the wand. “How attached to this are you?”

Scorpius shrugs. “She hurt you with it too. I’d say you have as much right to do whatever you want with it as I do. What are you thinking?”

Albus doesn’t say anything, but as he looks down at the dark, cruel spike of the wand that has hurt and haunted them for so long, he feels a flash of defiant fire run through him. He doesn’t need to ask to know that this is the right thing to do.

Steeling himself, he takes the wand in both hands. The malevolent chill bites his fingertips but he ignores it, tightening his grip and gritting his teeth. 

It takes quite a bit of force, but Albus isn’t concerned about being gentle. He’s fuelled by months of anger and pain. This thing was complicit in the murder of one of his classmates and the torture of his best friend. There’s nothing that it deserves other than destruction.

The break, when it comes, isn’t clean. Jagged edges and splinters are left behind. The core inside stays connected, sparking like it wants to defend itself from attack. It gives Albus great pleasure to keep twisting, like he’s wringing the neck of some sort of brutal beast, until finally the delicate shaft of the black feather snaps with a puff of ice cold wind and a crackle of futile magic. 

Albus grins down at it, chest heaving with the glory of vindication.

“Poetic justice.”

“You... you snapped it!” Scorpius gasps. 

“Just like she did to ours. Here.” Albus holds one half out to him. “One for you and one for me.”

“I-I can’t believe you... Albus!” Scorpius gives a hysterical giggle as he reaches out to take the half of the wand that Albus is holding out for him. 

“Do you think it was the wrong thing to do?” Albus asks, inspecting his half, then tossing it up in the air and catching it again. It’s so diminished in its two halves. It’s nothing now. 

“No.” Scorpius shakes his head. “No, but. Merlin!”

“You said it looked powerless before, and now it is. It can’t do anything. Even if she came and tried to steal it back or something. It can’t hurt you or me o-or anyone ever again.” Albus can’t stop staring at the fragment of wand in his hand, and he finds emotion welling up inside him. He hadn’t thought he had any tears left, but suddenly here they are, clogging up his throat again, blurring his vision, spilling down his cheeks more quickly than he can wipe them away. 

“You’re safe,” Scorpius says softly, and he’s right there, wrapping his arms around Albus and drawing him into a tight hug. 

“I-I know,” Albus mumbles into his shoulder. “So are you.”

There’s a moment in which Scorpius silently rubs his back, then he pulls away, brushing a hand down Albus’s arm. “Thank you.”

Albus sniffs and tries to swipe his tears away with the cuff of his hoodie. “‘S alright. Sorry for yelling at you.”

Scorpius shakes his head. “I should have told you. I shouldn’t have let you find it like that. I hope you’re okay.”

Albus inhales, and it feels like some of the weight has lifted off his chest. His legs are weak enough that he doubts they’ll hold him up much longer, his face hurts from crying, and he feels exhausted to the core, but at least he knows now that neither of them can be hurt by this ever again.

“I think so,” he says. “Just about. A-although I think I could do with those Pepper Imps now?”

Scorpius nods. “Pepper Imps. And a nice long sleep.”

“I don’t think I know any other kind,” Albus says, smiling through his tears. 

Scorpius grins and pats him on the arm, then bounces over to the chest of drawers. He puts his fragment of wand next to his socks in the top drawer and grabs the sweets from the bottom drawer, while Albus tucks his fragment into his trunk to deal with later. 

The world feels a great deal brighter as they collapse onto Scorpius’s bed together and curl up side-by-side. Scorpius opens the Pepper Imps and Albus tries to match his breathing to the steady, calm rise and fall of Scorpius’s chest. It’s difficult when Scorpius is talking at a million miles an hour and they’re both laughing so much, but that doesn’t matter.

The dorm is warm and bright. Danger is a very long way away. And Albus can’t help but feel that maybe Scorpius is right. They have all the power over the past. It’s never going to come back to hurt them, especially not after what they’ve just done. All they have to worry about now is the future, but that’s a problem for another day.

#Harry Potter and the Cursed Child #Scorbus fic #Scorbus #Albus Severus Potter #Scorpius Malfoy #Cursed Child fic #HPCC fic #Cursed Child #Scorbus angst #hurt/comfort #My writing #Keep The Secrets #When Leanne goes 'I wonder what would happen if Scorpius kept Delphi's wand...' #this is what happens #It's all her fault #(Btw for anyone who's read this far there is a 250k word fic that I'll be publishing very soon) #(Predictably it's got more angst in it but it also has a lot of Scorbusy goodness) #(So keep an eye out for that if you're interested)

[latestnews36024h]

10 Home Office Ideas That Will Make You Want to Work All Day

Whether you work from home or have carved out a space for something you love like crafting, reading, or writing, your home office is a place that should inspire the flow of creativity and allow you to get down to business. But often, that's not the case. In fact, home offices can be the most neglected spaces in our homes—messy and unfriendly environments for inspiration, driving us to work anywhere but in the actual office, like the couch, or kitchen, or bed (guilty!). To help you create and update your own inspiring space, we asked experts—from designers to bloggers and editors—for their advice on the best home office updates and small home office ideas that will make you want to buckle down and get to work.

1. Think Chic Your space should inspire you—and reflect your unique personality. So don't be afraid to go all out.“We wanted to design a space that was fashionable, functional and reflected homeowner Desi Perkins’ personality. The black accent wall added some drama and depth to the space and we added a chandelier above the desk to add a little glitz and glamour. The wood tiled sideboard keeps the space organized, serving as a storage unit for beauty products and countertop for office supplies. The functionality of the space makes it possible for Desi to stay on top of the business side of her career while the chic decor provides the perfect backdrop for her videos and Instagram photos.” — Leura Fine, CEO and Founder of Laurel & Wolf

Get The Look: One way to glam up a home office is by refreshing your lighting. This eye-catching pendant lamp with gold detailing from Target will give your space a luxurious, yet professional feel.

2. Add Green Breathe some life into your space, so you'll want to stay longer. “I try to ensure a balanced home office which is practical, ergonomic, comfortable, and clean—if these elements aren’t in place I know I’ll end up working at the kitchen table! A lovely plant is said to help keep you feeling calm and clean the air—plus it looks pretty too. I like either a Snake Plant or a ZZ plant. Both look lovely, are good for cleaning the air, and are low maintenance!” — Niki Brantmark, Author and Founder of My Scandinavian Home

Get The Look: We adore this elevated cute little clay planter—perfect home for a snake plant—to add some dimension to your work space.

3. Get Artsy Decorate with images that speak to you. Even if you're crunching numbers all day. “Fill your office with vibrant art to energize your space and make you feel motivated. I create my own artwork and have it framed by Simply Framed, or I shop from Chairish and Society6.” — Dabito, Founder & Creative Director at Old Brand New

Get The Look: Dabito is happy to share his genius DIY instructions for his multi-purpose wall shelf/desk. (They're surprisingly easy to follow, phew!) But if you don’t want to spend your Saturday spray-painting and building shelves this wall unit from Ikea is a similarly chic option that can be up and ready fast!

4. Find the Rug Ground your space with a colorful area rug—for visual interest and soothing sound-absorption. “The multi-colored rug brings in other colors that accent the peach and green nicely, too. But you could also do a neutral gray rug with this color combo. Keep the furniture simple and clean to make it more sleek, and then add in some green foliage to give the room some texture!” — Joy Cho, Founder & Creative Director of Oh Joy!

Get The Look: World Market is great for beautiful, affordable textiles, and we're loving this multi-shaded patterned rug, which works with light blue, plum, apricot, or creamy white walls.

5. Practice Hygge Make it welcoming—but not too cozy that all you want to do is nap. "Neutral colors on your walls and floor, paired with natural wood, plants and some kind of textile, like blankets, throw pillows, rugs or a yarn wall hanging, create a simple yet cozy working space.” — Caitlin & Manda, Co-founders of The Merrythought

Get The Look: This soft space-dyed throw from West Elm is just what your home office needs. Create a DIY blanket ladder, and hang a few wool ones near your desk for keeping warm in winter; switch them out with thin, cotton ones in the summer.

6. Hang a Gallery Wall It's your space—crowd it with what you love. “Style a gallery wall against a neutral wall. You can arrange them on the floor first, moving the prints around until you achieve the harmonious look that you want. Use removable wall strips to hold your prints up. This allows for the flexibility of changing the look of the wall.” — Geraldine Tan, Founder & Editor of Little Big Bell

Get The Look: We love Minted for their huge, affordable collection of prints. They also provide a free service so that you can text a picture of your wall to their stylists, and they’ll put together a recommendations of art pairings for you. Matting and frames are a way to make art prints look more expensive and styled, but can be a pricey investment. Don’t rule out Michaels—they do custom framing in store!

7. Mix Old and New Don't be afraid to steal decor from other rooms in the house. A mix of vintage and modern makes a home feel warm and lived in and personal, instead of feeling like a showroom. “We paired a gorgeous antique rug that the client already had (hidden away in a dark spot elsewhere in the house!) and a pair of new red chairs. The art on the walls is limited to black and white images so that the color in the space doesn’t become too overwhelming. It is such a comfortable, beautiful room to work in.” — Melissa Mascara, Designer at Homepolish

Get The Look: Nothing in the attic? Shop antique stores, flea markets, and even Craigslist to find pieces for your office, whether it’s an aged roll top desk or vintage lamp, and pair these with brand new items, like a pair of vibrant chairs for guests to use when you’re hosting a meeting from home.

8. Let Light in Stay connected to the great outdoors. "Natural light makes a space feel bigger—which is always a plus in a small space. For my home office I actually used fogged window film on all the windows so I could always have the blinds up. This allows enough light to feed the plants in the room and keep them, as well as myself, lively! And when you feel alive, you’re always more efficient.” — Hayley Francis, Founder and Blogger at Neon Doves

Get The Look: If you, like Hayley, have an office that also functions as a dressing room/walk-in closet, affix a non-adhesive frosted film to windows, to allow sunlight into your space while maintaining privacy.  

9. Work in Color Choose colors that speak to you—not what's trendy. “I found this Stone Blue color by Farrow & Ball provided the perfect background for a productive day’s work. Having a bit of fun with the filing cabinets in a non-conventional turquoise meant that even the more functional elements of the room looked attractive.” — Emily Murray, Founder & Editor at The Pink House

Get The Look: Whether you’re painting office walls, shelves, and ceiling with one color to make the space feel larger, or using a filing cabinet like this one from CB2 for just a pop of color, working in a color-filled environment can make you more inspired to work from your office—and not the couch.

10. Optimize Your Space Organization is key—use every trick in the book. Nobody works well in a messy home office. “Don’t waste an ounce of space by tucking printers, filing, etc into corners and in drawers. Use all your vertical space, too, by putting cabinets up to the ceiling with varying types of storage and a wall hanging pin board to help organize supplies that might otherwise end up shoved in a drawer!” — Carly Callahan, Designer at Homepolish and Founder of Callahan Interiors.

Get The Look: This is one home office decor idea that's non-negotiable! Kick off your newfound commitment to organization with this rose gold wall grid.

[exceptionaldonuts-blog]

Walking in a Winter Wonderland || WE Open

Mei studies her calendar intently while carefully ripping away the previous month of November off the spiral. December seemingly came out of nowhere and made itself be known that winter is coming soon. The cold, strong breeze that blasted her rosy face every time she would open the door, or maybe the trees suddenly losing their leaves and leaving the grass covered in the different colored variations of reds, yellows, and greens scattered on the ground.

Mei really does is not a fan of such dreary weather.

“This season can be… such an inconvenience,” she murmured out as she completely swaddled herself in all her winter gear she could think off: mittens, scarf, wool socks, winter boots, long johns, small jacket, then her bubbly coat she places on top. People probably would see this are just a girl being too overly-cautious about getting a cold (which is another thing she wasn’t too keen on), but to her, it meant keeping the feeling of warmth around her.

Mei’s birthday is March 20th, marking the first day of spring. She was always so happy when she saw the flowers blooming from the fields outside her house as a child, or when the rain drizzled itself upon the petals and created a nice dewy look upon them. She always looked forward to that moment each year, despite already seeing the same for over twenty birthdays now.

But now, she has to bear with this… ‘winter’ for a couple of months, which always seems unendurable to her at times.

She slowly grabbed all her things and looked around the area to scan for anything else that she might need. “Hmm… I think I’m good to go, though... do I really have to leave the warmth of my house? I can live without food and hibernate like the bears!” Wow, doesn’t she have amazing ideas folks? After realizing the idea that she voiced out, she quietly walked to the door and opened it up so the frigid air wouldn’t give her too much trouble.

The first snow happened last night, so the ground was sheeted up with a frosty white blanket over a couple of inches deep. The marshmallow bundle was a bit fascinated with this, quickly locking her door to look around at what natured gifted the people of Aspertia. Even when she started her walk from her home to the store, she was still in a bit of awe looking at it. “Well, this isn’t as ba-,“ she started to say before a well-crafted snowball met with her face and temporarily blinded her surrounding briefly. Mei could not believe it: someone attacked her with a snowball: a defenseless bundled up marshmallow girl that going to the store. Well, when you put it that way, she would attack her too for being too prepared.

But, that was besides the point at this moment. Someone threw a snowball in her face and she wanted to throw one back at them, even if she doesn’t know how to make one. “Excuse me, snowball thrower!” She waddled over to the person she thought she saw throw it, pouting through the scarf that covered her mouth and lips. “Can you tell me how… and why you threw a snowball at me?”

#we open #walking in a winter wonderland #donuttalk #//this thread was inspired by me almost falling when it snowed at school last friday #//and seeing actual snow on the ground ; u ;

[quagmireisadora]

[Jinki / Kibum] Best of Me

A/N: Part 4 of 4. Inspired by this lovely fic here. My thanks to @lockandminkey​ for letting me use their idea <3

------

The first time they bring her home, Kibum hides in their bedroom and weeps.

Jinki walks in a few minutes later to find him on their bed, sobbing with his head in his hands. “I’ve given her a bottle, she’ll probably fall asleep soon--hey...” his voice drops by the end of his sentence. He rushes over and crouches in front of his husband. “Hey, hey, what’s all this? What’s wrong?” he inquires in a gentle mumble, pulling the other’s wrists away from his face and smoothing his thumbs on the wrists.

Kibum shakes his head and reaches forward, wrapping his arms around Jinki’s shoulders. His voice is a confused mix of tears and laughter. “I never thought...” he tries to speak through it all. “She’s so tiny!” he says with wonder, holding is palms just a foot apart. “She’s so beautiful, and she’s made everything... everything is so perfect.”

“Yah, isn’t that a good thing?” Jinki chuckles, wiping the man’s cheeks. Kibum nods slowly, nuzzling his head on the other’s chest. “Then why are you crying, haha,” Jinki hugs his husband again, straddling across his lap and rocking them side by side. “We’ve wanted this for so many years, haven’t we?” he muses aloud. Kibum sniffs and nods. “It’s kind of unbelievable we’re finally here.”

“Is this a dream”? Kibum suddenly asks, his eyes tinged with irrational fear.

Jinki tuts. He slides off the other and pulls him up by the wrist. “Lets go find out,” he grins, jerking his head to motion his husband to follow.

They go into the newly painted nursery. When they finally heard back from the adoption agency last month, Jinki had run from shop to shop around the city looking for a non-toxic paint. And when he’d finally found it, he’d bought two cans. “One for the room, one for the crib,” he’d explained. Kibum went on his own scavenger hunt for wood to craft the crib out of. Old rusty tools and new paint brushes were pulled out of an unused box in the corner of the garage. When they were done with the room, Lee eomoni had come over with old baby blankets and rattles. Kibum held the soft blankets to his face, claiming they smelled like Jinki--which Jinki had jokingly dismissed as “poo and mothballs”. They’d installed a gate near the front door and baby-safe rubber angles on all the sharp corners. They’d bought a pair of baby monitors and pretended to be a SWAT team for a while. Kibum was gifted colorful yarns of wool from his coworkers, and Jinki found storybooks at an opshop, to read from at night. They’d planned everything to the smallest detail, they’d quizzed each other from a book about parenting, they’d prepared the home so it could be perfect. And then, that morning, they’d driven out to the orphanage; hands wringing and feet bouncing nervously.

The first time they bring her home, she looks everywhere and makes baby noises.

Jinki repeats the noises playfully and Kibum giggles. Now, as they quietly sneak into her room, they find her sound asleep, bottle forgotten to the side. Kibum picks it up and puts it on a table nearby. Jinki arranges the blankets around her, stroking her head. “She’s so bald,” he jokes and Kibum snorts. They stand on either side of the crib and look down at her with adoration. “She’s perfect,” Jinki adds and Kibum sighs. 

They watch her breathe, Kibum running a finger over her tiny hands and Jinki humming a soft lullaby. “What do we name her?” one asks in a murmur, and the other wonders for a long moment. “Minjung,” the muttered reply comes a few minutes later.

“What’s the hanja for that?” Kibum asks.

Jinki types it on his phone and holds it out for the other to see. “That’s so old-fashioned!” Kibum complains.

“It’s noble,” Jinki counters. 

“But what if she grows into a trouble maker?” Kibum chuckles.

“Gotta have discipline,” Jinki shakes his head.

“No, she’ll be pampered like the princess she is,” the other disagrees. “I’m going to buy her all the cool toys and all the nice dresses, and she’ll learn ballet and grow up to have a ton of boyfriends whose hearts she’ll break. And then she’ll finish school and get scouted to be a supermodel, and then she’ll move to Paris and live the glamorous life she was born to have.”

“What’re you even saying?” his husband argues. “We’ll teach her to be an ideal citizen. She’s obviously going to be a conscientious student, who’ll do all her homework on time and get top grades. Then we’ll send her to college in the States, and then she’ll go work for NASA where she will lead the top space research programs in the world.”

“Pfft,” Kibum shoots it down. “Please, she’s going to be an artist.”

“Uhh, no,” Jinki disputes. “She’ll be a well-known neurosurgeon.”

“No, she’ll be a famous ice skater and win tons of gold medals.”

“Please, stop. She’ll be nothing less than a conservation architect.”

“Don’t you see the potential she’ll have as an international movie actress?”

“No, I don’t. She would be more suited to cancer research.”

“What?! How can--?” Kibum stops midway because their silly argument wakes the baby and she starts to cry. They look at each other with alarm and panic for a moment until Jinki hushes her saying appa’s here, appa’s here and picks her up, hefting her and patting her back until she calms down. They gently set her down and she falls asleep again, immediately.

The first time the bring her home, they sit on the sofa and stare at each other. 

“We have a daughter now,” Kibum marvels. His astonishment turns into laughter which Jinki silences, pointing in the direction of the nursery. “We’re dads... can you believe it? You and me.”

“Who is she calling what?” Jinki smiles, playing with the other’s ear piercings. “She can’t call us both appa or it’ll get super confusing.”

“True,” Kibum thinks about it for a few minutes. “Maybe we’ll let her decide... she can call us whatever she wants.”

The other raises an eyebrow. “You can have that stance about what she’ll call us but not about what she wants to grow up to be?” 

Kibum jerks his chin at the other. “Speak for yourself!” he pouts. 

Jinki laughs quietly, leaning and forward and kissing the other. “We’re going to be awesome dads,” he cheers. “I can tell. You’ll be so great for her.”

“You’re not going anywhere, you’ll be here for it,” Kibum scoffs. “You’ll be a cool dad, too. With your dumb dad jokes and your random Doraemon theme song singing and your imitations of her favorite cartoon characters. I can already picture it,” he shakes his head, bringing Jinki’s palm to his face and kissing it. He twists and lays his head in the other’s lap, wiggling to get comfortable. “We’ll take her on holidays to faraway places, and take lots of pictures of her growing up, so she’ll have it all to look at when she’s older.”

“Hmm,” Jinki lazily teases the hair on the other’s forehead. “We’ll teach her to ride a bike and take her swimming. So she can grow tall and not feel dumb like me,” he makes a silly sound and they giggle. “We’ll let her be who she wants to be, so she won’t have any regrets later in life.”

“So no NASA?” Kibum looks at hs husband for confirmation.

“No NASA,” Jinki grudgingly admits.

The first time the bring her home, Kibum spends hours watching her.

She kicks and waves her arms above her. Jinki rattles the mobile above her bed and she lets out a happy squeal. 

For years Kibum had thought he’d be alone all his life. For years growing up, he’d been pushed around and bullied and it turned him rotten. For years Kibum hurt people because he could; said terrible things and did terrible things because he could. For years he had spent his life aimlessly wandering from city to city with nothing to look forward to. But Jinki had stopped him. Jinki had put an arm around him and wordlessly said, “You’re more than this.” For years Kibum had no hope but Jinki had pulled him close and given him something to love, something to be a part of, something to create. Jinki made Kibum look for the best in himself so he could forget the worst. Together they’d built a little world for themselves, holding it between their chests and watching it sleep, watching it dream, watching it grow. Together they’d made one whole that Kibum would protect with his life, and he knew Jinki would too. Together they brought her home for the first time and when they shared a look across her crib, they made a quiet promise that they would do everything in their power to give her all the happiness she gave them by just being there, by playing with her rattles and clutching their fingers in her tiny palms, by completing their whole.

The first time they bring her home, Kibum laughs softly.

#onkey #drabble #shinee

[lurkingcrow]

Apparently I find inspiration in the weirdest of places, I feel the need to share this ridiculous idea with you all. Now, I won't say this is the happiest of universes, as much as I would like a universe where Obi-Wan is still the first to hold the twinsonly because Padmé is doing her best to crush her husband's prosthetic hand, this is not one of them.

Instead, we are faced with the prospect of Obi-Wan Kenobi (he's not yet Ben, it's still too soon, the grief too raw), in his hermit hut on Tatooine, desperately trying to work out what to do with himself. The life of a hermit is quite simple, and while he spends a considerable amount of time communing with the Force, it is still something of a shock to go from running half the Republic war effort to lying low and scaring away the occasional group of raiders from the area around the Lars homestead.

He gets antsy. His needs are minimal, and routine maintenance only takes so long. He needs something to keep himself occupied, to stop himself from obsessing over his own failure, or constantly checking on the small but bright Force signature at the edge of his senses. But his resources are rather limited. 

The idea comes while he is checking on the welfare of the Bantha herd that seems to have adopted him. They shed a considerable amount of hair, and the nights are cold out here in the Wastes...

On his next trip to town Obi-Wan procures some necessary equipment and advice - the old matron smiles at him as she outlines the basic techniques, amused at his stubborn insistence on learning for himself rather than simply selling the raw materials. A day later Obi-Wan has collected a enough Bantha hair to begin experimenting.

Carding the hair and spinning it into yarn takes a lot of practice, but eventually Obi-Wan thinks he has it down. His first attempts are somewhat lumpy and uneven in texture, but they will do for now. Similarly, while wood is scarce on Tatooine bone is in ample supply and he soon has a service pair of matching needles. Now comes the tricky part.

It is slow going but Obi-Wan finds the repetitive motions draw him into a kind of moving meditation. Bit by bit the simple blanket begins to take shape. It is not much to look at, but it is warm, and it is made by his own hands.

Over time he improves, and while selling his leftover yarn the old matron offers him suggestions for more complicated pstterns. Obi-Wan listens eagerly, open for new projects to keep himself busy.

Which is how he ends up standing in front of the Lars homestead holding a large knitted bantha. Beru is the one who opens the door, and he manages to politely ask after her own health before offering her the stuffed toy with the explanation that it is a gift for Luke. His first birthday is coming up after all, and he knows it's not much, but birthdays are important and...

Beru takes pity on him and bundles Obi-Wan inside with the promise of tea and the chance to give Luke his present himself. Owen might not be pleased when he comes home, but Beru knows a man desperately clinging to anything for stability when she sees one. She keeps up a light conversation, showing him her own needles inherited from her mother, inquiring about the Banthas he got the wool from and was he familiar with this or that stitch? Obi-Wan leaves calmer and more settled than he has been in a very long time.

Later he realises just what Beru did and finds himself immensely grateful. He makes her a scarf, the weave transitioning from pale cream to deep russet and back again, in thanks. He intends to leave it on the doorstep for her, only to run smack bang into Owen Lars leaving to check on the outlying vaporators. Angry words ar exchanged until their argument gets the attention of Beru who puts her foot down and makes them talk out a truce. Obi-Wan agrees not to engage in any sort of force related funny business and Owen will not grumble about Obi-Wan visiting occasionally for a bitch and stitch session.

(Obi-Wan wonders at the prospect, but it turns out complaining about uncooperative vaporators and scheming merchants while methodically adding row after row to the fabric is not all that dissimilar to the gripe sessions his men conducted while undertaking routine weapons maintenance. The memory is bitter, but not as painful as it once was, and Beru's amicable company makes it even less so.)

Beru is delighted by her scarf, and Luke loves his Bantha. Even Owen grudgingly admits that the decorative rug was very well made. But it's not until Beru remarks about all the compliments she's had regarding the toddler's adorable Tooka onesie that Ben realises he apparently has a talent for this sort of thing. He agrees to let Beru take a few samples with her to market, and soon he finds himself earning a small income from his creations. Everyone knows that if you want something special, something durable and warm, you talk to Ben Kenobi. No one knows how, but his wool is always softer, his patterns more intricate than other options.

It's strange, to be admired for talents completely unrelated to his time as a Jedi, or General, but Obi-Wan, no Ben Kenobi finds himself rather content with the current state of affairs. His meditations with Qui-Gon are are progressing well, the Banthas are looking sleeker and shinier than ever, and he has even been experimenting with the use of his knitting needles in combat situations. Best of all though, he has a good friend in Beru, one who is not afraid to tell him and. He is being an idiot by taking on too much.

And every night Luke Skywalker goes to sleep surrounded by his love from head to toe.

****

And that is where the silly idea formed from that comic panel of Obi-Wan and his Banthas, and the photo of my nephew in a knitted fox onesie leave us! I hope you enjoyed this jaunt into the world of the mad knitter Kenobi and his fibre crafts of great reknown. And yes, he has worked out how to utilise them in self defence, and the Hutts are STILL mystified as to how exactly certain employees of theirs ended up stunt up from the top of the palace gates inside some of the itchiest and most difficult to untie sacks in existence without having seen or heard anything suspicious... 😀

[stimtoybox]

hey! mods get a lot of asks so feel free to ignore, but lately ive been really stressed out and my need to sensory input skyrocketed. i really like soft things, and rn for that i have a minky blanket and a cat that i love to pet, but ive been looking for public acceptable soft textured stims. do you have any suggestions?

There’s a lot of asks, yes, but I don’t want to ignore anything, so if folks don’t mind waiting a bit or a lot, I promise we’ll get to it eventually. I mean, people are asking under the belief that we can help (or try to help) so to ignore that, I think, would be a disservice to the people who support us. Not to mention the fact that I’d be surprised if there isn’t at least one other person who is helped out by someone who asks and gets an answer, no matter how odd or unnecessary the ask might seem. Informative posts help people know something exists; asks often ask me to put together toys by category or need, or provide care/safety information, all things posts about a cute squishy or a sale Tangle don’t accomplish. So to me, anyway, they’re pretty important!

I’ve actually got quite a lot of soft textured sims, some small enough to hide in a coat pocket or handbag/satchel, some that won’t draw too much attention and some that don’t even look like stim toys:

Image description under read more cut at end of post!

Subtle/Easily Hidden Toys:

- Keychains (Fluffy, Pompom, Plush, Tassel): These are the biggest in “stimmy objects attached to a bag or satchel that nobody will consider an obvious stim” toys. If you choose more muted colours, especially if you’re female, feminine or seen as female by society, nobody will think anything of these: I’ve seen plenty of professional-appearing women with a dark pompom keychain attached to their handbags. If you’re a little quirky, punk, goth, counter-culture or unconventional, you can get away with any colour and style you like without anyone realising what they’re actually for.

Try the accessories sections of department stores (K-Mart, Target) and accessories stores (Claire’s, Lovisa) as well as markets (Queen Victoria Market) for the more unusual and funky items. There’s all sorts of things on eBay (none of them expensive) under the search plush keychain.

- Purses and Pouches: again, it helps to be a little unconventional here, since most of the really stimmy ones tend to be brightly coloured. I’ve got two very soft plush coin-style purses shaped like a frog head and a watermelon slice; I’ve also got a chenille coin purse with all the lovely fronds for running hands through.

I’ve seen the plush pouches/purses in K-Mart and Daiso, so again think the accessory sections of department stores. Or you can try eBay under the search plush coin purse, as there’s loads of awesome purses for $2 USD or less. The chenille ones are harder to find, but I’ve seen the Yoobi-branded ones here in Officeworks and they’ve been found in the US, I believe, at Target.

- Makeup Blending Sponges: soft but with a little cellulose-like texture. Available in most department stores. You might not want to be seen holding this, but they easily fit into a coat pocket or bag.

(I also glued two makeup sponges together around a slide clip to make a crackling squishy, as in this tutorial you sent in to us, and sewed the sponges into a small flannelette bag, making a tiny, fabric-textured cracking squishy - the purple star-print rectangle in the photo above.)

- Disney Mini Tsum Tsum Plush: soft, has a variety of gentle textures, readily squishable, available at Target and Disney Stores. Also easily hidden in a coat pocket or bag, and I should know, because I have one in my satchel that’s easily stimmed with just by sliding a hand inside said satchel.

(There’s a lot of similar mini plushies as well - you might prefer Puchimaru, Teeny Tys or any of the handmade plush toys made by many of the autistic crafters on this list.)

- Crocheted Stress Ball: the crocheted thread is soft and non-scratchy, and the ball easily slips into a pocket. This is a noisy toy, though, as the ball contains crinkle paper, so for this reason it’s not terribly stealth. The best place I know for purchasing these for non-Australians is Stimtastic.

- Mini Bean Bags: can be made from flannelette, fleece, minky fleece, faux fur. Anything soft and strokeable. If you’re DIYing this or ordering it (several of the sellers on our autistic crafters list make these sorts of bean bags) just have it made small enough to fit in a pocket.

(Note: you can also buy small pieces of these fabrics from a craft store like Lincraft or Spotlight, cut them up into portable swatches and keep a piece in your pocket or bag. You can hem or blanket stitch the edges for neatness, but it isn’t required, and it gives you something soft to stroke, like a minky blanket, wherever you are.)

Less Subtle/More Obvious Toys:

- Tangle Jr Fuzzy: this one really isn’t subtle, but for soft texture seekers, they’re absolutely divine. You will look like you’re stimming (although for some reason, nobody has commented when I use a Tangle on the bus, as opposed to other toys) but they’re too perfect for the soft aspect of this ask for me to ignore them. They’re still easily carried in a pocket or bag, though!

- Marble Maze and Marble Loops: made from flannelette, they’re absolutely wonderful just for stroking, and I make this even better by using a layer of minky fleece for the back. Again, you will look like you’re stimming, but even out and about there’s usually places where you can pull out a toy for private stimming/calming, and the maze can easily be folded up to fit in a pocket. The loop, being much smaller, is far more subtle and even easier to keep on your person.

I hope this gives you some ideas, @abandonedshops, and if anyone has any ideas that I’ve forgotten to include, please comment away!

- Mod K.A.

[image description: a photo of several soft, fabric stim toys sitting on a round red and green watermelon slice pillow and a tree-on-night-sky silhouette quilt cover in black, blue and white. The pillow is sitting on the quilt cover, covered by toys, with a single line of toys sitting underneath the pillow.

Toys from left to right, top to bottom:

- a dark blue, turquoise and yellow wool pompom keychain;

- a white and peach plush ball keychain;

- a red plush heart-shaped keychain;

- a square pink Yoobi chenille coin purse;

- a cream, lemon and aqua Disney Tsum Tsum mini plush Elsa;

- a round-with-bulging-eyes frog face plush coin purse;

- a red, yellow, green, purple, blue and purple striped crocheted stress ball;

- a black, white and grey leopard-print faux-fur bean bag;

- a green, blue, purple and pink round plush ball keychain;

- a red, white, green and black watermelon slice plush coin purse;

- an orange, yellow, light pink, dark pink and purple embroidery thread tiered tassel keychain;

- a pink, orange and yellow tassel leather keychain;

- a fluro yellow, pink, green, purple and blue cord tassel keychain;

- an aqua owl-print marble maze with pink fleece backing;

- a mini purple and full-size orange teardrop-shaped makeup blending sponge;

- a solid red flocked Tangle Jr Fuzzy;

- a red, yellow, green, purple, dark blue and light blue flocked Tangle Jr Fuzzy;

- a rectangular-shaped white-star-on-purple flannelette-covered DIY cracking squishy;

- a white-spot-on-red flannelette marble maze;

- a lemon and light blue stripped bunny plush keychain.]

#stim toy #stim toys #eBay #Stimtastic #USA #China #ask #text #link #photo #category: soft textures #informative #resource list #long post #very long post #abandonedshops #mod K.A. #category: stealth

[adhddiy]

DIY Laura Ashley nightstand restoration

The last time I remember feeling truly safe and happy, I was falling asleep in my grandmother’s craft room, curled up under a mountain of blankets on the narrow iron-frame bed she’d salvaged after the war from a closing-down orphanage.

Bent over her antique cast-iron Singer, one foot rocking the grated pedal, my grandmother would softly tuk-tuk the evening away. In the distance, the freight trains would echo her back with their khat-khat, khat-khat, and all was well with the world, and the darkness was glorious and welcome.

So when last summer my husband decided he was done with this little experiment we called marriage, and took all of our sensible black-brown IKEA furniture with him, I went looking for my happy place again.

And found somebody selling a twin version of this Laura Ashley gem for close to nothing:

The bed came with two beautiful nightstands in need of some TLC. The whole set used to belong to a tween, and it showed. There were chips, glitter and stickers all over the bedframe, and the tabletops were covered in scratches and water rings. 

So I bought a few cans of heirloom white paint, and repainted the legs:

Yes, that’s Saran wrap over the tops. I still thought I could just buff the damage out of them. 

While the paint dried, I decided to shine the brass hardware. YouTube said to use fine steel wool, so I did. Original hardware on the left, shined on the right. It worked!

Alas, you can’t just “buff out” cracked wood. So I went back to Home Depot, and swapped the bottle of Restore-A-Finish for a sanding plate and a small tube of wood filler.

No turning back now!

(I borrowed the drill from a neighbor, and was trying to keep it clean by taping a trash bag around it. It probably was a terrible idea and a serious fire hazard, but NOTHING HAPPENED and the drill stayed clean, so please don’t disabuse me of my blissful ignorance.)

All done! (Who knew cheap sanding plates are actually great for detailing?!)

Now the tops just needed a few coats of varnish, and I’d be done, right? 

Right?...

It took FOREVER and was HARD.

Next time (there won’t be a next time), I just have to remember to only apply one thin coat at a time, with a proper varnishing brush, and to let it rest at least the amount of time the can said it should rest before the next coat. And to properly protect all surfaces I don’t want varnished (like the nightstand legs) from drips.

And that it takes a couple of months for the varnish smell to go away, so maybe I shouldn’t put the stuff by my bed right away.

But they’re pretty! And I’m high on fumes!

And I still need somewhere to sit and put my clothes, and the new bed did make me happier, so this is my lounge now:

No rest for the wicked. Or the ADHD DIY-ers.

[drlindamurraytenacity-blog]

WHAT FOLLOWS IS A BOOK - COMPLETELY UNEDITED-- TO READ THE EARLIEST ENTRIES GO TO THE OLDEST BLOGS © Dr Linda Murray Dishes, Bottles, and Diapers-----I have many memories of the kitchen in our house in Scotland. This is probably because I spent a lot of time in this room. By the time I was five I could get my baby brother his bottle and heat it up, I could wash out dishes and dirty bottles in the sink. I had to stand on a chair to do it but I managed. I had also learned how to change a wet diaper. I needed to help my mother she was ill and cried a lot. Kevin was also my responsibility and my ‘birthday present’. Everyone was so proud of me because I was such a big help. But I realize now that this was not a good thing for me. Who was mothering me? Tools—I have a memory of an elderly man who lived in the flat next door I was attached to. It seems like the was time I spent with him and this time must have something to do with carpentry. He stopped us when we were leaving the house for out last time. It would not have been remembered if it had not been related to something he gave to me and me only. It was a hole rasp and a plane both very old. He said he wanted me to remember that I was special. He told me that these were very old and he wanted me to have them since he said that I was going to be a builder. I was not sure what he was saying about me bur I know now. He said to take good care of them since they were special as I was special. I remember meeting him between the side by side duplexes just as we were leaving out flat forever. I was sad so sad to leave and he wanted me to take something that belonged to him when I was leaving and he tried to make me feel better. I don’t know how the plane was transported to Canada but I found them both in my fathers work shop on 610 Silverstone street. I have them both still and through many purges. I have no memory of our time together on wood crafts I was but the plane reminds me I had been fascinated by this old tool when he used it and he explained how to use it. I felt I was loved by this little old man and I had the same feelings even when I did not know how to label them. I think my father thought this was an inappropriate gift for me to have and took them for me and put them in one of our boxes. I was so sad to leave this old man so sad. Yes, I still have both of the tools in my workshop and the plain still workes. The Bannister------I remember that in the building at 10 Shilling Hill there was a large bannister on the staircase. It was huge and had a great big curve at the end of it. I remember all of us kids sliding down this bannister. My gran did not want us doing this. Why I don't know. I guess she was scared that one of us would get hurt. I remember that whenever my gran was not around that my aunt and my grandfather would let us slide down all of the way and they would catch us at the bottom so that we would not get hurt on our landings. Its funny all of the stupid little things you remember from your childhood. I had little continuity in my early life so all of my memories are just like little single slides in a movie. The snap shots are bright and clear but the beginnings and ends of the experiences are completely absent. Kim and the Brewery-----When I was in grade three I had a friend named Kim. She and I would walk home from school each day. Kim’s father was an important man in a brewery close to my grandmother’s shop. We would walk through the brewery after school each day. What an amazing place this was. I was fascinated with the process. Everyone knew Kim's dad so all of the workers talked to us and answered our questions. The smells were inviting had also been told to keep out of the place so going was what my father called 'direct disobedience' (more on this later) so this was risk taking behaviour. I still remember these walks whenever I smell beer or hops. The Caravan------After our mother had died I remember being taken on a road trip by my father. We were all singing in the car together. We sang 'Hang Down Your Head Tom Dooley'. We were meeting some of my dad’s friends and were staying overnight in a small caravan. A caravan is like a small trailer for camping. I cant remember how long we stayed but I have some fantastic memories of the trip and of my dad's friends. We stayed up late and played cards and when he put us to bed he had made us small sleeping bags out of wool blankets. He had sewn them himself by hand so that we would be warm. There was something magical about this trip for me I am not sure what it was but I still love to camp today and I am very good with starting campfires. It was like I was a natural pyromaniac. Mince, Potatoes, and Peas-----The semi-private primary school we attended provided milk for students in the morning and in the afternoon and it also provided a hot lunch. I liked getting lunch at school especially when they were serving mince, potatoes, and peas. Mince is a ground beef dinner where the hamburger is fried and a brown gravy sauce is made using flower, the drippings of the meat and some Bistro gravy mix. I had told one of the cooks that this was my favourite lunch and that they made mince really well. I would go up to get my lunch and the cook always gave me extra mince and peas because I liked it so much. She would smile and give me a quick wink. This is a really warm and fuzzy memory. This dish is still one of my favourite meals, especially on a cold day. Wetting Myself---I was lucky the first two years of school to have such a loving teacher. I was not so lucky when I began my third year. I don't remember the name of this teacher but she was miserable. She took all of the joy out of learning anything. She would make us come up to the front of class for oral reading. We would march up two at a time and have us read out loud. On one of these days I was to read with another boy in the class. So there we stood by her desk and read. Suddenly, I had to go to the bathroom. I tried to tell her and she kept reprimanding me for interrupting the boy who was reading. Then it was my turn. And I could not concentrate. I needed to go to the bathroom so badly. I kept asking to leave but she was adamant that I was not getting to go to the bathroom until we were finished reading. Well that just wasn't soon enough for me. I wet myself standing on the spot. The urine went all over the floor and soaked everything I was wearing. Finally she let me go to the bathroom. She called the principal to take care of my wet clothes. This was brutal. I had to walk home with wet underwear, wet socks and wet shoes. Luckily I had worn my kilt that day and because it was so heavy it pulled down so  my kilt stayed dry. My father was furious and the principal wasn’t so impressed either. I don't remember much of the rest of the time I spent in this bitches class. Underwear ---Third grade at this school in Scotland was brutal after the first two years with Miss. Grace. And our lives were significantly disorganized as my father tried to cope as a single father even with my grandmothers ‘help’. Getting things together in the mornings was tough and lots of things were forgotten. The school I attended had us in uniforms. White shirt, maroon Blazer, grey pants and grey skirts or kilts. We had grey socks and black underwear. We also wore grey and maroon ties. It was standard stuff for British school children. You could tell which school every child belonged to by their uniforms so you could get into major trouble if you misbehaved going to or coming from school. We all had regulation gym shorts also. The rule was that you had to wear a white t-shirt and black shorts. Sometimes kids forgot their gym clothing and they would be made to sit out of gym class while all the other kids played. One day I forgot to bring my gym clothing and the gym teacher who was getting angry with kids forgetting their gym clothing, went nuts. She made those of us without the proper uniform attire to strip to our underwear and take part like that. I was sick to my stomach that I had to strip to my underwear. This was almost about the same time that I had wet myself in front of the whole class. Knitting------In grade three we also all learned to knit in our classes. We would have a craft teacher come into the class with all of the supplies and she would instruct step by step. I loved these times, because I was already able to knit. I remember either my mother, aunt and/or gran teaching me at home. The teacher showered me with praise for doing such a good job. Most of the students were not interested. The policy in class was that both boys and girls should learn to knit, but many were not happy with the situation. I loved this time with the crafts teacher. And my love of crafts to this day has helped me immensely. I have weathered many depressions with getting myself doing some craft. “Bring the past only if you are going to build from it” . . . Dominico Estrada . . .sp J.F.K.----In 1963, when I was eight years old, my father decided to leave Scotland for Canada. In preparation he needed to find us a nanny to come to Canada with us. To find a nanny he decided to advertize for one in the local newspaper. A local paper sent a photographer to take our pictures for the article. We were to leave right after/before Christmas. I remember sitting on the couch with my brothers for our picture. The TV was on and the show was interrupted for a special news bulletin. The news was about the shooting of John F. Kennedy. The news show actually showed the footage of him being shot over and over again. I knew that this was news about America and I knew that Canada was considered part of North America and I was scared. I felt horrible that this was happening in America. I did not need this on top of everything else. They shoot people over there. They kill their leaders. I was terrified inside. But I couldn't let it out. More loss. More fear, more loss of control. I was shaking on the inside. I told my dad that I did not want to go. But it wasn't up to me! Star Weekly----In the evening my father used to let us watch a television show after dinner. The favoured TV show was a musical show called Star Weekly. This show presented popular groups and musicians. On one of these shows the Beatles were featured. Wow, their first live broadcast and we were watching it. I knew they were good but I had no idea just how popular they were going get. We learned all of their early songs and when they eventually became a hit in the United States and Canada. We were ahead of our friends and classmates and knew the words to their hits.

[marcussharman0-blog]

Tips For Buying Sheepskin Rugs For Your House

Everyone is performing it! Everybody is offering designer fashion discounts. You can discover them in all retail shops from in-store to on-line you are almost guaranteed alpacas for sale on tops brand names. And simply because everybody is doing it, there is no turning back. Costs tend to all converge, if four shops offer a shirt for 60%twenty five off and a fifth shop tries to promote that exact same shirt for full price, who do you thinks getting the sale? The 4 stores with the decreased price.

Buying articles on e-bay is simple, all you do is search for an item, strike enter and look at all the choices. You can discover some extremely good deals on purses or jerseys. I've discovered some alpacas for sale personally on e-bay. It's incredible what all you can discover on e-bay; the most obscure things can probably be discovered.

What's so fantastic about the Webkinz site? Well, fairly a lot every thing! This is a very enjoyable site with a lot of games to amuse all age ranges. Even though they market Webkinz to ages 6-thirteen, even grownups have enjoyable on this website. The video games have various problems ranges. They are also extremely educational. These games educate good motor skills, spelling, typing, patterns, grouping, math, computer abilities, adopt an alpaca much more. This is all in a game so children If you loved this article so you would like to get more info about dog adoption Reward i implore you to visit the site. don't even understand they are learning.

Adopting our webkinz online can now be done with the magic formula code you are provided with in the starting. Ms. Birdy will be delighted to welcome you and will assist you via the whole procedure of adoption. Make certain you have a great title prepared for your webkinz, whether or not it is a boy or a girl.

Wool becomes felt when it is subjected to three components: dampness, warmth, and pressure. The fundamental hand method consist of a deep pan or sink, some liquid detergent, access to cold and hot drinking water, 30 minutes and your crocheted or knitted project. Begin by laying out the project in the pan or for large projects the sink and add some detergent to the venture and pour the scorching drinking water on to the venture and begin the kneading process. The stress is required to be a part of the fibers and produce the felted appear. Continue to knead and include the hot water as you flip the project to get all areas. Once you begin seeing the fibers combining to create the felted look and the size that is close to your finished project, you need to rinse in cold drinking water. Chilly drinking water is the component that will stop the felting process.

Mini-camps for younger animal lovers will also be available. For kids ages four and five, a "Mommy and Me" camp will be held on July 29 from 9:30 a.m. to midday. Children ages 6 via 8 have a camp providing on July thirty, also from 9:30 a.m. to midday. Both periods will concentrate on chores, creative crafts and fun time with the alpacas.

Special infant throws or blankets are usually a great adopt an alpaca helpful present. These days we have magnificent infant throws that are just as posh as those for discerning grownups. Any baby would adore to drift off to dream land in a luxuriously plush throw by Cozy Faux. These throws are the softest thing feasible for baby, so soft you're going to want 1 for your self.

Felting is an previous procedure that has arrived back to lifestyle in each style and home decor. It is a great way for beginners and encounter crafter's to produce impressive projects that they can appreciate for years.

Don't just mimic the look, get the look. Thanks to designer fashion reductions springing up everywhere, you no longer have to combine and match with off brand goods. You can purchase the precise garments you want from the designer themselves! Many thanks to this phenomenon you get to put on the real offer!

Now when performing research for the words internet hosting and getting a free domain or "free webname for life" you require to be cautious. Not a lot in lifestyle is at any time truly free, there is in most instances a price for every thing. Although allows be fair there are masses of great web internet hosting businesses that provide domains for free and also provide alpacas for sale. But there are also fairly a couple of web hosting businesses that offer web internet hosting and free domain solutions but in actuality they cost a great deal more than the competitors. So as you can kind of tell internet internet hosting and totally free area can finish up being quite a job.

If selecting to sale from one's house, think about inviting buddies and family members, or have a block sale. By putting more products in one region, you will make it simpler for purchasers to discover you. Just like you, they are looking for to either add to their own personal collection or discover those alpacas for sale where they can promote it for double on eBay or Craiglist.

Biscuit My Lovin' Pup will be that toy every child desires to have this Christmas season. Biscuit is a robotic puppy and has numerous benefits more than a real dog. For these households that reside exactly where genuine animals are not permitted this is the perfect way to please a kid that is begging for a pup. Hasbro has created a new classic in this delightful toy.

[sundaymomma-ing]

It’s cold. When I open the doors in the morning they stick shut and I pull fiercely at the handle. The dog scampers out, making it to the top step before stopping to rethink her intent to sprint around the yard. The children ask not to go out every afternoon. Though they are stir crazy and feel ready to jump out of their skin. I watch the chickadees and finches hopping around the feeders, bold enough, hungry enough to come close to my frozen shut windows for seed. Perhaps they realize I won’t come out to try to snatch them up.

We breathe out “smoke”, this crystallized air that can hurt to inhale, coughing more and more as we go about our outdoor tasks. I wonder aloud, sometimes waling; “Why did people ever settle here!?” I, clearly am not meant for this place, this climate, this negative temperature. The nights stretch on and on with no end in sight. The darkness so complete that we are barely able to enjoy the apricity, the warmth of the sunshine in winter. The snow so cold it no longer sticks together to form snowballs, as if to say; “There is no fun to be had here. Move along someplace warm.”.

Should I embrace it? Believe that there is no bad weather, only bad clothing choices? Shall I pull on an additional pair of socks and go tromping out through the icy neighborhoods? The fresh air begs me to do so. In my earliest mornings, I step out onto the deck in my wool socks and breathe as deeply as I can, the cold shocking me and stinging my face. Tucking hands into sweatshirt sleeves, hugging myself tightly and staring up. Searching for a star, hoping to spy the wolf moon. It’s there, showing only glimpses of itself in the heavily clouded sky. And I feel much like that moon, named for the wolves that howled outside Native American villages, on mornings much like this. Lonely, hungry, cold. I hide as well, being forced out only for required tasks, like when there is only peanut butter left in the cupboard and the children need to eat. This hiding out, this hunkering down, does cause loneliness. The need for societal interaction begs me to actually put on my coat and leave the house. Like the wolf the need to cry out, to be heard, to hear an answering voice is so great that it defies the cold. And we venture out, at least for a bit.

The furnace kicks in, I am grateful that it continues to do so. We snuggle into blankets and make cocoa in the early afternoon darkness. We create as the craft supplies dwindle, a trip out to restock looms, nearly laughing. We search the sites for more and more creative/educational/fun things to do with Legos, only to be frustrated by a project that doesn’t quite work out as planned. We learn new games, play old ones until we tire of them. Afternoons are filled with Simon-says and jumping jacks in the kitchen just so we don’t forget how our muscles work. Evenings are filled with stories, this is when the reading takes over. I remember now, the bulk of the books read, are done so in the cold months. “Just one more chapter” becomes a mantra spoken late into the black of winter. I struggle to keep my eyes open on either end of the night and yet I sit, and read, one more page, one more verse, one more sentence, “just one more chapter…”.

The hope for summer consumes me. Once it was awaiting the seed catalogs, now I have endless access to beautiful garden plants and new flower bed ideas at my fingertips whenever I need them. My Pinterest fantasy gardens rival any English cottage and I swear this will be the year I bring them into reality! It’s easy to make these promises in January. I hold firm that I will grow three heirloom variety of squash and plump little eggplant, the winter does not care that my family detests these vegetables. They are simply beautiful and perfect and call out to me with promises of black earth under my nails instead of bleak landscape all around me. I tend the potted rosemary, wondering if I can keep it alive until the frost lets go of the earth. This challenge all too close to my heart; if the rosemary survives, perhaps I can as well? Though this morning I wonder anew if there is any chance for such a heat-loving plant to make it in such a place as this.

“Embrace it!!” they cry. I wonder if I am the only one who can not. The lone person who asks, “Why?”. I am able to see the beauty in the winter, in the cold, I know that it is out there. The sparkling frost laying on everything this morning reminds me of faeries with lacy wings. Serving as a reminder that even in the deepest depths of winter there is loveliness, if you are willing to look for it. And so I do. I seek it out as a way to survive; rabbit tracks in new snow, frost swirled patterns on windows, smoke curling from the neighbors chimney. All things I can see from the warmth of my living room. I ask myself how much more glory would there be if I actually stepped out the door, went out into the cold, stomped across the backyard? I decide not to risk it.

This season is long, isolating, consuming. I am not happy in it. I must deliberately put pen to paper tracking the good, the gifts, the blessings I receive daily or the sadness overwhelms. I seek out the small, seemingly normal and attempt to mentally spin it into supreme. I nearly force myself to find something, anything, that I don’t despise about this time of year so as to not be consumed by my distaste for it. Goodness that is dramatic…

The cold is good for me, I know it is true. All things need a season of rest, a break in the music so that the musicians may breathe. Winter is a time of quiet, it is a season to be refilled for what is to come. While I may not enjoy being forced indoors I know the stillness is needed. While I will not go out and enjoy the frigid days, I will pour hot coffee, holding my mug as the steam swirls ever upward, bringing my attention back to the moon. I will listen for the wolves to howl. Calling out to one another, calling out to my own soul, on these, the deepest, coldest, longest nights of the year.

    Cold It's cold. When I open the doors in the morning they stick shut and I pull fiercely at the handle.