#and that floor would just have their kids' favourite colour accented with white

[aro-aizawa]

honestly being on a sims 3 kick is hilarious because while the game is completely drenched in nostalgia and looks good in memory its literally impossible for it to look good nowadays to the point where im going back on my bullshit and doing the stuff that i used to do as a 10 year old when i completely cover the house in the heir's favourite colour w/o it even attempting to look decent

#shut up danni #i am truly struggling on the house situation besties (in game) #my very first memory of playing the sims 3 was playing in sunset valley #i had that one bedroom starter by the beach and each generation i'd add a floor #and that floor would just have their kids' favourite colour accented with white #i am going back to my roots besties i am in my favourite house that i had to kick other sims out of (modernehaus)

[thiswaycomessomethingwicked]

please tell me your headcannons about the silly old traditions and funny hats and gowns worn at the Assassins Guild graduation ceremonies (bonus points: Vetinari occasionally attends as a distinguished alumnus; differences for those not taking the black) Downey has to make a speech

I love this ask, thank you so much. <3 

--

Downey has added feathers to the hats because it’s Downey and he believes all hats need a nice feather. 

Vetinari: . . .I refuse. 

Downey: It’s a single, white feather. Very stylish. 

Vetinari: You can’t make these hats stylish. It’s impossible. 

Downey: That will not stop me from trying. 

-- 

First it must be said, I place most of my Discworld fashion firmly in the “anywhere from 1350-1650″ camp. Which means there’s lots of diversity but it’s all still very late medieval/early modern. This is a just-me thing though, as the books are all over the place with the fashion. There seemed to be a sense, in the early Watch books, that fashion went backwards (i.e. the more recent, to our mind, the clothes the more old fashioned they are on discworld) but that was quickly abandoned partway through the series and then it became a hodgepodge. 

I still like the early modern feel and so am keeping to it. You can pry Downey’s stupid fucking doublet with its black pearl buttons and his slouchy hat with the Florentine “I’m very gay” feather from my cold, dead hands. 

--

This got long so it’s under the cut. 

Fashion first, because this is Downey and the Assassins we’re talking about after all. 

So I imagine the hats that the professors/teaching staff wear are the slouchy ones like these. This is modeled off of hats that were in fashion when the guild first instituted formal graduation ceremonies which are relatively recent (for a given value of “recent” i.e. only circa 150/200 years ago). 

The students graduating with the Black get the slouchy hats too. The ones who didn’t take the black get the more familiar flat board graduation cap. (Students 100% balance things on top of the flat board cap. This may or may not be desired by the cap-wearer.)

The formal, ceremonial gowns, indeed the entire outfit, for the teachers are hilariously ornate because of course they are. It’s the Assassin’s Guild. 

All ceremonial gowns would be different iterations of the houppelande. 

Beneath the gown there is the Assassin’s black of the doublet with a long-ish skirt beneath the belt (knee length? perhaps floor - but then it starts hitting gown territory). The doublet is form fitting at the top, belted off with the skirt below. Naturally, there are very nice buttons. The linen undershirt is white and can be seen at the collar and wrists. Leggings/tights/hose/whatever you want to call them, also black and worn with dress shoes, not their usual working day boots. All men present wear this, including Vetinari. 

(Downey: No grey-blacks allowed on stage unless it’s representing your specialty and I know you didn’t specialize in astronomy and quantum mathmatics. 

Vetinari: 

Vetinari: But it’s My Colour. 

Downey: Put the doublet on.) 

Women on staff are also all in black, but it’s a dress over a kirtle which is over their undershirt which can be seen at the cuffs. The dress et al is also form fitting on the top with tightly buttoned (or laced) sleeves, then there’s the belt and full skirts after. Dresses are always worn with a high neckline. They too have formal dress shoes, though you can’t see them. 

The ceremonial gowns are black with coloured lining and trim. I’m thinking the sleeves are large and pinned back to show the lining which represents the general field you’re a specialist in. So, green for biology; red for literature/linguistics; white for deportment/dancing; blue for history; yellow for mathematics or whatever. The lining can be dual-colours if applicable. The trim will accent the lining but doesn’t mean anything in particular.  

The slouchy hats, however, tell you what the person specialized in with regards to their training i.e. poisons; knife work etc. 

Some gowns have that long drapey hood that is purely for aesthetics, but not all. I’m thinking if your specialty is stealth (coughHavelockcough) you get it. But, of course, as a specialist in stealth you don’t want people knowing that so no one who qualifies for a drapey hood wears it. 

Students wear simple black gowns with relatively short, deep cut sleeves so you can see more of their doublet beneath. Boys wear the usual doublet/hose combo (kind of like this) and girls the formal dress/kirtle combo (think this, but all black and with less jewels and tighter sleeves) beneath their graduation gowns. 

All gowns on students and staff alike are closed in the front - either with buttons or ties. 

Aside from the hat distinction between those who are taking the black and those who aren’t, the gowns for those taking the Black are all black and have the drapey hood. Those that aren’t taking the black have gowns trimmed with a dark colour - maybe blue? grey? something that blends but still is distinct.

--

Ceremonial Nonsense 

The graduation is held in the great hall where the students usually dine on a day-to-day basis. Parents are allowed and all families get a “plus two” for grandparents or family friends or whatever. 

There are two separate ceremonies - the first is for those taking the Black. That’s the one where Downey forces Vetinari to give a speech as he is Guild Provost and one a Distinguished Old Boy etc. 

Downey does his speech first and usually lines up those coming after him (Vetinari; Mericet; Lady T’Malia is what I have in my head. Though Mericet can usually convince Downey to sub in someone else as he is Too Old For This Shit).

For those taking the Black Downey will pepper in Fun Facts About Assassins and Helpful Pro Tips for Life (some of which are more helpful than others). Vetinari’s speech usually offers subtle rebuttals to Downey’s more outlandish life advice. Lady T’Malia’s is a universal favourite because she has the dry, disdainful wit of a person who has seen way too much nonsense in her life and has lived to continue to roll her eyes at it all. 

Mericet, when he’s made to do a speech and can’t pawn it off on one of the younger staff, is always very short. His record time was 15 seconds wherein he got to the podium, looked somberly out at his soon to be former students, and said “All I can say to you is, good luck and don’t die” then he sat down. Downey could be heard to mutter: Really?? rather loudly. 

Vetinari, more out of a desire to cause Downey some form of annoyance than anything else, will drone on for a long time and pepper in weird references only the headmaster of the guild will understand. He makes a few tiger jokes every year to which Downey, when he gets up to introduce the next speaker, will reply: “You really need to get over that”. No one knows what they’re talking about. However, the students always haaate it when Vetinari takes the podium. There is much sighing and sliding down in seats out of boredom. 

The students are called up to the stage the receive their diploma in order of their name and it’s done by house (so viper house then black widow then poison dart frog or whatever they all are). 

Weapons are expressly forbidden on all students after that One Unfortunate Incident back when Cruces was headmaster about which the least said, soonest mended. 

Back when Downey and Vetinari were graduating, when weapons were allowed, all students were given a ceremonial sword and they got to wear it when they went up to take their diploma. Students still get a ceremonial sword (or dagger, depending on preference) but they are received after the ceremony. 

The infamous ring is presented alongside the diploma. 

For those not taking the Black, it’s still the same roster of speakers but it’s usually a faster ceremony (though, that is changing over the years as the Guild is sought out more and more as a general-purpose educational institution for parents seeking a classical education for their children). 

Students in this group are also gifted a ceremonial sword but they’re allowed to wear theirs during the graduation ceremony because most can do nice, polite, gentlemanly dueling and not much else. Unlike their colleagues who can use it in increasingly diverse and experimental fashions. 

After both ceremonies are complete there is a grand dinner with students and their families and much conviviality. Under Downey’s reign as headmaster the amount of “accidental deaths” that occurred at this dinner have decreased dramatically. Mostly because unlike previous headmaster, Downey thinks it a waste of a good education to knock someone off so soon. Also, it is deplorable manners and not civil.

(Vimes, “It’s also immoral.” Downey, “I fail to see your point, commander?”) 

Wait at least a year or two until inhuming that One Guy who was A Class A Cunt During Maths. Or, if they’re really that bothersome, at least have the grace to wait until after the pudding has been served. 

--

Pre-graduation tomfoolery 

The graduating class, as a whole (well, those who survived the Run and those not taking the Black who haven’t accidentally fallen down the stairs), have two weeks between end of term and graduation and tend to run absolutely wild. 

Downey’s main rule is: no one is inhumed, his dogs are left alone and nothing is set on fire; flooded; booby-trapped; or exploded etc.* 

*see fine print for continuing list. 

It is considered a grand tradition for each house to prank their house master. One year, students cellophaned everything in Mericet’s office. Including individual pages of books. Downey thought this absolutely Delightful. Mericet said, “that’s it, I’m retiring.” Which is, coincidentally, what he says every year. 

Students will also strike up a very large game of Gotcha (i.e. Assassin) over the course of the intervening weeks between Term and Graduation. It used to be a very deadly endeavour but due to Downey’s new rule of “no inhuming until after graduation you daft kids” it’s just become a way to dunk on people. 

These are also the weeks that students clean out their rooms which is always an adventure. Many will try and discreetly sneak out their illegal pot plants and shroom logs. Those that hide them in places that aren’t their room will have minor panic attacks because Lady T’Malia and other staff enjoy rounding up the plants ahead of the students and watching the fallout. 

(Vetinari: I really should tell Vimes you have enough here to supply everyone in the city for a decade. 

Downey: Leave my drug collection alone.)

There is a lot of Lady T’Malia and others being like, “You all do know we hid our illegal shit in the exact same places, right?’ 

Students will also throw end-of-year ragers in the common room which the staff pretend to know nothing about. These tend to get very messy very quickly. Downey will show up around 3am to shut it down, though. Because some people need to sleep and aren’t 18 anymore. 

--

Anyway, that’s the long and short of my headcanon for Guild Graduation nonsense. All in all it’s a rowdy if somewhat bittersweet time. Downey secretly gets a little teary eyed over it. Aww look at his tiny little murderers going off into the big wide world. He remembers when they first arrived with knobbly knees and big eyes. His paternal side comes out in full force. 

Vetinari: it’s very good you have hundreds of students and several dogs because I don’t know what you’d do without them since you’re basically 110% a dad. 

Downey: i might have gotten married. What a horrifying concept. 

Vetinari: 

Vetinari: I have weird feelings about that which I am not going to explore in any great depth. 

--

Thank you so much for the ask! <3 <3 

#ask #reply #discworld #assassins guild #lord downey #vetinari #discworld headcanon

[my-happy-little-bean]

The Bookkeeper – Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Starry Night

pairings: logicality, prinxiety words: 4387 chapter warnings: mild swearing, allusions to mental illness, mild dark humour summary: in which we read letters to the dead.

[read on ao3] [masterlist]

< previous chapter

–

What on Earth was he looking at here? 

Logan stared at the display. A tiny baby figurine dangled in front of him, a long string of twine wrapped around its neck, thus hanging it from the ceiling.

His gaze hovered down to the nameplate for the piece: “ Fertility.” 

“Are you kidding me…” Logan muttered under his breath, crossing his arms. He begrudgingly attempted to act intrigued while his mind ran blank. 

He wasn’t sure if this display was what Patton intended for him to spend so much time at when he gave him the museum tickets, but here he was, spending precious time here : where the marble pillars stood at each corner of the room, where the air was thick with agreed-upon silence, where everything–  everything–  was beige, and where people in black turtlenecks lined the walls as they pinched their chins and hummed at the same time.

Logan knew Patton’s attempts of getting him out of the shop were well-intended, but he also knew this: he wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be writing, researching– anything but standing here and looking at what must have cost the artist two dollars. 

Some cynical sense in him wondered if this answered his question more than he was able to on his own. Perhaps this was what giving up looked like. Perhaps, in a world with little to no meaning, art was meant to be a white flag; it was meant to mark where the earth cracked beneath your feet; it meant nothing. 

“Quite the piece, hm?” 

Logan spun on his heel. Facing him was a tall person, with brown eyes that basked golden in the sunlight that poured through the museum’s skylight. They wore a black vest overtop a pale, yellow button-up, sleeves rolled just before their elbow. Logan noted in particular the small enamel pin on the top right side of their vest; it was a small, twisting snake with scales of yellow, white, purple, and black. And Logan didn’t know much about people in general, but he knew that this was the sort of person you would look at twice in passing; once by accident, and once by enthrallment. 

“Ferbachi’s ‘Fertility’ ,” the person hummed once more. A slight British accent tinged the end of their words. They stepped beside Logan and pointed at the twine around the hanging baby’s neck. “The twine represents fragility.” 

“...It does?” 

“No.” The person smiled smugly, not looking at Logan. “Not at all.” 

Logan let out a small ‘ah’, awkwardly shifting back and forth. 

“But I assume you were trying to find some meaning from the piece,” the person continued. “I’ve been watching you stand here, perplexed, for probably ten minutes now.” 

‘It’s been ten minutes?’ Logan scrunched up his nose.

 “You’ve been watching me?” he asked instead. 

The person shrugged. “Only a little. Reminiscent of someone hiding a toy from a dog, and the dog trying to figure out where his toy went.” 

A pause. The person then added, “That is to say, incredibly amusing.” 

Logan narrowed his eyes on the individual. “Are all museum-goers this annoying?” 

“No no.” A wide, Cheshire cat grin. “Just nosy.” 

Logan huffed, muttering under his breath a string of curses. The person turned to face Logan and outstretched their hand. 

“My name is Dr. Janus Carson,” they said. Each word sounded rich with caramel. “And I am not a museum-goer, I am one of the art curators here.” 

Logan scoffed. “So you were the one who thought this was a worthwhile display?” 

“Well one, not necessarily how curating works. And two...you can blame my colleague, Dr. Remus Harden. Most of the things he curates are more contemporary and...well, strange.” 

“ This is contemporary art?” 

“I would invite you not to act so surprised,” Janus replied pointedly. “Everything is made by someone...” 

“Logan,” Logan supplied. “Logan Fray. He/him”

Janus nodded. “Everything is made by someone, Mr. Fray. Which means everything is enriched in some sort of purpose. Even if the purpose is meaningless.” 

Logan blinked. Janus’ words felt like sound that was lost in a cave, helplessly bouncing against the walls, looking for somewhere to go. 

“So why do you think someone made this?” 

“I don’t know, Mr. Fray. Why does anyone make anything at all?” 

A beat of silence.

“Precisely,” Logan murmured. 

“Pardon?” 

“I– um, is there somewhere I can get coffee here?” Logan blurted out. “I...I think I need a break from all–” He motioned at the hanging baby– “this.” 

“Me as well,” Janus hummed, already walking away. They motioned for Logan to follow them without turning around. “And afterwards, I can give you a tour of something that perhaps can give you some answers.” 

Logan felt his heart race. “How did you know I’m–” 

“You are not the first pretentious existentialist to walk into a museum,” Janus drawled, still walking. Logan quickened his pace, frantically trying to stay beside them.

“How–” 

“It’s Tuesday, Mr. Fray, and you’re in a museum alone.” Janus stopped and looked him up and down. “And honestly, the shoes give it away.” 

Logan, bewildered and with child-like embarrassment, looked down at his shoes. He thought the shoes looked rather nice. 

“Hurry along, Mr. Fray.” Janus’ accented voice rang in his ears like an alarm. “We don’t have all day.”

—

Patton paced back and forth along the shelves of Fray and Far Fables, Roman floating right behind him. 

“How about The Hazel Wood by Melissa Albert!” Roman magically lifted the book off the shelves and flew it over Patton’s head so it could stop Patton in his tracks. “I read it the other night and found it to be fascinating! There’s this grandma who writes real grim-dark fairy tales and dies and this girl– Alice– her mother gets stolen by someone in her grandma’s stories–”

“That sounds too spooky!” Patton waved his hand in front of the book and pushed through it, Roman lifting the book back up before Patton could barrel head-first into its hardcover. 

“Gah– how about The Signature of All Things! You read that one recently! Wouldn’t you want to visit the Whittaker estate: the flowers, the plants–” 

“I– I don’t know, I feel like I have already been there, ya know?” 

“Great Odin’s eyepatch–  Patton!” Roman flew over Patton’s head and hovered in front of his nose, arms crossed. “We’ve been walking circles around the store and you have yet to give me one book! When you said you wanted to go in a book nook, I didn’t expect to be bored!” 

“I know, I know!” Patton buried his face in his hands. “There’s just so many choices! I don’t want to make a wrong choice!” 

Roman sighed. “You can’t pick a wrong choice, Patton. And even if you do, we can always just leave and go to another one!” 

Patton let out a muffled groan beneath his palms. Maybe he should’ve done a bit more research before coming in today. 

He closed his eyes. A million stories appeared in the blots of the darkness; there were visions of the cotton-candy worlds in his bedtime stories, tall mountains and deep seas. Heck, if he really wanted to, he could just pick up Around the World in Eighty Days and he could go anywhere he wanted! (Probably!) So why was this so hard?

Patton opened his eyes and looked at Roman. 

“What’s your favourite story?” 

Roman’s frown sent a flurry of regret in Patton’s chest. But the feeling eased a bit when Roman scrunched up his face and whizzed right past him to one of the shelves behind the front counter. 

“I have a favourite,” Roman finally said, “but you’re going to have to keep a secret. Is that okay?” 

“Yeah! Yes, of course,” Patton stammered. He grabbed his sketchbook and watercolour set, tucking a brush behind his ear as he watched Roman disappear behind some of the books on the shelf. 

The books Roman moved behind began to slowly lift themselves off the shelves. Patton watched with wonder as they parted in the air, like double doors to a castle, revealing Roman standing beside a thin book that was pressed flat against the back of the shelves, only showing its brown, leather cover. It seemingly blended into the colour of the wood.

“Oh!” Patton tucked his sketchbook and watercolour set underneath his arm. He then held out his hands as Roman levitated the book towards him. Patton let the book sit softly in his palms. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this one before.” 

He opened the first page. It seemed like a notebook, pages yellowed with time. Patton squinted at the faded cursive scrawled on the lines: The Midnight Forest by…

“V...Aries,” Patton read aloud. Roman nodded, flying over to sit on Patton’s shoulder. Patton looked at him with a frown. “Isn’t this the philosopher Logan likes?” 

“Mhm. Logan doesn’t know this ‘cause not many people do, but Virgil Aries used to write poetry books.” His smile faltered. “Well, a poetry boo k; it’s the one you’re holding right now . He only ever wrote one, and he didn’t even publish it.”

Patton smiled, flipping through some of the pages. 

“Why haven’t you ever told Logan about it?” 

A beat of silence. 

“I don’t think I could. You’re sorta the only person who’s ever asked.” Roman shrugged. “Besides, it’s not like many people knew Virgil Aries by his poetry– they only ever knew him by his theories of philosophy.” A pause. Roman added, “It’s...it’s nice to keep some unknown parts of him away from all that.” He laughed quietly. “Dude was really sad.” 

Patton nodded wordlessly, half-listening as he ran his fingers across the bumps of the pen marks on each thin page. It reminded him of the subtle glances he would sneak at Logan whenever he stopped by the shop, catching him writing or deep in thought as he browsed the books. He imagined if Virgil Aries might have let his pen dance across the paper, similar to the way he knew Logan did, ink gliding across paper floors almost seamlessly. 

He took one more look at Roman, who was also reading over his shoulder. His eyebrow was furrowed and his demeanour seemed to dampen. Patton wondered then if Roman was thinking the same thing too. 

“Alright! Well, I don’t know if you can make a book nook out of a poetry book, but I wouldn’t mind trying!” Patton finally said. Roman’s smile lifted ever so slightly. He floated off of Patton’s shoulder.

“I most definitely can!” Roman slowly descended onto the pages, going on one knee and pressing his palms flat against them. Circles of red magic appeared faintly beneath his hands. 

“Lemme show you how book nooks are actually made! Hold on tight!” 

“Hold on tight to wha–” 

And before Patton could finish, he felt the book tremble in his hands. Strings of red magic suddenly sprouted from the open pages. Startled, Patton let go of the book. His eyes widened in fear before realizing that the book was staying in place in the air where he was holding it, Roman still kneeling on the pages.

Patton watched Roman’s right arm shoot up into the sky, vibrant red magic following its path. A flurry of cursive handwriting followed his palm, creating a double helix of words and magic. 

Patton covered his face as a stream of it shot right past his ear. Warm air wrapped around him like he was in the eye of a hurricane. He clutched onto his sketchbook and his watercolours, grabbing the paintbrush behind his ear. He wielded the paintbrush as if it were some sort of sword, but somehow knew that he didn’t need to worry about protecting himself.

And then, Patton opened his eyes. 

The first thing Patton noticed was the sky above them. Peeking beneath the shadowed branches of the tall trees was a painted sky of all shades of blue. Flurries of yellow were layered on top of the sky as floating lanterns, moving slowly like clouds in the wind. 

Back on earth, small freckles of light spun around him and the forest clearing he stood in, as if the breeze was braiding golden thread in the air. It smelled like petrichor and freshly cut grass, and there was barely any noise; all Patton could hear was his own breathing, and his own heart. 

“Holy...shit,” Patton whispered, lowering the paintbrush to his side. 

“Why thank you!” Roman used the book as a makeshift magic carpet and guided it to rest on a log. The book easily gave into the shape of the surface it laid on like a blanket. Roman looked around the forest clearing, his smile falling. “Goodness, I haven’t done that in a long time.” 

“It was amazing .” Patton grinned at Roman, though it was tinged with a bit of fear– no, not fear, curiosity. How could Roman have done all this? Who was he? 

Patton held Roman’s gaze for a moment too long. Roman’s eyes glimmered with a dull sort of excitement and pride that felt as though it was meant for someone else. The air between them thickened with unexpected tension.

“Well, I can’t keep this open forever,” Roman said, clearing his throat. He motioned to the book. Patton caught sprinkles of pulsing red magic lining the book’s edges. “So if you’re going to get started on painting…” 

“Yes! Yes, of course.” Patton decided to sit next to Roman on the log, setting his watercolour palette between the two of them. Then, he laid his sketchbook on his lap and got to work. 

Patton wasn’t sure if time passed in the same way as it did on Earth (there was no way he was still on Earth) but he knew enough had passed for him to zone out in his painting, so wrapped up in his surroundings. 

In the background, he could hear Roman reading out loud from the book. 

“And if swirls of blue and yellow are not enough, and if the cities beneath are not enough

And if all these answers are not enough,  love, may I give you this: 

A forest made of spiral-words,  and a sky made of whimsy mist. 

Notice how I kiss you here, an angel lifted,  then earthy heels in dirt adrift.

So now, when you return here,  my love, I will never be missed.”

—

“I don’t love my job very much,” Janus hummed as they took a sip from their cup of coffee. They guided Logan through the halls of the museum. “All museums are a little problematic anyway. Most exhibits I see are just prizes for colonialism –  bleh. ” 

“Wonderful,” Logan deadpanned. “Life is just wonderful.” 

“Isn’t it?” Janus gave Logan a smile that was cheeky enough to be Roman’s, but more serious.

Eventually, they arrived at more modern displays of art. Logan snuck a glance of the exhibit name as they passed by its sign: “ Ever Yours, Vincent : Exploring the Inner Workings of Vincent Van Gogh”.

“This is a recent exhibit I worked on. It isn’t quite ready for the public, but it is down to its final stages of revision. While I was interested in Van Gogh’s works, I was more so interested in what occurred beyond his canvas; in particular, his many letters to his brother, Theo.” 

They both weaved through tall, staggered pillars of towering LED screens, which illuminated the dark room. The screens panned over rows of cursive handwriting, as if scanning through a list of ancient relics. 

The hall of pillars eventually led to an open layout of interactable displays, glass casings filled with notebooks and paintbrushes and photos. The walls had ceiling-to-floor digital screens that moved through various scenes of Van Gogh’s artwork. Logan recognized a few: Irises, Café Terrace at Night, The Red Vineyard and, of course, The Starry Night. 

“Such a bothered man created images that people see and feel enlightened by . I have never met a person who hasn’t felt hope looking at his starry night.”

Logan frowned, noting the swirls of blue and yellow that surrounded him. He didn’t know why, but he longed to touch the walls and feel each individual stroke of paint. He had looked at art before, but was never truly immersed in it. 

“Some historians say he was depicting the view outside his asylum window,” Janus continued. “One of my favourite quotes from Van Gogh’s various letters to Theo touched upon this idea.” 

Then, as if pulling the threads of their own memory, Janus closed their eyes and recited: “ ‘But what a beautiful land and what a beautiful blue and what a sun’. ” 

They then opened their eyes and looked over at Logan with a small smile. “ ‘And yet I’ve only seen the garden and what I can make out through the window’.” 

Logan found himself stunted by the quotation. 

“He had depression, yes?”

“The diagnosis varies, but yes.” Janus’ lips twisted ever so slightly, staring at the walls surrounding them. “As I said, he was quite the bothered man.” 

Logan nodded. On the tip of his tongue were questions about whether or not this proves his point; that even art cannot truly help someone escape the vast nothingness of life. 

“You know, Van Gogh wasn’t really famous until after his death,” Janus said after a moment of silence. “Johanna van Gogh-Bonger, his brother’s wife, was the one who told his stories. She pushed for his art to find an audience, and she translated the letters between Van Gogh and his brother.” 

As if on cue, translucent cursive slowly sprawled across the screened image of The Starry Night. The script ran alongside the slow-moving swirls of light over the silhouetted town depicted in the painting. 

“I told you that I do not love my job, but in reality, I need to do this job more than anything else I need to do. And it’s because of Johanna’s work. It proves that there are stories everywhere, hidden under layers and layers of paint. Beneath every painting is a canvas, beneath the words of a letter is the paper on which they are written.” 

Janus’ words were exhaled slowly, their surrounding air rich with a lifelong commitment Logan couldn’t begin to understand. They motioned at the walls, and Logan followed their hand. Logan’s irises were filled with pulsing light. 

“Without a canvas, The Starry Night would just be paint, still sitting in the cans. Without the paper, Vincent and Theo would never have talked. Without Johanna, none of that would have mattered. There can be no audience for a story without someone presenting it somehow. Someone needs to be the canvas, and someone needs to be the paper.”

Janus’ words washed over Logan like gentle, moonlit tides. The scene around them slowly dissipated into another painting. The same show of art danced around him like a bewitched merry-go-round. 

Logan then looked at Janus, whose eyes were filled with a sense of unshaken fulfillment. Their smile walked a fine line between the walls of definite and whatever laid beyond it.

“So why, then, does anyone make anything at all, Mr. Fray? Well, I am not sure. But I do know this: I preserve art and stories, which is to say, I preserve purpose . And I preserve all of this because they are important. In a life with very little meaning, art worms its way into the spaces that it can fit. And with the help of others, art– and everything it represents– is made bigger than the spaces of life they initially occupy.” 

Janus’ eyes twinkled. “All this being said, Mr. Fray, you can imagine what this means for all the stories that follow.”

Janus’ break eventually ended a few minutes later, and as the two parted ways, Logan felt unable to leave the exhibit. A whirlwind of oil paint and words filled his vision as he let Janus’ words settle in his chest. Then, similar to all things in life, the spectacle faded; and in the moment between the next digital display of painted scenery, Logan was left alone in the vast space of emptiness.

— 

Logan entered Fray and Far Fables much later than he had anticipated. He was unsure of whether or not he would catch Patton before he left, but said uncertainty was resolved as soon as he walked through the door. 

Patton was sitting on an armchair, in hysterics as Roman—to Logan’s horror—magically flipped through a photo album that floated in the air. Roman puppeteered the album like it was a pop-up book, blurry and holographic film footage folding up into view and then back down into the page. The footage showed a young Logan bounding through a backyard, and then an even younger Logan having a tea party with all his stuffed animals.

“What are you– Roman!” Logan bolted towards the photo album and swiped it out of the air, closing it with a swift slam!

“Aw, come on, Lo!” Patton pouted. 

“Yeah, rude interference, Moby Dick ,” Roman quipped, but with a smug smile all the same. “I was going to show Patton the pictures of you in your school’s play of The Sound of Music. ” 

Patton went starry-eyed. “You were in The Sound of Music?” 

Logan rolled his eyes, ignoring both of them as he sat on the chair opposite of Patton. 

“Is this really how you spent your first day of book nook adventuring?” He narrowed his eyes at Roman. “I am praying that the answer is no.” 

“No, of course not! I just had some energy left to re-animate some precious memories.” 

Logan sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. A part of him burned wondering if Patton was somehow embarrassed by it all.

“And precious they were!” Patton piped in, diffusing the flame immediately. “Little Logan running around– ah, I was ready to cry!” 

“Thank you, I suppose.” Logan relaxed himself into a smile. “Well then, where did you both go?” 

Patton and Roman exchanged looks that, quite frankly, concerned Logan all over again. He had a feeling that mixing the two of them together spelled chaos. 

“Some old poetry book!” Patton finally said. “I don’t quite remember the name, do you?”

“Nope!” Roman barked out a laugh. “You know me! Ever the scatter-brain!”

“...Right. ” Logan pursed his lips, not believing either of them for a second, but feeling too tired to press on. 

“I did, however, make you something!” Patton grabbed his sketchbook off the coffee table and carefully tore out one page. Logan felt himself grow warm once more.

“Patton, you do not have to give me all your paintings…” 

“Nonsense! It’s the least I can do.” Patton passed over the paper. Logan carefully took it in his hands. 

In a stroke of odd coincidence, the palette that Patton had chosen was uncannily similar to The Starry Night. It was also less abstract than Patton’s usual style. Patches of navy blue and golden yellow flooded the sky above what seemed to be the silhouette of a forest clearing, which bordered the sides of the painting with dark greens and various shades of black. In the middle of the clearing were a circle of leaves, an open book laying in its centre. And hovering above the book was a small figure, leaving a trail of cursive handwriting and dark red dust, which glimmered ever so slightly in the moonlight that Patton had let fall upon the painted scenery. 

“My goodness, Patton...” He looked up at him, not exactly knowing what to say. 

“Pretty good, right?” Patton smiled with an uncharacteristic amount of confidence. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so immersed in anything in...well, my whole life!” 

“Art can do that to you, I suppose,” Logan let slip. In the corner of his eye, Roman did a double take. 

“I suppose so!” Patton stood up, scooping up his notebook and his various art supplies.

“Well, anyway, I hope I didn’t overstay my welcome! I was just waiting for you to come back from the museum– oh! How was that by the way?” 

Logan found himself without words once more. Eventually, he just ended up saying, “It was good, Patton. Very...good.” 

“Well, good!” Patton giggled. Logan could almost hear the twinkling of painted stars in his laugh. “I think I have an idea of where I want you to go next, but I might wait ‘till my next visit. I need to let everything just settle, heh.” 

“You’re valid,” Logan hummed. He held Patton’s stare for a moment too long before clearing his throat. “I...I look forward to seeing what you have next in store for me, Patton.” 

Patton broke into a wide, shining smile as he gave Logan a hug. Chills ran down Logan’s spine and jumped between the distance made when Patton pulled away. 

When Patton left the shop, Logan took a deep breath and began his routine of closing up. Roman trailed behind him. 

“So! What are you going to write about tonight?”

Logan could practically feel Roman’s smug smile behind his back.

“I’m going to write about nothing,” he murmured decidedly. Roman raised an eyebrow at him. Logan shrugged wordlessly. Janus’ words filled his mind once more, as if beckoning him to write everything down in a maddening fury. But even if the exact phrasing faded, the feelings elicited remained the same. And if he was going to understand those feelings…

“I need to lie down,” Logan finally said, going over to flip the door sign to ‘closed’ before heading upstairs. “I just...I need some time to be quiet.” 

But despite this attempt, Logan was everything but quiet. For the remainder of the night, he bounced his new ideas and revelations off of Roman, who comically flew above his bed, grabbing each word out of the air in a flurry of ‘told you so!’s. 

Logan, however, simply let it happen. He realized that for the first time in a very long time, the pressure of telling others things was slowly being lifted by the experience of being told something; of knowledge being given to him rather than taught. 

And somewhere underneath the sandy shores of his chest, a new tide of magic rippled through Logan’s entire core.

The next day, Logan glowed just a bit brighter.

—

next chapter > 

#TS Storytime 2021 #gabbie writes things #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #logicality #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #logan/patton #roman/virgil #logic/morality #creativity/anxiety

[aggieharkness]

can you do a hurt/comfort story about agatha finding and adopting wanda after wanda's parents died?

Lily of the Valley (Part 1) (Wanda x Pietro x Agatha)

Summary: Agatha was in Sokovia when the bombings that killed Wanda’s and Pietro’s parents happened, but when she discovered them she knew she had to help them.

a/n: It’s my first ask, so I hope you like it and enjoy it, and if you want more, just... ask. I’ve decided that we all could do with a bit of Aggie being mentor/mum to Wanda and Pietro, so there will be more of this for sure. Also, I’m horrible at summaries, so I apologize in advance.

Warnings: injuries, bombs.

Words: 3k

Lily of the Valley

It was already dark when she started making her way back to her motel. She was trying so hard to blend in, making sure no one had any reason to think she was nothing more than a woman just having a walk from a very dark and dangerous forest all the way back to her very small and damp motel room filled with cockroaches. She was in this little town because she needed a plant that she had run out of after her rabbit had knocked over her cauldron and had caused it to spill her brand-new potion all over the floor. If he weren’t so cute and her familiar, she would have cooked him. Now she had three suitcases worth of this plant in her pocket as she walked through the quiet dark streets. Stupid gardening rules. Her soil back in her little cottage in Salem was far too acid for this plant to grown and even after she had tried spells to make it suitable it just wouldn’t grow. Plants really were weird; she had seen the most complicated flowers blooming in between concrete plates and in her perfect soil they just wouldn’t even get roots. Stupid gardening rules.

There were people running around, shots being fired, but she didn’t bother, she couldn’t get hurt. She wasn’t a baby, she knew perfectly well that in a hostile environment such as this she couldn’t go around without a protection spell around her, it would be suicide. As she turned a corner, she saw a bunch of men building up a barricade, shoots flying over their heads. She didn’t know the city well enough to change her route, so with a spell firm in her mind in case she needed it she walked close to the wall of a building, behind these people. This was one of the things that she sure as hell didn’t miss from the wars she had lived, the gunshots. They wouldn’t let her sleep, their sound still ringing sometimes in her nightmares, but that was her own fault, she decided to go on holiday to Paris just when it was being invaded by the Germans. Poor choice from her part.

Deep in thought, she didn’t see it coming, just felt how out of the blue she was being pushed by an invisible wave to the other side of the street, her back hitting the cold and damp floor, fragments of rocks and walls flying over her head. Out of habit, she waved her hands over herself, a purple energy field protecting her sore form from the flying projectiles. A cloud of smoke filled the air as the building she had just been walking by collapsed or at least part of it, she just couldn’t make out any forms through the thick cloud of dirt. Screams filled the previous quiet air, bringing unwanted memories to Agatha’s mind. After centuries and centuries of living among these mortals, she had experienced plenty of happy and sad moments, bittersweet and horrid ones, but also perfectly marvellous and simply wonderous ones as well. It was just that the sad ones, the terrible ones, always managed to make themselves known whenever she was feeling a bit down or when something bad was happening, like right now.

She heard more explosions coming from afar as the dust seemed to dissipate enough for her to see that the street was covered by debris, the building barely standing, some of the walls still in place, curtains and photographs hanging from them as if nothing had happened, the only witnesses of the explosion, their shattered glasses and half-burnt fabrics. Vanishing the magic field, she stood up, feeling something warm and sticky running down her face, her black pants ripped at her thigh, a superficial gush bleeding more than it should. Taking her hand and touching her forehead she looked down at her fingers to see the red liquid tinting them, making sure that there was nothing broken as she took a couple of steps in between the debris. Thankfully she was fine. With another wave of her hand, the dust dissipated completely, the streetlamps that were still standing illuminating the gruesome scene. People underneath walls, and what she guessed were parts of those who had been close enough to the building when it exploded.

She was used to working with tongues, toes, fingernails, even sometimes organs, but she usually wasn’t the one to open up the people to get them, she would just buy them from very honourable psychos that she knew, so seeing this made her stomach turn, another wave of memories filling her head, sporadic images of friends and acquaintances disappearing in clouds of dust, alarms sounding throughout the city as to warn the people that the bombs were coming. God, she really had been alive for far too long. At the moment she didn’t care who saw her or what they thought of her, two orbs of purple magic in her hands as she made her way to the half-blown building, levitating slightly over the floor as not to stumble over anything or anyone. The bombs were getting closer, which made Agatha’s hair stand on the back of her head, the sight of small fire’s surrounding her as she hovered over one of the apartments, taking a look.

Something that she guessed was once a couch laid covered in debris, a small Tv still on in between them. She had had one of those back in 1954, bought it herself, brand new in a beautiful turquoise colour with a matching television stand. She was a witch, but that didn’t mean that she couldn’t enjoy the joy of home appliances or electronics. Before she even made the attempt of crossing the imaginary threshold that separated the apartment and the street, she saw two figures moving around. They hadn’t seen her, far too shocked to look around, before the voice of a boy reached her ears as the two kids run and hid underneath a table. Just a few seconds later another bomb landed right in front of Agatha, but it didn’t explode, although that didn’t matter to her, she was more than ready to vanish it, but it was far too close to the kids. Landing on the concrete floor she kneeled next to the table, two terrified kids staring back at her. One was a girl, with dark red hair and soft green eyes, the other was a boy, with blond hair and blue eyes, both sharing the same shocked and terrified expression.

-Are you okay? – neither of them answered, they just stared at her. Looking around she saw part of what once had been a perfectly good kitchen, the Tv playing the Dick Van Dyke show. Now that she was closer to the bomb, she managed to make out the word “Stark” in white, a red light beeping as if it had been supposed to go off as soon as it had hit the floor. “Stark”, she knew that name, but couldn’t remember from where, but since they were firing missiles at civils it wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that it was not a very friendly company. Sticking her arm out towards the kids she waited. – I’m not going to hurt you.

-Who are you? – the girl's voice was soft and quiet, a very thick accent enfolding every word as she spoke. It held a tone of distrust, protectiveness that didn’t go unnoticed by Agatha, which brought a small smile to her lips. A little feisty girl.

-My name is Agatha. What’s yours?

-Where are my parents?

-Your parents? Were they with you when this happened? – the girl nodded, a wave of sadness filling Agatha’s chest. Standing up she walked around the room, lifting walls and rocks just enough to see if there was anyone underneath. Close to the back wall laid two bodies, their heads turned away from her. She didn’t need to check their pulse to see that they were dead, probably because of the blast, but she couldn’t understand how two grown adults were dead and two small kids were just fine, miraculously unharmed. She didn’t know how to tell the kids but knew better than to keep something like this from anyone. It was better to feel the pain all at once than discover the horrid truth after years and years of lies. Kneeling beside the table she looked at them, sorrow in their eyes. They already knew. – I’m sorry. I can tell you one thing though. They didn’t feel any pain.

-They are… gone? – the voice of the boy had a much thicker accent, he probably spoke less English or didn’t practice as much as his sister did, but it didn’t make the pain that Agatha was feeling go away. She had once been a happy kid, just like them, and out of the blue, she had found herself alone, just like them. She knew this feeling of despair and loneliness far too well.

-I’m sorry, I really am, but you need to get out of here. It’s not safe.

-We don’t have anywhere to go.

-What are your names? – sitting on the floor she tried to speak in low and hushed tones, as not to scare them. For some reason, her mind was screaming at her that she needed to take these two children out of there, take them away, but she couldn’t. Not after Nicholas.

-I’m Wanda, this is Pietro.

-Those are very lovely names. Can you and your brother stand up? I need to take you to a safe place, Wanda. I promise I won’t hurt you, but you can’t stay here.

-What about mum and dad?

-I’ll take care of them, don’t worry. Do you have a favourite colour, Wanda? – she stretched her arm, waiting for the little girl to take her hand, and for a few seconds she thought she wasn’t going to move, but slowly the little hand came to rest over hers. A jolt of magic came through Agatha’s arm, making her eyes turn purple for just a few seconds. This girl, Wanda, had magic, enough to keep her and her brother safe, and she suspected that the bomb hadn’t gone off because of her as well. She was obviously far more powerful than an ordinary witch, a ten-year-old couldn’t master a spell of this kind without having spent at least a century practicing.

-I like red. – crawling from underneath the table she quickly moved far away from the bomb, her brother following her quickly.

-And you Pietro? Do you have a favourite colour?

-I… I like blue.

-That’s lovely. I like purple, it’s a bit of a mix between the two, isn’t it?

-Where are we going to go? – Wanda’s eyes searched the room, staring for a few seconds at the Tv before it finally turned off. Before any of them could understand what was going on the ceiling gave away, the entire upper apartment falling on them. Agatha swiftly and effortlessly waved her hands skilfully over her head, protecting the three of them from being crushed. Wanda and Pietro looked at the older woman, purple rays coming out of her hands as the debris fell to the sides, falling onto the street. Wanda had felt something strange when she had touched Agatha’s hand, now she suspected it had been magic, which made her feel safe, protected, and she was sure it had the same effect on her brother even if he hadn’t touched him. She was saving them. Agatha moved her arms, pushing the entire thing far away from her and the kids, panting slightly once she turned her head back down to look at the two little ones. – How did you do that?

-I’m a witch Wanda. Don’t be afraid, I won’t hurt you. Let me take you to a safe place, okay?

She took both of them by the hands, transporting themselves to her cottage in Salem. Maybe it was too forward, but they were little, and she couldn’t just take them to the outskirts of their hometown and hope for someone to take them in. She would keep them until she could find a family for them, a suitable one. In her heart, she felt as if she was more than capable of taking care of them, but her mind was screaming at her not to do it, not after what happened with Nicholas. As the purple cloud dissipated both Wanda and Pietro looked around the room they were standing in now, the walls covered in diagrams and drawings neither of them could understand, shelves filling up the rest of the space with old and new books as well as plants and floating candles. The room was cosy and comfortable, with a big fireplace on the other side. Agatha stared at the two little ones as they walked around her home, looking around, examining every inch of it. They didn’t look scared or worried, but she could sense the overwhelming sadness that was emanating from the girl. Before she could stop her, Wanda had wrapped her arms around Agatha’s waist, hiding her face from the world; she could have pushed her away, she could have told her she didn’t like hugs, but this feeling of a little person that relied on her even though they had just met like five minutes ago was something she hadn’t felt in such a long time. She couldn’t push her away.

-Wanda, listen to me, okay? – taking the little girl by the shoulders she kneeled in front of her, taking in her green eyes that were filled with tears. – Stay here, okay? I have to go back to do something.

-Will you come back?

-Of course, I will. Just make sure your brother doesn’t touch that big book that he’s going for right now. – with a movement of her fingers she lifted the book that Pietro was about to touch, placing it on top of the shelf, the boy gasping when he saw it moving away from his grasp. – I’ll be right back. Just five minutes, okay? Count them, and you’ll see that I will be back in just a jiffy.

Wanda nodded at the older woman as Agatha snapped her fingers and apparated back in the blown-up apartment they had just left. It was painful enough to lose your parents, but it was worse if you didn’t even have a thing to remember them by. Agatha didn’t remember her father, he left when she was a baby, at least that’s what her mother had told her, but knowing that she didn’t love her enough to take care of her, to teach her she didn’t even know if it had been just one of her many lies. Kneeling close to the dead bodies she examined them. They didn’t have anything on them that she could give to their children, so maybe she could use something else. Necromancy was one of her specialities, but in this case, it wasn’t even an option, so she settled for turning them to dust. With just a twirl of her fingers, a small flower bloomed from them, a small white lily of the valley which she picked up as carefully as possible, smiling.

It was a very small token, but maybe it would be enough for the kids to remember them by. In the future, she would figure out some other way for them to keep a happy memory of their beloved parents. Turning around to look at the bomb which still hadn’t gone of she saw the Tv, maybe she could take hers out of the attic. Vanishing into thin air she found herself standing in her kitchen instead of her living room, she aimed for the wrong room accidentally. As she walked to the door that separated the hallway and the kitchen, she saw the two figures sitting on the floor one in front of the other one, counting. Smiling she knocked on the doorframe, making them turn their heads, Wanda’s eyes lighting up at the sight of her. She had come back.

-Come here, both of you. – they stood up, trusting this unknown woman that had become so important for them in just the course of the latest hour. – I know it’s not much, and I will try to get something better for you, but this is the only thing I could do with your parents. We’ll plant them in the garden and that way you’ll be able to see them every day. – taking Wanda’s and Pietro’s hand she placed the lily on their palms. The little witch felt the essence of her parents in the petals, which brought tears to her eyes.

-Thank you.

-You don’t have to thank me. Why don’t you two go to the couch and take a nap while I plant this?

-Will you stay with us?

-Until I can find a nice family for you.

-No, I don’t want to go. Please, don’t leave us. – the girl hugged her by the waist again, not wanting to let go. Agatha meant safety, protection and comfort, her brain filled with painful memories of the bombing and the pain of her parent’s death. Agatha was the first person apart from her family who had helped them and not tried to hurt them or kill them. She felt the older witch’s pain and guilt, something she couldn’t quite understand, but she knew she didn’t want to leave her alone. Agatha felt Wanda’s mind unconsciously trying to get inside her own head, probably trying to figure her out, so gently she pushed her out. It required skills and strength, today she wouldn’t see Agatha’s memories.

She was fighting with her heart and her mind. She didn’t want to lose these two innocent kids because of her way of life, that’s what had caused her to lose her son in her first place. She was always busy, practising magic, getting more power, maybe she had disciplined him too much, maybe she had not paid him enough attention, but that was something she couldn’t solve now, he had betrayed her, made an alliance with the enemy and had tried to kill her in the process. She couldn’t let that happen to these kids. It brought tears to her eyes to see how practically two strangers couldn’t let go of her, and it surprised her, even more, the fact that she had grown to care for them in such a short period of time. They were alone and had magic in them, she couldn’t just let them leave and hope they would end up with a family that could take care of them and not judge them or hurt them. She had had plenty of experiences with people who even nowadays were still afraid of witches and had tried to kill her. They were ten years old; she couldn’t let them suffer that.

-It’s okay, it’s fine. I won’t tell you to go if you don’t want to. You are safe with me. – Agatha hugged Wanda back, letting the tears fall freely on top of the redhead’s hair. Noticing Pietro standing a few feet away she stretched her arm, asking him to join them; he hesitated at first but soon joined them, appreciating the warmth both his sister and Agatha provided. – I will take care of you, I promise.

-You won’t leave us? We are not yours; how can we believe you? – Pietro stared intensely at her, his blue eyes hard as he placed a protective arm around her sister. They really had been through a lot, even if their parents had tried to shield the worst from them, they were still very smart children.

-I have an old Tv in my attic and several DVD’s as well, why don’t you keep them? I saw the show you were watching.

-That doesn’t tell us if you are not going to throw us out.

-I had a son many, many years ago, but I didn’t take care of him as I should have and ended up getting hurt. I didn’t love him as I should have, and he went bad. I regret it every single day, but I won’t let you down, I will prove to you and myself that I can protect you and take care of you. For your parents, for your future.That seemed to do the trick, making Pietro soften his eyes, returning to the hug. She wasn’t going to leave them stranded in a spiral of darkness on their own without a single person to look out for them. She was going to be the mother she should have been, giving all the love she had neglected to give to her son to these two kids that had found a way into her heart without her even realising it. A purple aura surrounded the three of them, an unspoken vow sealing her promise as the both of them rested their heads on her chest, the lilies still resting on the palm of Wanda’s hand.

#agatha x wanda x pietro #wanda x agnes #wandavision #wanda and pietro #agatha harkness #kathryn hahn #marvel

[smolbeandrabbles]

Winter Night - Malcolm Bench x Reader (Vertical Limit)

Holiday Fic 2! ⛄⛄

@wltz-bby​ @happyskywhale​

Author’s Note: @mandy23b​ I know you still have to get to the end of this week to finish your finals. But Congratulations on your graduation! 🎉

I’m so proud of you - And I know I keep telling you that, but I’m just going to keep telling you!

Thank you for requesting - here’s some Malcolm for you, as a treat 😉😘

Disclaimer: Vertical Limit Not Mine / Basically a massive excuse to have 4000 words of banter / you better believe I got Tom McLaren in here / gifs and lyrics not mine

Premise: Malcolm Bench is back from K2 for winter break. You love snow, having to work in it 24/7 he does not - today you’re determined to change his mind...

Words: 4133

Warnings: swearing / sexual connotations

____

Have you seen the mistletoe? It fills the night with kisses Have you seen the bright new star? It fills your heart with wishes Have you seen the candlelight? It shines from every window Have you seen the moon above? It lights the sky in silver

Have you heard the boys all sigh When all the girls are skating? Have you heard the sweetheart's cry For all this time they're waiting?

Green is in the mistletoe And red is in the holly Silver in the stars above That shine on everybody Gold is in the candlelight and Crimson in the embers White is in the winter night That everyone remembers

Have you seen the children playing? Tiny hands are frozen! Have you seen them hurry home When suddenly it's snowing!

---

Waiting for Malcolm to return home from K2 was always painful, especially at this time of year. People liked their winter climbing getaways - but he liked to come home when it was a little too dangerous out on the mountains. He also wanted to take breaks to be with you: although wintertime was not always his favourite period to do so… because he saw snow 24/7 at work. He didn’t need to see it at home with you too. There was always the fear that it would be too dangerous for him to come back, and it wasn’t just the weather patterns there that mattered, but where you lived too. There had been plenty of times when his flights had been delayed, or he’d had to spend time in the airport overnight, because no planes were going to move under any circumstances. Luckily yesterday the plane home had at least taken off, and although the weather reports were all threatening snow storms here & the air was cold, the sky had been clear all day and not a flake had fallen yet. You prayed it would stay that way at least until you got him inside the house. But then you liked the look of the blanket of white across your front yard and the roads. Especially when it was freshly fallen and no-one had walked or driven through it yet. How it looked so crisp and sparkled in the sunshine; it always felt like you were a child again, when you used to play out in it for hours without a care in the world. Nowadays the cold got to you a little quicker, but that didn’t make it any less magical to you. As you drove to the airport, the weather again was interrupting your favourite tunes to warn of a particularly bad storm front coming. You didn’t think you’d greet Malcolm with this information - he’d probably grumble and turn right around to get on the flight back. 

 You received a text that he’d landed before you’d even reached the arrivals waiting area, which meant you wouldn’t be standing around too long for him. Bonus! But as you leant against the barrier you couldn’t help but watch everyone with their brightly coloured signs - awaiting the arrival of family and partners. You thought back to the day previous; all the girlfriends of everyone up on K2 had their own texting group and you all found it fairly cathartic to fret together (luckily that was seldom necessary) or share K2 news, or climbing photographs (at least one of you was up there every so often), or whatever you felt like really. And Tom McLaren’s girlfriend had texted you yesterday to let you know her man was back home, with a little note ‘And yours tomorrow! x’. If Tom was home then it really must have been end of season. They were due to get married soon - and their engagement often had you poking fun at Malcolm and subtly dropping hints as to when and where he was going to pop the question. Only for him to narrow his eyes at you and scoff and say “Well, I won’t be doing it like Tom fucking McLaren, that’s for sure!” You could only laugh. You had to agree though, the picture-perfect life of the Colorado Kid was not for either of you. Seeing Malcolm again always made you nervous, and you tapped your foot to a silent beat, taking controlled breaths - you supposed it was the effect of him being so far away for so long. Almost like figuring someone out all over again - as much as it was like no time had passed at all; always so giddy, like it was the first time you realised you had a crush on him. You received relentless teasing about that - probably because the Bench brothers were the two biggest idiots on K2. BUT they both had an insane amount of climbing knowledge, it made for an interesting combination; and you were definitely dating the sweeter of the two. You stood straight, on high alert, as the arrivals doors opened and Malcolm walked through, backpack slung over his shoulder. You were just going to give him a casual wave and let him walk over but his eyes scanned the crowd, looking fairly tired from his long-haul flight - and as soon as they locked on you, he lit up completely. And that cheeky little smile of his had you running - Malcolm stopped, bracing himself for your hug. “Ooof-! Geez, Y/N! Okay I get it! You’d think I’d be away for MONTHS!!!” He laughed so loud people started turning towards you but you didn’t care, you’d missed this goof like heck. And damn, that Australian accent. “Just let me miss you for 5 seconds dammit!” You pulled back with a smile, “Okay flight?” “As good as can be expected.” He checked his watch, “Annnnd that’s your five seconds, so I suppose within the hour you’ll be wanting to get me on the first plane back!” Your face burned; that was a joke one time and he’d never let you get away with it. “Weather permitting.” You placed a hand over your mouth, misremembering that you weren’t supposed to be saying anything about the snow. “Oh.” His face fell, “I knew it was all a little too good to be true.”

“Well, I suppose I should get you home before you grumble anymore…” He gasped, “You mean all that way and I don’t even get a kiss-!?” “Malcolm!” Okay, you took it back, his voice just had to be that loud, “I was getting to it!” You still had your arms around him and pulled yourself back to his lips. It was gentle and sweet and he wound his arms around you too, running a hand through your hair. Although when you pulled back you were a little shy, looking into his big brown eyes, “...Welcome home.” “Glad to be back!” He grinned, stepping out of your arms to take your hand in his, “Ah, civilisation!” You noticed the Colorado accent he put on and snorted, “Is that what you think he says when he gets home!?” “What, Mr. Fucking Perfect? Prince Charming of K2, Tom McLaren? Oh yeah.” “Well,” You shook your head and kissed him again, “I much prefer my little Australian hot mess.” There was a small smirk on his face, “Oh, you think I’m hot? I knew it!” “For sure! You can melt the snow all on your own-!” You winked, knowing he’d love that tease. “Ah, Fuckin’ have it-!” *** He was out of the car and bounding up to the front door before you’d even switched the engine off; you could do nothing but chuckle and roll your eyes. “So eager to be stuck in a house?” “Well,” Malcolm looked up at the outside for a minute, hopping from foot to foot and craning his neck, “it’s stuck in a house with you, ain’t it?!” He turned with a grin as you unlocked the front door, “I mean there’s plenty you can do stuck in a house…!” You gave him a sideways glance, “Give it a couple of days you’ll be screaming and wishing that you’re back in the great outdoors on top of a mountain.” “NOOOO-! Give it at least a week! I get to sleep in a proper bed!” “Mal, every time you come home you spend at least the first few days sleeping on the floor because you can’t get used to sleeping in a bed-!” “A’right, just pin me there-!” You blinked at him a few times as he leapt into the house, “I mean don’t tempt me, but I’m gonna need to tape your mouth shut too.” “Kinky, but I’d do it for you…!” He winked before hurtling towards the stairs and taking them in twos. You sighed, head in your hands. Why did you miss this? Maybe you’d be the one wishing he was back on a mountain… You glanced up at the ceiling - he also hadn’t noticed all the winter decor yet. But you supposed you’d give him time. You always liked theming your house for the season - not just the holiday within the season - and you always liked sending Malcolm aesthetic pictures, where he would graciously (if he was homesick) tell you that he wished he was there, and how pretty they were. Or sometimes just ask ‘what the heck is that!?’ and you’d have to put your phone down for five minutes whilst trying not to give up and throw it all away in a huff. When Malcolm trudged down the stairs slowly you noticed him looking around, although you broke the silence, “Did your brother get back okay too?” You knew Cyril was heading back to their hometown for the break. “Uh, he’s probably still in the air somewhere!” Malcolm leant around the banister, “I’m glad there’s no fake snow.” “Why have fake when you can have the real thing?” “Please no.” “Mal, I already told you the weather forecast says it’s on the way.” He pressed his lips together in his best attempt not to grimace; “Why can’t it be tropical when I get home?” “Babe, it’s wintertime, if you want a tropical vista you shoulda said and I’d have booked a vacation-!” Or he could have asked you to meet him in his native Australia, you knew it was summer there. He froze suddenly - so you knew he wasn’t listening - and when his face lit up you knew he’d spotted it; hurling himself over the banister Malcolm dropped to the floor none too gracefully - leaving you with your head in your hands one again. “My house isn’t a mountain face.” “Duly noted…” He pointed to the ceiling, “That’s mistletoe!” Yes! And mostly because he was coming home. “There’s mistletoe in here!? Come make out with me----!” You laughed as he joyfully whined the last word, and you were only too happy to walk forward into his arms, “Promise no more griping about snow?” “I’ll make no such promise.” You huffed. “Can’t blame me for trying…” He wound his arms around you and pulled you into a short sweet kiss. You were already giggling a little as you looped your hands around his neck, running them through his hair. You supposed it was just because you were giddy about him being home - getting to hold him this close again. With Malcolm’s body pressed up against yours, you were surprised his hands were staying so respectful; but there was time yet! The kiss was slow and soft, his tongue running your bottom lip gently, almost cautious about it. If you weren’t so caught up in it you would for sure have teased him about whether or not he’d forgotten how to kiss. This was your first ‘real’ intimate moment with him for months and months, and you were right, it was about getting to know each other again; even with the familiarity of this feeling. Like a jigsaw piece being put into place once more. You knew you fit right with him, you were happy to be back where you belonged. *** Inevitably his hands didn’t stay put, and you ended up laying back on your couch, his hands roaming over your body. You knew that it would be a few days before you actually slept together: you weren’t joking about him sleeping on the floor. If Malcolm slept in bed he was restless, and there was too much to get used to. Room temperature, mattress, sheets and you��� sharing a bed with someone else. There’d be a lot of suggestive remarks and a bunch of almosts, like this one. Or forgetting himself for a moment over morning coffee, where he’d push you up against the kitchen counter - but you had to let Malcolm ground himself back on… well, the ground - a normal altitude - before he’d really be up for anything like that. Still, you weren’t about to lie - you kinda wanted to take that shirt off him when his hands were cupping your ass or grazing your bare skin where your own shirt had ridden up. You’d missed him a lot, and besides having him back, you had none of that other ‘normal’ stuff to get used to. You knew you had to be patient; but steamy making out on the couch was a good substitute, for sure. As you’d been doing this, the weather outside had been steadily changing; and you’d noticed the light changes in the room, but both of you had been far too absorbed in other things. However, when you paused for breath for just a second, both panting - clearly just not able to get enough of each other after months of waiting to kiss again (especially when the lingering memory of the last one was always the kiss goodbye, and hurt like hell) - you looked up to the window and immediately gasped. Flakes of snow were already falling; although not so thick yet, you could already see it settling over the grass and sidewalks… and on the road. You leapt off him, excitement rushing through you as you ran to the window. Immediately full-on child-like wonder. Malcolm stared at the snow for a minute and grimaced, hadn’t he just left enough of this? Why did it have to follow him here!? “What!? You’re kidding right!? You could be making out with me!” “Mal! Malcolm!!! Oh my gosh look-! LOOK! It’s settling!!” Snow had never lost its charm with you. It made you think of too many good memories: staying out in it and playing with your friends and family until your face was red and fingers and toes freezing, long romantic walks you had taken with past lovers, and ice-skating, you’d had skiing trips too, and some of your best snow memories truly were half way up a mountain with the Bench Brothers. But snow meant so much more: cuddling up under blankets with hot drinks and watching trashy movies - or good ones - both with family and the person you loved the most. And you loved those quieter moments with Malcolm too, even though he was so high energy. Those moments where there was nowhere to go, and nowhere to be but than with each other. You were grinning to yourself as you sprinted out of the room and up the stairs. Malcolm sighed to himself: “Oh my god- Y/N! What are you doing!?!” “Getting dressed!” You yelled back, rushing around to pull on a good coat, hat, scarf, boots and gloves. (Only because you knew Malcolm was about to lecture you on safety precautions, even when he sometimes sat out there on K2 in literally nothing.) As you finished getting ready and approached the window again the flurry was crazy - and you could barely see out of it for flakes of snow, building up nicely on the ground. That only made you even more excited, Malcolm looked from the snow to you and back. “Now before you go crazy, just remember, it may look nice but it’s a death trap!” “Malcolm. I’m not 10,000 feet up a mountain in thin air with no oxygen, will you stop lecturing me!?!” “You haven’t seen what I’ve seen! There is nothing good about that white stuff-! Even if you think it looks pretty!” That gave you pause for thought for a second - though truly only a second - had he seen bodies out there on his expeditions? Had he seen people die out there…? You shook that thought clear of your mind, now wasn’t the time to think on things like that. “- Then there’s frostbite! Hypothermia-! Heck, even a common cold is a bad thing; I don’t want you to get sick!” You reached for the door and he wedged himself between you and it, “What about when it pelts you in the face, huh!? Cold and painful! What about when your skin gets all dried and cracked and you start bleeding-!?” “Malcolm. Will you please shut up! I’m not listening…!” You yanked the door open, moving him, “You don’t have to come out, but you’re not spoiling it for me!!” By the time you had run to the end of your drive the cold air was already filling your lungs and you couldn’t help but laugh, tipping your head back to catch the snowflakes on your tongue. The neighbourhood kids were all outside now, parents on close watch, also shrieking and laughing and enjoying the first - but certainly not the last - heavy snowfall of the year. You didn’t know what Malcolm was getting at - couldn’t he just see the good side of snow, for once? You were a far cry away from what he was used to; out here everything was safe. You had a nice warm house to return to, what was his problem? Malcolm stood in the doorway, shaking his head at you and still grumbling to himself about the falling snow, before he closed it to keep the cold out and returned to the window to watch you. But as you stayed outside, admiring the scenery and greeting your neighbours, and passers-by - some of whom were asking how Malcolm was, considering they’d seen him come home (and of course you’d been talking about this day for the entire week) - you started walking up and down, and talking and laughing. Some of the kids were even throwing snowballs at you and you had no trouble joining in once or twice. That laugh was so infectious to watch, the way you lit up like that, the unbridled joy of being able to once again be stuck in a pretty winter scene and reminisce, the cold heightening the red in your cheeks. Malcolm found himself smiling and knew he was immediately done for. “Aw. Shit.” He laughed to himself, “Dammit… she’s gone and done it now…” Trudging outside and pretending that he wasn’t just so happy to see you happy, Malcolm put on his best grumpy face. You ran to him, but couldn’t help laughing at the fact he was dressed like he was about to attempt a summit climb. “Sooo it’s not all that bad huh!?” His eyes narrowed, “You’re kiddin’, I’m worried about you! Helloooo, bad things happen in the cold, weren’t you listening!?” “No. Not at all.” You gave him a teasing grin before trying to kiss that grumpy look off his face. It half worked, and Malcolm couldn’t help but grin before he tried to make himself look stoic again. You looped your arms through his as you walked slowly to the end of the drive and he also watched the kids rolling around in the snow and shrieking and having a good time. Growing up in Australia he didn’t have a lot to compare to this, but he could draw enough comparisons from other childhood memories to know what this must feel like for them. You nudged him; “See! The kids enjoy it, why can’t you!?” He pretended to grumble again, “Yeah, they’re kids. They’d hate it if they worked in it too!!” “I bet if you asked them, they’d love your job.” He laughed, “Great, they can have it and I’ll stay here with you-!” “Well, if you could be so persuaded…!” You leant into him and Malcolm turned to you with an eyebrow raised, ‘just jo-king.’ Although you caught that tiny smile lifting at the corners of his mouth as your joy bled into him. Malcolm could only admit, he was very happy to be out in the snow with you. The way the snow fell and settled on your coat, the tiny flakes in your eyelashes, and where it was melting and leaving sparkles on your skin. You were admiring the same on him; how it settled in his dark hair, and how the ones in his eyelashes were really bringing out that deep brown in his eyes, that were already getting accentuated against that white background. You looked back to the neighbourhood for a moment, glad that the cold could hide your blush. It was very cute; this winter scene just looked like one of those little painted postcards you’d often seen sold around this time of year.  

You didn’t get to admire the cold for long and almost screeched in surprise as you were hit in the face with just a little bit of snow. The cold against your skin was shocking. You spluttered as you turned back to your boyfriend; “What was that for!?” Malcolm smirked, raising his eyebrow slightly, “Oh, I’m sorry, I thought you liked snow!?” You shoved him, which only made him laugh. “Not when your boyfriend is throwing it in your face like that!” “Just admit I’m right!” You swayed backwards, arms folded, look on your face set hard: “To you?! About snow!? Never!” This scrabbling around in the snow continued for a few minutes, until you were both flushed and giggling. You wiped droplets of water from your face, still not ready to concede his point about snow. He knew you weren’t going to either, rubbing the ice from his own cheeks - he was still right about it hurting as it pelted your face, though. You couldn’t help but sigh wistfully as you turned back to him, voice barely above a murmur. “I’m so happy you’re home to see this. And the good things about snow.” Malcolm’s smile almost became a knowing smirk as he hesitated for just a second: “Yeah yeah, what do you really want?” With the snow falling around him like that and the little look on his face, now his cheeks were flushing too you couldn’t help but take the tiny step to kiss him once more. He was only too happy to reciprocate and you shuffled a little closer to his body warmth, already looking forward to getting cozy back in doors afterwards. Even if he’d probably give you some kind of ‘I told you so!’ lecture. Right now you got to kiss him in snowfall and it got to be romantic - no-one's brother yelling at you to get a room, or other idiots at camp wolf-whistling at you (or getting emotional at not having their other halves right there. Which Malcolm said he never did, but how were you to know. You bet he did, secretly.) You just got to kiss him and enjoy the moment, and the soft snowfall. Suddenly you realised that Malcolm had snaked his hands under your coat and your shirt and he didn’t have gloves, AND he’d just been throwing snow around. And you shrieked as his freezing fingers touched your warm skin. “MAL! NO!” But it was too late, he grabbed you, laughing, putting his cold hands on every bit of skin he could possibly reach. You were screaming at him, but also howling with laughter as you tried to wiggle from his grip. “OH GOD! STOP!” You wouldn’t be surprised if the whole neighbourhood was watching you now and shaking their heads, muttering ‘crazy kids’. “Only if you admit snow is bad-!” “Shut up, you are so enjoying this!”

He dropped you back to the floor, chuckling, before he cleared his throat and folded his arms. “A’right. I concede. Probably about as appreciative of snow now than I’ve been in years.” Your face lit up again and you opened your mouth, taking a deep breath for your loud ‘I KNEW IT’ but he held his hand up to stop you, “But only because you’re here.” You immediately deflated, and knew you couldn’t fight him saying something so sweet, instead you punched his arm, “You sap.” Malcolm’s face became unnaturally serious; “You best be careful, Y/N, my hands are still cold!” “NO!” You were screaming again as he grabbed you, but this time he simply lifted you up into his arms, “You drop me in the snow, Malcolm, I swear to god.” “Pretty sure you wouldn’t have a problem with that-!” He grinned; but you weren’t about to let him win twice. Instead you looped your arms around his neck once more touching your nose to his. “Ah-! Now you’re cold-!” But he reciprocated. “I best think about getting you in doors.” “Just shut up about how bad the snow is, and kiss me already!” “Aw, the snow isn’t that bad… really… If I get to share the infectious joy of it with you. And maybe get you warm every so often.” Malcolm grinned, with a cheeky wink, before once more obliging you with a sweet kiss. Oh, you were so glad to have him home.

---

Thank you for requesting!! Thank you so much for reading! 😘😘

#All... /all/ my holiday fics have a 'sex' element to them and at this point I'm like... we're rolling with this! #Malcolm Bench #Ben Mendelsohn #Malcolm Bench x Reader #Vertical Limit #202 #Cassadee #Cassi #linzi writes #Linzi Writes Requests #Holiday Fic Requests #I got the death reference in because I remember you talking about this in one of our discussions! #I mean its all poking fun at Tom McLaren #And clearly one big reference to Dear Life too! #;) #Number of Xmas fics I have got Mendos siblings names wrong: 2 #Both this year #RIP Russell and Sarah I don't know who you are #It's like the one fact check I didn't do and paid for it twice #Whatever #over it and edited!

[hayleyarts]

Broken Without You (Jasper Hale x OC) | chapter 1

Author’s note: Hello! i don’t normally post that many stories or much on here but I’ve been working on a Jasper Hale fan-fiction to try and redeem him and show my favourite cowboy vamp some love. Anyways, this story contains swears and will have some graphic scenes referring to mental health and past trauma. I’ll give more specific warnings where they apply. Also, each chapter is inspired by some music; so if you want to listen to that particular song while you read, you can but you don’t necessarily have to :)

Summary: Eleanor Rae lives in a town where there are seemingly no secrets, but what happens when a certain vampire takes an interest in her. She’ll soon find out she’s not the only one with secrets. Will he be able to put her broken pieces back together? Can she fix him in return?

Word count: 2334

Read Part 2 Here 

Track 01 - Eleanor Rigby by Alice Cooper

Forks, Washington; the rainiest town in the United States. The benefits of living in a rainy town is the fact that the forests nearby are some of the greenest you’ll ever see. The cons of living in a rainy town as small as this one is how there are no secrets; everyone knows everyone for the most part. Therefore, when people see me: Eleanor Rae, they immediately know my back story. Of course, you’re not from Forks, so how would you know who the hell I am, or what my story is. 

The Rae family, also known as my mother Cecilia and myself, lives in a small cottage on the edge of town. Our small, 2-bedroom place is just close enough to town to be considered still in Forks, but with the town being so small, you’re simply ten minutes from all needed amenities. One such amenity is the hospital that my mother works at and the high school I’ve been attending for 2 years. At school I’m known as the strange girl with headphones glued to their head. Everyone has stopped trying to talk with me and try to become my friend, because I’m just ‘too weird’. Outcasts in small towns are rare; no secrets are allowed. Thus, why I envied the Cullen family. 

The Cullen’s were a family that became the talk of the town since freshman year of high school mostly because they broke the unwritten rule of small towns; they had secrets. No one knew what these secrets were, but everyone knew there was something they were hiding. The patriarch was the best doctor Forks has ever seen; Dr. Carlisle Cullen. He and his wife manage to take care of six adopted teenage kids; who in their right mind would do that to themselves? Their kids are a completely different anomaly. Even though they are all adoptive siblings, they happen to look extremely similar; blemish free complexion, model-like beauty, and this sense of grace that normal teenagers definitely don’t have. The thing that bothers me the most is that after a year or so, everyone stopped paying close attention to the strange family, but I didn’t. I mean, it’s hard not to when they’re all so beautiful, especially the brother with the wavy golden hair that frames his face perfectly. He was the one I was the most drawn to, and I don’t really know why. There was something about his presence that calmed me; God I wanted to talk to him. But how does one speak to someone as gorgeous as Jasper Cullen? 

I climb out of my Jeep, my feet planting on the cement of the parking lot. I look up at the building, sighing softly to myself; Junior Year of high school. A lot of people tend to stress about senior year, but to me, junior year is the one that matters. You need to figure yourself out because next year you’re applying for colleges. If you don’t have yourself figured out before senior year, then you’re royally fucked. I take my time to cross the lot before entering the school; the white tiled floor already scuffed from the various footwear. The lockers remained the same, even some of the posters on the walls were the same. The only thing that really seems to change is the people; some with different haircuts or new clothing. Different people smiling and laughing with new friend groups, some people missing because they moved during the summer. Growth spurts from the now sophomores, and then the completely new group of people that no one from the older grades recognized; the new freshmen. The one thing that stayed the same among the students, is no matter how much they laughed and joked with their friends; at the end of the day, we’re all lonely people. 

I follow the flow of people as I make my way to my first class of the day: history. I always dreaded history class because of the teachers that usually instruct the class. Why is it that every boring and/or almost ready to retire man teaches history class? If someone exciting taught the class, I might actually like it more. I arrive to the room, flags of various countries littered over the open door and students were already finding their seats. Luckily the seat in the far back corner by the window was vacant; that’s where I always try to sit. I like that seat because its far enough back that if you doze off in class no one really notices, and if you want to zone out rather than listen to the teacher, then you have the window to stare out of. 

Once I sit down, I take the time to pull my supplies out of my bag. All I tend to use is a notebook and pens while everyone else pulls out tablets and laptops; call me old-fashioned. I flip to a fresh page in the notebook when a voice pulls me away from my task. The accent clearly southern and extremely polite.

“Excuse me ma’am, is anyone sitting here?” I look up and I’m immediately met with the eyes that resemble the most expensive topaz gems; glittering underneath the fluorescent lights. He raises a brow as he gestures to the desk adjacent to me, “Ma’am?”

“Yeah… sorry,” I blush, snapping out of my daze, “There’s no one sitting there, go ahead.” He smiles at my answer as he makes himself comfortable, or well, as comfortable you can on a plastic chair. He pulls out his own notebook and pens, preparing for the class that’s about to begin. I couldn’t help myself from admiring his movements. His pale hands move with more grace than I could ever; placing the pens gently down on the wood of the desk, making sure they were ready when needed to take notes. My eyes didn’t stop there; they wandered from his hands to his choice of clothing. It’s not every day you get to sit this close to a member of the Cullen family, I plan on taking advantage of this rare moment. His clothing was simple but coordinated; his grey sweater with brown buttons matching the brown colouring of his dress pants. The one thing that stood out was his choice of footwear: cowboy boots. They were legitimate brown and black leather cowboy boots, and damn did they look worn in. 

I snap my eyes away from him before he could notice my staring, paying my attention back to the rain falling outside. Its then when Mr. Henderson stomps in the room and slams his folder down on his desk. He seemed about as thrilled about the first day of school as everyone else in this room. He began his lecture the same as every other first day lecture; the expectations of the class, the policies and rules and what he expects from us as students in his class. This isn’t what I dislike about the first day of school, what I hate are the icebreaker activities that the teachers force you to partake in.

“Okay class, for the rest of the period I’m going to have you and someone next to you discuss the answers to these various questions.” His monotone voice explains while handing out a worksheet covered in various questions. Students quickly pair off, some actually participating in the exercise while others begin discussing what they did during the summer. 

“Would you like to be my partner?”

I raise a brow at the southern voice breaking my observations, “What?”

“For the exercise?” He mimics my expression.

“Right… sure.” I blush, chuckling awkwardly.

“I’m Jasper, by the way. Jasper Hale.” He smiles politely.

“Hale?”

He chuckles, “Yeah, my sister Rosalie and I kept our last names.” 

I nod, taking in the new information. I had no idea that he had a different last name. I always assumed that because they were adopted by Dr. Cullen, they all had the same last name. 

“I’m Eleanor… Eleanor Rae.” I smile, turning to face him, “But my mom calls me Ellie.”

“What do your friends call you?” He raises a brow.

“Um… I guess Ellie?” I shrug, “I don’t really have any friends.” I look down at the worksheet, reading through the questions. Most of them were related to history class, some were about life goals, and school related questions. 

“You don’t have friends?” I glance up at him as he asks his question, his brows furrowed. 

“Not really. I like to be in my own little world I guess.” I shrug, “Kind-of similar to your family in that way.”

“How is that similar to my family?” 

“Well, you and your family keep to themselves, so do I.” 

He chuckles, shrugging, “I suppose,” He looks down at the questions, reading the first one off, “What are your goals for after school?”

“Um…” I furrow my brows thinking about the question. What are my plans? I haven’t really started thinking about where exactly I’ll be in roughly two years; after graduation and when I’m supposed to have my life figured out. I hope one of my goals for after I graduate would to attend college and take classes in psychology or philosophy; wanting to learn more about myself in the process. Another goal I eventually want to accomplish is leaving this small town; starting a new life in a new town where no one knows who I am, maybe take some time off and travel the world. Of course, I don’t say any of this to him, instead I respond with, “Probably go to college or something. Get good grades, you know?”

He nods, “That’s what the teachers want us to say.” His face slowly forms a smirk, “I feel like there’s more you want to say.”

I roll my eyes, my own face phasing into a smirk, “Maybe,” I lean closer to him, “But I’d like to hear your answer first.”

He chuckles, “Well, one of my goals is to settle down eventually. Find someone who understands me.”

I blink, “How romantic.” I reply sarcastically with a chuckle. 

“Don’t judge darlin’.” He chuckles along with me. His pet-name catches me off guard, the southern drawl dripping from the word, “Now, give me your real answer.”

“Well I’d love to travel, and maybe start a new life somewhere.” I shrug, “Some place where no one knows everyone else.” I lean back in my chair, crossing my arms over my chest. 

“And you judged my answer.” He raises a brow playfully as I blush. 

“Well, both of our answers were cheesy,” I glance back down to the paper with a sigh, “These questions are also lame and cheesy.”

“Then let’s make our own questions.” He retorts, “What…” he pauses to think then continues his question, “What is your favourite movie?”

“Really?”

Jasper laughs, “It’s a valid question. Mine is Pride and Prejudice. Either that or The Good, The Bad and The Ugly.”

I chuckle, thinking about his answers. They’re both older movies, and one an even older novel. To be honest, those movies seem to match him perfectly. He seems like a gentleman kind of guy, and extremely old fashioned in his mannerisms and in the way he speaks. Not only that, but the western matches his god-awful cowboy boots. 

“Well, probably Jaws or The Breakfast Club.” I shrug, “I’ve seen both of them too many times to count so they’re probably my favourites.”

He nods at my response, “Both excellent movies. Very different though.”

I blink, “Well, your mood changes therefore the things you enjoy watching or listening to at any given moment doesn’t necessarily stay the same.” 

He narrows his eyes at my words. It was like he was surprised by my answer, and that he knew something I didn’t know. He didn’t say anything to my answer, but I could tell he wanted to. He fell silent as the class continues to have their various discussions; his golden eyes shifting from group to group. 

“What’s your favourite colour?” His eyes snap back to me at my question.

“It changes all the time.” He smirks, his answer mimicking mine from previously.

“Well what is it today?” I smirk back, raising a brow. I watch as his eyes look around the room, as if to find the answer throughout the room.

After what feels like hours, his eyes finally land on my own, “Probably green.” I blush, looking away from him, letting my dark hair fall in front of my green hued eyes. I didn’t know why he was trying to flirt with me, I mean… I’m me. Why on earth would Jasper Cull–Hale want anything to do with me? “What’s your favourite?” He tries to get me to look back at him. 

“Red or burgundy.” I mumble, glancing up at the clock; only five more minutes of class left, and, in this moment, I wasn’t sure if I wanted these last five minutes to last forever, or be finished in seconds. Jasper makes me feel differently and I’m not sure if I can pin-point why. 

“Why those?” He raises a brow. I’ve never pondered why I liked the warm colour before. Maybe it was because it symbolized various emotions like passion, love or anger. Maybe I liked the colour red because when I wear red garments of clothing, it complements my pale complexion well. Or maybe it’s because it reminds me of the red flowers in my mother’s garden outside our cottage home; roses, dahlias, and peonies planted in various patterns.  

When the bell rang, signalling the end of class, I only then realized that I didn’t answer the question; thinking of an answer quickly as I gather my supplies so I could move to my next class in my schedule, “Probably because it’s familiar.” I mumble as I leave the class. I only take a moment to glance back at him momentarily; seeing his confused expression before I join the sea of other students in the hallway.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #jasper hale #jasper hale x oc #jasper hale fanfiction #twilight renessaince #twilight reimagined #writing #creative writing #fanfiction #oc

[designerdesign]

7 Best Colour Combination For Living Room

Adding shading with paint is a fast and simple approach to add style and character to a living room. Regardless of whether your family room is a desert spring of quiet or home to a house loaded with youngsters, nothing can change a space like paint. Investigate these splendid living room colour schemes thoughts to motivate your enlivening plan.

Shading (regardless of whether you're utilizing neutrals) ought to be the principal thing to consider when beginning to refurbish. Guarantee your picked tints function admirably in your room by applying tester paint onto sheets of white paper, at that point attaching them onto each wall you're considering utilizing that tone on.

You can leave to observe the paint combination for the hall for few days before you finalize the paint. The observation of the light affecting the paint throughout the day and their coexistence with other elements in the home.

In case not sure about the best colour combination for the living room an always go with the pre-selected paint palette from your favourite paint brand.

Also here is the list of Seven colour paint combination for the hall.

The Pure Shade of White

White is an entirely sacrificial paint conceal, giving all the light and energy while mirroring the consideration somewhere else. A pure shade of white is an easy pick in colours and you can easily accessorize your entire home in no time just by adding the contrasting colours. Only go for white if you are sure about yourself for not messing up the walls and especially with kids around its a big ‘NO’

White can be combined with any primary colours, black grey pastels or even gold will add warmth to the room.

A white room accented with popping yellow wall art and bright cushions.

Harmony of Earth and Sky

A vibrant living room with a bold palette of brown, turquoise and white will show how you embrace earth and sky. These colours will create harmony, the unique shade of brown in walls and flooring will create warmth and the turquoise shade give that pop to the brown colour and create some drama. A white couch can balance out the whole theme.

Cream and Coffee Brown Combination 

An unbeatable combination of Coffee Brown and Cream is soothing to the soul. The earthy brown tone is soothing and comforting. Brown colours of clay and wood balance and neutralize with Cream colour. The mix of cream-hued wall with light or dull earthy coloured tones is ideal for warm and inviting room enlivening. Regardless of whether you are home arranging to sell your property or making a quiet retreat for yourself, the delicate cream and earthy coloured inside shading plans are alluring decisions for exquisite and agelessly current room plan. 

Sand and Sea beach love

Regardless of whether you live near the coast or in a landlocked state, seashore tones painted on your dividers can right away cause your home to feel like a country estate. And keeping in mind that seaside tones are for the most part enlivened by the ocean (think blues and greens) and the sand (light natural tones), there is a wide assortment of conceals that draw motivation from the seashore. From nightfall's to coral to the profound blues of the sea, there are unlimited approaches to summon the sensation of the seashore all through your home.

Golden Yellow

Yellow may seem like a strong shading decision from the start, yet it's in reality flexible. It's striking, certain, however, it can likewise cause your space to feel a lot more radiant and brilliant. Yellow-painted walls add energy and good faith to any room. Simply recall that immersed yellows can be solid, one reason more brilliant yellows are regularly utilized for emphasizing colours, while quieted and light yellow paints turn out better for a whole room.

Go, Black

At the point when you're thinking about painting your wall black, it's imperative to initially pick which surfaces to paint. This can be your walls or different components like trim or entryways. While black paint can glance refined in rooms, all things considered, it can make a room excessively dull or uninviting if you don't paint the appropriate surfaces.

If you are unsure where to paint black always go with the accent wall. In a little space, a black complement wall matched with three lighter dividers in white or cream can cause it to appear to be roomier.

Twilight Grey 

Grey is an impartial, adjusted tint that crosses a range of shades. At the hotter end, slate grey, dark taupe and smoky grey make a tranquil climate, while cooler shades like a bird, shellfish and pearl cause spaces to feel splendid and extensive. On account of its relationship with nature (think turbulent skies, difficult situations, rocks in a lake), dim likewise functions admirably with common materials like wood and stone.

The present paints are, indeed, about common sense. White completions are less delicate than previously and matts, more wipeable. All paints are less foul than they used to be, and the eco-accommodating options currently offer a vigorous covering just as being socially mindful. 

Just, there is something for each surface, each room and each customer. Without a doubt, a few tones do travel every which way, and some of the time brands show up or vanish from the contribution in the enormous DIY stores, yet most would agree that the shading decision is as yet monstrous. What's more, on the off chance that you can't see it on the racks, have it blended for you in whatever finish takes your extravagant.

Read more on the new trend in fabric | paint | wallpapers 

#wall painting #wall paint #interiordesign

[bookerandy]

kaysanova - they adopt some kids after realizing they’ve lost their immortality/one of them gets injured and doesn’t heal

I’m so sorry this took so long! I was going to add more, but haven’t had the time these past few days and decided to just add this part. Thank you for being patient and for sending this prompt! I had a lot of fun writing it.

If I end up writing more, I’ll reblog this and add to it! Also wtf you can’t add read more?? On the app???

-

Thankfully, it hadn’t been a big wound. It had only needed two stiches and Nile had taught herself how to treat their wounds when it happened to Andy. But it wasn’t really the wound that hurt and Nicky knew that.

They had never been without each other. Not even in the beginning, when they had killed each other over and over again. They had always had each other. It had always been the two of them against the world. Not anymore.

Nicky sat on the edge of the bathtub. Nile had crouched in front of him, as she cleaned the healing wound. She talked, but Nicky didn’t listen. It was one of the few times he didn’t listen. He adored her, it was almost like having his baby sister back.

They hadn’t talked about it, even though it had been months now. Nicky knew why, but he wanted to talk about it.

“And then Andy took me to the church downtown”, Nile continued, dabbing the wound with some antibiotics. “Have you been? It was really nice, actually. She even let me pray and-...”

The bathroom door opened. Joe stood there, casually leaning against the doorframe. He had a small smile on his lips.

“Would you give us a moment, Nile? Andy’s trying to cook, you might want to give her a hand.”

Nile glanced up at Nicky as if to ask him if it was alright, and Nicky nodded. He gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze.

“Don’t move, I still need to add a plaster.”

Nile passed Joe and Joe closed the door behind her. For just a moment, Joe stood by the door and Nicky sat on the edge of the tub and they didn’t even look at each other.

“I’m sorry”, Joe said, finally. “I’ve ignored it, I’ve ignored you and I’m sorry.”

Nicky stood. He gently took both of Joe’s hands in his own and held them. He searched for something to say, but in every language he knew there was nothing he could say that would make this hurt any less.

“I love you”, he said, instead. “And I don’t want you to hurt when I’m gone.”

Joe embraced him in a hug and they stood there for a long time. Nicky wasn’t sure how long, but it did make him feel better.

“I’ve been thinking”, Joe pulled back enough to have a look at him. “Do you remember what you said, that first night?”

“I don’t think I understand, Joe…”

Joe led him back to the tub and sat down. Nicky did the same. Joe grabbed his hand as soon as he did and pulled out his phone. He only held it, though.

“The first night we spent together. We talked about our families and you told me about the girl you’d marry. Do you remember?”

Nicky pulled his hand away.

“I am not leaving you!”

Joe was quick to grab his hand again and Joe’s soft fingers calmed his raging heart, if only a little.

“I don’t expect you to. Listen to me, please”, Joe spoke Italian now. Despite the 1000 years that had passed, he still spoke with a slight accent. It was barely audioble, but it was Joe. It was his Joe.

“You told me you didn’t want to marry her”, Joe continued, still in Italian. Nicky suspected it was to make sure Nile didn’t understand if she stood just outside the door, and to make Nicky feel a little more at home. It worked. “You told me the only thing you’d want from that marriage was children. Do you remember?”

Nicky’s heart beat so hard in his chest now that it physically hurt. They had agreed years ago that it wasn’t going to work with children. Even before Booker, they had both decided they didn’t want to outlive their children. Hell, they hadn’t even adopted a puppy for the same reason and that often happened to normal people.

“I’ve been in contact with a social worker”, Joe said, as Nicky slowly sat down next to him again. “And she has a little girl we could have. She only wants to meet you, that’s all.”

“Joe…”

“I mean it, Nicky. I want this and I know you want this.”

Nicky thought for a second and squeezed Joe’s hand.

“Okay.”

The office was brightly lit and had a bunch of kids’ drawings on the walls. It smelled faintly of the flowers in a bouquet by the window. The walls were yellow and the furniture was white. Scattered on the floor, there were toys and stuffed animals.

“You must be Joe”, the woman by the desk stood and held out her hand. “We spoke on the phone.”

Nicky watched as Joe took her hand. She was elderly and had a very kind face. Her hair was pulled up in a neat hairdo.

“And this must be Nicky”, the woman said, when she turned to shake Nicky’s hand. “I’m Rose. I’ve heard you’re interested in getting a little girl?”

Nicky nodded with a bright smile on his lips. He felt silly, but he hadn’t been this happy for a very long time. Since Andy lost her immortality, it had been difficult to find something to keep them going.

“We have a three year old here. Her name is Ava and she is born here in the States. Would you like to sit?”

Nicky and Joe sat by her desk. She offered them coffee and talked to them, asking questions and telling them about Ava. Nicky was about to burst, when she finally asked when they wanted to see her. The woman left the room and Nicky turned to Joe. Joe looked just as happy as Nicky felt.

“I can’t believe we’re going to meet her”, Nicky took Joe’s hand, holding it for a moment.

The woman returned just a few minutes later, with the little girl resting on her hip. Ava had black, kinky hair and big, chestnut eyes. She wore a bright pink dress and a pair of white shoes. She also held a stuffed pony almost as big as herself. She was perfect.

Nicky quickly stood when Rose walked inside the room and let the little girl down on the floor. She held the pony close to her chest and looked up at Nicky with wide eyes. He crouched next to her and waved his hand, just a little.

“Hello, there”, he said, gently. “I’m Nicky.”

“I’m Ava”, the girl said and held out the pony. “This is Pinky.”

Nicky petted the pony and smiled. Joe joined him on the floor and greeted the girl.

“Should we play?” Nicky sat down and picked up one of the stuffed toys.

They played. Nicky wasn’t sure how long they stayed, but he had a warm and fuzzy feeling in his chest. Ava stood with Rose and waved them off when it was time to leave.

They returned two weeks later and signed all the papers. Ava got to come home with them and she was only the first of many.

“You’re gonna get to meet your aunties now”, Nicky told Ava, as Joe unlocked the door to the safe house. They walked inside and even before the door closed behind them, Nile came running.

“Look at her!” She said and she beamed. “Hello, Ava!”

Ava shyly his her face against Nicky’s shoulder and he laughed gently, petting her back.

“This is Nile”, he told her, but let her hide. “She’s your aunt.”

Slowly, Ava turned back to have a look at Nile. Nile looked as if Christmas had come early.

“Andy is in the kitchen. She’s making dinner.”

Joe gently took Ava from Nicky’s arms, as Nicky undressed. They had gotten her gifts to open as soon as they had eaten and Andy had promised to make her favourite (even though no one but Andy knew what that was) and Nile had made baklava the day before. Even Booker had sent Ava a gift. Nile and Andy kept in contact with him, even though it was “cheating”.

Andy stood by the oven in the kitchen. She had a towel thrown over her shoulder and her hair had grown just below her ears. She had dressed up, because she “had to make a good impression.”

“Aunt Andy”, Joe called, and waved to the woman. Ava did the same, although still shyly. “Look at our daughter!”

When Andy turned around, her cheeks were flushed and she looked just as exciting as Nile, even though she clearly tried to hide it.

“Hi there”, Andy said, as she quickly threw the towel on the counter. She held out her hand, but changed her mind a second later and waved instead. “I’m Andy.”

“My name is Ava”, Ava said with a shy smile and struggled to get down on the floor. Joe let her down.

The table setting was all in pink and blue, except for a big wine glass in yellow plastic. Ava’s name was written in big, circular letters on the glass.

Ava waddled to her seat and Andy helped her up, but then quickly took a step back and sat on the other side of the table. Joe and Nicky quickly joined at the table and Nile came inside ten minutes later with a paper crown and placed it on Ava’s head.

“Welcome home, Ava!” Nile said, as she sat next to Andy. Andy served them all (turned out her favourite was pasta and sauce, even though Nicky didn’t actually believe that).

They ate and Ava slowly began talking and wasn’t as shy as she had when they first arrived. She giggled and ate enough food for a horse. Nicky’s heart hurt, that was just how adorable she was.

“Now”, Joe said, when they had all finished their seconds and thirds. “Ava has to open her gifts!”

Ava turned to him with big, bright eyes.

“I get gifts?” She asked. “Daddy, do I get gifts?”

Nicky laughed softly and nodded as a reply. Joe snuck up behind Ava and picked her up from the chair. She cheered, and they all joined Joe as he walked to the living room.

If there had been a tree and some more lights, it would have looked a lot like Christmas did when they celebrated together. Wrapped gifts littered the room and a banner spelled the words “welcome home!” Just above the television. Ava already sat in the middle of the gifts.

Nile pulled out her phone and snapped a picture and Andy didn’t even tell her off.

“Andy…” Nicky gently touched her shoulder. “We said a few. You’ll spoil her.”

Joe laughed and Nile sat next to Ava on the floor. Ava looked around the room in disbelief.

“Don’t worry, there’s one for you and Joe.”

When Nile gave Ava one of the presents, she quickly ripped the paper and held up a colouring book and pencils Nile had gotten. Nicky and Joe ended up together on the couch and Andy sat in the other corner. She watched Ava with an adoration Nicky hadn’t seen in the woman for decades.

Ava unwrapped another gift. She picked up the plastic sword in both hands and swung it around, as she let out a roar. Nile laughed softly violently she fell to the floor.

“Andy!” Joe complained, but he was quick to join his daughter on the floor. Ava hit Joe with the sword and he immediately dropped to the ground, moaning in pretend pain.

“I’m the princess!” Ava announced, even though the paper crown had slipped from her head. When she had hit both Nicky, Nile and Andy, too (and they had all “died”) Ava returned to the pile of gifts for her.

She unwrapped gift after gift. Ballet shoes. More colouring books. Dolls. Stuffed animals. A tutu (which she quickly pulled on and then hit everyone with the sword again). Enough dresses to dress an army of Girl Scouts.

When there was only one gift left, Ava curled up on the couch with Andy and held it out for her, as if to ask Andy to unwrap it for her. Nicky’s heart melted and he could see just how much it touched Andy. She unwrapped it, slowly, as if she was sure Ava would tear it from her hands again, but she didn’t. Andy pulled a plastic dinosaur from the paper. She held it out to Ava, who shook her head.

“You need a toy, too! We have to play together!”

Andy’s eyes got teary and she quickly pulled one last gift from behind her back. She held out it for Ava.

“It’s for papa and daddy. Would you give it to them?”

Ava nodded and turned to her parents and held out the gift as if it was the most valuable thing she had ever held in her little hands.

“You unwrap it, love”, Nicky said, as he wrapped both arms around Joe. Joe took the gift and unwrapped it. When Nicky saw it, he actually began crying.

Joe held a camera in his hands.

“Don’t cry, daddy!” Ava jumped down from the couch and hugged Nicky and he picked her up from the floor and hugged her right back. Her small body felt perfect against his, as if she was meant to be there. And Nicky knew that she was. She was supposed to be theirs. It was destiny, just like it had been destiny that Joe and Nicky had met.

“Andromache”, Joe’s voice was muffled and broke towards the end of her name. “Thank you.”

Nile flopped down between Joe and Andy, pouting.

“Don’t leave me out. I wanna be mushy and cry, too.”

There was an album, too. Even though there were only two pictures in it, so far, it was beautiful. The first picture was of Ava when she was born (Andy wouldn’t tell how she had gotten it) and the second was Ava’s picture from the adoption site. Nile took a few pictures of the room and then way too many pictures of them all together.

Ava became their little gemstone. She was awfully spoiled and got her first, real sword when she turned thirteen. She wasn’t allowed anywhere near missions, but she trained with her aunties as often as she was allowed.

#the old guard #tog #long post #immortal husbands #fanfiction

[backupranger]

7 9 13 n 24 for all your guys marlow >:)

All of the them?????? Thank you :) 7. what is one thing they inherited from their parents, physical or emotional?

Benji Stagback: I think he likely inherited his horn shape from his father and relatively thin (in comparison to the rest of his ex-carpenter body) snout from his mother? he doesn’t like to think about his mother though so he ignores that, focusing on his horn pride.

Padme Svin: I actually had to double check this bc I new I had written it down somewhere, Padme is a minotaur that is similar in looks to an American Milking Devon which she inherited from her parent (Max), where as her younger sister (Ollia) looks like a Guernsey Cow which she inherited from their dad (Herikk)! But Padme did get white patches from Herikk and Ollia got AMD horns. :) Toshek Tanner-Bulen: I don’t think Tosh knows his parents which makes this hard but I think he likes to think about inheriting his brown eyes and dusty blue scales from whoever his parents maybe. Oscar Karmen: Horrible man!! He’s got his mum Citrus’ fur pattern (Tabby cat like) but his other mother Lillian’s nack for making pastry. He’s pretty proud of both but won’t mention it until you ask. Robin Hierra: Tall height from one parent, selflessness from the other, He’s displeased with his height but happy to have something, his selflessness is also his own but he also wants to make his parents proud, but there is no need for royal guards now, so he will settle with being a bodyguard for hire. 9. what would they wear to prom? Benji: A waistcoat but that’s mostly just projection, something muted in colour like biege or brown. Padme: She likes a nice dress, something long and flowy. But she’d probably let the kids pick/have a say so who knows how it would end up. Toshek: A very form fitting suit, usually if he’s not wearing a longsleeved muscle fit shirt he’s wearing a tank top so his suit is a little tight. Something black or grey. Oscar: Not a big fan of social events, would either not go or wear something comforting and casual, like jeans and one of those shirts with a printed bowtie on it. Robin: The whole nine yards, not to far from his usual outfit though. A gold/yellow tux with white and black accents, he’d probably wear make up and put his hair up as well. Maybe a latticed ribbon pattern on his tail.

13. what is their primary love language? (acts of service physical touch etc) Benji: Gift giving, he’s not too bad at whittling and will find any excuse to make a statuette for a friend. Padme: Physical touch, after a while Dorne lets Padme play with her hair and it becomes her favourite thing to do when they have alone time. Toshek: Gift giving! After settling down with Sasha he gets super into baking and can make a mean orange drizzle cake. :)

Oscar: Another gift giving i stg, he’s a bard! (Cringe) and once he actually gets to know a person and is less a repressed 19th century squeaky toy he’d probably be likely to leave little notes of affirmation or poetry. Robin: Physical touch! Robin is repressed in a different sense (why are my catboys (gender neutral) like this?) in that he really does like physical touch but doesn’t get it at all, once given friends he will hold your hand and he will ask for cuddles.

24. how do they cry? what does it look like? (Tino.....)

Most of these are in the context of upset crying but happy crying isn’t too dissimilar, they’re likely just more open/positive about it.

Benji: Cries somewhat loudly, head in their hands complaining that their eyes sting, curls up into a ball somewhat, tail batting heavily against the floor. Padme: Quietly, quickly and always tries to make sure she’s alone, she makes sure she’s standing bc in her head she finds it harder to cry (for long periods) that way, she just looks up and breathes. (On the days Dorne finds them she convinces them to come back to bed and cuddle, perhaps talk too). Toshek: Doesn’t cry often bc while he was sailing with his pirate crew he didn’t want to seem weak, but he generally just finds a small corner, faces the wall and tries to not cry, hands balled into his shirt or around his snout pulling down. (Sasha knows there is no moving him when he’s like this, so he just curls up behind him and hums different songs, ones they heard on their travels together, or the lullabies they sing to their children). Oscar: He cries quietly but aggressively, body heaves and he pulls at his tail a lot, he was taught it was good to cry but he still doesn’t like the feeling unless it’s happy crying, he grabs onto furniture a lot to try and stop his body shaking.

Robin: He’s pretty open about it, though quiet. Flat on his back if possible, heavy breathing and his tail flicks around and poofs out a lot, he tries to focus on things but usually ends up crying without regard, once done he gets up and gets a hot drink, telling himself not to be such a fool.

#Thank you very much!! #this was very fun and now I am sad /jk #Robin Hierra #Padme Svin #Toshek Tanner-Bulen #Oscar Karmen #benji stagback #txt #characters #my characters #house0fsugar #asks #ask meme

[the-end-is-kigh]

Tagged by @go-catch-a-chickn 

1.      what is the colour of your hairbrush? Red.

2.      name a food you never eat? Meat.

3.      are you typically too warm or too cold? Too cold.

4.      what were you doing 45 minutes ago? Finishing off my work for tomorrow.

5.      what’s your favourite candy bar?  That’s tough, it depends on my mood and where I am.. Overall, probably Cadbury’s Marvellous Creations.

6.      have you ever been to a professional sports game? *rolls on the floor laughing*... I live at them. Hockey, football and rygbi.

7.      what is the last thing you said out loud? "Night, love you.”

8.      what is your favourite ice cream? Probably just vanilla.

9.      what was the last thing you had to drink? Pepsi Max

10.  do you like your wallet? Yeah, it’s getting a little battered though.

11.  what is the last thing you ate? Pasta bake.

12.  did you buy any new clothes last weekend? No, I did last week though, I needed some clothes for work.

13.  what’s the last sporting event you watched? I watched Sheffield Wednesday vs. Brentford (football) last night, but the last sporting event I watched live was Cardiff Devils vs. Sheffield Steelers (wtf Sheffield twice) (hockey) on March 6th, literally just before we went into lockdown and hockey got abandoned over here. The whole season has been cancelled and our players have all gone elsewhere, and I am scared and terrified and I miss my boys!!!!

14.  what is your favourite flavour of popcorn? Sweet.

15.  who is the last person you sent a text message to?  My Nan.

16.  ever go camping? Not for a long time, the last time would have been when I worked at Reading festival, so that was like 8 years ago I think.. I like camping, but the weather is always bad here, also James needs electricity when he sleeps (medical condition), so it makes it all more complicated.

17.  do you take vitamins? Haha... yeah, when I remember, so maybe 10 days a year. I really should, I just forget!

18.  do you regularly attend a place of worship? No. Unless we’re counting sports stadiums, because they’re the only places of worship for me.

19. do you have a tan? Not really to be honest, or I guess a little. But it’s been a while since we had sun now, and sadly this year it was only British sun and a tiny balcony.

20.  do you prefer chinese or pizza? I love both, so it depends where I am. If I’m at my parents, Chinese 100%, elsewhere I’d probably go for pizza.

21.  do you drink your soda through a straw? No, unless there’s ice. But I typically ask for no ice.

22.  what colour socks do you usually wear? Black for work (usually with a little star or animal stitched on the top) and literally every colour on the weekend, especially Harry Potter socks.

23.  do you ever drive above the speed limit? I always try to do the speed limit, I don’t purposely speed, but I can drift over.

24.  what terrifies you? Rats, confrontation.. life.

25. look to your left, what do you see? My phone.

26.  what chore do you hate most? Shopping.

27. what do you think of when you hear an Australian accent? My fiancée.

28.  what’s your favourite soda? Pepsi Max

29.  do you go in a fast food place or just hit the drive thru? Go in. I’ve never driven through a drive through myself.

30.  what’s your favourite number? 3

31.  who’s the last person you talked to? My fiancée.

32.  favourite cut of beef? I’m vegetarian. The last time I ate meat I was 11, so it would have been whatever my Nan put on my plate.

33.  last song you listened to? Heaven Is A Halfpipe (If I Die) - OPM

34.  last book you read? I’m currently reading Anne of Green Gables (and a hundred and one other books)

35. favourite day of the week? I don’t really have one, but probably Saturday.

36. can you say the alphabet backwards? If I concentrated, but I don’t... ah, actually, no, probably not.

37.  how do you like your coffee? If it’s coffee, I will drink it. But, I typically have a coffee with oat milk for breakfast and black through the day, but my order when I’m out is usually a cappuccino.

38.  favourite pair of shoes? Blundstones.

39.  time you normally get up? 6am

40.  what do you prefer, sunrise or sunsets? Sunset

41.  how many blankets on your bed? 1

42.  describe your kitchen plates? They’re a pale grey, it was a plain set from Ikea. James likes plain, me, I’m the kind of person who’d have a batman plate, a spideman plate, a baby yoda plate... get this kids plates... y’know the divided ones, that’s what I want. My plate at my parents is cool, it’s white, with a black forest pattern with a deer.

43.  describe your kitchen at the moment? My pasta bake is cooling for lunch tomorrow and the dishwasher is waiting to be unloaded.

44.  do you have a favourite alcoholic drink? JD

45.  do you play cards? Sometimes, but we’re running low on patience for the few two player games we know.

46.  what colour is your car?  White (James went for the standard package).

47.  can you change a tire? I’ve never done it, but I think I could if I had to.

48.  your favourite state? Yeahhh, guessing this is an American one? Don’t know, I’ve never been to the USA. And my country doesn’t have states.

49. favourite job you’ve had? Uh, ask me in a few months.

50. tagging Sorry if any of you’ve been already tagged! @gendryafanwhore, @anniephl, @katlyn1948, @sophemeva and @kelleesioverhere

#Ask #about #me #personal

[jisungsmochi]

fallin’ for you - lee jeno

strangers to friends to lovers oooooo

based off the song ‘Fallin’ For You’ by R5 (references to the song are in italics)

summary: lee jeno was captivated by your unique sense of style, your ability to present yourself as your own individual. after finally becoming your boyfriend, he made it his mission to make it explicitly clear how much he was falling for you.

word count: 3.9k (this may be the longest one i have written oops) 

————————————————————-

[8:43am]

it was an average day. you walked into school with your head held high, uniform in pristine condition. but you couldn’t ignore the amount of eyes that were focused on your lower half. at first you had though that you put on your skirt backwards, but it came to you that they were staring at your feet, in particular your mismatched socks. they were stained with accents of purple and yellow which was a stark contrast to your school colours, navy and maroon. it was intentional. you were probably going to be put into detention if a teacher called you out, but you didn’t mind.

the stares continued, all up until you met with jeno. he laughed in amusement before pulling you in for an embrace

“babe, loving the socks” he complimented

“clearly a lot of people here aren’t fans of it” you roll your eyes

“well i’m a fan, your biggest fan if i say so myself!” he smiled brightly before placing an arm over your shoulders and walking with you.

it amazed you as to how well you and jeno complimented each other. you weren’t as different as you had originally thought. you met him last year, in your PE class.

although you weren’t the most coordinated person, you still tried your best in each sport you played. in particular, volleyball. every time your class would play volleyball, people would ask you before hand if you would join their team. you didn’t think you were that amazing, but you did acknowledge that you had some interest in the game.

[2:15pm]

it was the last period on a rainy friday, when the teacher decided to play an indoor sport, which happened to be volleyball.

you were placed into jeno‘s team, in which the captain of the other team, donghyuck was infuriated due to his attempts to coerce you to be on his team. 

jeno greeted you kindly, shaking your hand before saying “you’re our secret weapon”

you chuckled at his compliment before taking your position.

it was thrilling to be playing, especially when you could hear jeno’s constant praise

“you’re doing so well, y/n! you’re so awesome!” which made you blush, but you played it off as you were getting tired.

after the game had ended, with your team’s victory, jeno chased after you before you headed to the locker rooms.

“hey y/n! i was wondering if you would like to get pizza with me? like after you get changed and everything, but you don’t have to if you’re tired! oh my god you should go rest at home-“

“i’d love to! just give me about 10 minutes!” you smiled at him widely

before heading into the locker rooms.

jeno stood outside nervously rubbing his palms onto his shorts.

donghyuck approached him, before teasing “i can’t believe you actually asked her out! props to you dude!” he winked.

“nah man she probably just thinks i’m treating her for helping us win, it’s no biggie” jeno played it off.

“you’re not fooling me bro, you have heart eyes for her and honestly it’s kinda cute” donghyuck persisted, which made jeno slightly blush.

“she wouldn’t go for me dude, she’s kinda out of my league, don’t you reckon?” jeno nervously stammered.

“you’ll never know unless you try! wow that was hella corny, i’m gonna jet now. have fun and text the group chat, because you sure as hell know i’m texting them everything” he smirked before jogging out of the hall. jeno shook his head in disbelief before being met with you tapping his shoulder.

“ready to go?” you swung your bag over your shoulder and began walking beside him. he nodded in agreement, beginning to talk about how well you did in the game.

[4:02pm]

the pizza parlour was quite busy. plenty of little kids running about, playing some of the gaming machines they had installed. there were families out for dinner, catching up on recent events.

you sat across from lee jeno, who was arguably one of the most handsome boys you had ever seen.

“what’s your least favourite subject?” he asked with gleaming eyes

“probably maths, i just can’t seem to understand it all too well” you shrugged.

he nods before taking a look at your pizza slice that had been left on the plate for quite sometime.

“oh are you not hungry?” he questioned, worried that maybe you didn’t like pizza.

“no no, i am! i just prefer cold pizza? i don’t know, it’s super weird, but i like it” you smile awkwardly, hoping he doesn’t think you’re a complete weirdo.

he starts chuckling softly, “you’re really interesting, you know that?”

“bad interesting or good interesting?” you furrowed your eyebrows before finally taking a bite.

“the best kind of interesting”

————————-

from that day on, you would always notice him in the halls. he would wave to you and give you a small nod before continuing conversations with his friends. you would approach him during class at times when you didn’t understand a question and he would try his absolute hardest to help you out, even if he didn’t know the answers himself.

it was fair to say that you had started to crush on him. but you were still unsure of how he felt towards you.

—————————

a few weeks had passed, until it was jaemin’s birthday. he had invited everyone his classes to attend his house party. at first, you weren’t sure if you wanted to go, because you didn’t have a ride to or from the party. you still took jaemin’s invitation, which had been neatly printed on some glossy paper, and tucked it into your bag. recently, jeno would help you with your maths homework and continue to help you with problems you were stuck on. in return, you would play volleyball with him after school if the coach allowed you guys to stay back.

[3:44pm]

at one of your volleyball sessions, jeno was running late. you were just about ready to pack up and head home, when a sweaty jeno came running towards you, almost pushing you over. he grabbed you before you would hit the floor, your faces incredibly close. you let out a small chuckle before standing up straight.

“i’m sorry i’m late, i had detention on the other side of school and i had to bolt here, hoping you hadn’t left yet” he stuttered, due to the shortness of breath he had.

“it’s okay! let’s go get some ice cream or something” you shrugged, pulling him out of the hall.

while you were seated, waiting for him to collect your ice creams, you pulled out jaemin’s invitation.

“here you go!” he handed you your ice cream, before letting his eyes land on the invitation.

“are you going?” he asked innocently, looking up at you whilst licking his ice cream.

“i don’t have a way to get there and back, but i do want to go” you answered honestly.

“i can take you? i mean, if you want? i’m sleeping at jaemin’s anyway, and i can pick you up on the way there so we can help set up” he smiled widely, internally hoping you would agree.

“really? you would drive me all the way there and home?” you were surprised that he offered, which made your heart feel warm.

“yeah it’s not a problem! i want you to come” jeno’s eyes widened at his words.

you softly laughed along, continuing to eat your ice cream.

[4:50pm]

you heard a knock on your front door, and went rushing to answer it. you were met with jeno, dressed in a white buttoned up shirt and some black jeans. it was simple but he looked incredibly handsome.

you decided to opt with wearing a mid-length black dress with daisies plastered all over it.

“ready to go?” he acknowledged before leading you to his car.

“you’re a good driver right?” you buckled yourself into the seat, holding your bag in your lap before meeting eyes with the boy.

“i’ve been told i am!” he proudly announced before beginning to drive.

“who told you that? your mum?” you joked.

“actually yeah” he shyly responded, causing you both to laugh.

“i really like your laugh, jeno” you complimented, which made him almost stop in his tracks.

“t-thank you, i like yours as well” he muttered back, not making eye contact with you. you couldn’t help but notice the flush of pink on his cheeks.

as you arrived at jaemin’s house, most of the decorations were already set up. jaemin has asked you and jeno and set up floaties around the pool area in case people wanted to swim.

“are you swimming tonight?” you asked jeno, while placing some chairs onto the grass.

“uh maybe yeah, you didn’t bring a swimsuit, did you?” he asked

“oh that’s where you’re wrong, it was on the invitation! of course i brought a swimsuit. but i only really like swimming at night, when the moon is full, god that’s strange isn’t it?” you mumble to yourself, hoping he didn’t hear the last sentence.

“no, i think it’s cool, we can swim together then, when everyone leaves” he suggests, avoiding eye contact once again. you were starting to get annoyed with his inability to face you when he complimented you. that would change later tonight.

[9:17pm]

the party wasn’t as wild as you had initially expected. nothing crazy happened, people were happily drinking and taking blurry photos with their friends. jaemin was smiling all the way through, eventually thanking you for your gift, which was a customised starbucks cup for his caffeinated needs.

you stuck with jeno most of the night, you were just more comfortable in his presence. the amount of people soon died down, leaving only jaemin’s close friends and you.

“hey jeno, umm are you taking me home now?” you tapped him softly, causing him to fully face you.

“oh yeah, but i uh, don’t worry it’s dumb”

“no what is it?” you were hoping he would bring it up.

“it’s just, i thought we were going to swim together” he rubbed the back of his neck, eyes glued to the ground. you stepped towards him, placed your hands on the sides of his face, letting his eyes meet yours.

“say it to me again” your words shocked him.

“do you want to swim with me?” he asked.

“of course you idiot” you smirked before removing your dress, where your swimsuit laid under.

you sunk yourself into the pool, paddling around for a bit. jeno admired you in awe, the way your hair glistened under the moonlight.

he met you in the pool, first doing some small laps before meeting you in the middle.

you didn’t know what came over you but you paddled closer to him. he stayed in the same spot, watching as you slowly approached him.

“hey” you whispered

“hi” he replied back, not noticing how close you had gotten to his face.

“can i tell you something?” you placed your hands on his shoulders, instinctively wrapping your legs around his torso.

“s-sure” his breath fanned across your nose, causing you to smile.

“i really like you. and my heart is beating out of my chest right now.” you confessed, causing his eyes to widen, making him speechless.

“you don’t have to say anything yet. i’ll wait for you” you smiled, caressing his wet hair slowly.

“can i kiss you?” he whispered so softly.

you nodded eagerly, closing your eyes as he leaned closer to you. your hands were running the back of his neck, gliding through his wet hair. his lips fanned over yours, you were beginning to get impatient.

you sealed the kiss, whilst his hands moved on your sides.

the kiss didn’t go for too long, you both pulled away, slightly giggling at eachother.

“you’re so cute” you whispered under your breath, causing him to flash you his adorable eye smile.

“and so are you” he smirked before placing a small peck on your lips.

“ah fuck, jeno and y/n are making out guys!” donghyuck’s voice echoed, resuting in the rest of the boys rushing to the backyard.

“freaking finally” renjun cheered, before giving donghyuck a high five.

“could you guys not? it’s my pool” jaemin chuckled.

you and jeno quickly untangled yourselves. you ran out of the pool, most likely your entire face was flushed red.

“i-i’m sorry! i’ll go home now!” you quickly packed your things.

“i’m your ride though” jeno came up behind you and placed his arm protectingly on your waist.

“oh yeah right, thank you” you mumbled, leaning yourself into his chest.

“you can stay over if you want, i’m sure jeno would like it” jaemin offered, before smirking at the last remark, which caused you to go even more red.

“are you okay with staying?” jeno mumbled in your ear which sent a shiver down your spine.

“i-i mean sure, my parents aren’t home anyway” you shrugged slightly, facing jeno, giving him a small smile.

he nodded gleefully, leading you inside and past the group of boys. they all made their way to their designated sleeping spots in the living room. you followed jeno to the bathroom, before hopping in to quickly rinse yourself.

jeno has given you some sweat pants and one of his extra shirts to wear for the night. as you were getting changed, you could hear him talking to someone.

“dude, you hit the jackpot! she’s finally yours!” the voice, who you assumed was jaemin, exclaimed.

“yeah i guess, but i still have to take her out on a proper date you know?” jeno sighed.

“you guys have been on plenty of dates already! she’s into you dude, don’t hurt her because of your tendency to overthink okay?”

it was silent for a while, until you decided to exit the bathroom, acting as if you hadn’t heard a thing.

“y/n, jaemin said you could sleep in one of the guest rooms, if you’re not comfortable sleeping around us guys” jeno softly chuckled. you nodded in agreement before wrapping your arms around him.

“can you stay with me?” you mumbled into his chest, not realising that jaemin has slowly crept away from you two.

“you want me to sleep with you hm?” jeno could not wipe the smile off of his face, embracing you into his chest.

you looked up at him and gave him a small peck on his jaw before tugging on his sweater.

he led you to the guest room, saying goodnight to the boys before shutting the door.

he made his way to sit with you on the bed, gliding one of his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“i really really like you y/n” he mumbled into your shoulder, running small circles on your side.

“i really like you too, jeno” you responded before taking his hand in yours and intertwining them.

“will you be my girlfriend?” he avoided making eye contact with you once again. you turned towards him, making him face you, head on, with his hands holding yours.

“of course i’ll be your girlfriend” you smiled at him, before leaning in for another soft kiss. this time, his hands cupped your cheeks, moving your lips along with his. it was kind of sloppy, not all so sweet, but to you, it made you feel on cloud nine.

———————-

a few months into the relationship, you and jeno were cruising through it. you two weren’t completely all over eachother at school, nor when around the guys. you had both agreed to just simple hand holding, small hugs and soft kisses here and there.

[1:21pm]

one day, jeno invited you over to his house, to catch up on homework as well as spend a whole day together. it was your first time going over to his house, and you were kinda nervous to say the least. you began to have an unsettling feeling in your stomach, your relationship had essentially upgraded to the next level.

as jeno was sat next to you at his dining room table, scratching his head at the current essay question in front of him.

you were distracted from your own work, taking a moment to fully enhance yourself in the beauty that is lee jeno. the way his glasses slid midway on his nose, how he nibbles at his lip when trying to find the perfect response, how he subtly taps his fingers on the top of the table to concentrate.

“babe, stop staring, you’re throwing me off my game” he muttered beside you, giggling at his own words.

“i’m sorry you’re so good looking” you flirted with him, nudging his shoulder with your own. he looked up at you, shooting a classic eye smile, before placing a quick peck on your forehead and continuing to plan his essay.

after that day, you truly couldn’t help but feel more attracted to jeno. seeing him in his natural state, away from the hustle and bustle of school, made your heart swoon. he was extra cuddly and affectionate when you both were alone, which you thoroughly enjoyed. but you still had doubts, that maybe he was way too good to be true.

he was such an amazing boyfriend. he spoiled you with extra packed sandwiches for lunch, he surprised you with flowers the evening of one of your bad days. he was the embodiment of perfect. but you on the other hand, felt like you had to compete. you felt like you had to match his actions, otherwise, you weren’t good enough. the nights you spent dwelling on your emotions, ended in quiet sobs. you wanted to be good enough for lee jeno, god you wanted to give him the world. that’s when you realised, you were falling for him. hard. and you couldn’t pull yourself out even if you tried.

[8:32am]

on a warm summer’s day, you quickly made your way past the school gates, instantly being met with jeno calling your name. you turned quickly, before being embraced by his arms.

“i missed you so much!” he mumbled into your shoulder, causing you to chuckle softly.

“jeno, we didn’t talk for just one weekend!”

“well i still missed you! how was the trip with your family anyway?” he continued the conversation. you were slightly annoyed that he hadn’t realised you had undergone a significant outward change. over the weekend with your family, you decided to cut your hair to just below your shoulders, and also coloured it a light, but subtle brown. your oblivious boyfriend had yet to point it out.

“yeah it was fun, did some kayaking, some board games, oh! we even went to like this aquarium type place-“

“babe” he suddenly interrupted.

“hm?” you paused briefly, hoping he had noticed.

“your hair! it looks amazing, gosh who let you look this good?!” he exclaimed, brushing his fingers softly through your new styled hair. you let out a laugh, gently pushing his shoulders back.

“took you long enough!” you teased “do you like it? i was kind of worried, it’s the first time i properly got a short type of cut” you rambled, looking at the ground.

“babe, you can change your hair, five times a week if you want to! it wouldn’t change the how gorgeous i think you are!” he placed a soft kiss on your forehead before taking your hand in his and walking you to your first class. you tried to hide the slight blush on your cheeks, this boy was going to be the death of you.

[6:18pm]

jeno was over at your house this time. you both sat, backs against the wall, while your legs sprawled over the bed. he had his arm around you, with his hand resting at your side. his head rested above your own, as he slowing placed kisses while you were both watching random videos online.

“jeno” you softly mumbled.

“yes?” he slowly moved himself so that you were able to face him.

“i have to get this off my chest, i feel so bad for not talking to you about this sooner-“

“wait, are you breaking up with me ? because i am so sorry if i have been a lousy boyfriend! it’s just that exams have drained me so mu-“

“oh my god no! i’m not breaking up with you!” you have him a panicked look before watching his facial expression soften.

“oh, that’s good. what’s up then?” he still had his arm around your torso, slowing rubbing your side.

“it’s just, i’m scared. i’m scared that one day you will just get up and leave. and i know that you won’t ever want to do that to me. but i just don’t see myself as somebody that’s worth sticking around. i’m scared you won’t be there for me.” tears brimmed your eyes. you took a small breath before burying your head into his shoulder. he was speechless, trying to find the right words to say.

“baby, i swear, i’m not going anywhere. as i have said before, you can change your hair, you could even change your name! okay that’s a bit crazy. but look, you are so much more than you give yourself credit for. those times where you would dance in the rain on the way home because you felt like people weren’t looking. when you choose to wear second hand clothing because you feel bad for wasting money on branded items. before we got together, i admired your ability to be your own person. to separate yourself from everybody else, in the most humble way possible. i admired your character. and i am so drawn to you, i don’t even know how i got so lucky. i’m falling for you so hard y/n. i love you”

at this point your were truly crying. your sobs wouldn’t stop. you embraced him deeply, letting your tears soak part of his hoodie.

“jeno, that was absolutely beautiful. you make me feel beautiful. i just want to be enough for you, because you deserve the world. and i hope that i can give you everything to make you happy. because god, your smile is what gets me through every day we have been together. what i’m trying to say is, i love you too. and i have never been more sure in my life on something before you came” you both were now tearing up. he pulled your face closer to his, staring at your lips. you wanted this more than anything. he made you feel secure. he made you feel you were on top of the world.

it didn’t take long for you to close the gap between you two. your hands reached for the sides of his face, pulling him closer if that were possible. one of his hands was attached to your waist, whilst the other landed on your cheek, slowing wiping away your tears.

as you pulled away, his eyes met yours.

“never change. not for anyone. promise me” he mumbled quietly, still prepared to attach your lips again.

“i promise” you answered instantly before allowing him to initiate the kiss.

he was head over heels for you, and all your quirks. finally, someone who accepted you for who you were.

#lee jeno #lee jeno imagine #jeno imagine #nct dream #nct dream imagine #nct dream fluff #nct dream writing #nct imagine #nct scenario #jeno fluff #jeno #jisungsmochiimagines #jisungsmochi masterlist

[chilling-seavey]

Anything But Mine (d.s.) - Chapter Six

A/N in celebration of my one year as a Limelight, here’s another chapter :) (and yes I edited this picture to make him brunette again lol)

Friday, September 13th, 2019

The next week was keeping Florence busy. Grayson was preoccupied with work, and Daniel and their friends were trying to keep up with their increasing course load. Clementine had a doctor’s appointment early in the week, which she passed her check up with flying colours. Nights were getting restless for the eight month old, however, as she was quick realizing someone was never around anymore. Matt was rarely home during the day but he always had a bit of time in the mornings to sit with the baby while watching the news. The only thing that would put Clementine to sleep was his black flannel tucked into bed next to her. Every night, after Clementine was gone to bed, Florence sat alone on the balcony overlooking the city with a cup of tea and her thoughts. She often thought about what her life would have been if she stayed in LA with her family. She would be financially stable and have her brother with her - if her parents would have even kept her around after finding out about the pregnancy. There was no other option for Florence.

Friday night came around and Grayson had invited Florence over for dinner with him and Ethan. This meant she needed a babysitter for Clementine. That’s where Michael and Like came in again. Michael and Luke Clifford had been there for her (and her brother) since they first moved to Toronto and were extra supportive when Florence moved back alone, letting her stay at their house until the baby was born and she was on her feet. The men loved Clementine; never complaining about having to take care of her because after raising two boys it was nice to have a bit of a break with a little girl.

Once Grayson texted her that he had arrived, Florence had been dressed and ready for almost 45 minutes; Clementine long gone to the Clifford’s at that point.

Grayson, as usual, was stood against his car when she got to the parking garage. She had to control herself to not literally run to him. Even still, she threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him. His pink and white striped T-shirt was soft to her touch and the quirky colours made her smile more.

“Hi.” he chuckled, opening the car door for her again.

Grayson and Ethan’s house was out of the downtown core. It was farther west of where the DiCaprio’s lived but just as north. Real estate in Toronto was not cheap and Florence was impressed by the just the fact that two nineteen-year-old’s could afford a single house there. When Grayson turned onto the private street, Florence was even more in awe by the tree lined driveway and the large, single story black painted house and matching car park. A white Jeep with black and red accents as well as a teal old style Bronco and two motorcycles sat under the car park. The sun was setting behind it, golden light spreading over the roof of the house and the paved entryway. Florence was raised in a more luxurious lifestyle than what she was looking at, but growing up on her own meant she had an appreciation for how hard money was to come by.

The double doors let into a small foyer, a hallway to the left and the living room through an open space off to the right. The natural wood tones made the place warm and comforting and had a sense of luxury to it that was far different from the DiCaprio’s.

“E!” Grayson shouted across the house. Florence startled a little bit but played it off.

Ethan came out from the hallway, dressed in a black t-shirt with a white graphic printed on it and white pants. The white designer sneakers were expected.

“It’s you again!” Ethan smiled at Florence, going right in for a hug.

Taken by surprise, Florence hesitantly hugged him back, “Nice to see you again.” she laughed.

Although identical, Ethan’s warm embrace didn’t come close to what she felt like in Grayson’s arms. She wondered how much they told each other. Did Ethan know about how she kissed his brother the same day they met? Did he know about the stories she shared? Did he know that she invited Grayson home on their first date? She told Callum everything so there was no doubt Grayson and Ethan were the same.

Embarrassment bubbling inside her at the idea of it, Florence tried to push it away, following the twins to the living room. The open ceilings revealed the peaked roof and a stone fireplace reached to the top. Two grey couches lined the room with a modern coffee table and area rug in the centre. A record player sat on an antique stereo table in the back corner. The floor to ceiling sliding glass doors at the far end of the room opened onto a tree lined backyard and glistening swimming pool that was a few steps down from a large stone porch. Florence couldn’t help but smile. She felt more at home than she had in almost a year.

The three sat around the living room, Grayson pulling her close next to him. The simple action made Florence eye Ethan shyly, not being used to such displays of affection in front of others. The older twin didn’t think much of it as he asked Florence about Clementine. Florence’s favourite topic of discussion.

Their conversations were filled with laughter and smiles, Florence feeling as light as air with the twins. Usually, in her childhood, conversations were held over glasses of wine and brandy but Florence learned that neither boy had ever had a sip of alcohol in their lives. Thinking back to her father’s short temper under a few drinks, Florence was relaxed by that fact.

It wasn’t long before they started discussing what to eat for dinner. Ethan coming in determined with a, “I was feeling pizza.”

“Sounds good to me.” Florence nodded, looking to Grayson who sat on her left.

“Sure. I can order it.” he agreed.

“Dairy free cheese though.” Ethan pipped up.

“Yes, I know.” Grayson rolled his eyes as he took out his phone to order it.

“Dairy free?” Florence crinkled her nose in Ethan’ direction.

“Yeah I’ve been dairy free for a year. It just doesn’t sit well with my skin or my stomach-“

“Yeah.” Grayson cut him off lightheartedly. “So I have to suffer too.”

“Hey!” Ethan frowned. “I have to suffer with anchovy pizza half the time so you can shut up.”

“Ew. I’d take dairy free pizza over anchovies any day.” Florence shuttered. “I just don’t understand how someone can eat them when they still look like fishies.”

“Fishies!” Ethan laughed.

Grayson chuckled, pulling the blushing girl into his side, kissing the top of her head. It only made the pink on her cheeks turn to red.

When the pizza finally arrived, they moved to the kitchen. Florence felt so comfortable with the two, feeling like she had known them for years already. Dinner finished quickly, the three of them working on the dishes together. Grayson and Ethan ended up chasing each other with wet dishcloths, seeing who could leave the biggest bruise on the other. The evening came to an end, Florence and Grayson finding themselves in his bed, watching a movie on his projector screen. He explained that he and Ethan remolded each other’s rooms and the projector was his brother’s touch. It was ultimately impressive. The movie ended but neither reached to turn it off, letting the credits roll down the wall across from the bed. Grayson had his arms around her, the white sheets tucked up to their waists.

“What’s your goal in life?” Florence whispered through the dimly lit room.

“We’re getting to the deep questions now, huh?” Grayson smirked. “Well...I want to keep working with Ethan in film and media. Maybe produce a couple movies? I want to have a family eventually. Kids for sure. Nice house but not too big. Who needs a big house anyway? Takes money away from traveling.”

Florence smiled up at him, “I love traveling.”

“Have you been to Europe?”

“Italy, England, and France. Father’s work trips.”

“Italy is my favourite.” Grayson admitted. “But I’ve always wanted to go to Norway.”

“Scandinavia looks beautiful.” Florence sighed.

They let the silence rise, their minds set across the ocean.

“Probably will never go, though.” Florence shrugged.

“Whys that?” Grayson asked.

“I would need to start saving right away and I have no job.” Florence laughed lightly like it was obvious.

“Do you want a job?”

“I mean, yeah. But I have no university degree so I won’t get far. Not Norway far.”

“I could get you something at CTV? Nothing big, probably a paid internship but it’s something?”

Florence sat up when she heard this, turning to him in shock, “You can do that for me?”

“Sure I can.” Grayson smiled gently, pressed his palm to her cheek. She leaned into him habitually. “Just to get you started.”

“That would mean so much. Thank you.” Florence whispered.

“You’re welcome.” Grayson chuckled, pulling her in to kiss her softly. “I’ll keep you posted on that.”

Florence nodded, a wide smile taking up her face.

“You have a beautiful smile.” Grayson whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear. The girl looked to her lap, not quite sure how to respond. Her fingers danced over his forearms, soaking in each beautifully chiseled curve of his skin. The trail came to an end where his neck met his jaw, light stubble reaching the surface under the soft touch of her fingertips. His dark hazel eyes watched her carefully, a beautiful honey as sweet and enticing as he was. Grayson watched her silently as her wide eyes soaked in his features, his hands holding her loosely by her waist. She forced herself not to get attached; they had only known each other barely a few weeks. But when his lips were on hers again, every thought in her mind melted away.

Grayson was gentle with her; incredibly gentle to the point that he held her like she was made of glass. He laid her back against the fluffy white bedsheets and down filled pillows, her heartbeat loud in her ears. Long minutes passed before his hand fell between their bodies. Florence grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

Breaking their kiss, she spoke, “You don’t want to do that.”

Grayson leaned back from her, “Why not?”

“I had a baby eight months ago...it is not the same down there. Matt’s told me plenty of times.” she laughed humourlessly. “Believe me, you don’t want to see it.”

“Well, no offence, but I couldn’t give two shits about what that jerk thinks.” Grayson’s kind yet obvious bluntness stunned her. “You know what I think?”

“What?” Florence ask timidly.

“I think that you grew a human in here and brought a new life into this world all on your own. That’s pretty damn incredible. Your body did that, you know? And there’s nothing that is more beautiful than that. Absolutely nothing.”

Florence didn’t know what to say except to kiss him. He knew just how to make her feel more loved than she had in her entire life.

~~

Saturday, September 14th

It was a morning like in the fairy tales; and Florence guessed that if it was possible, birds would be flit fluttering and singing beautiful music outside the large paned window. The sound was definitely not beautiful birds, however, as she awoke to a sharp buzzing. Blinking her eyes open to take in her surroundings, she merely smiled at the sight of Grayson asleep beside her. He, too, shifted at the noise, starting to wake, so Florence hurried to grab her phone from the night table. Daniel’s name flashed across the screen.

“Hey.” she answered quickly, her voice rough.

“Where are you?” Daniel’s normally gentle tone was filled with an edge and it took Florence back with surprise.

“What’s wrong?” she asked quickly, her mind instantly going to Clementine.

“Nothings wrong unless you count me sitting here in this restaurant alone like an idiot waiting for you to show up.” Daniel grumbled.

Florence pulled her phone from her ear to look at the time. 10:48 meant she was way too late to their brunch date.

“Shit, Dani, I’m so sorry.” Florence sighed, rubbing a hand over her face.

“Where are you?” Daniel asked again. “I’ve been texting and calling for 45 minutes!”

“At Grayson’s.”

The silence from the other side of the line made her stomach turn.

“So I’ll just go home then.” Daniel finally spoke, his voice suddenly quiet.

“No!” Florence sat up. “No, I’m sorry. Don’t go home. I’ll be there. 15 minutes. Please.”

“Fine.” Daniel mumbled.

“I’m sorry, Dani.” Florence sighed, closing her eyes.

“Yeah.”

The line went dead without so much as a goodbye. Florence slowly lowered her phone and started at it for a few long seconds.

“Everything okay?” Grayson asked from beside her, wrapping an arm around her waist that was covered by the blankets.

“I’m a terrible friend, is all.” Florence groaned. “Totally just stood up Daniel.”

A low chuckle fell from Grayson’s lips, “That’s rough. Are you going to go still?”

“Yeah. If he’s going to wait for me. Do you want to come?” Florence laid back down, pushing her fingers through his dark hair.

“I would love to.” Grayson smiled, pulling her close to kiss her.

“No more of this!” Florence giggled, pushing him away, before leaning down over the side of the bed to grab her clothes. “We have to go!”

Grayson drove them through the city, as fast as he could legally go. Ethan was still asleep by the time they left which Florence was silently grateful for; she liked Ethan but she wasn’t sure if she was strong enough to be at the end of brotherly teasing after staying over. Florence kept checking her phone in the passenger seat, finding no texts from Daniel their entire way there. The small cafe was just on the way into downtown, a little place near the boys’ house. Grayson parked on the street and paid the meter before they headed inside. Daniel was sat at the corner table, his green Adidas jacket zipped up to his neck and he stared down at his mug of coffee, stirring a spoon around haphazardly. Florence couldn’t help but smile at the sight of her best friend and she pulled Grayson by the hand towards him.

“Dani!” Florence called.

The boy looked up at her and what was supposed to be a smile faded into almost a straight line at the sight of the two in front of him.

“This is Grayson.” Florence introduced happily.

“Nice to meet you finally.” Grayson smiled a warm grin and held out his hand across the table. Daniel hesitated before letting the silver spoon clink against the saucer and he shook his hand.

“You too.” Daniel mumbled. Grayson and Florence sat across from him and picked up their menus. Daniel watched them silently, going back to stirring his now cold coffee. The waitress came by and took their orders and poured them coffee before leaving again. Daniel didn’t take notice, instead, his eyes fell to the collar of Florence’s t-shirt, noticing the small pink bruise that was peaking out the top. There was a matching one under her jawline which she probably hadn’t noticed in her rush to leave that morning. Daniel noticed, though. He noticed Grayson’s hand on her thigh and how he leaned in close to whisper things into her ear that made her giggle. Daniel kept stirring. The clink of the silver against the porcelain cup was consistent and comforting.

“Dani.” Florence called. When he didn’t respond she frowned for a moment but tried again. “Dan.”

She finally resorted to reaching over the table and taking the spoon out of his hand.

“I think your coffee is plenty mixed, dear.”

Snapping back to reality, Daniel met her concerned gaze.

“What’s up with you?” Florence frowned.

“Sorry. I’m just tired.” Daniel waved his hand to brush it off, slouching back against the bench.

“Been working hard?” Florence asked.

“Yeah.” Daniel nodded.

“What are you in school for?” Grayson asked.

“Music Production.” Daniel replied.

“Oh! That’s cool. I’m doing video production at CTV right now.” Grayson smiled.

“Oh my gosh, imagine if you could work together in the future!” Florence laughed.

“We might have a place for you.” Grayson sent a small grin to the boy across the table.

“I’m fine, thanks.” Daniel answered dryly. His response made Florence frown and look to Grayson who shrugged lightly.

“Dani, I’m really sorry for being late.” Florence whispered, leaning in closer. “I don’t know why you’re being so upset with me this morning.”

“I’ve been waiting here for an hour.” Daniel snapped.

Florence sat back with wide eyes at his out-of-character outburst.

“I woke up early to meet you and you completely stand me up and I’m left to eat alone.”

“I said I’m sorry. Time got away from me.” Florence frowned.

“I can tell.” Daniel eyed the hickeys on her neck.

“Daniel!” Florence whispered sharply.

He placed his napkin strongly back on the table and started to slide out from the bench. He then turned to Grayson, “It was nice to meet you. You seem like a really great guy and normally I’m not such an asshole so I’m sorry for that. But I’m late for rehearsal.”

“Daniel!” Florence gaped, watching as he stood up from the table and started for the door. “Daniel Seavey!” she called again. The door of the cafe closed behind him with a jingle from the bell above. Silence filled the space between Grayson and Florence who were now sitting alone.

 ~~

Once breakfast was finished, Grayson dropped Florence back off at home. They took their time saying goodbye but eventually Florence went up to her empty apartment. She called Daniel right away, being sent to voicemail after the second ring.

“Hey. I’m still sorry, you know.” she spoke into the phone. “Call me please. I love you.”

He didn’t return her call. 

#daniel seavey #daniel seavey fanfic #daniel seavey imagines #why dont we #why dont we fanfic #why dont we imagines #jonah marais #jack avery #zach herron #corbyn besson #grayson dolan #ethan dolan #dolan twins #multifandom #writing #anything but mine

[galaxiia-quean]

ocean eyes [1]

THE FLAT WAS BATHED IN LIGHT, streaming through the open windows. Ethan couldn’t recall a time in which he’d slept past five in the morning, always being up before the first rays of sun. He padded across the living room, following the music drifting from the kitchen.

He leaned on the door frame, a smile spreading on his face at the sight before him. His beloved girlfriend danced around the room, his white shirt draping over her thighs. Ethan approached her, brushing his lips on the silky slope of her neck as she finished serving breakfast. An involuntary giggle escaped her, his beard tickling the sensitive skin.

“Morning, love.” He twirled her, properly kissing her. Nora smiled against his mouth, tracing the outline of his bare muscles.

“I made coffee and waffles.”

“Perfect.” Ethan lightly squeezed her waist, drawing a short laugh from her.

They ate mostly in silence, relishing in the peacefulness. A comfortable hush enveloped them with the occasional discreet glance at each other. The easiness of their relationship never ceased to amaze him. Nora was perhaps equally as reserved as him — even though her amiability and patience ran deeper than his — and understood those rare moments of quietude were invaluable whereas his previous partners failed to comprehend the concept.

He admired most her way of appreciating the little things which the rest of the universe tragically neglected. Ethan supposed he was a part of that category. Although, he was beginning to warm up to Nora’s methods. He hadn’t been particularly superstitious until he met her and yet nowadays he found himself subconsciously knocking on wood and avoiding to cross under ladders. She changed his life for the better and he couldn’t be more grateful for that.

Ethan ran a hand through his mussled hair and deftly cleaned the dirty porcelain, wiping his hands on a nearby cloth when he was done. Nora squealed excitedly when the pop tune playing on her phone came to an end and swiftly transitioned into a kizomba ballad. Ethan recognized it as one of her favourite.

“Eth, dance with me.” Nora pleaded, beaming.

He complied to her request, a dimpled smile rising on his cheeks as he wrapped an arm around her, pressing their hips flush together. He intertwined their fingers, kissing her temple. Nora sighed contentedly, snuggling into his chest as he lead, expertly swaying along to the song.

Ethan rested his chin on top of her head, murmuring the words in a soft hum. His accent flowed smoothly after years of practice.

“My heart melts when you speak Portuguese.” Nora commented, the corner of her lips quirking upward. “Though I shouldn’t be surprised you’re so well-versed in it.

He gave a casual shrug. “It’s a beautiful language.”

“It sure is.” She agreed, reluctantly detaching herself from him as the last notes faded. “And we sure have lives to save, today.”

“It’s a rather beautiful day, isn’t it, Shepherd?” Ethan teased, pressing his lips to hers in a sweet kiss.

“I’m so glad I persuaded you to watch Grey’s.”

“Persuaded? I believe “pestered” is the correct term.” He laughed, disappearing into his bedroom.

They were careful to part ways before reaching the hospital, cautious of arousing suspicion. The diagnostics team gathered in the lobby, where Ethan assigned each of them a department, instructing them to update him throughout their shift.

Nora made her rounds in the pediatric wing, cheering the children up with jokes and the small batch of chocolates she always carried in her purse. Most of them had been milling about in the playroom and coaxed her into a game of Pictionary, which she promptly lost due to her dreadful drawing skills.

It was nearing lunch time when she entered the room of Amelia Bailey.

She frowned when she found the young girl entertaining herself with loose domino pieces. Amelia’s face lit up when she saw her favourite doctor, a bright smile replacing the sad grimace.

“Nono!”

Her scowl melted into a soft mien. She set the chart aside, allowing the child to hug her, and gently pinched her chubby cheeks, eliciting a contagious giggle from the six-year-old.

“How are you feeling, baby?” She sat on the edge of her bed, caressing the side of her face.

Amelia shrugged noncommittally. “Fine.”

“That’s good.” Nora lowered her chin, meeting the girl’s eyes. “Where are your parents?”

“They fought again. Mom went back home and dad went to work.”

The physician paused, exhaling deeply and struggling to contain the anger from her face. She averted her gaze and counted to three. Amelia’s grip on her hand tightened.

“They won’t answer if you call. Mom drinks when she’s mad and dad doesn’t use his phone at work,” Amelia said in a small voice, staring at her lap. “Can I stay here for a bit?”

“Is there no one else we could call?” At her silent shake of head, Nora conceded. “Then you can stay.” ‘I’ll have to inform child services’.

The nurses’ station was chaotic to say the least. There had been a massive collapse in an office building down the street and the hospital’s emergency and operating rooms were the most occupied they’d ever been. Nearly all nurses had been dispatched, leaving only two per station.

Danny greeted her, waving his hand. He was slumped on one of the chairs, a disarray of charts and laboratory results laying on the desk.

“What can I do for you, Nora?”

“I need you to call child services.” The doctor sighed, leaning on the counter. “Amelia Bailey, room 404. Her parents were arguing in her room until her stepfather left for work. Amelia told me we shouldn’t bother trying to reach her mother because she’s drinking and won’t answer the phone.”

He frowned. “Okay. By the way, here are the results from Sam Washington’s scans.”

Nora accepted the chart with a grateful nod and turned to leave. Her path was obstructed by a tall man with a charming smile. She raised expectant eyebrows, returning the gesture somewhat bemusedly.

“I apologize for bothering, miss, but it appears I’m lost. Could you be so kind to tell me where the cafeteria is?”

“On the ground floor, it’s easy to find. The elevator is down this hall and to the right.”

His smile grew. “Thank you very much, miss!”

Nora resumed her duties, and caught a glimpse of Ethan inside a patient’s room. From his posture, she deducted he was delivering bad news to the parents of the little boy; his shoulders were set in a straight line, arms folded and jaw clenched.

He ruffled the child’s hair before exiting the room, not entirely surprised to see her waiting for him.

“Hey.” He leaned on the wall, glancing around. “How’s Amelia Bailey?”

“Good to go, except for the fact no one is here to take her home,” Nora replied in a sharp tone.

Concern flashed in his icy blues. Nora rarely allowed her annoyance to shine through, maintaining a cool composure at all times.

“Danny called child services,” she continued, her hand brushing his, seeking the comfort his touch could easily provide.

“Good.” His eyes narrowed at something behind her right shoulder. “I’m sure Amelia is feeling lonely cooped up in her room. Why don’t you let her out for a walk?”

Her brow furrowed. “What is it, Ethan?”

He met her questioning stare, squeezing her hand. His expression softened into an adoring smile, though Nora saw right through it. The uneasiness in his blue depths alarmed her, the pressure of his digits digging into the back of her hand resulting in a pit of anxiousness building in her stomach.

“There’s a man in those visitor chairs in the corner who never left this wing. I’ve seen him linger outside of Amelia’s room when she was alone and sleeping. Maybe I’m being paranoid, maybe I’m not. I don’t want to take any risks either way. There’s a lounge at the end of this corridor where some interns relax during their breaks. Pretend like everything is fine and take Amelia there.”

His façade never fell. Ethan bent forwards as if to kiss her cheek and his warm breath blew gently on her skin.

“Be careful.”

Nora gulped, dropping the chart back at the station and shoving her trembling hands inside the pockets of her white coat. Amelia didn’t seem to notice her distress, following her dutifully outside and excitedly blabbering about her favourite games while Nora refrained from looking over her shoulder. Ethan’s instincts were sharp as a knife and she had absolute trust in them, so she had no doubts that the man was most likely a danger to Amelia.

True to Ethan’s word, a few interns were mingling about in the lounge. Nora’s mind barely registered their presence. Amelia plopped herself on one of the couches while she changed the channel to a kids program the girl would enjoy.

The fear gnawing at her insides was unbearable and became even more pronounced when terrified shouts were heard outside the room. One of the interns got up to check the commotion and quickly closed the door, all colour draining from his face.

“There’s an armed guy outside. He’s holding Dr. Ramsey at gunpoint.”

Her heart stopped at those words. Amelia turned to her with frightened eyes and Nora shushed her, cradling her face.

“I want you to hide behind this couch, do you understand?” She shielded the child with her body, holding her hands behind her back.

Absolute silence engulfed them. Nora could hear the thundering rushing of her blood in her ears, blending with her rapid breaths and accelerated heartbeat. Never in her life had she been so terrified. Ethan was being held hostage and she could lose him at any moment.

Deafening screams exploded when the door was ripped off its hinges, revealing Ethan and the gunman. He scoured the room for her. Tears welled up in her eyes, seeing him so unusually scared, his hands raised and the barrel of a gun directly pointed at the back of his head.

He was shoved inside and quickly crawled to her side, chest rising and falling with adrenaline. Nora realised she’d seen that man, spoken to him just minutes before that whole situation. He scowled when he didn’t see his target, then noticed Nora shifting her weight to hide the child.

“Give me my daughter,” he growled, aiming the weapon at her chest.

“I won’t let you hurt her.”

“I won’t. She’s my daughter,” he snarled, waving the gun.

“That’s not a toy.” Ethan watched him closely, moving so he could protect both girls.

“Shut up.” The aim was back on him. “I told you, I won’t hesitate to shoot. I want my daughter. Let her come with me and no one gets hurt.”

“The police will be here soon,” Nora threatened, pushing Ethan aside. They were both strategically positioned to cover Amelia.

“You called child services on the whore and her guy. I’m the best option for Mia!” He shouted.

“I would daresay the best option for Amelia is someone who doesn’t charge into a hospital with a dangerous weapon.” Ethan’s voice was calm despite his offensive stance, prepared to protect his staff should the man snap.

“Get out of the way.” The criminal switched the gun’s aim between the couple.

Neither budged.

“Last warning.” His target was uncertain.

Nora pushed Amelia further behind the furniture.

“Move!”

The gunshot blasted across the lounge, booming in their ears. Blood pooled around the figure sprawled on the floor, crimson staining the whiteness of their coat.

@princess-geek ; @cordoniansqueen ; @universallypizzataco ; @galaxy-of-rosess ; @hatlley ; @valiantlychaoticbarbarian ; @teenytinymagician​ ; @lilyofchoices​ ; @angellwithoutname​ ; @perriewinklenerdie ; @radlovedreamer; @claudevonstruke ; @nyikondlovu ; @ifyouseekheart ; @hopelessromantic1352; @gingerjane15 ; @cordoniaqueensworld ; @paleweasels ; @fangirlingmum ; @usuallyamazinglyaverage ; @writinghereandthere ; @confessionsofabrokegirl; @regina-and-happiness ; @brightpinkpeppercorn ; @choicesyouplayandmore ; @timmagicktoad ; @zeniamiii​ ; @drakesensworld​ ; @ethanplaysfavorites​ ; @topsyturvy-dream​ ; @sharrybh20​ ; @cordoniansqueen​ ; @greek-elsa​ ; @drakewalkerfantasy​ ; @paisleylovergirl ; @faithhasnowords

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ocean eyes #mc: nora holland #playchoices #pixelberry