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pessimisticlatte · 4 years

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Glass Roses - Chapter 5

Marichat ~ Adrienette ~ Platonic Marigami ~ Lukagami ~ Chlobrina ~ Nathemilie ~ Gabenath

-Eventual Reveal-

~~~~~~~

Madame Bustier was not impressed with Marinette and Adrien when they finally arrived in class. She’d completed roll call 2 minutes prior, as they were still walking up the stairs, and now had to log back into the new, confusing online system to mark the two newcomers off as present. Ayla shot Marinette a sly wink from her seat on Nino’s desk and Mari felt an extreme embarrassment flare over her face.

“Sorry for keeping Marinette from coming up to class when the bell rang, Madame Bustier, I’d seen a garment she’d made for our friend, Kagami, and was asking if she could make one for me. I didn’t mean to make both of us late,” Adrien gave an angelic smile to the redheaded teacher who knew better than attempt to argue with Gabriel Agreste’s son. Even if Adrien hadn’t been the son of the man who almost literally held all of France in the palm of his hand, he hadn’t lied to her before so why should he start now. The main source of her annoyance was, of course, the new student sign in system. She hated it with a burning passion.

“That’s quite alright, Adrien,” Madame Bustier’s fingers tapped heavily against the keyboard of her laptop as she tried, for the fourth time that morning, to log into the website correctly. It kept insisting that her password was wrong but when she tried to change it, it told her that she couldn’t change the new password to the old one. “Marinette, your seat is at the back of the room this year, and you will be sitting next to Alya when she realises that tables aren’t for sitting on.”

The teacher, of course, was joking. Alya had asked permission before sitting on Nino’s desk as the class had watched Madame Bustier struggle with the login system. Max had tried to help but the minute they’d gotten into the program, the computer had frozen and then they discovered that the user interface was absolutely awful. Max vowed to make an easier site for Madame Bustier to use but it would take him maybe a week to research and a few more days to complete. If she could keep her sanity for that long, Madame Bustier might just add the teenager to her will.

“Adrien, you’ll be seated next to Lila,” Madame Bustier pointed at an empty desk beside the rather awful strawberry blonde girl as she tried to enter her password again. Lila gave Adrien a Cheshire smile, all too white teeth and hidden malice, Adrien felt a shiver run down his spine as he walked up the stairs and slid onto the bench beside her. Marinette walked up the stairs behind her, her cheeks still a raging crimson, she met Adrien’s eyes and allowed her lips to form a soundless ‘I’m sorry’ before she walked out of his peripheral vision and slid into her own seat. Alya joined her not a moment later.

“Hi, Adrien,” Lila dragged out every vowel of her greeting and batted her mascara caked lashes at him, sending flakes to congregate on her cheeks. “How was your holiday?”

“It was good,” Adrien gave a clipped response as he pulled his workbook and pencil case out of his bag, setting them on the desk. Pretending to stretch, Adrien’s eyes roamed the room and counted the number of rows between him and Marinette. Alya was whispering to Mari, her opal coloured eyes shining with mirth as whatever she said sent Mari into a fit of barely stifled giggles. With her index finger, Marinette pushed Alya’s glasses back up her nose, her other hand covering her mouth.

“Just good, didn’t you do anything? I heard you went to New York,” Lila’s voice oozed a sarrachine sweetness that made Adrien’s teeth ache. He hadn’t missed Lila over the holidays, he’d barely registered her existence when she commented on one of his social media posts or attempted to message him, he’d been busy of course but after finding out that Marinette was Ladybug he’d been preoccupied with his feelings for her and how he was going to ask her out.

“I did,” Adrien flipped his workbook open and marked the date at the top of the page, waiting for Madame Bustier to turn the projector on.

“What’s happened, Adrien? You seem so unhappy? Was it Marinette? Did she say something to you and make you lie to cover for her?” Lila placed her talon tipped hand on Adrien’s arm, her eyes swimming with false worry. The sharpened acrylic nails that adorned every one of her fingers were painted in a mocking buttercup yellow with small animal stickers on each of them. She’d chosen to make the acrylics as long as she possibly could and as sharp as the nail technician would allow, Lila knew exactly how her nails would come across to others in her class and having her hand on Adrien like this was staking her claim.

“No, I’m just trying to get focused for class. Why would Marinette ever do something to make me lie for her? Why would Marinette even need to lie?” Adrien swept his arm out from under Lila’s hand and rested it closer to the edge of his workbook, his elbows bracketed him in a way that he hoped would make her back off. It hadn’t been 10 minutes but Adrien’s tolerance for the meticulously fake strawberry blonde beside him was wearing ever thinner.

“You obviously don’t know Dupain-Cheng very well, Adrien,” Lila turned away from him and folded her hands across the table in front of her. Madame Bustier cheered as the projector illuminated the board and displayed a powerpoint presentation on the topics they’d be covering that term.

~~~~~~~~~

Gabriel Agreste stood beside his wife, Emilie’s, coffin with his hand resting gently on the slightly fogged glass. His heart felt heavy, it always did when he stood in this room, and he felt the overwhelming absence of her. A mocking echo of her laugh resounded in his ears, a dimmed and ghastly mimic of her smile burned into his retinas, the shadow sensation of her soft pale golden hair on his fingertips, she was so close but so far and no matter how much time he spent by her side, talking to her, she wouldn’t wake up until he combined the Ladybug and Cat miraculouses to wish her out of her deathlike sleep.

He told Emilie about the trip to New York he had taken with Adrien and how regretful he felt for missing so much of Adrien’s life. Gabriel hadn’t seen the man his son was becoming and his heart had felt weighed down with guilt ever since they returned from the United States; he’d missed so much of his son’s life and he would never be able to get those years back. Without him, Adrien had grown into a level-headed, moral, intelligent and passionate young man, it was more than Gabriel had hoped he’d become but he mourned not having a part in shaping him. A single solitary tear slid down the weathered cheek of the fashion mogul, soon wiped away by a silken handkerchief that had been crushed tightly in his hand.

Though Gabriel knew that what he was going was wrong, Nooroo had told him enough times, he wouldn’t stop until the light that had once shined so brightly from his wife returned and brought her with it. Nathalie had been enough to sate his needs over the past few years, his willing assistant taking over the maternal role left empty by Gabriel’s own mistake, but he knew that Emilie was the only woman he would ever love, regardless of what Nathalie felt for him and he felt, somewhat, in return for her. He’d suspected for a while that his assistant had been falling in love with him but the trip to New York had cemented that suspicion when Nathalie had accidentally referred to Gabriel and Adrien as ‘her family’. Admittedly, the sound of those words rolling off her tongue had brought a warmth to his soul that he hadn’t felt for too long, but he wouldn’t rest, he wouldn’t give in, until it was Emilie saying them.

Nooroo had tapped Gabriel into the emotional aura of Paris when they’d first bonded years ago, before Emilie had become comatose, and allowed him to scan the city looking for the strongest emotional aura to harness to draw Ladybug and Chat Noir out and take their miraculouses. When Emilie had been awake, Gabriel used this power to encourage good deeds to come of those he reached out to; allowing them the strength to lift buildings and save their trapped family members or ask their beloved to marry them. Since she’d gone, he’d only been able to connect to negative emotions of anger, sadness or jealousy, it made his villains stronger though, those negative emotions. Nothing could drive a person more than hate.

“I will wake you, my love, I will get the Ladybug and Cat miraculouses very soon and you shall return to me, to our son,” Gabriel wiped a smudge of perspiration off the glass above Emilie’s lips. “You may never forgive me, Emilie, for what I’ve done to bring you back but I need you. Adrien needs you. He must have his mother.”

From behind the doorway into Emilie’s coma room, Nathalie covered her mouth to stop a sob from escaping her lips. Her eyes watered as she felt Gabriel’s words sink into the fragile flesh of her heart, he didn’t know that she’d heard him and he wouldn’t know but it didn’t stop the pain that coursed through her veins. Nathalie had been more than a mother to Adrien, she’d almost single-handedly raised the boy while juggling Gabriel’s secret life, fashion career and general household logistics. She couldn’t remember when she’d fallen in love with him, it had happened so long ago and loving him was easier than breathing; Adrien may not be her son by blood but she loved him as her own, he was more her son than the son of the woman encased in glass only metres away.

Half jogging, keeping her footfalls gentle as her heart raced, Nathalie fled from the warren hidden beneath the Agreste mansion and escaped to her office. Closing the door and locking it, Nathalie slumped against the heavy wood and slipped into a curled position, keeping her sobs silent, Nathalie let her tears flow and steeled herself. She was fully aware of Gabriel’s connection to emotional auras and she would never allow him to use her to wake Emilie up. Emilie had been her love once too, she had been with Emilie and been her girlfriend long before Gabriel had even been suggested as a friend to either of them. Gabriel had reminded her of Emilie and she loved both differently, but wholly, she would not be used for Gabriel’s game even if she loved Emilie as much as she loved him.

In her heart, Nathalie knew that Emilie would rather be comatose than live with the knowledge of what Gabriel had done to bring her back, the lives he’d ruined and the people he’d killed. Emilie wouldn’t forgive him for abandoning Adrien, her flesh and blood. Unbreakable walls rose around Nathalie’s heart, locking the love she held for Gabriel in a barren wasteland.

~~~~~~~~~~

Kagami sat at a large desk by herself, 3 of the other 4 students had arrived and claimed their desks. The other 3 sat at a table together, ages varying between 12 and 17, and spoke under hushed tones, getting to know each other Kagami deduced.

The final member of their 5 person strong class walked in the door a moment later, a large black guitar case slung over his left shoulder and a satchel bag held by the shoulder strap in his right hand. With a smile toward the teacher, the boy’s eyes scanned the room and landed on Kagami, sitting alone at her immaculately prepared workspace. His walk was as if he was gliding through water, so confident and self assured, as he strode to Kagami’s table and gently set his guitar case down. “Would you like some company?” The boy inclined his head, sending his cobalt tipped fringe sliding across his forehead into his oceanic eyes. “You look like you could use some company.”

“You’re free to sit wherever you like, I have no issue with you sitting with me if you so choose as I would very much like to get to know one of my classmates,” Kagami’s tone was near monotonous, she was unsure whether to be mirthful and open with this boy or wary.

“Luka,” The boy extended his hand, which Kagami took and shook. “Luka Couffaine.”

“Kagami Tsurugi, I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr Couffaine,” Luka pulled a chair over from a empty nearby desk and faced it backwards to the table, sitting on it with his arms braced on the back of the chair. His bag was now resting beside his guitar case. “I think my friend, Marinette, may have mentioned you before.”

“Luka is fine, Kagami,” He gave a small chuckle and shook his head slightly, shaking his hair out of his eyes. “Yeah, Mari and my sister, Juleka, are pretty good friends, I met Mari through Jules.”

“You and her spoke whilst you were on holiday, if I remember correctly,” Kagami felt her stiff posture relax, the soft fabric of her kimono jacket soothing against her skin.

“Yeah, we did, I had a crush on her for a while but it didn’t pan out so I’m more than happy to be one of her friends, she’d a pretty cool girl,” Luka gave a lopsided half-smile. Kagami felt a weird fluttering in her chest, it wasn’t a feeling or emotion she’d categorised but she did remember it as the same one she’d experienced when she saw Marinette smile for the first time. She’d never actively explored her sexuality, she hadn’t ever really had time, but Kagami understood that she was attracted to both men and women, though it depended on who they were for the attraction to develop toward an emotional attachment.

“I hold an attraction for Marinette too,” Kagami wasn’t a shy person, she’d never really had anyone ask before. She’d been attracted to Adrien, but Kagami understood that even someone who loved women and solely women would find Adrien attractive so it hadn’t developed. “She is very enamoured with Adrien Agreste though, so I would prefer her to be happy.”

“I feel the same way,” Luka fiddled with the leather bracelet on his wrist. “About wanting her to be happy, I mean.”

Kagami gave a single nod and allowed a small smile to form on her lips.

“Do you have a nickname, Kagami? I don’t have a problem with your full name but I tend to be a very lazy guy so I prefer to give my friends nicknames,” Luka rested his chin on his crossed arms.

“Alix calls me ‘Gami, but you can give me a nickname if you wish to,” Her expression softened as she looked at him. He was all gentle grace, calming energy, and boundless sweetness, he reminded her of Marinette in that way but she found Luka so much more entrancing.

“Hmmmmm,” Luka cocked his head, pressing his cheek against his arm and squishing the soft white flesh up against his high cheekbone. “Well, in traditional Japanese the name ‘Kagami’ means mirror.”

“Your understanding of Japanese is very good, Luka,” Kagami had to commend him on his translation of her name. Not many Western people could correctly translate simple Japanese, much less her quite unusual name.

“Well, it’s one of the reasons why I’m in this class,” That lopsided smile returned, squished underneath his cheek. “Your French is really good too.”

The two were silent for a moment, Luka in thought and Kagami as she catalogued the compliment he’d just paid her.

“I’ve got one!” Luka raised his head, his glittering eyes meeting Kagami’s. “Echo, I’m gonna call you Echo. To mirror a sound is to echo it, your name means mirror, and, viola, the image of strength before me becomes a resounding echo through history.”

“Thank you, Luka,” Kagami gave him a wide, genuine smile. “I like it very much.”

“Glad you do, Echo,” Luka’s voice was like thick, dark honey, sweet and intoxicating. Her heart skipped a beat and a rational part of her mind insisted that she’d just met the boy, that forming such an attachment to him now would be folly. It didn’t stop her eyes from scanning every inch of his beautiful face.

“Ohayo, minasan,” The teacher called attention to himself at the front of the class in Japanese. Standing, Kagami gave him a bow and returned his greeting in her native tongue. The teacher gave her a pleased smile and looked around the room expectantly, the other table scrambled to their feet and gave hasty, poorly executed bows with half-hearted greetings. Then Luka gave his, just as eloquently as Kagami. With a satisfied smile, the teacher began the lesson.

~~~~~TAGLINE~~~~~ @lady-charinette @katieykat513 @mochegato @nifflerstorm

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devnny · 5 years

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CHAPTER FIVE.

JTRM — THE “R” STANDS FOR RECOVERING!

PREVIOUSLY.

godDAMN this chapter is long... 5k words of emotions and long-winded talking from one sad, sad maniac

Devi growled at the canvas in front of her, bitter that the eyes of her newest subject look an awful lot like the eyes of the wretched man that had filled her thoughts with venom the past week or so. She devoted her time since their fight to some personal pieces, with Sickness’s little outburst at the forefront of her worries, but it brought her little comfort to vent her frustration through painting. The idea of ripping Johnny’s head clean off of his shoulders was much more appealing, even if that urge might be from some hideous demon trying to coerce her into becoming then city’s next mass murderer.

She brought a finger up to the tacky paint on her canvas, and pressed her nail harshly into her subject’s eye, scraping the pupil away with one forceful drag downwards. The acrylic caking under her nail was not as satisfying as she had hoped, and Devi made her way to the kitchen sink to wash her hands.

As time passed between her petrifying new encounter with Johnny and the present, she hoped that her white-hot revulsion for his very being would have settled some, but it hadn’t. Her rage persisted, mostly because she was hideously mad that she felt genuine disappointment about his sudden switch. She felt like such an ugly fool for even halfway believing his lies; all his spout about loyalty – he had nothing of the sort! It just added to the mountain of evidence that told her she should always listen to her intuition when it came to these things.

But that changed nothing about the fact that Johnny needed to be managed, especially now that he was upset again. There was no way he was using the creative centers of his brainmeats for anything productive, so the possibility that he was decaying rapidly was very high.

Devi sighed and turned the water off. Tenna was coming over to force her to eat food tonight, so that would be as good a time as any to talk out her options and decide what the Hell she was going to do about Johnny.

DINNER:

Tenna waved her fork at Devi while she spoke, little bits of Korean barbeque flicking out of her mouth as she did.

“So have you officially called off this Johnny business, then?”

“No.” Devi sighed, poking at her dinner with little interest.

“And why not?” Tenna asked with a skeptical look. Devi sighed again.

“I just… can’t. I don’t see another option for this. Well, besides murder I mean.” She flipped the same piece of meat over for the fifth time. “And I’m not going to murder him, no matter how badly I’d love to dig my fingers into the sides of his head and rip his fucking face off.”

Tenna reared back to laugh at the image, only to choke and sputter rice everywhere.

“HAK—HAK! Ah, it is funny.” She wiped her eyes. “He’s lucky you’re not as ‘sick’ as he is.”

“Yes.” Devi glowered down at nothing. “He is.”

“Aww, don’t be all murder-y and mad, Devi! You beat his ass, again! That feels good, right?”

“I wish that I’d punching him in the nose like before, then maybe I’d feel better.” Her lip twitched at her lie. Her hands still felt shaky remembering the pure adrenaline pumping through her when she realized he was attacking her – it was a horrible, buzzy feeling, and it made her stomach upset to know she was afraid of him then, even if she was too pumped up to realize it at the time. It only reminded her of how badly shaken she was the first time she escaped death at his hands, and being victimized like that pissed her off more than anything.

“DAMN him!” Devi tossed her fork down with bared teeth. “I bet he’s sitting around, thinking of ways to piss me off. Plotting the next way he’s gunna FUCK WITH ME!”

ELSEWHERE:

Johnny laid across his couch, as he had for days now, more forlorn than he had been in a very long time. The frenzied sobbing and screams of self-loathing and self-pity had died the night he returned home from Devi’s; all he could manage as it was now was sprawling pathetically on his belly and wishing he was dead.

He could not believe how fucking stupid he was. How could he have tried to attack Devi, the one who had so kindly removed him of his literal demons, simply because his pride was hurt by her words. If he could go back, Johnny would let her rip his ego apart – he would sit and listen to any violent words she had for him and feel his worth burn away and crumble into nothingness, because if the words were coming from her, he most certainly deserved them. He definitely felt strongly that he did now, after betraying her compassion as he did. Again.

His arms contorted around his head so his fingers could scrape at the back of his skull as another bitter tear fought its way out of his eye. He could hardly believe he had any water left in him. The tear wormed its way down the hook of Johnny’s nose, stilling for just a moment on its pointed end before dripping onto the worn fabric of the sofa.

“Oh, Devi.” Johnny muttered pitifully, and twisted his head further into his bicep.

“It pains me to see you like this Johnny, but your pain is not without meaning. Let it course through you, feel the passions of heartache!” Reverend Meat spoke as he appeared suddenly on a side table. Johnny snarled bitterly.

“The is NOTHING passionate about this pain!” He retorted with all the emotion left in him. “I am hollowed again – my cavernous chest whistles with ghoulish EMPTINESS! You idiot, if your plan was to fill me with any wanton feelings and superfluous desire, you have failed utterly! I’ve never been more motivated to carve out any humanity I have left and live as a needless husk forever.”

As that breath left him, Johnny felt his body wheeze flat, like a deflating balloon, and he allowed his woefulness to consume him again. He laid unmoving in his anguish, taking no satisfaction in Meat’s silence after his outburst. Meat did not seem bothered.

DEVI’S APARTMENT:

Tenna had taken up eating most of Devi’s food after finishing her own, and chewed away while she watched her friend walk around her apartment grumbling and thinking aloud.

“Why do I have to be stuck with this fucking… God dammit…!” Devi mumbled sporadically. Tenna frowned, her friend’s sanity again a notable concern.

“Ughhh, I fucking hate this!” Devi’s voice pitched up suddenly, only to tapper off into groaning again. “I don’t even want to see him. I hate him so much right now.”

“You don’t have to—” Tenna started, but stopped when Devi turned to look at her with a mixture of annoyance and despair.

“Tenna, you know I have to. I have to persevere with this stupid… thing.” She snorted a sigh through her nose. “I think I can still… I don’t know. Control him? I let my guard down, something I should never do. I can’t let myself get comfortable – this is work.”

“You do know that you, in fact, work too much, right?”

“Don’t start.” Devi pointed at her. “And if it makes you any happier, after Johnny’s ‘better’ I’ll be working a perfectly normal amount.”

“Yay!” Tenna grinned. “How long will that take, you think?”

Devi’s eyes darkened at the abysmal concept of time. With as many setbacks as she had had thus far, it could be months and months before Johnny might have a decent grasp on his sanity, and even then, he’s so incompetent that she might need to keep checking in on him long after that. Years, even.

“That’s not a good face.” Tenna commented, and Devi grunted at the floor again.

“A WHILE.” Devi answered finally, before stalking to the kitchen to get the wireless receiver for her house phone. She preferred her headset, usually, but right now gripping something in her fist was all that she could do to keep her anger from exploding out of her in curse words and banshee screams. Devi returned to the couch to sit in a bitter slouch.

“I think…” She hesitated. “I think I’m going to… call him.”

The women exchanged uneasy glances, both aware of what happened the last time Devi placed a phone call to the C. residence. Neither had the gall to say as much, though. With only an uncomfortable stare as response from her companion, Devi turned her attention back to the phone and punched in the number that she hated to admit she had memorized.

MEANWHILE:

Johnny had not moved beyond adjusting his laying position from his stomach onto his side. He stared apathetically at the unplugged television set on the opposite wall, listening to the creaking of his dilapidated house and any sounds outside as a source of audio for the static he was imagining on the screen. Or maybe his vision was getting spotty, he wasn’t sure.

Emotions were so exhausting to deal with, and while he hadn’t slept in months, bawling his lungs out always made him more tired than anything else could. Johnny had fought the urge to let his body completely rest since he’d collapsed on the couch days ago, but it seemed like he was finally loosing that internal battle. Sleep was consuming his body whole; from his torso all the way out to the ends of his fingers, his worthless machine felt tired, tired, tired.

A few slow blinks eased his mind closer to unconsciousness, but just as his eyelids settled closed, an abrupt Ringgg! stirred his brain back to life. The exhaustion he felt just a second prior drained out of him like gunky water as he realized the sound he was hearing was his telephone.

Johnny sat up and stared at where the phone sat on the other side of the room, and through his surprise managed to chastise himself for having even an inkling of hope that it might be her. Why on Earth would she call him? No, there was just no possible way that it would be Devi.

As he crossed the room, he convinced himself that the wobbling feeling in his legs was a result of not standing for a long time, and not nervousness. The phone seemed impatient, its shrill chiming coming off as more aggressive the longer that Johnny did not answer the call. He stood, heels together, watching the receiver rattle on its perch with growing anxiety.

Despite his quick dismissals over the identity of the caller being Devi, he could not imagine who else would be calling him. And to add to that, if it really was Devi, did he have anything he could say that could remedy the massive divide between them that he had only served to widen with his careless behavior? He doubted so.

Still, he picked up the phone and held it to his ear.

“…Hello?”

Johnny could not see the relief on the caller’s face that his ‘hello’ was not followed by a gunshot and screaming.

“…Hi.” Devi spoke finally. Johnny’s eyes grew large as her voice reached him, and his throat closed up from dread. Whatever she had to say to him, he had little doubt that it was anything less than malicious, and he couldn’t bear to hear her say that she never wanted to see him again, or to go jump off a bridge – he might actually do just that, in fact, if she told him to. But his fear restrained him from speaking or hanging up, leaving him the only option of standing there wordlessly.

Devi scowled the longer the silence stretched on.

“Are you there, Johnny?” She gnashed, and Johnny’s spine straightened from the impatience in her voice that only thinly covered the anger hiding beneath it.

“Yes.” He replied quickly, then allowed the call to go quiet again. He could hear a sigh growl out from Devi’s throat.

“Listen,” Devi kept her anger at a simmer. “I am going to give you one fucking chance to talk to me about what… happened. Are you willing to do that?”

Johnny sucked in a breath. He was in disbelief – could he really be so fortunate as to be offered such an opportunity? He never had such luck!

“Y-Yes!” He exclaimed. “Yes, I, I would like to do that very much.”

“Good.” Devi wanted to keep this short, lest she explode.

“I am going to be… at the convenience store, near Dragon’s Books. You remember the one?” She asked, and Johnny hurriedly affirmed. She hesitated a moment, doubting whether she had the stomach to do this, but reassured herself for the umpteenth time that she did. “Oh-kay. I will be there at 9:00PM. Do not be late.”

She said it like it was more of a threat than a request, but Johnny didn’t care. Through his immense fear he was elated – Devi still wanted to meet with him! Even if it might just be a rouse to lure him out so she could beat him to death in an alley, he would eagerly go.

“I’ll… see you there!” Johnny nearly gasped. Devi’s lip curled bitterly.

“…Yeah. I’ll see you there.” She parroted back to him, then hung up.

The dial tone finalized the deal for both of them. Each looked to their respective clocks, and winced that 9:00PM was only two short hours away.

8:45PM:

Devi crushed another handful of chips between her teeth, demanding that her body emit the kind of grim energy that repelled weaker-willed humans away from her in uneasy terror. Her back pushed discontentedly against the bricked wall of the Grab n’ Go, where she stood in the shadow that its fluorescent sign cast against the corner of the building.

She ignored any anxiety that she felt from the idea of seeing Johnny again, and focused instead on feeding her vindictive anger – if she was mad, than she couldn’t be afraid, pure and simple. And he wasn’t something to be scared of if she was expecting him to do something stupid and violent, anyway. He wouldn’t catch her lowering her guard again, that was for sure.

The coughing of a neglected engine caught her attention, and she watched a small grey car turn into the parking lot, its round headlights scanning across the ashfalt like a pair of shifting eyes. Devi frowned, vaguely recognizing it as Johnny’s car. The vehicle stopped abruptly, as if it noticed her, then quickly turned into the parking space at the very end of the store’s front, the spot closest to her. As the headlights died, Devi’s suspicions were confirmed. Johnny’s blackened figure stared back at her a moment with a mixture of longing and hesitation, before he began fumbling with his car door.

Johnny stepped out and clicked his door shut, then turned to the woman on the curb glaring at him. All he could do was stand there lamely.

Maybe saying that he would ‘eagerly’ meet her was a step without forethought. While he was certainly eager, he was also immensely frightened of her and her ability to remove herself from his life if he said the wrong thing – and he wasn’t exactly known for saying the right thing.

He intertwined his fingers behind his back, then thought better of it, not wanting Devi to think he was hiding a weapon, and moved his hands back to his sides, choosing to pick at the fraying seams of his pants to calm him instead. Johnny reminded himself that it was Devi that had suggested this encounter, and tried to ride that wave of assurance, along with all the courage that he could muster, as he walked to meet her. He stopped a few feet in front of her and waited a moment before speaking.

“Hello, Devi.”

Devi didn’t reply, and only continued glaring at him. Her eyes fell to the pavement, tired of looking at him, and focused on the cracks that spread underneath her boots instead. Johnny shrunk slightly, but tried to take some solace in the fact that she hadn’t screamed at him. He stepped around to her side, and leaned up against the wall with her, leaving a respectable distance between them. After a tense few moments, Devi could no longer keep herself from saying something.

“I can’t believe you fucking did that.” Devi fumed quietly. Johnny sunk his head low into his collar, too afraid to reply.

The silence persisted after her comment, and Johnny could only guess what she was thinking. He had been so excited to see her again, but he also knew that Devi’s desire to see him was self-preservative in nature. His life posed an immediate risk to her own, so of course she would want to see him, want to know what he’s doing. He desperately wanted to say something to ease her concerns, anything that could garner some of her trust back, but he knew that whatever he said would come off as superficial and empty to Devi’s jagged and hard-to-impress nature. Not that he could blame her, he would surely think the same.

Idly, Johnny dragged the side his boot on the sidewalk, letting the faint sound of scratching metal lull him into his mind. It wasn’t exactly the safest place to be, but he needed to think over his words carefully for such a delicate situation. Words like “sorry” and “regret” and “remorse” all sounded so pathetically small in the face of his violent actions, and would likely only anger his companion further.

Devi’s breath seemed more labored suddenly, and Johnny stopped his movements, fearful that he was aggravating her by making any sound at all. He hesitantly lifted his gaze up to her face, and was relieved that she was looking at a far-off dumpster instead of pointing her icy eyes at him. Even if they weren’t directed at him, Johnny couldn’t help staring at her green irises, having to strain with all his might to see their color in the shadowed area of the parking lot.

He watched her pupils narrow and twitch in response to the thoughts in her head, and the strength that flickered in them made his chest tighten. While he couldn’t boast that he ever knew exactly what she was thinking even when they were friends, he had loved seeing the attitude that swirled in her bright eyes. Whether it was a level of annoyance, or anger, or excitement, or mischievousness, it never mattered; the fire behind that glint was always the same, and it always made him feel the same, too. Even now, when the white-hot anger cradled inside them was reserved for him, he could only feel adoration.

Johnny dropped his focus to his shoes again with a painfully quiet sigh. Devi was always full of such beautiful, vibrant life, and he couldn’t believe that he would be so selfish as to try and extinguish it not once, but twice. With that thought, his mind wandered to the memories of their half-wonderful, half-horrible date, and his heart squeezed and expanded with the intense emotion that he had failed so miserably at removing from his body.

As he navigated all of the feelings he recalled from that time, his thoughts began pouring from his mouth absentmindedly.

“The… morning after our failed outing…” He murmured, gathering Devi’s attention without notice. “I woke up, surrounded by blood and glass. My memory was very foggy, but I did remember that I tried to attack you…”

Devi frowned, irritated that he would bring up that night, but couldn’t interject before Johnny continued.

“I’ve never been so afraid. I was so terrified that I’d killed you, or horribly wounded you. I ran to the TV room, and the front door was wide open, and I could see your car was gone.” He hesitated a moment, his voice threatening to hitch.

“I felt such overwhelming relief. You were safe – alive. None of the blood on me was anyone’s but my own. But the relief was fleeting… I was consumed with unimaginable sorrow as I stood there. Your car was gone – you were gone. Everything that was between us before, was gone too.”

The confession surprised Devi, to a degree, and she remained quiet, curious to see where he was going with this particular tangent.

“Surely you hated me.” Johnny nodded his head in her direction, fully aware that he was speaking to her now. “How could you not hate me? And that had been what I wanted so badly to stop from happening… I never wanted there to be a time I could look back on, and know without a doubt you were upset with me, or I was upset with you. I never wanted your anger or sadness directed at me. I never wanted to know with absolute certainty that there was ill-will from you to I, or vice versa.”

Johnny swallowed. He was nervous to attempt this explanation again, seeing as his lengthy talking had pissed Devi off often in the past.

“You see… the idea was that… if I killed you then, that your affection would always be there for me. That the happiness we both felt in that moment would never be tainted with petty fighting – your smile, your laugh, your warmth, all of that would be mine to look back on and remember that joy can really be holistic. That the happiness you gave me will always be untouched by ugly feelings, like betrayal or grief or rage.”

His body tightened, every nerve ending he had aware of the furious stare Devi was burying into his temple. Ignoring his heart’s frantic palpitations, he pushed on, begging that his remorse would be enough to calm her rage.

“But now… I’m so grateful that you are alive to hate me.” The sentence alone was enough to confuse Devi out of her raw anger, and Johnny felt himself relax enough to feel his anguish properly.

“Even if my memories of you now are so bittersweet; all the times you smiled at me and the talks we shared, yes, they are quickly followed by the pain I feel knowing that you despise me… but I would bear this agony for an eternity if it meant that you would still be alive. Regardless of your feelings for me, you are still the person I admire and respect most of all, you know. The painful reminders that your tenderness for me is long departed doesn’t, and cannot, change that, and I’ve learned that because of you and your insistence to live – live regardless of what anyone else has to say about it!”

He calmed himself a moment, still cautious about expressing himself too wildly tonight.

“My actions before… they were selfish. So selfish – I knew that, and I didn’t care. But I think now, that while I knew that, I don’t think I understood it, until I had to live with the fact that you loathe my very existence.”

Johnny finally garnered the courage to look Devi in the eyes, and he didn’t allow himself even a second to digest the intimidation he felt from the act, instead demanding that he continue his apology before he lost the words again.

“You are such a strong person, Devi. Your love and hate burn with such an intensity, I can only be envious of it. You are rigid in your passions – your work motivates you, and in turn your steadfastness protected your work. You are the perfect example of what I can only piss and cry about wanting to be.”

“And no pain in this world could be worse than the idea that you would cease to exist. No glass impeded in my face, no bullets through my skull, could ever possibly hurt more than the mere concept that you could be gone.”

“I am very limited in facets when it comes to stubbornness like yours, but one thing I’m sure of, is that I’d vehemently agree to continuously fail, continuously hurt, forever, if it meant that you are alive, Devi. When you look at me, and I can see the energy and emotion and life flaring inside of your eyes, I am reminded of my biggest failures – the worst of my mistakes, the biggest slips of foresight – and it brings me such an intense feeling of relief. It makes not sense, and yet, it makes more sense than anything on Earth!! Failure should make you feel bad, but when the result is you being unharmed, I am happy!”

Johnny could feel that he was starting to monologue uncontrollably, and had to literally clench his jaw shut to stop the rantings from growing louder and more crazed. Devi was still staring at him, and he couldn’t read her expression aside from the fact that she wasn’t mad. This was as good a time as any to apologize, he supposed.

“…I know forgiveness is about as likely as it’s always been, but I still want to say that I’m very sorry for trying to stab you with a pen. You see now why I was so insistent on voiding myself of all feelings. I’m still too selfish, and I still lose myself in my anger more than I would like to admit… I was so foolish; I had started fantasizing that, maybe, we could be friends again. I knew it was very unlikely, but I still let myself get carried off in the daydream that you might still, I don’t know, enjoy my company… Hearing the facts about our er, relationship, just upset me. N-Not that I blame you for that, of course, it’s just that I’m so… well you know, not good with— ugh, I am bad at explaining.”

Johnny slumped against the wall. Despite the exhaustion he felt from releasing so many feel-y words at once, it did feel sort-of good at the same time. Much more satisfying for the soul than his ill-fated phone call apology months back. Devi watched him until she was sure he was done talking, then crossed her arms and leaned back more comfortably while she debated how to respond.

She wasn’t really expecting anything articulate from him, and had, in fact, intended to shut him down if he dared to try spewing more of his fake-wisdom bullshit about feelings and human nature, but this time it felt… kind of genuine. Kind of. She wasn’t going to give him too much credit.

“And um,” Johnny mumbled. “I forgot to say, uh, I’m very grateful that you would meet with me tonight… I didn’t expect you to offer me the chance to speak, either, so…”

Devi rolled her eyes with a hint of amusement in her exacerbation.

“Oh, can it already, would you?” She turned to him, and Johnny immediately quieted himself, though more do to the fact that Devi’s voice had since softened from the last time she spoke.

Devi observed his unassuming and nervous posture, and instead of again feeling rage that he would try to appear meek, felt some level of pride that he truly was so intimidated by her. She had insistently told herself that, when it came to Johnny, the power imbalance was in her favor, but after his little confession, she was more secure in that belief. It did make her feel slightly at ease, though she refused to lower her guard all the same. Even if he didn’t mean to hurt her, he still tried to, after all. It might even be worse that his violent outbursts are triggered by his feelings, regardless of if he actually wants the bloody, end result or not – but that was just something to file away as an important note, and didn’t change the fact that he would be coming back to her apartment again.

She uncrossed one of her arms and offered him her bag of chips, almost nonchalantly. Johnny blinked in surprise at the gesture, and flickered his eyes between her and the bag hesitantly a few times before sticking his hand inside and taking a palmful of chips out. Part of him imagined that she had set a mousetrap inside to snap on his fingers, or something.

“Well,” Devi sighed to the sky while he munched away. “you ready to pick up where we left off?”

Johnny stopped mid-chew, staring at her in shock. He swallowed quickly.

“Wh—r-really??” He asked. “You would really want to, to continue mentoring me??”

Devi smiled smugly.

“If I’m supposed to believe what you’re saying, than your emotions are so intense that even when you respect someone, you can’t stop yourself from resorting to violence if they upset you. Your ‘fight or flight’ instinct is too much for you to control, as it is now.” She tilted her head to him. “Which means we’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Johnny smiled, smothering the remaining chips in his hand unintentionally, as his fist tightened against his chest with elation. He could barely absorb her words with his brain buzzing the way it was, but he nodded madly all the same,

“Yes! Yes, I’m ready!” He grinned. “Can we go now?”

Devi’s mouth slanted, eyebrows raised in surprise.

“What?” She asked. “No, not tonight, you nutcase.”

“Why not??” He pushed, smile still sprawled up to his cheeks. “We could go, and keep it short—!”

“HEY.” Devi huffed, sticking a finger aggressively between his eyes. Johnny’s mouth shut, his eyes crossed to stare at her pointed nail hovering just over the bend of his nose, only uncrossing when she spoke again.

“I’m going to be way harder on you now, so don’t get all comfy on me, Johnny.” She retracted her hand, then offered another slit of a smile. “And I need a night to sleep on your stupid-ass apology before I even think of helping you along. Just, come over tomorrow night, ‘kay?”

Even with all the insults, Johnny couldn’t stop his smile from bursting back to life.

“Okay!” He beamed. “Okay, I will see you tomorrow night! 6:00PM, yes?”

“Yes.” Devi groaned, shaking her head with the faint remnants of a smile, and returned to her car. She needed a fucking nap. Johnny finally unfurled his fist, shoving the remaining chip crumbs into his mouth and waving goodbye to her enthusiastically as she drove off.

NEXT.

#jthm #jtrm #mine #devnny #my fingers hurt but finally i can move on... to better chapters....#chapter

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vampirevodka-blog · 6 years

Photo

Automat (1927), Edward Hopper.

The bells strewn over the door chime, announcing my arrival to the boy manning the counter. He’s not Elia—who would normally be here on a Tuesday afternoon, but he seems kind enough. I smile, politely, and he asks if there’s any way he could be of assistance.

“Yes, please, there’s a book I’ve been reading here, it’s called We All Looked Up? Elia leaves it behind the counter for me for whenever I can seal myself away for a little.” He ducks down under the countertop and I take the chance to tap out a few buttons on my phone screen—Do not Disturb. I rarely get the opportunity to visit this place anymore: it’s always something or other with work, or my parents, or university that grabs me by the arm and yanks me back every time I even think of escaping. Especially with Anthony’s kid on the way, and what with how busy my schedule has been up until now due to exam season…

“Ah, here it is. By ‘Tommy Wallach,’” he reads off the cover, his tongue cluck-ing on the ‘ch’ at the end rather than the smooth sh I’m familiar with my mother using, as well as using myself. He holds the book out to me, half-grinning, dimples etched into his cheeks. “Is it any good?”

“It’s…” I pause, considering, because how do you explain to an individual you’ve only just met that you’re reading a story that explores how human behavior may make people respond to an end of the world catastrophe? “It’s a bit sad, but it’s interesting.”

“Hm.” He glances down at a phone—presumably his own—that’s chimed from where it rests on the counter. His eyes flick back up to me, the hazel poorly concealing his sudden loss of interest, and he asks if I would like to order anything.

Tea. I ask for a cup of chamomile with honey, thank him, and find my way to the table I always sit at whenever I come here. The shop itself—Papercup, a place the size of a walk-in closet with books, records, newspapers, magazines lining the walls up to the ceilings—is situated right next to a little café that a friend and I used to frequent. We aren’t friends anymore, and I loved the aura Home Sweet Home had encompassed itself in: the couches and décor making even the most out-of-place individual feel genuinely at home. It hurt too much to return by myself, though—we had had memories in the little atrium with the fairy lights, the bathroom with the submarine-esque wallpaper and rounded mirrors. Once I thought I’d try and go back myself—they have the best sweet potatoes fries I have ever tasted—and found myself in a hurry to leave before any tears actually fell. I’d aimlessly stumbled around the streets of Mar Mikhael in just the right direction, because I found myself standing in front of a small little nook with a cherry-wood bench outside and glass windows for the exterior wall. Granted, it had been busier that day: jam-packed because of the rain, there had barely been enough room for me to stand, let alone do any reading. I didn’t mind, though; I had a fresh-baked scone that melted in my mouth and was surrounded by quiet conversations, stories shared over warm cups of coffee and fat slices of pound cake, and I fell absolutely in love. This place always felt magical, like one of the few gems left that the outside world hadn’t managed to get their slimy, greedy hands on yet, and the atmosphere was so heart achingly raw that I found myself fitting right in amongst the dusty records seamlessly. I settle back into my seat, relishing the faint scent of worn books and aged paper mingled with the bitter aroma of coffee, and felt content.

There was a strict policy against smoking indoors, I soon discovered after I’d begun to frequent the coffee shop. Of the four tables that fit in the café, three were occupied: an old woman with a cat, a couple of girls at the seating right beside the window. Papercup had smelled like gingerbread—this had been right before Christmas, when everyone was out anxiously buying gifts and trampling over each other in department stores—and I’d opted for peppermint tea to fit the atmosphere. Elia—who had taken a liking to me ever since I’d asked if they had any books by Viriginia Woolf at hand—was seated across from me, a paintbrush shoved through her hair, precariously balancing her massive curls into a bun atop her head. There’d been the snick of a lighter and a spark of light off to the left; Elia was up like a flash and politely informing the elderly woman of how much trouble she’d get into if she allowed her to carry on inside, but that the woman would be more than welcome to finish her cigarette outside. The woman apologized and Elia helped her relocate outside, her fair falling out of place slightly after the effort of opening the fold-up table they keep in the back. She’d come back to the table, eyeballing the box of Marlboros that had magically appeared on the table while she’d been away (read: that I’d rapidly searched my bag to fish out, just because she was funny to annoy like that), and she locked me inside after closing hours while she’d chain-smoked the few left, making face through the window.

Because of this, I knew better than to even make such possessions visible—the staff was far too much like a family, and family members force you to share everything with them, even if you don’t want to. I’d already smoked before I turned onto this street. I start when my tea is placed before me, and the boy laughs, apologizing and returning to where he’d been perched behind the counter. It’s only the two of us in the place, but it’s not awkward at all: there’s a soft song on the speaker overhead that I can faintly recognize as one of the new ones by Harry Styles, and there’s the soft whirring and dripping coming from the coffee machines. It’s serene, and I set the book on the table, away from me a bit, and pull out my watercolors and sketch pad.

There are already thousands of sketches of this exact café, from this exact location, scattered throughout the pages. Some in colored pencil, one in acrylics—one of them, though. One of them is of a different side of Papercup, one late at night after closing hours where the overhead lights have been shut off and the coffee pots long since emptied and the entirety of the place blanketed in silence, the streetlights in the window making the rickety wooden ladder perched up against the bookshelf-wall look copper.

Sometimes I wish that I did work here, instead. That I accepted the job when Elia’s boss—Raul—had offered. Sure, the pay is nowhere near what I make at Roadster’s, and tips are basically a foreign concept, but at least the shifts aren’t anxiety-inducing and my co-workers would offer me a lousy greeting at the start of a shift. I bring my cup to my lips, breathing over it gently to cool the tea before taking a sip. I set down the mug and pick up my pencil, hand sliding along the paper, eyes on the point in the room where the glass and the bookshelf walls meet.

The bells chime and I’m startled out of my train of thought, eyes on the newcomer. Messy hair, a beanie. Oversized jean jacket and a crazed expression with a partly-opened mouth.

The customer blends seamlessly into the sketch and I request a cup of water from not-Elia. The song changes to the 1975 and I decide that today Papercup’s wallpaper will be lavender (in reality, the walls are a beautiful crème, but while that color’s nice in real life it’s such a bore to paint). The flowers in the vase at the front of the shop are sunflowers—vibrantly yellow and purposely bleeding outside the lines, bringing light to the entire establishment. There are koi fish swimming in the empty spaces; bleeding vermillion and blue-black shadows cast on the walls. I give the books titles—Harry Potter, All the Bright Places, Ever Since New York. I’ve added a record player shoved up against one corner because it’s something I’ve felt this place was lacking since the beginning. I nurse my tea as a I wait for the colors to dry, before adding the final touches in white acrylic to give the painting—the room, the feeling—more depth.

It’s not the best I’ve done—the customer’s depiction is clearly rushed and nothing I would ever boast about—but the blurriness at the edges work. It feels right: fuzzy on the outermost parts, slightly removed from reality; the world within one of its own. One that is calming and not riddled with shouting family members and lousy customers and stressful coursework. One where fish fill the air with symbolism and intent and don’t poop all over pedestrians like birds tend to do.

My tea cup is taken, and I know that he’s refilling it again. I put away the art supplies, carefully making sure the paint is dry, and hum along to the soft lull filling the place.

I smile, happy with where I am. I open my book and begin to read where I’d left off, the top right corner of the page forming a small triangle to mark the spot. There were only a few cars out on the freeway, busted up…

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pennywisefamilies · 6 years

Text

I had some hand surgery, so I missed a couple of posts — I’m sorry about that. As I have had some extra time to reflect and recover over the past couple of weeks, I have thought about the gifts that have meant the most to me. They’re not expensive gifts — no diamonds, roses, or expensive dinners. What has meant the most to me are gifts of time, gifts of memories, and, of course, the gift of spending time with friends and family.

Gifts of Time

One of my favorite gifts comes from my husband every year, usually for my birthday, but it could really be given any time of year — it’s the gift of a clean house. Christmas cooking often generates quite a mess — if someone cleans up the mess while you are taking a nap, recovering from your cooking marathon — that is quite a gift!

Another non-food gift of time is a coupon book. You can make them for anything you want to do to spend time with someone. This search on pinterest shows a variety of coupon books you could make for a special someone in your family. Just be ready to give that person your time when they want to redeem it later! Be sure to specify if there are any terms, or conditions to your coupon book, or if it will expire.

There are also several homemade gifts that are really nice to give to your family and friends. For instance, buy inexpensive, holiday food containers at your local dollar store, or department store and then make a variety of cookies and give each family several cookies of each type. I love to make these 3 ingredient peanut butter cookies — they’re inexpensive, gluten-free (as they contain no flour), and super easy.

Three-Ingredient Peanut Butter Cookies

This recipe is very simple:

Take 1 cup peanut butter and microwave it for 30 seconds, stir, repeat until the peanut butter is very liquidy (like cake batter).

Immediately, mix in 1 cup sugar, or Splenda — both work well (I haven’t tried any other sweeteners), and 1 beaten egg.

Drop by teaspoonsfulls onto an ungreased cookie sheet (I often dip a fork into sugar, and cross it bothways on the doughball to give it an extra bit of sweetening) Bake at 350 for 8-10 minutes, or until the cookies have just started to crack and are light brown.

You could also make candy in a crockpot — this recipe makes about 8 dozen of average cookie-sized candies. The ingredients cost around $15 at the store, but you can give a good amount to everyone you wish for very little effort.

Bud’s Crockpot Candy

We make this recipe once or twice a year. It is often requested at potlucks. We have used peanuts, and almonds in it, but have not tried other nuts, or fillings.

Bud’s Crockpot Candy

Peppermint Bark

If you like peppermint, this peppermint bark is amazing! If you choose to add this to your food container with a variety of other cookies, be sure to double bag them in baggies. Otherwise, the strong flavor of peppermint will transfer to the other cookies in your container.

Paula Deen’s Peppermint Bark

Microwave Fudge

I first tried this fudge at a church women’s retreat. It is very easy, and incredibly rich!

Microwave Fudge

Gifts of Memories

“I Love You to Pieces” Picture Frame

If you’d rather make a craft for a present, then this one that my daughter made is not only easy, but also an incredible memory maker! You just get a wooden picture frame in the craft section of the department store, dollar store, or craft store; a bottle of mod podge; some miscellaneous puzzle pieces, some acrylic paint, a special picture, and a paint brush. Paint the frame however you like, and paint the puzzle pieces, too. After the paint dries, write, “I Love You to Pieces!” with a Sharpie, or other permanent marker. Then, glue the puzzle pieces to the frame, and, once the glue has dried, add a coat of mod-podge to seal everything. Once that dries, add a second coat of mod-podge to the entire frame (including the puzzle pieces) to seal it even more. After everything has dried, add the picture of yourself, your child, your family, or whatever you want.

Picture Ornament

Need: 1 wallet sized picture, toothpick, and a glass ornament.

Simply roll a wallet-sized picture up from the left-side in, so you end up with the outside showing. Then insert it into the glass ornament and using a toothpick, gently unroll the picture inside. Now, what can get easier than that? And, you end up with a gift to treasure for many years!

“52 Reasons I love you” Pack of cards

Since each card will have a different quote, personality trait, memory, or whatever on it, these cards probably won’t fly in Vegas, but they would make a treasured memory keepsake for your gift recipient for years to come.

52 Reasons Pack of Cards

If you need additional diy last minute Pennywise Christmas Gifts, just do a quick Pinterest search.

I hope you all have a terrific Christmas Holiday filled with special memories that will last a lifetime.

Nichole

DIY Last Minute Christmas Gifts I had some hand surgery, so I missed a couple of posts -- I'm sorry about that.

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j4d1389 · 6 years

Text

Going through my blog posts I realised that I never actually finished a post I was doing about Lucas’ birthday! I came across a partially written one in my saved section but it was actually just notes!

So I am going to take a rewind time to last September when Lucas turned 6(!) and had a flamingo themed birthday!

If there is something that Lucas loves more than Flamingos (and Trolls) then I am yet to come across it! He has had a fascination with them for a very long time, since the time that he went to the Wetlands centre in Llanelli and he saw them there.

For his birthday I made the invitations for him as I couldn’t find any with flamingos on that weren’t going to cost me an arm and a leg. I drew out a basic silhouette of a flamingo body and used that to create a stencil that I could use to paint flamingos onto each invitation, to paint them on I actually used a sponge to give them a bit more texture as I didn’t actually want them to be flat. I then liberally sprinkled each invite with glitter to create sparkly flamingos, I did it whilst the paint was still tacky so that the glitter would stick to the pain. Whilst I was waiting for the invites to dry, so I could add-on the legs, I started on a canvas that I was going to give him for his birthday. I used a dry paintbrush (quite a rough bristled one) and dipped it lightly into a yellow/gold paint and brushed it lightly over the canvas in a few places, once I was happy with how that looked I did exactly the same using a red paint to create a sunset effect. I was really happy with how it turned out and it was practically dry as soon as I was finished doing it. I then used the same technique I used on the invites on the canvas, again liberally sprinkled with glitter once I had finished.

I left them to dry for an hour or so so that they would be fully dry by the time I went to do the legs and writing that I was adding to the top of the invites. To do the legs I used a thin paint brush and a touch of black paint. I used a metallic gold pen to write “Birthday Party!” at the top of the invites. I probably should have done a faint line to ensure my writing was straight but at the time I really didn’t think about it.

Lucas absolutely adored the invitations, so much so that we actually ended up keeping a spare one for him so that he could have one for himself (good job I made more than I needed).

When I bought the canvas that I used I bought it as a pack of three, initially I was going to use them all to paint for around the house (and I do have a light sketch drawn out on the largest one of them but I am not overly happy with the idea now so will have to change it) however I decided to use two of them for Lucas. The smallest canvas had multiple flamingos on it and the medium-sized canvas had one large flamingo on it.

For that flamingo I sketched out the shape I wanted straight onto the canvas and then painted over the sketch. For all of the painting I used acrylic paints as I find them easiest to get hold of and so nice to use. It took me a couple of days to get it to look exactly like I wanted it to. For the background I used the same effect as I had on the other canvass so it kept them linked. I didn’t use any glitter on this canvas though as I didn’t feel that it was needed as the flamingo was quite large and quite a statement as it was. I did one coat of paint initially and left it to dry, when I went back to it do continue with the details I decided that the flamingo looked too flat so I added more paint on thicker in places. I felt that it gave the flamingo a texture that reminded me of feathers.

His birthday cake and cupcakes followed a similar colour scheme to the canvases that I painted just with hints of gold. Instead of making a flamingo I decided to buy a personalised cake topper. I also bought wafer paper cupcake toppers for the cupcakes I made for him to take into school, sadly I forgot to take any photos of the cupcakes with the toppers on as I didn’t add them until 10 minutes before I took the children to school so that they didn’t wilt at all. For the colours on the cupcakes I used white, pink, red and yellow to create a sunset effect. I added all of the colours to one piping bag and using a 1M piping nozzle I piped a “rose” swirl (which has become my favourite swirl to use as it doesn’t put too much butter icing on top of the cupcakes). Once all of the cupcakes were piped I used some rolkem gold powder rejuvenated with some water (usually I would have used a clear alcohol such as vodka but as these were for children I just used water) and with a paintbrush I splattered it onto the cupcakes. The more cupcakes I piped the more blended the colours became and some became more of a pastel tone rather than the vibrant colours that I had started out with.

His actual birthday cake was a rich chocolate mud cake using the recipe from “My Cupcake Addiction”, covered in vanilla butter icing using the same colours as the cupcakes. I wanted to create a watercolour effect on the cake but I used too much of the coloured butter icing, however I love how the cake turned out in the end even if it wasn’t how I first imagined it would. To do the cake, I first filled and covered the it with white butter icing to create a “blank canvas”, I then added splodges of the chosen coloured butter icing around the cake. Using a cake scraper and a warm pallet knife I spread the butter icing over the whole cake, cleaning off the scraper and pallet knife after each use.

Once I was happy with the finished effect I added some blue food colouring to some chopped white chocolate and then melted it, I did this so that I could make sure that the chocolate didn’t seize when I added the food colouring (though I have found that the Sugarflair Pro Gels don’t generally seize when added to chocolate but I didn’t want to risk it). I then poured it on top of the cake and let it drizzle down the sides of the cake. Once the chocolate had set I added on flakes of real gold leaf, I should have added them beforehand but I hadn’t actually planned how to do it, so hindsight is a wonderful thing.

To finish the cake off I added the personalised cake topped that I had ordered. I could have had any colour flamingo and writing but I chose to stick to a pink flamingo with gold writing. I don’t think Lucas would have been happy if the flamingo had been any other colour in all honesty and the gold writing just tied in with the rest of the design.

Lucas’ party was held at home with a handful of friends which was lovely. I much prefer doing smaller parties to big ones, though I do love doing a big party too. He had a fantastic time with his friends. Once all of his friends left all of the family came over to celebrate with him too. He had a wonderful day and was spoilt rotten (as children always are), he is already talking about his birthday this September and he keeps changing his mind between a bunny rabbit birthday or a second flamingo birthday! He seems to forget that there are several months between now and then and he may very well change his mind (though actually I doubt that it will change very much), If he sticks with the flamingo theme again I don’t think there will be much that I can get him as I think we have bought almost everything flamingo for him as it is. He has also had flamingo cushions and a flamingo toy made for him by my nan which he sleeps with every night. Fingers crossed he chooses something easier for us to buy him this year (I doubt that he will but I will keep my fingers crossed).

Keep a look out this week coming for my blogs on Skye’s birthday, however they may not be up until the end of the week so there could be some silence from me until all my work is completed (I have a few other bits to do this week which I will also blog about once everything is done).

Until Next Time x J x

Flamingo’s! Going through my blog posts I realised that I never actually finished a post I was doing about Lucas' birthday!

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