#i love crochet. its so frustrating and so fun and i get to Make Things! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

swordheld · 8 months

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how do you think in poems? i really enjoy the tags under your posts i've always wanted to write down my own thoughts that way bc in my head they feel so thorough and magical but whenever i put it in words i feel it just gets so much flatter and i no longer see a point and give up

oh oh oh, but lovely, can't you see that you've already started? it's a perspective that you hone, over time, something that is specific to you and you alone – that's the piece of it that makes it so special! you've already begun, and it only goes forward, up, sideways from here, wherever you wish to go!

think of it like a skill, for a moment, or a kind of muscle, if you'd prefer. you have to work at it, with it, over time and differing experiences, in order to progress.

(a quick important note: not progression as in the kind of quality-check of a grading scale, but progression as in evolution. shifting change. think of the leaves and their colors across the months of autumn, or temperatures rising with the sun and cooling with the evening dark. change isn't intrinsically a qualifying thing, it can just be, sometimes. this is difficult to remember, especially in the midst of frustration, but it is worth it. you are always doing better than you think you are – harshest critic, and all that.)

which is not to say that it's a simple thing to do! compare this to the vibe of me picking up crochet recently, with my shaking hands and too-quickly dwindling adhd focus – my first attempts at making a lil headphone sprout have not been going as well as i once hoped. my stitches are either too big and sloppy bc i'm not holding the yarn tightly enough to get clean ones, or i feel frustrated due to it not looking like how i'd like it to look in my mind when i started it, or even as i begin my umpteenth attempt.

but!! i know that it won't ever look the way i want it do if i set it down and never keep trying. it'll take awhile, like everything does, even the seasons take their time, the moon and its phases; but what i do know, is that, eventually, it'll resemble something i want it to. vaguely, maybe, but it is something. it doesn't have to look exactly like the guide i'm following, or the examples i'm inspired by, because it's mine – something made by my own hands, my own time and experience with every mistake and thrilling joy along the way to learn by.

take it from me: i want to be good at things i want to be good at so badly. and that excitement makes me want to be at the skill level i need to be at in order to do so right then and there, no learning curves or building blocks allowed. which is never how it happens, unfortunately, but –

i think, gently, that we tend to overlook what a pleasure it is to learn. to see the slow progression of things, to begin and change and continue and get better. and even if it's different as we go along, in a way it's our own little kind of magic, maybe, to create and never be done if we don't want to be.

which is all to say: it's already yours. why does it have to be anything else, anything more? why can't it just be good as it is now, where it might never be again? what is there to lose by enjoying the moment of where you are?

like everything, it will grow and shift and evolve with time, maybe into something you'd hoped for, or maybe into something you don't even have the words to describe right now at all. but that's the fun of it: how even now, even then, there, across time and distance and skill, there is a common thread of things; it will always come from your heart, your experience, where you are right then and there and now.

and if you think of that like magic, well, it becomes a little like magic, doesn't it?

also, something to consider: sometimes things you feel or think can't be put into words at that moment, or even at all! something else you could try (that i certainly do) is making something else with whatever it makes you feel - whether that's another form of art, or any other kind of media. if it makes you want to go outside and take a walk or get cozy and read or play a video game? that counts too! that's still an experience, you're still feeling.

i think that counts a little more than anything else, you know?

and as a little ending fun side-note, can i share something cool? i've never thought of it that way before, as thinking in poems. in my mind it's always been a kind of perspective of personal wonder, but you're right – it's poetry, in it's own way. you gave me that – so thank you, from the heart of me. i hope your journey finds you with every bright joy.

#rainsdowninkerala #q&a.#this is truly so much longer than i had originally thought it would be so i do hope it's less rambly and more help-y?#the art of creation goes hand in hand with the exploration and discovery of feeling and it is sooooo important n fascinating to me.#truly tho this can all be boiled down into a kind of: keep going? keep going. you can only get better.#i didn't want the post itself to get even longer & winded BUT if you want a lil fun vibe? watch meet the robinsons. it's a lil silly; but -#truly nothing changed my creative experiences more than hearing ' keep moving forward ' paired with joy at the result of failure.#how it is that you never learn if you don't fail; you have to keep trying; keep going at it; and if we only ever succeeded –#there would never be that? that checkpoint of progression? it changed that frustrating moment into a kind of art; for me.#how each time i fail and feel that sadness or anger it reframes it into oh. i'm learning. i'm doing something new and i'm learning.#isn't that amazing? spectacular? that i can do this? that it's me / you / us together?#i think ab that a lot in terms of inspiring my mindset. i hope it helps you too. wishing u all my best !!!! <3

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v-anrouge · 7 months

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match ups!!! russian roulette is not the same without a gun amirite. shoot me in the foot bubs

im very awkward and reserved in real life; i rarely go out of my way to talk to others, but im charismatic and fun with those i know well. usually id rather get hit by a train than ask a waiter for a straw, but im very ballsy with social interaction when its for the sake of others, and by extension, im confrontational and confident when it comes to handling conflict. im very ambitious, and am a perfectionist when it comes to myself-- as understanding and patient as i try to be, im easily frustrated. im often forgetful and am easily overwhelmed, that leads me to ghosting people often. though, im very competent and responsible when im adhering to a strict structure. i like learning about people, and am easily enamoured by them.

my hobbies are drawing, painting, reading, writing, crocheting, embroidery/clothes-making, jewelry-making, and origami.

i like to think im very open in showing my admiration and appreciation of others; giving, my love languages are quality time, words of affirmation, and physical touch. receiving is the same. when it comes to people i really like, i go out of my way to gift them hand made items.

the people i tend to like the most are those who are articulate, earnest, have a strong moral compass, and are talkative.

-- c

pairing you up with; rook!

rook finds you absolutely fascinating, from the way you act when you're surrounded by strangers to the way you act when you're alone in your room (ig ur not rlly alone if he's watching you...its just research okay) he knows about how some people foolishly falls for the illusion of your self that you use to protect yourself, those who can't seem to realize the depth of your soul, and he can't blame them, he himself feels like he's never discovered it 100%, he feels like he never will. but he thinks it's such a pity that some give up before actually trying to get to know you, you're such an intriguing person, like a book that is filled with tragedies that make your chest ache and wonder for a moment if you should really continue to read it, you know there's much more to come, you know that feeling will come up often, yet you just can't stop yourself from reading it. because it's beautiful, because the feeling it brings you is euphoric. rook can't stop himself from wanting to know more about you, even though in the start you didn't really talk to him and all of the interactions were started by him, he knew discovering you would be an experience he wouldn't want to miss

rook likes your way of dealing with conflict, it matches his, he isn't one to hide his feelings so whenever you two have any problems, you guys always talk it out and it ends up very quickly, which is something he really is grateful for, he really can't stand the thought of being away from you because of a fight

rook is very understanding with your tendencies to get overwhelmed, and although he won't allow you to simply ghost him and distance yourself, he will give you space, he'll check up on you from time to time and make sure you're okay, but he will only go back to talking and hanging out around you once you say you're ready to, he takes a lot of notice in the changes on your body, he can practically feel it when you're getting overwhelmed and he will quickly take you away from the situation and try to get your mind off of it

rook absolutely adores your hobbies, you match perfectly with him, he promised that when you two get married and live together (and he is 100% sure it will happen) he'll make a big room filled with everything you need to indulge into any of them at any times, and he'll of course be by your side the entire time, constantly praising and pointing out little things he likes about your works, he's absolutely enamored with everything you create, he's sure you must have been born with some kind of power, everything you touch is pure beauty, he can't help it, he brags about it to everyone who will hear and even those who won't, he just must show your greatness to the world please forgive him he can't help but be a fool in love <3

im not joking when i say you make him cry everytime you make him a little gift, and when i say cry i mean CRY, red faced, shaky voice..he's a mess, but a beautiful one, because his smile is so bright it outshines the sun, be ready for multiple little gifts in return, he'll spoil you rotten, he just wants to see you be happy, please, wont you grace his presence with another one of your beautiful smiles?

extra; vil, lilia & malleus

#✎ ⇣‧₊˚ 【asks #ৎ୭ ⇣‧₊˚ 【stinks #♡ᭂ ⇣‧₊˚ 【 pome's cult member

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garnet-xx-rose · 1 year

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About you asking for Christine x Erik asks: Yes, hello. For the love of god hi! Please tell me more about your head canon for their dynamic in general (or whatever you want to talk about) but also imagine Erik’s reaction if Christine ever takes up sword fighting. The man would be going feral with how much he is simping. Would probably write a whole Opera about how glorious Christine looks while skewering her practice dummy dhajasnsn this is not at all inspired by that one pirate Christine art

My hc for Erik and Christine’s relationship varies, its kinda complicated. For example, Ramin and Sierra’s interpretation I find the most shippable and enjoy pondering about post-Final Lair. So if we’re just talking about Erik x Christine in the ALW-verse, I’m basing it off RAH, cause I love what they do with the characters. I love how touchy Erik and Christine are, I love how messy it is, I love *that* ending even though it hurts my soul, I LOVE how awkward Erik is. Ramin’s Erik is so awkward, but it’s also sexy and I feel like him and Christine would have some interesting conversations and soft moments if shit didn’t go bad so quick. I think watching RAH made me so frustrated (in a good way) because they look so beautiful together but ERIK MY DUDE, please just have a normal conversation with this woman and not jump to conclusions.

But at the same time, Emilie is without a doubt my favorite interpretation of Christine, while Ramin is still my favorite phantom. So, in like Modern AU situations, I’ve been basing my writing ideas off of their Erik and Christine being together, which I think would be a lot of fun: Ramin’s nerdy and reserved but passionate Erik vs Emilie’s warm, confident and excitable Christine. Erik does his sardonic theatrics and Christine’s like “Ok that was something but do you wanna go to Target with me to get groceries?

BUT ALSO: I do like Christine and Erik’s with an age gap. A good 10-15 years. Like Christine being 23+ and Erik mid 30s to early 40s. Before people start coming at me. As someone who’s in her early 20s that finds older people hella attractive but wouldn’t want to date them cause of the obvious power imbalance, enjoying Christine and Erik fills that gap. I love fics where even though Christine is younger, she has a strong grip on Erik and has a lot of power in the dynamic. Watching men, be deeply in love with women is a passion of mine, and I think they fit it in really well. Also love an older Erik that’s a bit husky in shape. Giving DILF real ness.

Overall though, these attributes exist in all my Erik x Christine dynamic hcs:

-Christine is very outspoken

-Erik is a simp

-Christine is trying out new hobbies and ways to express herself (sword fighting, dying and chopping off her hair) so that she can have an identity outside of music

-Erik is her #1 supporter in her endeavors

-They’re attraction to each other can be overwhelming, and it’s what causes initial conflict. They get lost in each other to the point they ignore other relationships and their friends confront them about it. Erik doesn’t understand the problem but its Christine who explains why its not healthy or sustainable for them

-Erik has a lot of issues and is also doing everything in his power to manage his problems. He often struggles with Christine choosing him and has a lot of insecurities, but he doesn’t put that on Christine and instead is learning to use other avenues for stress-relieving than Christine or music. He talks a lot more with Daroga and takes up non-music hobbies like cooking and crochet. (Now when he’s having a bad time, he makes a mean triple chocolate cookie)

-Christine is healing from her grief and it’s a emotional process: She misses her Dad but also realizes that her childhood wasn’t the most stable. She realizes that she’s been looking for this stability in her relationships, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. However, she’s uncomfortable being with herself. So, she’s learning how to exist in her own.

- Erik and Christine are messy, but they love each other and they love their unique connection. Both are committed to putting the work to make this last.

And heck yeah, love Pirate Christine so much!

#erik/christine #christine daae #erik #poto #e/c #Christine x Erik #shipping thoughts #asks

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cheshire-castle-library · 1 year

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Oh wow I also crochet!! It’s my favorite activity at the moment. I tend to listen to more alternative music and it does make me laugh when I have loud and aggressive music playing while making something like a cute little bear.

It is really fascinating to have hobbies that don’t quite align with studies or work! I work in the arts and humanities but I LOVE math. I took a calculus class just for fun and tutored for the 1st years math course. I think it’s lovely you enjoy the creatives as well :D

Thoughts I’ll leave with you today:

1. What do you like to crochet? Myself, I like making clothes though I do make plenty amigurumi animals

2. Imagine you have a basket with the items that mean a lot to you + 1 thing that’s a little silly, what’s in your basket?

3. If you need it, here’s a reminder to drink a glass of water! 💧

- 💗🌷

That's so cool!!! I'd love to see what you've made!!

I definitely agree, I've always ridden a line between the engineering and arts, its been such a weird balancing act but I really want to blend them together when I graduate. I'm actually in some art classes right now because of it! Its so good to enjoy math! Math is a love hate thing for me, it was so frustrating to learn, but its kind of beautiful how much you can do with it!

Alright 3 questions:

I prefer when I can crochet "in the round" since I learned to crochet on amigurumi! Right now my "stress relief" project is this big round blanket made of (us) Double Crochets. Its big and soft and brainless to work on x'D but I'm also working on a witches hat my friend put me onto the pattern for! He wants one specially made, so I'm figuring out the pattern on one for myself before I make his so the yarn doesn't get too stressed. The pattern was a little misleading so I've redone it like 4 times lol

Lets see, that basket probably contains my Pandora subscription, my bullet journal, my journal journal, and my memories with family and friends; but as for the slightly silly thing? It's kind of hard to choose, maybe my Final Fantasy 14 character? The anime Code Geass or XBOX 360 game Gears of War 2? Maybe I put the Platonic Ideal of Minecraft into the basket! I'm not really sure what counts as silly that's also meaningful to me x'D

I DO NEED TO DRINK WATER HECK!! Thank you!!!

Talk soon!

Nagi

#studyblr secret valentines #cheshire castle mailbox #my big mouth

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anywherebuthere · 3 years

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I had a dream about you last night || j.p.

James Potter x fem!reader

“Even when you’re gone, you are all that haunts my dreams.”

Wordcount: 1969

A/N: Happy (belated) birthday to the only man ever <33 I am illiterate, so I had a mental breakdown writing this <3 please enjoy!! special thanks to @anchoeritic and @gxtitobxby for supporting me via discord and for making fun of the time I got hit by a car :)) @skullsontess07 I finally posted it pls don’t hurt me <33

Warnings: alcohol, allusions to sex, death, bad writing, especially towards the end. barely proofread because I don’t believe in mistakes <3 /j

Please do not repost this!! I do not consent to this piece of fiction being published on any other site besides tumblr unless it by my doing.

The ticking of the grandfather clock thrummed in James’ ears as he tipped back the empty bottle, the smell of whiskey heavy in the air. He leaned his head against the cold surface of the white plaster wall, scanning the textured ceiling with misty eyes. His home, still half furnished, was riddled with traces of something better forgotten. Even with the weight of alcohol on his breath, his mind is running with memories and daydreams of her.

He closed his eyes, forcing the imagery away. In the distance, a train chugged on, its lone whistle echoing in the night, and James can’t help but be pulled into an uneasy slumber, memories still flashing through his mind like a broken film.

“Prongs, you git! We’re going to miss the train if you don’t hurry your fat arse.” Remus shouted, frustration seeping into his humoured voice.

“Relax Moony, we’ll be fine,” he replied, breath heaving slightly from sprinting across Platform 9¾, just narrowly having avoided knocking over an elderly witch.

As the four boys approached the entrance of the cart, the train’s departing whistle blared. They boarded quickly, though not without receiving a glare from a crew member.

Hurrying down the corridor, the boys glanced through every compartment window, though each appeared to be full of giggling sixth years. That is, with the exception of one.

Near the back end of the Hogwarts Express, was, at last, an empty compartment save for a singular figure slumped against the window. With no other choice of seating, the gaggle of boys slipped in silently, Sirius and Remus snagging the seats opposite to the slumbering girl, their pinkies linked as they whispered conspiratorially amongst themselves.

Peter, as adverse to the female race as ever, took the seat closest to the door, leaving James to be wedged between the mousy blonde and the stranger, careful not to bump her with his broad shoulders.

The train ride was filled with hushed whispers as the marauders discussed this year's prank for the welcoming feast, a customary tradition they held sacred, as to “start the year right.”

As they began going over the mechanisms of their plan, they felt the train begin to swerve as it approached a sharp turn. The compartment shook slightly and James suddenly felt a weight on his right side.

He stiffened, glancing over to see that the girl’s head had lulled over from the compartment wall and onto his shoulder. James recognized her as a student in their year. Y/N, who had tutored Regulus the same day that James had helped Sirius prank him as petty revenge for a now long-forgotten argument.

And well, perhaps James had wanted her to notice him for once. If so, it had been a successful endeavour as he remembered the way her face had contorted in anger, though her attention had remained just as elusive for the remainder of their fifth year. So… perhaps not so successful.

He flushed at the memory. She was now even prettier than the year prior.

“Oh? Is that a blush we see, Moony?” Sirius taunted, nudging Remus with his elbow as he snickered at James’ scowl.

“Bloody hell, piss off, will you? You’ll wake her–”

He felt her suddenly stir beside him, brows creasing as though on the cusp of consciousness.

James held his breath.

The moment passed as Y/N nudged her face further into the crook of his neck before settling back into a peaceful slumber.

Perhaps he wouldn’t need the prank to start the year right this time around.

It seemed that sixth year would be a good one for James.

In the early morning of a mid-March day, an unlikely scene unfolded between the shelves of Hogwarts’ library. There he sat beside a bleary Y/N, voice still drowsy with sleep as she read aloud a passage from the Herbology textbook perched between them.

Initially, James had detested the thought of having to wake up at such an ungodly hour for the sake of a project. No other time had fit, not with his Quidditch practices and her absurd number of tutoring sessions.

Though now, as the early rays of sunrise filtered through the library’s mullioned windows onto her skin, James thinks that there is nowhere else he would rather be.

He thinks this moment will be ingrained in his mind forever.

“–once a century, the Flutterby bush produces flowers able to attract the unwary.” she paused to yawn, eyebags evident as she turned to meet James’ gaze. She scrunched her nose and he swore he swooned at the very sight. “Are you even listening to me, Potter?”

“I’m always listening to you,” he replied, tilting his head. She grins in response and he notices just how beautiful it is.

She shifted her gaze back to the textbook lying in their laps, picking up where she had left off.

“Its scent adapts–”

James leaned forward suddenly, capturing her lips in his. The book fell closed between them.

Immediately, almost though by instinct, Y/N reciprocates, moving her lips gently against his as her hand cups his cheek. James finds himself gripping that hand as his other wraps around her waist, finding the small of her back and pulling her impossibly close against him.

She tasted of cherry chapstick and peppermint bubblegum, and though there was nothing particularly special about those flavours, on her, James swears that he could drown in his intoxication alone. Her perfume wafts through the air, the scent causing him to groan against her mouth.

When they separated at last, his head was swimming in euphoria, his expression dazed. Y/N blinked up at him, sleep wiped entirely from her expression.

“Its scent adapts itself during these times to attract said unwary.” she finishes, sounding breathless still, voice trailing off as James began to laugh hysterically.

She rolled her eyes, smiling sheepishly.

When James still couldn’t stop laughing, Y/N gripped his haphazardly tied red and gold tie, using it to pull his soft lips against hers once more and he was sure in his mind that there would no one else for him.

Beneath a great oak tree in the courtyard lay two figures. Under the tree’s twisting branches, they hid in its cool shade from the sweltering afternoon sun. Few places aside from the castle offered shelter from June’s blistering heat and as the semester approached its end, they finally allowed themselves to rest in the gentle breeze.

James was leaning against the thick trunk while Y/N’s head lay in his lap. His elbow was resting on her abdomen as she drew on his hand, doodling intricate flower designs alongside some… less desirable things.

He felt his heart swell with joy as her laughter filled the summer air and before he could catch himself, he blurted out the thought that had been weighing in the back of his mind since they had started dating.

“Do you ever think about your future?"

He felt the scratch of her muggle pen slow, as though pausing in thought.

"I want to grow old and die surrounded with people I love, knowing I lived a long and fulfilling life. You know, typical boring stuff," she replied after a moment's consideration. Her eyes twinkled with more, though Y/N never indulged in half-thought-out plans.

"What about you?" she questioned with the tip of her head. James didn’t need time to think about it. He had known his answer since that fateful September morning when she had slept on his shoulder throughout the entirety of the train ride.

"I don't care what my future is as long as you're there" he answers truthfully.

Y/N flushed, her ears heated. She looked away, the corners of her lips turning up in the barest hint of a smile.

James freed his hand from her loose grasp, hooking her chin to look back towards him before leaning in to kiss her.

Even after all these months, he relished in the taste of her lips. He doubts he’ll ever be able to get enough of the feeling.

He doubts he’ll ever be able to get enough of her.

The sun was setting in the west on a quiet evening, its golden rays shining on the slick skin of two lovers as they untangled themselves from the sheets, unable to hold in their laughter when one got his foot stuck in the knot of their crochet blanket.

The air hung heavy with the scent of sweat and endorphins as Y/N laid back, her body still bare, not bothering to cover it.

James propped his elbow beside her head, careful not to press on her spread-out hair, his face filled with ecstasy and pure bliss.

He will never get used to the sight of her in his bed, giggling as the sun reflected off her silky skin. The image of her underneath him is cemented in his mind, permanently lodged there as solid as concrete. He knows now with absolute certainty that there would be no one else for him.

James’ smile widened further as he nudged his nose into the crook of her neck, leaning in to place a kiss there when his vision blurred.

It was no longer sunset. Rather, the two of them were now enveloped in the dark of night and James is certain he hears the echo of a familiar spell ring off in the distance.

He pulls away from Y/N’s neck.

She was no longer shaking with laughter, but rather, writhing in pain. There were lacerations all across her torso and James felt something sticky underneath his hands.

They were laying in a pool of her blood.

Panic clawed at his throat and though he had never been averse to the sight of blood, yours was an exception. The taste of bile clung to his tongue.

“No... No no no no no,” he whispered in disbelief. Swivelling his head, outside the window, he spots a cloaked figure wearing a mask of silver disapparate.

“No!”

Grasping for the wand strapped to his side, he murmurs a healing spell, gasping for breath when the wounds remain open. His head was spiralling as Y/N shook her head almost imperceptibly, grabbing at his wrist with a shaking hand.

Carved into her arm was the word “MUDBLOOD” and James felt his vision turn red, suddenly hyper-aware of the blood pumping through his veins.

“James…” she rasped. He gripped her shaking hand.

“Why isn’t it working? Why?” he cried, tears streaming down his face, struggling to breathe.

“Whatever our souls are made of,” she gasped, blood spurting out of her mouth. Her beautiful mouth, the one that tasted of cherries and peppermint, was covered in thick, crimson blood. “you and I are connected.”

“No! Stop with this rubbish, you’re not going to die!” he sobbed, gripping her bloodied hand like a vice. She continued as though he hadn’t even spoken.

Perhaps she was too far gone to hear him.

“Wh-whatever is beyond this life,” violent ruby coated her mouth as she coughed, blood splattering onto her smooth skin. “Promise me, y-you’ll find me again.”

“I promise,” he cried, sobs racking through his body.

But she was already gone.

James woke with a start, gasping for breath with the taste of blood and “promise” still coating his tongue. He was alone in a house built for two.

In his fitful sleep, he had knocked over the empty bottle of whiskey beside him.

She had hated whiskey.

Had.

A fresh wave of misery washed over James, adding to the dull pain that never seemed to go away, throbbing through him as naturally as the blood in his veins. It wasn’t enough that she existed still within every corner of their shared home.

Even in his dreams, he is haunted by her memory.

ㄧ

@catching-the-train-to-hogwarts

#james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james potter angst #james potter fluff #harry potter imagine #james potter fic #james potter x reader angst #james potter x reader fluff #james potter x muggleborn #james potter x muggleborn reader #caz's top notch fic recs

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quickspinner · 3 years

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Little Treasures

Written for the @lovebugs-and-snakecharmers Sprint Fic Challenge Secret Santa event! The deadline was Wednesday and I was totally on track to be done by then when everything went crazy. So, a little late, but I hope you still enjoy it @piscesangelina! The prompts I used were first Christmas with baby and decorating the Christmas tree.

The total silence in the apartment as he entered told him that the sacred hour of naptime had begun.

The mess in the front room and his slightly wild-eyed wife sitting in the middle of it told him that Marinette had a Project. He paused a moment, a fond smile curling his lips at the focused frown on hers, watching the way her eyes darted back and forth as her amazing, lightning-quick mind worked.

Even as he watched, her lips pressed together and she made a tiny nod. Smile widening into an amused grin, Luka closed the door quietly behind him and set his guitar down. “Hey.”

Marinette jumped and looked up. “Oh, hi,” she smiled, but her eyes were quickly drawn back to the pile of stuff surrounding her, and she began sorting it into piles.

Luka allowed himself to pout just a little, ignoring Sass’ hissing laugh as the kwami emerged from the coat Luka was removing. “Do I get to know what’s in the works?” he asked, tossing his coat over the back of the couch before carefully skirting the stuff scattered on the floor to a chair.

“I just wanted to do this thing,” Marinette said distractedly, sitting back slightly and tangling one hand in her bangs as she tried to think and speak at the same time. “And I’m trying to make a plan.”

“Okay,” Luka said slowly, raising his eyebrows. “Is this a work thing or a passion project or a shut up Luka it’s a Christmas secret thing?”

Marinette dropped her hand and made a face at him, but then she smiled, finally focusing on him, and he softened at once, willing as always to forgive her momentary neglect in the face of something she was excited about. And she was definitely excited, he noted as her eyes took on that familiar sparkle. “Neither,” she said, her fingers clenched on the scrap of fabric she was holding. “It’s just that it’s Erika’s first Christmas—well, her first real Christmas since she was too small last year, and I still want to have a tree, but we need to have things on it that she can’t break or hurt herself with. And one of the bloggers I follow had this really cute idea for an advent calendar full of handmade ornaments, and it seemed like so much fun! So I was looking at patterns on my phone and things while Erika was playing this morning, and I printed out all these ideas, and now I’m trying to figure out which ones I have supplies for and make a shopping list.” She paused, looking up at him. “Is it crazy? Is it too much?”

“Maybe,” Luka chuckled, leaning his chin on his hand as he winked at her. “But I love it. I bet we can make it work. She’s going to bed pretty consistently these days, we should have some time in the evenings. If we don’t take on too much on top of it,” he gave her a knowing grin, and it was Marinette’s turn to pout. “I think we can get it done.”

Marinette raised her eyebrows slightly. “We?”

“Of course,” Luka grinned, grabbing a ball of yarn from a pile at his feet and tossing it at her playfully. “You don’t think you’re doing all this yourself do you? I know I’m not as handy as you but I can sew a straight line and do some beading.”

Marinette’s face lit up. “That’s true, you used to make those bracelets and things. I bet we can find something like that!”

“So,” Luka said, sliding off the chair and crawling carefully towards her. “Tell me what we’re working with, and let’s see if we can work out a plan that won’t have you tearing your hair out on Christmas Eve.” He kissed her nose when he was in front of her, and she moved some stuff to make room for him to fold his long legs and sit beside her. Luka slipped his arm around her waist, and though Marinette’s eyes were going distant again, she snuggled into his side, so he was satisfied.

“Well,” she began, “the idea is you have this big square with all these little pockets, and the ornaments have to fit inside.” She pulled out a sheet of paper that had been pinned under her leg and showed him the diagram on it. “That part’s easy, I can whip that up today even.” She paused, and checked her watch, then nodded. “As long as she sleeps her usual time. Or if not, I can get it done at the end of one of my work times, if you don’t mind keeping her entertained a little longer than usual.”

“I can manage,” Luka nodded. “No problem. So what do you have in mind for ornaments?”

Marinette flashed him a grin, and Tikki popped out of a pile of fabric near his knee, giggling. “That’s the fun part!” Tikki cried, taking flight and making a loop in the air as Marinette pulled out another stack of papers and spread them out in front of him.

Luka surveyed the drawings and notes and patterns, met Marinette’s eyes, and began to laugh. “Oh, I love it.”

The next few weeks were busy, but a ton of fun. They had divvied up the projects, and both Luka and Marinette were snatching any spare time they could get away from the eyes of their curious almost-toddler, to finish their respective pieces. Marinette gave Luka a Look when she ran the vacuum over the carpet and dozens of tiny beads rattled up into it. Luka raised his eyebrows and picked several snippets of yarn off the arm of one of the chairs. Marinette pursed her lips and said nothing.

Luka went to work with a project bag tucked in his guitar case. Marinette knitted and crocheted her way through meetings. Both of them shoved projects under cushions or behind their backs whenever Erika left her playing and toddled near to be picked up and cuddled.

On the last night of November, after Erika had gone to bed, they hung the large fabric square Marinette had made on the wall, and carefully tucked each of their projects into the twenty-five little pockets she had sewed onto it. Though they’d stayed up late the last few nights trying to finish, a few pockets were still empty, but Luka and Marinette were both confident and determined that they could finish the ornaments before their number was up. Luka bit his lip to keep in a chuckle when he saw the numbers Marinette had appliqued to the pockets were embellished with little embroidered motifs.

“Overachiever,” Luka muttered, and grinned when Marinette elbowed him.

“I’m so excited,” Marinette whispered, bouncing on her toes. “I can’t wait. How are we going to wait, Luka?”

Luka laughed. “Well, we could try going to sleep. That would probably help.”

Marinette turned toward him and put her arms around his neck. “Have I mentioned how much I love it when we collaborate.”

“Say it again,” Luka laughed, already bending to kiss her. “I love to hear it.” Marinette leaned up to meet his lips with hers and he happily lost himself in kissing her, in the familiar yet thrilling feel of her body against his.

“Thisss is not ssssleeping,” came a comment from somewhere behind him and over his head.

“Shut up, Sass,” Luka muttered, “Get lost and let me kiss my wife.”

He barely even noticed Tikki’s giggles blending with Sass’s sibilant laugh as Marinette pulled him back in and they melted together.

The next morning they could hardly manage to finish breakfast before they were holding Erika’s little hands and helping her toddle over to stare with round eyes.

“Look, see the pockets?” Marinette pointed, tucking her finger in one to and wiggling it a bit to show Erika.

“Pocket!” Erika repeated, eagerly. She hadn’t quite figured out what pockets were used for but she knew that she liked pockets. Every time Luka tried to show her how to put something in her pockets, she took it out immediately with a frown and a scolding, but she loved pointing out how many pockets her outfit had. She stared appreciatively at the twenty-five pockets before her.

“Every day, we look in one pocket,” Marinette told her. “One pocket. Then we put what we find there on the tree for Erika to look at.”

Erika looked puzzled.

“Shall we do our first pocket?” Marinette prompted, but her shoulders slumped slightly when Erika frowned and drew back a little.

“Go ahead,” Luka said, leaning forward and wiggling the small object in the pocket. “Pull it out and see what it is?”

Still frowning, Erika clung to him. Marinette suppressed a sigh. “Mommy do it?” she suggested, and Erika’s frown pulled into a pout.

“No,” she said firmly. “Wicka do it.”

“Okay, then go ahead,” Marinette said encouragingly, mostly hiding her frustration. Luka was trying not to laugh and Marinette gave him a look that said she was going to strangle him later.

“Kids,” Luka sighed, and squeezed Marinette’s shoulder gently. “She’ll get it.” Marinette relaxed a little under his hand, and tried again.

It took some more coaxing and Luka’s guiding hand on hers, but finally Erika reached in, her little fingers caught the loop, and she pulled it out as her parents cheered and applauded.

The first ornament was a little knitted ladybug with five spots and blue bug eyes. Erika squealed, lighting up, and danced around with it, showing it proudly to first one of them and then the other. She was so excited that she almost wouldn’t let them hang it on the tree. Finally, she let Luka show her how to loop it over one of the low branches. Delighted, Erika flopped down on her back and wiggled under the tree, looking up at the lights and batting playfully at the little ladybug. Luka grinned at Marinette, who did an adorably wiggly little victory dance that ended with her hopping up and down with a silent scream.

Marinette smiled radiantly the next night when Erika, bouncing with excitement, reached into the pocket almost before Marinette could get the camera ready, and pulled out the snake made of sparkling beads that Luka had worked so hard on. It coiled around on itself and had a familiar diamond pattern along the back, its glittering red tongue extended. It was worth the eye strain, Luka felt, nearly bursting with pride, as Erika poked around the tree trying to find a place where the light would shine on it just right to show it off in all its glory. Behind her back Luka and Sass did a pinky-to-flipper high five. When Erika went to bed that night, Marinette kissed Luka hard, squishing his face between her hands. “You’re such a good dad,” she giggled.

Of course, no one could be left out. There was a cloth butterfly ornament with gossamer wings, and a little crocheted black cat that bore a frankly impressive resemblance to Plagg (Adrien had seen it and begged for one for his own tree). The rooster was a cooperative effort, with a knitted body and beaded tail. The peacock was cross stitch done on plastic canvas in metallic thread. The little patchwork dog was an especially big hit.

Of course, there were only eighteen kwamis and twenty-five days until Christmas, so they had to think outside the (Miracle) box for the rest. There was a little baker’s hat to represent Papa Tom, and a tasseled Chinese mystic knot done in red cord accented with gold for Sabine. A pair of pink and purple kittycorn masks made out of glittery paper and sequins dangled from a single cord for Juleka and Rose, and a little wooden boat garishly painted and embellished with turquoise beads represented Anarka. They had debated long and hard for Gina (because Marinette shot down Luka’s suggestion of doing a shrinky-dink motorcycle, which he pouted about for days) and finally Marinette had found a small prism in a thrift shop and repurposed it for an ornament. Erika loved to poke it and watch the way it made light dance on the walls. Luka suggested a stick in the mud for Roland and was scolded harshly (once Marinette stopped laughing).

It was worth all the pricked fingers and late nights of problem solving every day when they saw Erika, bouncing with excitement, pull each new ornament out of its pocket and exclaim over it in her little baby voice, before gravely examining the tree to decide exactly where the new ornament would go.

The upper boughs, Luka and Marinette filled themselves with ornaments they had collected over the years. Each one was a memory and most went on the tree with a fond smile and a quick kiss, with occasional exclamations of “Oh, remember this one?”

There was a hand-painted glass ornament from Milan that they’d found in a shop as they wandered the streets after Marinette’s first fashion week there. There was a silly, cheap tourist souvenir of the Eiffel Tower that Luka secretly hated but for some reason Marinette wouldn’t throw away. There was a blown glass jaguar Luka had gotten in Brazil when he was there for a show.

It was a retrospective of the life they had built together, and Erika’s array of handmade ornaments around the bottom just gave it that extra touch of sentiment.

“I gotta hand it to you,” Luka murmured as he put his arms around Marinette from behind. “You always have the best plans.” He pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek as she leaned back into him.

Marinette hummed agreement and satisfaction, glancing over at the one pocket remaining. Inside was an ornament made from a small oval frame that now held a photo of the three of them. Sass and Tikki were in it too, even though they were invisible. “We’ll know,” Marinette had insisted, and the kwamis had humored her.

“Thanks for going along with my crazy ideas,” she said, turning in Luka’s arms to hug him tight. He bent towards her but she put a finger against his lips to stop him. “No time for that,” she told him with a smile. “Santa Claus has a train set to put together before morning.”

Luka sighed, but kissed her finger. “I guess Santa better get to work then.” He grinned, and without warning, dipped low to catch Marinette around the waist and tip her over his shoulder. “Come on Mrs. Claus,” he said as she muffled a squeal to keep from waking the baby. “Thanks to someone’s over-enthusiastic father we have a freakishly detailed and intricate train set to assemble, and there’s no way you’re getting out of helping.”

“Helping,” Marinette huffed, kicking her feet lightly. “You’d be lost without me.”

“I would,” Luka chuckled, patting her thigh. “I really would.”

#quickspins #lbsc sprint fic challenge #lukanette #endgame lukanette #lukanette endgame #lbsc secret santa #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #sprint fic #miraculousladybug #miraculous ladybug #ml fics #quicksprints

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ughgclden · 3 years

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congrats on 700!! that’s amazing!! please could i get a 🧸 romantic for dps?

i’m a total extrovert and a massive history/english lit nerd!! i’m frequently found talking my friends ears off about whatever i’m learning about in history whether it be the political structure of weimar germany or britain’s membership of the eec. i’m very academic and terrified of missing deadlines!! i also have a very analytical brain, which means whenever i consume a piece of media i analyse it so much then send over enthusiastic voice notes to my friends about it lmao (recently its been the uk cast recording of amelie!! it’s just so clever!!) i want to be a teacher when i grow up because i know the impact good teaching has had on me, so i want to take what i’ve learned from my teachers (especially my current history teacher) and help future kids. i’m frequently described as the mum friend because i’m over prepared for any situation and i dress in a very grandma/librarian/art teacher manner. i love baking, crochet, reading and music (particular the beatles, taylor swift and anything from the 60s/70s/80s) and i have been know to challenge people to random debates just for the fun of it!!

ahh thank you so much!! of course!!

i'd pair you with..

i think that you and cam would be perfect together!! he'd just think you were the most amazing person and couldn't believe how lucky he is to be with you. he'd just adore you.

cameron would love to hear you talk about whatever you're learning - this boy is really into history, so hearing you talk him through all these facts of specific eras that you're into at the moment? he loves it. he thinks it's so so interesting, even though sometimes he loses focus when he notices how cute you are when you're rambling.

cam is also very academic, so doing your homework together is a very common pass time! you'll help each other where possible, and make sure you both remember specific deadlines. cam always makes sure you guys take enough breaks though, and often brings snacks for you to eat over the course of your study sessions.

your style is the absolute cutest thing to cameron; each day he praises you on your outfit with a stupid grin on his face cause he’s just so enamoured by you it’s incredible. he’d also love debating with you about anything! you’d both get very passionate, but would always apologise if things got a little too heated.

would love to try and crotchet with you. he gets a little frustrated at first because he just can’t get the hang of it, but when he figures it out, he loves spending time crotechting with you.

cam also loves baking! you’ll often bake together, playing some beatles or taylor swift music in the background whilst you work

charlie often refers to you both as an old married couple, but it’s always in fondness

this boy also *loves* analysing pieces of media, so you often have very long, analytical conversations about what specific techniques could mean in a certain novel or show. you both have so many ideas, so these chats sometimes go on for hours

thank u so much for sending something in lovely!! i hope you like it and im so sorry about the wait!!! <33

#bee's 700 follower celebration

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thedancefloorsilly · 3 years

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Ngl seeing your 300 followers event intrigued me (loved the spin on what’s usually just a describe yourself and I’ll give you a matchup thing) enough so that I’ve binged through most of what you’ve written on here!! It’s actually been awhile since I sent in a request for one of these 😬

So!! I’m female, going by she/they and bi (male leaning). My romantic f/o are illumi + hisoka. Illumi - unexpectedly usually out of my type, but he buried himself in the ground in the first scene we saw him in and I was gone. Since then I’ve had people point out that he looks like a frog and that its a very major subconscious reason I love him so much. Hisoka, I very much resisted liking at first because hes,,,, hisoka, but this bastard made a place in my heart the more his main character syndrome made him helpful and not a total villain. I had no choice but to begrudgingly love him, and he makes me laugh as often as he makes me turn to look to the figurative camera.

When it comes to me, I’m 5’2, black hair + eyes, Asian, and must admit I do have a bit of a god complex as a Pisces (which my own need to compete w others then compromises). I definitely consider myself fashion forward (but favors black a lot) and I love to find shoes to give me some more height. I have a taekwondo black belt and do MMA, and I love to crochet even though I tend to rage at my yarn when new patterns for clothes make me repeat rows over and over again. I’m the only one in my friend group that knows how to do taxes, but STILL did not understand knuckle’s loan and interest nen AT ALL. I adore collecting marvel and dc comics, as well as manga, and my guilty pleasure is the pink drink from Starbucks (guilty because Istg im not a 13 year old, I just need to stop consuming caffeine and the vanilla sweet cold foam with it is addicting). Someday I dream to have three cats, and I have a drivers license even though I legitimately have never driven or taken any drivers Ed classes in my life. Ever. I have no idea how to drive. My procurement of a drivers license regardless may or may not have been through legal means.

Ooh well that’s nice to hear glad u liked this idea!! I hope I liked my writing😳😳 I don’t write for Hisoka but for this event I will :P I also did these as separate. enjoy anon!!

Hisoka

- The fact that you know how to fight, being that you do MMA, DEFINITELY intrigued Hisoka when he first met you. He did his whole evaluation thing in his mind about how well your powers fair, and honestly this was probably what prompted Hisoka to learn more about you. Once getting to know you more, there was something different he would feel rather than the usual “excitement” when around a strong fighter. It was a certain feeling in his stomach he would get that would linger on.

- Even though Hisoka might have been a little confused at first, he was curious to try and explore these unknown feelings more, thus leading him to spend more time and to try and observe your personality. The more and more he spent time with you, the more his interest in how you fought began to slip away from his mind. Not only that, but Hisoka also always felt his heart racing when he was around you. Was this eccentric clown magician man developing a crush? Oh, absolutely he was.

- Well, as the time came where he would smoothly confess his feelings, Hisoka really did try to make everything special. Hisoka actually bought red roses for you, dressed VERY nice, brought you to somewhere calm and romantic, and used his charm to try and win you over. Well, at the end of the night, you guys both learned that you and him had mutual feelings for one another, and it was pretty clear that a second date was to be expected.

- Sometimes you can’t help but to laugh at Hisoka’s outlandish behavior. Of course, he takes notice of this, and with that, Hisoka tries his best to always put on a show when you’re around!! He always does things to try and hear that laugh of your’s that he loves so much. Not only that, but Hisoka also does things to rather amuse you. Hisoka will sometimes do random tricks with his nen to try and put up his “magician” act, just to see that entertained look on your face.

- Whenever he’s fighting at Heaven’s Arena, he always tries to impress you, too!! Once facing an opponent, Hisoka will try out these new moves or special techniques that will surely put a ‘wow’ on your face. Yes, his tricks might be a little stupid or dangerous, but that’s all part of the fun isn’t it? Not only that, but when he’s mid-fight, Hisoka will also try and do stupid things like wink or smirk at you justtt to see you blush and roll your eyes playfully.

Illumi

- Mentioning that you have no experiencing with driving to Illumi, he insists that he could just drive you to some places himself. You calmly agree to this at first, but since you weren’t aware of the fact that your boyfriend also has very little driving experience, you have NO idea what you’re about to get into. His driving is a little... reckless to say the least. You really thought you were getting a calm drive to Starbucks?? Well, expect your incautious, daredevil of a boyfriend to be passing every red light, almost hitting pedestrians, and speeding exceedingly just to get to your destination. You guys are just better off with Illumi’s butlers driving you guys...

- Sometimes you like to crochet random things for Illumi (It could be something like a hat or some gloves). Whenever you’re making them, Illumi often hears the little complaints you make from frustration from your room, so he goes to check on you and to see what’s wrong. Immediately though, you tell Illumi to not come in your room because you’re making something to surprise him. Even though he’s wondering what you might be doing, Illumi just goes on and doesn't question you further.

- One day, as you finally finish your creation, you announce to Illumi that you’ve made something for him. As Illumi tilts his head in confusion, you then proudly reveal a crotched frog hat from behind your back, all for him!! At first he wonders what prompted you to make something so specific for him, and all you say to Illumi was that he reminded you of a frog!! You might not know what he truly feels from his blank reaction, but deep down, Illumi really appreciates the gift!!

- Now, Illumi definitely doesn’t see himself having not one.. but three cat’s in his future (since you’ve told him all about your dream). It’s not that Illumi opposes of the idea of them, or thinks that they’re a lot of work (especially since you’ve seen his GIANT pets..), it’s just that he’s just never really thought about it before. There are days when Illumi does consider owning them, or how it would be like to own them, but then again, Illumi never acts on getting the cat’s.

- That wasn’t until one day though. It was a rainy afternoon, and Illumi was walking through the town, ready to come home from one of his assassin missions. As he was strolling down the empty streets, he heard a faint sound of an animal come from the left of him. Illumi turned to his left, but looked down to see that the noise came from a beaten up box in an alleyway. He walked toward this box, noticing that the animal sounds were actually the small ‘mews’ of a cat. As Illumi squatted down to see observe this box, he then saw the sight of MULTIPLE small kittens!!

- While you’re waiting for Illumi to come home, you hear the knocking of someone on the door, and you immediate assume that it’s from your boyfriend!! As you happily rush to unlock the door, you then see a drenched Illumi, holding a box of kittens as they’re meowing non-stop. Though, you might be confused, Illumi blankly says, “Look. I brought you something.” From the nonstop meowing, you question to how many cats are there... Even though you dreamed about having three, well.. can you handle about six?

#300 followers event #aha this was fun

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softskiesahead-moved · 3 years

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🤝hewwo🤝

um im not really sure what kind of info should i provide, so ill just say a few basic things, i hope thats okay!!

• even if she always tries to be nice, she gets easily frustrated and annoyed with people who arent her friends. she sometimes acts weird on purpose to make the ones who upser her to leave her alone

• most of the time she can't befriend a person if they don't have at least one thing in common

• she loves listening to her friends! hearing them talk about their interests, their day, or just random stuff is really comforting for her

• she likes to buy/or make gifts for her buddies a lot. she prefers to give hand-made gifts, including plushies, blankets,crocheted sweaters, paintings and rarely food

im not sure if these are helpfull, i wasnt really sure what to send ;_; anyways, i hope you're doing good! you don't have to answer my ask if you don't have any ideas, its totally okay, im not the best at talking lolololol,, have a lovely day !! ^_^ <3 <3

hello!! dw this is wonderful information!! plus I really like hearing about frogeru :)

first of all, I know this isn’t included in the information you gave but dr aya would think frogeru’s ultimate is the coolest thing like she would be genuinely so interested in it!!

I feel like they could infodump about their interests to each other and it seems like they might have a few in common as well :)

also making gifts is something aya really enjoys doing too. maybe they could collaborate on things or organize a gift exchange for their friends together!!

I hope you’re doing good too!! tysm for sending this + I’m sorry it took a while to respond to! I wanted to do a good job and I’m not sure if I did but it was fun to write out ^^;

#I just want to be friends with all my mutuals s/is they’re so cool-#♡ friend: octo!#[ ✉️ inbox ]

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slashingdisneypasta · 4 years

Text

Michael Myers x Reader || Oneshot

Title: I’m Weak

Notes:

Could be considered the second, much later part to the smut oneshot I wrote but only if you want it to be.

Based off this quote, which has bene used in the Oneshot: ‘You’re scared of the way I make you feel because you don’t want to feel anything.’ by Maya Banks.

I dunno where all this inspiration for Michael is coming from.

I love how acclimatised to all of Michaels insanity reader is

Plot:

Dating, or whatever the relationship can be classified as, the infamous Shape reaches its horrendous peak. You’re frustrated and if he doesn’t help you out here, then not even the truest, biggest love in the world can stop you from leaving- because if he isn’t really there, it isn’t worth it.

Warnings: Slightly Yandere themes, I guess? I mean, if this were a Hetalia Oneshot I would say severely yandere themes but this is already a horror character so. Yandere, I GUESS??

~~~

“You’re scared of the way I make you feel because you don’t wanna feel anything.” I say, not like it’s a revelation or because it needs to be said. But because it makes me feel better. Because I’m spiteful, because I’m allowed to be. Because it makes Michael breath- you can see his chest rise and fall as soon as it sinks in, and it is a glorious feeling to know that I’ve made his unfaltering, never ending emotionless composure stutter. “And I don’t understand it, but I know that engulfs you.” I take in a breath, stepping back. Every word that gets past my teeth and bashes off my lips is steely and cold, wholehearted. “And I know you’re failing.”

He doesn’t move apart from the breathing, but he will. He’s feeling more then he has since- probably since he was a kid. And I’m feeling more then I want, then I ever thought possible because by some twisted miracle I love him and I’m gearing up to leave him. And he’s aware.

“Well guess what, you can’t go through life that way, Michael, you’re human. You have to feel, it’s like breathing. And sometimes you have to feel your guts get ripped out but that means you care, and that can feel really, really great.” Its worth every tear. “Now, I care about you like that. But all I get from you is the pain and that’s just not good enough, I’m sorry.”

And I am sorry. Not for him, but for me. Because I know if he lets me go and I get out like I want to right now it is going to h u r t. But I’m not going to kid myself into thinking that it’s the end all be all of my life. He’s just a man, and he won’t kill me.

Michaels fists clench tighter and moves from the doorway -he was about to go out for the night, - back into the room. But only momentarily.

As if he didn’t even need to think about it, like I didn’t mean a thing to him, he reaches forward and yanks and drags his black t-shirt off of me, leaving me in the long sleeve I was wearing underneath. “Michael!” I gasp, as the collar scrapes up my face and the warmth and his smell disappears from me. My present and my memory.

And then, with that nasty little act, before I can even really focus on him again, the door slams closed and it feels like it shook the floor and the walls around me, and he’s gone. For a moment, I dumbly look at the door. I’m shocked- I mean, I knew it was coming. I initiated it. But there’s a big difference between waiting and experiencing and it is awful. I can’t believe it’s over. Michael’s gone. The behemoth that eats all my food, squishes my fingers until I let go of the TV remote, and keeps me tight against his chest at night is… gone. And all that, with it.

All of a sudden, surprising tears blur my vision and sobs clench at my chest and I feel… so, alone.

___TIME SKIP___

A week later, it still hurts that he’s gone and I desperately want him back. On the way to work and on the way back, the highlight of my day is driving by the places I know he would hide out, to look for any sight of him as I slowdown and drive by, and I can’t sit and watch TV, or… or, sit and anything because that leads to thinking about him because, evidently, my brain can think of nothing better then the most painful thing for me at the moment. But I’m not crying about it. I have a life, I bake. I work. I walk. I bought expensive ear plugs so I can blast nightcore in my ears as a distraction so loud that my brain goes white and blank. And, there’s always this dull, terrible aching deep in my chest full of dread because, ha! My heart just can’t get a grip and understand that he’s gone.

I’m just crocheting a scarf or… maybe a funny shaped blanket, with my loud ass music on-its some YouTube playlist of those frighteningly painful and addictive nightcore songs. The one I’m listening to now is a Carrie Underwood redo. ‘Choctow County Affair’, - and occasionally glancing up at the TV to see the news headlines when my fingers suddenly go spectacularly numb at a certain picture.

No, its not of Michael. But Loomis. That bastards on the telly, probably griping about how he shot Michael however many time’s and Michael isn’t human, but I have to wonder why he is on TV. They only bring him out when Michael’s been caught again and it causes me lose the breath in my throat for a second and hurt my ears as I rip out the earplugs. My ears ring as I try to listen in to what Dr Loomis is saying, as the headline at the bottom says ‘Deadly Scrape with the Shape’- news anchors think they’re so clever. Fucking hell, poor taste.

The newsman, Clive Weatherman-yeah, this guy gets made fun of a lot. Went into the wrong area of news,- waffles on with the same question and my head hurts. “What was he wearing, Dr Loomis? We heard he wore the same Captain Kirk mask he has the last consecutive times he’s broken free of the hospital- is this true? Does this say anything about his mental state? Its pretty freaky, to me. The viewers want to know.” Oh my god, shut up! I need to hear Loomis’ information, that’s trustworthy at least.

“Yes, he was wearing that terrifying mask, concealing his soulless eyes from me. He should still be wearing it, so if anyone watching sees a man in a mechanics uniform and a bleached Captain Kirk mask you should immediately alert the authorities.”

A relieved breath escapes me at Loomis’ warning. Michael hasn’t been caught, he’s still out there. I don’t know why that relieves me, he’s a menace to society and is better off in an asylum- I just know he’s free.

And… while he’s free… he can find m-

“I shot him twice, also. So, the man you’re looking out for will be bleeding quite badly.”

“Oh, fuck.” I exclaim, pushing off the couch immediately and zipping up my jacket, barely stopping to put shoes on before I’m at my front door ready to search for him- but a heavy thump at the door before I can even touches it stops me immediately in my tracks. Damaging, floor shaking bangs vibrate against the door harshly, and I open it. Michael nearly falls through it because of the loss of solid wall to keep up his weight, but stands up tall again, heavily.

My eyes go wide as a look on. He certainly is bleeding a lot, both his hands covering the wounds just above his rib cage and holding tight, shoulders rising and falling at a steady, much faster rate then usual. But, still solid and tall. Somehow.

But that’s not surprising.

Swallowing my fear and a good portion of air at the same time, I take him by the wrist and drag him the rest of the way in which is heartbreakingly easy to do due to how weak the blood loss has made him and close and lock the door behind him. Then I get to work stitching up the wound the best I can.

When you’ve known Michael for… I dunno… even just a couple weeks? One week? You learn the basics of surgery quick, so this is routine. Once its over, and my hands are idle again is when things get hard.

I’m pissed that he came here, after leaving like that. Because it was me, too. I wanted to him to piss off, and he wanted to piss off. We made a decision and he can’t come back and take it back whenever it fits for him!

And, I’m… also, glad he’s here. I don’t know how I’ll let him leave again when he has to. I sure won’t be letting him in ever again, after this.

At least that’s what I tell myself. I truly do not know if I’ll ever get better from him.

It mustn’t be more then an hour later when he truly shatters my soul and my heart. God, how did I ever think this would be easy? Not just breaking up with him, but loving him. Not because he’s a killer, either. Or unstoppable force. Just, plainly because he’s Michael, and my hearts done the worst thing ever in loving him.

He’s all stitched up and I’m getting ready to leave the room, go to bed. Pretend I’m pretending he isn’t here on my couch. This is when he gently, so gently, so heartbreakingly gentle compared to his… everything. Like this, this gentle, he takes my hand in his. Not even my whole hand, actually. Just his fingers, wrapped around my fingers, and as the moment goes on his thumb starts to rib circles into my palm. I try not to melt.

“Michael… what, the hell are you doing here.” I ask, and try to be firmer then his hand around mine. His grip twitches.

I watch, curiously and unsure of what to do, as he shifts on the couch and digs with the hand that isn’t holding mine into one of his pockets, and brings out a folded sheet of paper. He hands it to me, and as we hold hand’s he watches me assess it.

On one side it’s a Chinese restaurants menu, written in clichéd curly red script and clearly he found this in the garbage somewhere or in a gutter because its dried all bubbly like it was wet and there’s a yellow colour formed on the top half. But on the other side is familiar handwriting that I could recognise anywhere.

‘Y/N’, it says. And he’s written my name the biggest out of all the other stuff and twice as bold. Like he wrote it over a couple times. The rest is in messy scribble like he couldn’t get it down fast enough. ‘I didn’t know I could miss someone, but I do. I hate it. Not only do I miss someone, but I also wish to take something back that I did. I wish I hadn’t left you alone.

I’m going to let Dr Loomis shoot me, and then you’ll know I won’t do it again. And neither will you.’

Well… It could be worse, I guess. Slowly, darkly, I turn to Michael. “Michael… “Holding the note up, my hand steady from many months of Michael and his ways. “You can’t do this.”

He pulls his mask off and looks me in that vague, insane way. No emotion.

Coming back to him, because I’m weak, I lower the note and furrow my eyebrows. “You can’t get yourself hurt to prove a point.” Kneeling down by the couch and running a hand through his hair, I sigh. “I’ll worry.” I whisper.

Not even a quiet moment passes, of me petting his hair, before its not enough for Michael and he lifts me up onto the couch with him, our chests and everything else tight together as one of his arms hooks under and around my middle. Like it used to be, like I needed it to be. I’m weak.

Letting go of any last remining reservations, because even if I did want to leave or kick him out which I most certainly don’t he would never let me, I lean my face up to nuzzle in his neck. He shudders out a sighs, and tries to bring me impossibly closer. Its so warm and I missed this and I’m weak.

Finally, I’m weak, and this will be the rest of my life I think.

#Michael Myers x Reader Oneshot #Oneshot #Michael Myers #Dr Loomis

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pbandjesse · 3 years

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I'm trying to practice typing on my tablet again. So far is still a struggle. But I want to be better.

Today wasn't a bad day at all. I'm just feeling exhausted and a little embarrassed that I didn't film any art today. I did make art. I just didn't film it, I'm trying not to be to hard on myself. It will be okay. I just hate feeling disappointed in myself.

I slept alright. But getting up was hard. I decided that I was going to talk to my managers about pushing my hours back to where they were at my last site. Because the mornings are giving me a ton of anxiety and I can't get anything substantial done in my studios in the morning, and then I'm to tired at night. And its just become a shitty cycle that I want to break sooner rather then later.

But I still tried to accomplish something this morning, I gotnuo and ojust out on leggings and a sweater and had breakfast with James in the living room. I felt like crap. But it was still early. And I wanted to will myself into feeling better.

I drew a ring. Perspective was very tough, but what else is new. I enjoyed this one a lot though and I felt very accomplished. But then it was almost 10 and my anxiety started to kick in. I tried to keep it off. But soon enough I was packing up art stuff and putting on my work clothes. I tried really hard to leave a little later, not arrive wildly early, so I laid on the couch for a few minutes, but I still got there at 1045.

But that was alright. I took my stuff upstairs. Washed my hands. Clocked in on time. It had been drizzling a little when I got to the site so I was a little damp. But that was okay.

For the most part today was a very nice day. I had lots of art set out and ready for the kids to explore with. Inbrought the prints of the stone man to draw on. Some beads to make bracelets with. Some water colors. It was fun.

My big plan of the day was to get everyone's class schedules. Which was a whole thing but I got almost everyone's except one. So I reached out to a parent to hopefully find that. It is super frustrating having to learn 8 different schools systems for online learning but we're doing our best to make this work.

I spent a lot of the day just making art and chilling and trying not to be stressed. One of the kids kept hitting his sibling which was very hard to deal with. But once Travis got there and we had a stronger voice in the class it made a difference.

We did have some gym time. And I mostly sat on the bench with the only girl still there today. Wew had some fun chats about YA novels we like and about dragons and drawing and it was nice.

Travis then got hit in the bits with a basketball so we called it a day and went upstairs.

The plan had been to watch a movie but then thr entire buildings internet went out. So the last hour and a half really drug on. But the kids played board games for some of it. Just hung out. I did a little crochet, ended up taking it apart but it was good practice. And then it was decided we would go down to the gym to run out some energy while we waited for the last 4 siblings to get picked up.

I was very glad to be done for the day. I had not brought enough snacks and inwas starving. James was home making us cookies and I was just really excited to see my partner and also eat cookies.

I had my quick walk home and felt a little lightheaded. But I got inside safe. I was so happy to see my partner who I love so much. They made me a grilled cheese and it was just really nice to be home.

But I was so tired. And I felt like I couldn't do anything. I had gotten a gift from a parent at thr site, a gift card for $25, (they got one for all of the teachers ?? So kind??) so I was just spending time looking for a plush. Guilt free. I got a duckies wearing a sweater and glasses. And then I played animal crossing for a little. And James started building the train puzzle I got for him for valentine's day.

I watched them do that for a bit. And then I took a shower. And now we are in bed. Reading about a book series I vaguely remembered reading as a kid, and I'm excited that we were able to find it again, hopefully I can read it again.

Now though I would just like to sleep. I hope tomorrow is a brighter day and we can all feel better, even if it's March.

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glassandmetalwings · 3 years

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Wings Talks Manga: A Year in Review, Part 1 (Completed stories)

Last year, I told myself I was going to actually really more manga and watch more anime, because despite it being my main style I hadn’t actually read much in awhile. And I actually managed to get a lot done for one year. So below is a list of stories I read/watched and a few quick thoughts on them. Despite having my list open, I’m still probably not going to get to all of them, but I can try.

Be warned for spoilers.

T.egami Bachi (manga)

I love. Anyone following this tag of mine knows this has been a long journey and that I loved every minute of it. The world is beautiful, the characters are great, the emotions run high...it’s incredibly cathartic and engaging. I will never stop lauding it.

Jiu Jiu (manga)

A short series I picked up from the library that I never really covered, but that I enjoyed. Sometimes it felt a little slow to work through, but it was cute and I got really attached to the characters over five volumes. Like the mangaka, I wish there had been more opportunity to delve deeper into some of the story elements, because especially near the end it got confusing. Also I’m assuming it ended in a poly relationship? The protag grows up and has babies but you can’t really tell which love interest is the father, if either are. They’re all together in the final picture and I support it but it also bugs me bc I am confused.

Dreamin’ Sun (manga)

Mixed feelings on this one. I honestly expected a modern fantasy involving a baku going into this based on the back cover. I was wrong. I was really cute, if not overwhelmingly emotionally frustrating/full of secondhand embarassment at some points. The characters are super well-developed and continue to evolve and grow through the series. I will forever complain about the protag falling in love and centering her life around an adult man, but there were also some very touching elements that I can’t help but remember fondly.

The Wize Wize Beasts of the the Wizarding Wizdoms (manga)

The first of a lot of BL I read this year, which is honestly very new to me. My introduction to Nagabe. I’ve mentioned there’s one story I’m not too fond of, but it could be my interpretation of it. Overall very much loved it and especially love the art style.

K.amisama Kiss (manga)

I series I kind of picked up on a whim and absolutely fell in love with. Cute, funny, touching, well-thought out. There were some elements I didn’t understand (like the end), but my enjoyment overall made up for it. The one thing I wish for was a little more development for some of the minor characters. Also I love Mizuki and his development throughout the series. He makes me emotional.

Our Dining Table (manga)

Another cute, simple love story about two guys making food. I don’t have a whole lot to say about this other than it’s cute and you should read it. Although I obviously have no issues with teenage protags, it was refreshing to have a love story about two working adults that didn’t have to involve sex. Also can totally understand one guy’s aversion to eating with others, even if my own isn’t as severe.

Love on the Other Side (manga)

More Nagabe. Really, really cute. I love the story with the bird (of course). The softness of the stories and Nagabe’s art style really have stolen my heart.

B.lack Butler: Book of Circus (anime)

We all know why I watched this. Sadly the ending is as gruesome as the manga, and the one or two scenes they added didn’t play well on the DVD. But still a delight (up until the end).

The Devil is a Part-Timer (anime)

Interesting. Funny. A good world base, but I feel they could have developed it a little more, and the last episode kind of soured it a little for me because there was no really wrap-up. But I liked the characters and had a lot of fun watching it while crocheting. Wish there was a season two.

The Bride was a Boy (manga)

A brief autobiographical manga about a trans woman, filled with lots of tidbits about transgender individuals and things like HRT. Short, sweet, cute, and full of love and joy. Again, not much to say other than I recommend it.

Fractale (anime)

A lot to process. I think I would need to watch it again to fully wrap my head around it, if not more than once. An interesting world, great character, engaging story, and beautiful animation. Plus just...kinda relevant in a way that’s hard to describe. Think ease of technology verses governmental control via tech. I really loved the episode about the mysterious photographer. Plus I just fell in love with the ending song.

Nausicaä of the Valley of the Wind (anime)

Yes, I’d never watched this before. Gonna say, not my favorite Miazaki, but as usual an excellent story with a lot of background and development. And of course I loved the creature design. Glad to finally have it watched, after all these years, but I also can’t help but wonder what the original English release was like, knowing they cut/edited a lot. Because a lot of that violence and death was...kinda necessary to understanding character motives.

H.aibane Renmei (anime)

Again, another series that’s been at the top of my list for forever. I didn’t even have an excuse not to watch is as I own the DVDs. Excellent, and touching, if not cutting a little too close to home at times (like self-harm/BFRB). Really my introduction to ABe, and I have to say I never saw the ending coming. But would definitely watch again and again. Kinda wish I could do a cosplay for this series (I’d probably be Nemu, or one of the masked characters), but I feel like you need a group for it.

G.osick (anime)

I didn’t complete this one, I’m sorry. I think the art is great, and the arcs in concept are amazing...but it falls through in the delivery. The characters don’t really feel like they have driving motives behind their actions, and sometimes the evidence and stuff are things you can’t discern from watching (’I can tell you aren’t the daughter of a coal baron because you walk short distances before turning sharply and walking the other way, like you’re pacing in a small psych ward cell’-yes, that’s a real example). Lots of potential, but not great. Sorry.

Wolf Children (anime)

Very cute. Beautiful anime. I don’t think I can say much about this that hasn’t already been said. My favorite part is the ending where she’s saying goodbye just because of how both painfully and empoweringly emotional it is.

5 Centimeters Per Second (anime)

Not bad, but probably not my favorite. It didn’t help that the version I was watching didn’t translate all of the writing, so I feel like I missed a lot of elements. While the story is definitely a sentiment I can get behind, it was also a little bit unsatisfying for me, especially at the end. But idk, maybe I just don’t like the idea of moving on when there’s the opportunity to not.

Colorful (anime)

It was...a film. About a suicide. Looking back I don’t particularly feel strongly either way about it. I think the ending was good, and giving the protag some sort of motivation, but it took forever to really get to a point where I cared about him (or he seemed to really care about the body he was inhabiting and the person he was trying to be). Some of the stuff was just...uncomfortable. It’s probably worth watching, but overall I wasn’t wowed by it.

Ibistu (manga)

My first shrink-wrapped manga. It ties together very well in the end, and the horror and violence elements did elicit some very visceral reactions in me (particularly the threat of the iron and, later, the staples). The short stories were also good, particularly the doll factory one, but I wasn’t the most fond of the one about the mangaka. Just know there’s a reason it’s shrink-wrapped and it’s not a ‘positive’ one.

A Silent Voice (anime)

Probably one of my favorite films. While I didn’t always understand the motivations behind some of the characters or their actions, it wasn’t in a way that made me uncomfortable like some of the things in Colorful did. It felt more natural for them to be irrational. Again, there is suicide, so be warned if you don’t want to deal with that. But the story is sweet and the characters are amazing. But I also have a weakness for things involving sign language and communication.

Children Who Chase Lost Voices (anime)

Very cool. Beautiful landscapes. Gave me very strong Princess Mononoke vibes at some points, but it also stood as its own story with interesting characters there are elements I wish we could have delved deeper into, though. Also...what war did the teacher fight in? It didn’t look very modern. Also also I will forever wince at the pronunciation of ‘Quetzalcoatl’. Death is a strong theme in it, so be prepared if you watch it.

The Boy and the Beast (anime)

Excellent character design. Excellent story. Excellent animation. My one complaint would be that the climax felt kind of thrown together, even though it tied back to the beginning in a good way. But overall a beautiful world with some great humor and intense elements.

The Garden of Words (anime)

Spoiler: again a story about a kid falling in love with an adult. From a platonic standpoint, the story still feels a little weird, particularly in terms of the woman’s motivations, but looking back her not getting too involved in him missing school...kinda feels like what I would do to, especially in her situation. It’s sweet, though. Maybe it’s just me and my preferences, but some elements feel a bit incomplete, and I wish had been explored/wrapped up.

Summer Wars (anime)

Probably a favorite on the films list. Again, beautiful animation. I’m not going to get over this style. But I especially liked the design of OZ and the excess of blank space in it. Characters were many but great (although I didn’t get the one baseball player was part of the family until almost the end, but that says more about me and paying attention). Even Mom got really engaged in it when I had her watch it with me (I also had her watch Wolf Children, which I thought she would like more, but apparently not). There is a character death, but if you don’t mind that it’s definitely a watch.

Beauty and the Beast Girl (manga)

A cute little story about a blind girl and a dragon girl falling in love-what more could you want? Their histories actually tie together in a really neat way. Honestly my one complaint would be that the ending feels a little too ideal and easily wrapped-up. But sometimes we need things to be that perfect, you know?

P.andora Heart (manga)

The other big story I tackled this year. There were points that were a bit slow/disengaging to me, but overall once I got hooked I really loved it. I think I need a second read to really fully understand it (if that’s possible), but equal parts cute, intense, and bittersweet. Elliot’s whole development was probably my favorite bit.

The God and the Flightless Messenger (manga)

My last story of 2020, and a very cute one at that. Another short story, with beautiful art. I don’t...really know what to say about it. It’s cute, and the love story feels both very natural and almost...secondary? Idk how to describe that. The relationship between the two of them is obviously key, but it’s the type of story where ‘I love you’ isn’t needed. It’s already there.

So yeah, there’s the list. It’s a long list. I probably still missed some. I might try to make a second list with ‘in progress’ series but I’ll be playing that by ear. I’d love to hear some of you all’s thoughts on these stories (if you’ve read/watched them), or which you now want to read/watch!

#wings talks manga

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xiolaperry · 4 years

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The Piano - Chapter 3

Notes: My Camp NaNoWriMo Project for April 2020. A Rumbelling of the 1993 movie ‘The Piano’. Has 14 chapters, all are written. I’ll post one every few days. Some dialogue is taken directly from the film and from ‘Once Upon a Time’. No copyright infringement intended - I’m just having fun. The film is gorgeous, if you haven’t seen it, I highly recommend that you watch it.

Summary: Belle French and her daughter arrive in New Zealand to an arranged marriage with Gaston LeGume. Gaston shows little interest in her or her piano and books. However, Mr. Gold is fascinated…

Rating: E (for smut, dark subject matter and violence in future chapters)

Also available on AO3

Tilly and Belle awoke to find the house empty. While they ate bread with apple preserves, Belle noticed a woman's touch about the place: a crocheted doily, ornate china cups with gaudy red roses, lace trimmed curtains at the windows. Who chose them?

Bursting with curiosity, Tilly opened every cabinet and pulled out every drawer. Belle's first inclination was to scold her daughter for being nosy and going through someone else’s possessions. Then she laughed at herself, remembering this was Tilly's home now too. These were now their possessions. So she joined her instead.

They found a washtub, and she had Tilly scrub the mud from yesterday's dresses. If the trek from the beach was any indication, mud would be their constant companion.

Her restless hands tapped snatches of music in accompaniment to the unceasing rain on the roof. A melody expressing her current uneasiness filled her mind, and she ached to play it. She couldn't even read a book to relax.

Midday, she saw Gaston exit the barn. Perhaps she ought to have gone out there to see him earlier, but she had needed the time alone with Tilly to adjust to the new surroundings. And going out in the rain again was just too daunting.

There was a knock at the door. Why would Gaston knock at his own home? She was surprised when she opened the door, not to find her husband, but two women and a red-haired man. Gaston appeared behind the strangers, and she stood aside to let them all enter.

“May I present my Aunt Cora, her daughter Regina, and Reverend Hopper. Everyone, this is Belle and her daughter Tilly.”

Belle bowed her head and curtsied, and prompted Tilly to do so as well. Her first impression of the women was one of overwhelming coldness. Their faces were beautiful but severe. They were the source of the feminine touches. Reverend Hopper was the opposite. His face and manner exuded warmth and welcome. She saw in him a potential friend.

“They're here to join us for a mid-day meal. I forgot to tell you.”

Belle had a moment of panic. What would she serve them? Gaston hadn't given her any time to prepare.

“Don't worry, we brought food with us,” said Cora, indicating Regina's raised basket. Belle motioned to Tilly to set the table.

Fresh bread, cheese, a meat pie, and delicate cookies appeared from the basket. They looked delicious and skillfully prepared. But the uncomfortable conversation soon caused them to sour in her stomach.

“You must be so grateful to have found a man as wonderful as my nephew to marry you,” stated Cora. “Did you despair of ever finding a husband considering your... circumstances?”

Tilly conveyed her mother's answer. “Mama says her circumstances were quite lovely, thank you. And there was no despair, she simply fancied an adventure.”

“I'm sure she did,” replied Cora, raising an eyebrow while stirring her tea.

Belle knew she had to get along with these women. She told Tilly to compliment the tea set, even though she found the large red roses garish and ugly.

“Thank you. That was a gift from us,” answered Regina. “Mother had hoped Gaston would find a woman of quality to take care of them. Oh, well.”

Belle bristled. Would there be no end to their innuendo that she was somehow lacking? Gaston, enjoying his food, was oblivious to the cattiness.

Reverend Hopper attempted to steer the conversation to safer ground. “Would you like me to take a wedding photograph of the two of you? I'm an amateur photographer and always enjoy a chance to indulge in my hobby. You didn't get a ceremony, but you could at least have a picture.”

Gaston brightened. “We do make a very attractive couple. Yes, Reverend, we'd like that.”

“I agree,” interjected Cora, as if they required her agreement. “We shall all return on a nicer day and have it done. Something to show your future children, Gaston.” She patted his cheek, smiling.

Gaston tensed and changed the subject, asking about Regina's latest projects. His aunt told them all about her daughter's accomplishments, how well she could sing, her proficiency as a cook and gardener, and her talent as a seamstress. Belle wanted to ask how such a talented, quality woman was still unmarried but did not want to stoop to their level of petty barbs.

Reverand Hopper stood. “We must be going. Belle and Tilly, it was wonderful to meet you both,” he said. “I hope you will be happy here.” At last, the ordeal was over. After a series of goodbyes, Cora and her entourage departed. Gaston returned to the barn.

When Belle finished clearing the table and washing the dishes, there was nothing left to distract her. She stared out the window at the sullen rain. Her piano and books were alone on the beach, waiting for her to rescue them.

The rain ceased during the night. Sunlight streamed in the windows, cheering Belle and Tilly as they discussed potential adventures. Gaston observed Belle and her daughter at the table, irritated. Their hands danced in silent conversation. It was unnerving. At least she would be useful around the house, someone to watch over things when he wasn't there.

“I have to go away for a few days. There is some business I need to conduct and it can’t wait. Will you be all right here tending to the chickens and other chores?”

Belle smiled and nodded. Tilly replied, “Yes, we will be.”

“We can get to know each other better when I return.” Another nod. “If you have any problems, Mr. Gold lives a relatively short distance away. I'll leave a map.”

Gaston left on horseback. As Belle tidied up, all she could think about were her piano and books. Her life was silent without her instrument. Music filled everything with color. She missed the comfort and adventure of her books.

Household tasks complete, Belle and Tilly dressed in boots and jackets. Mr. Gold had not been friendly, but she had glimpsed something kind in his brown eyes. She was sure of it. He would take them to the beach.

Planks served as makeshift paths through the mud. It was a frustrating and messy business navigating them. The planks, not always close enough, often left too big of a gap to jump. They sank into the mire. At last, they left the cleared area of Gaston's property.

Mr. Gold's house was smaller than Gaston's, but it complemented its surroundings. He had not removed the native plants and trees, instead he had worked with them. It gave the effect of finding an enchanted cottage in the woods.

She knocked at the door and Mr. Gold answered. He had a cane in his hand. She hadn't noticed him using one the other day. “Mrs. Legume. What can I do for you?”

Belle wrote him a quick note. He looked at the paper and stated, “I can't read.” He was not embarrassed to tell her this. His father had abandoned him as a child with his two “aunties.” They were spinners and taught him the trade. School was a luxury he’d not had time for.

Belle was taken aback. She turned to Tilly and signed to her.

“Please take us to the beach.”

“No. I can't. Sorry.” He did not want to get involved. He closed the door.

Belle would not be dissuaded. He had to help her. She plopped down on the porch with Tilly and told her a story to pass the time. It was about an evil sorcerer who lived in a castle he had enchanted to look like a tiny house in the woods. He hunted children and skinned them for their pelts.

Tilly watched, rapt. The more fanciful and gruesome the story, the better. Belle embellished the tale with all sorts of fantastical details, wondering how long it would take Mr. Gold to emerge.

It surprised Gold when he came out to sparkling blue eyes and smiles. Their calmness disarmed him.

“I can't do it.”

They said nothing.

“I have other plans.”

Silence.

It was difficult to argue when the other party would not engage. Gold did not relish them sitting on the porch, staring at him for the rest of the day. This was the easiest way to get rid of them, he told himself as he traded his cane for a walking stick and put on his jacket. He was just removing an annoyance from his property and satisfying his curiosity.

Feigning impatience, he started down the trail. “Aren't you coming?”

The trip down to the beach progressed faster than Belle expected. Since it was only the three of them and they had nothing heavy to carry, Gold took them a different way.

This time she could enjoy the scenery. Instead of focusing on the mud at her feet, her gaze turned upward. The canopy of trees was a lush green against the clear blue sky. Birds fluttered and sang, and Belle imagined their chatter to be cheering her along.

Gold cast an occasional furtive glance behind him to make sure they kept up. When they reached the cliff and Belle caught sight of her things, her face transformed with joy. She and Tilly scampered down the steep incline as fast as they could, overtaking his careful descent. The change in her was amazing.

Belle ran to the piano. She tore at the slats of the crate covering the keys. It took Gold longer to make his way down to the beach. By the time he reached them, Belle was playing music and Tilly was dancing with childish abandon.

Gold watched and told himself the glow he saw in her was just the warmth of the sun. Had he thought her beautiful before? He was wrong. She was exquisite. Her eyes were animated and her dark hair came loose from its braid, whipping in the wind, red highlights flashing in the day’s brightness.

It was a moment he would always remember. Standing in the sand, the waves crashing, birds in the sky. Gold did not have experience with music. Like schooling, it was a luxury he had not enjoyed as a child and he hadn't had time for as he worked to make his fortune. He hadn’t known what he was missing. It was passion, longing, radiance. He was enthralled.

Tilly tired of her dance and made creatures out of shells in the sand. Gold found himself helping, drawing large outlines of seahorses and starfish with his cane. In return, Tilly told him stories of their voyage.

Too soon, their shadows lengthened across the sand. The tone of her composition changed. It sped up, as though the player was trying to cram in as many notes as possible before reaching the end. Tense, staccato sounds slowed into sad, lonely chords. Tilly sat down next to her mother and they played a brief, simple duet in farewell.

Gold helped Belle re-secure her piano. Before he thought better of it, he spoke. “Would you like to bring some books back with you? We can put some in my satchel.”

Belle opened a trunk, carefully peeling back the waterproof canvas. She looked at the books like a woman forced to choose between her children. She handed him a heavy botanical tome and a book of plays to put into his bag. Tilly was given a slim book of poems that she could easily carry, and Belle took a larger book of poetry for herself. She wished she could teleport all the books by magic and reminded herself to be grateful to have these four returning with her. It was better than nothing. She closed the lid on the rest.

It was time to leave. On their way back, Gold missed the Belle from the beach, the one who was lit from within with joy. Each step took them further away from the beautiful day on the shore. She wilted when the house came into sight. Reality returned.

Through Tilly, she thanked him.

“It was no matter. I simply wanted you off my porch.”

She laughed soundlessly, her expressive eyes appearing to see straight through him. He rubbed his fingers, uneasy from the scrutiny.

“Mama would like to know if you would care to come in.”

“Now why would I want to do that? Here, take these heavy things,” he said. Uncomfortable, he thrust the books towards Belle. And with that, he spun around and trudged home, his ears still hearing the music from the beach, his vision full of Belle's hands dancing on the black and white keys, and the memory of Tilly twirling in the sun.

Link to music Belle played on the beach - (Composed by Michael Nyman for the film "The Piano".)

#my fic #the piano

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robinskey · 5 years

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Lover (Steve Harrington x Reader)

A/N: GUYS as you’ve probably noticed, I’m incredibly excited about the release of @taylorswift‘s new album. IMO, Lover is one of Taylor’s best songs to-date, and I thought it would fit perfectly with a fluffy, domestic Steve one-shot.

Warnings: Mild language, heavy fluff. Story under the cut.

We could leave the Christmas lights up 'til January

This is our place, we make the rules

And there's a dazzling haze, a mysterious way about you, dear

Have I known you 20 seconds or 20 years?

It wasn’t until you and Steve moved into your first home together that you realized how deeply in love he was with holiday decorations.

You had started the process of moving your belongings into the new place at the end of September. By mid-October, Steve had begun pestering you about shopping for Christmas decorations. You reminded him that you hadn’t even unpacked the last box yet, and Halloween hadn’t even occurred yet. Steve was persistent that you needed to get the lights up as soon as possible to “maximize the Christmas spirit.”

After a lot of convincing, Steve had finally agreed to wait until November. By then, you figured, he’d forget about it. I mean, this was the guy who couldn’t remember his social security number and occasionally wrote it on his stomach (“because I’m not dumb enough to keep it on, like, my hand, Y/N, where everyone can see it.” When when you suggested he just carry his social security card with him, he told you he didn’t trust himself not to lose it.) Surely, that guy would forget all about it, right?

Wrong. On November 1st, you were nursing a Halloween-candy hangover when Steve dragged you to Goodwill. You returned home with enough decorations to light up a mansion and spent the rest of the afternoon stringing them all around your tiny one-bedroom house. After dinner, you and Steve headed outside. As the sky faded to black, Steve wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and he watched in wonder as your small townhouse transformed into a winter wonderland.

“Look at that, Y/N! We did that,” he said. The various colors of the lights reflected in his eyes as he gazed down at you.

“I didn’t know King Steve Harrington could get so excited over Christmas lights.” Your smooth teasing was foiled by a strong gust of wind that left goosebumps on your arms and caused you to shudder.

“I’m full of surprises,” Steve said as the two of you started back towards the front door. “For example, you probably didn’t know, but I can make the best cup of hot chocolate in the state of Indiana.”

“Oh, really?”

“Oh, yeah. Grandma Harrington taught me her secret recipe.”

Even though you’d known Steve for years, you learned new things about him every day. You wondered if you’d ever run out of things to learn about the boy you’d known all your life.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

We could let our friends crash in the living room

This is our place, we make the call

And I'm highly suspicious that everyone who sees you wants you

I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all

Dustin Henderson started referring to your place as “our house” before you guys even moved in. He dropped by several times a week with updates on the newest happenings at Hawkins Middle or questions about how to handle a Suzie situation. At least once a month, Dustin crashed on your couch after a weekend movie night.

On one occasion, you and Steve returned home from a date night to discover half a dozen adolescents gathered around the television in your living room. A curly-haired kid carried around a bag of chips in one hand and waved cheerfully with the other. He flashed his infamous toothy grin, which you met with a half-scowl, half-squint of confusion.

“Dustin? How did you get in here?”

Dustin spoke through a mouthful of Doritos. “My mom dropped us off. And then I used my key.”

Your glare switched targets. This time, you directed it at Steve. He clamped his hand down on his face; you weren’t sure if it was to avoid your gaze or express his frustration.

“Dude, I gave you that key for emergencies only.”

“This was an emergency!” Dustin threw up his hands, sending an army of cheesy corn chips into the atmosphere. After falling back to earth, bright orange triangles wedged themselves into your new white rug. “The season premiere of our favorite show is tonight, and we didn’t have anywhere to watch it.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. Your eyes scanned over the gang sprawled across your couch, armchairs, and carpet. Judging by the boxes of candy and cans of soda littered across the floor, Dustin must have raided your pantry. Apparently, the kitchen wasn’t the only place he infiltrated, since almost your entire linen closet was spread out over the living room. Lucas and Max shared the recliner beside which Dustin was currently standing. Will sat on a pillow with his back against the coffee table, his attention still focused on the television screen. You turned your attention to Mike, who was curled up next to El under a crocheted blanket you’d received from your grandmother.

“Doesn’t your family have a TV, Mike?”

"Yeah, we do, but my mom kicked us out so she could watch a soap opera or some shit. She and Nancy love that crap.”

Nancy.

That name ignited the flame of jealousy in your chest. You knew it was totally irrational; she and Steve hadn’t dated since high school. They’d both moved on-something Nancy did almost instantaneously. Steve had told you the whole saga of their mostly-one-sided relationship, and you were fairly certain Nancy never really loved him.

Still, Nancy was Steve’s first serious girlfriend. She was the first girl-the only girl, other than you-to whom he’d said “I love you” and meant it. Nancy was, and would always be, Steve’s first love. There wasn’t anything you could do to change that.

“Y/N? Hey, babe, you good?”

Steve’s voice jolted you back to reality. You shook your head slightly to clear it, then nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”

You pretended not to notice the way his mouth twitched downward slightly in concern.

“Great. So we can stay?” Dustin interrupted. The hopeful gleam in his eyes was too much to resist.

“I guess,” you sighed, earning a chorus of triumphant “yeah!”s from the kids. “Your show’s probably about over by now, anyway, isn’t it?”

Dustin furrowed his thick brows, as though that was the most blatantly incorrect assumption you could have made. Lucas let you know that “it doesn’t even start for three more hours.”

“Won’t that be, like, midnight? Your parents aren’t going to freak out if you come home at two in the morning?” Steve asked.

“Actually...” Dustin drew out the word until he finally ran out of air. Then, he spoke the next few words in one breath. “We were hoping you’d let us spend the night here?”

You and Steve exchanged glances. Between your schoolwork and Steve’s work schedule, the two of you hadn’t been able to spend as much quality time together. You’d finally both managed to secure a responsibility-free night and a cheesy rom-com to watch while cuddling on the couch. (Steve pretended to hate those movies, but he almost always teared up at least once during the show.)

None of that mattered now, though, because your boyfriend could never say no to his favorite child-or so you thought.

Steve scratched the back of his neck. He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye before saying, “Actually, Dustin, tonight’s not the best night for a sleepover. Y/N and I kind of had plans.”

Lucas raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Plans, huh? What kind of plans?” he said, earning a smack on the arm from his girlfriend.

Color rose to your cheeks; Steve picked up a pillow someone had haphazardly tossed on the floor and launched it at Lucas’s head. Instead of hitting its intended target, though, the cushion collided with Max’s face. Ever the hothead, the ginger quickly contorted her neutral expression into a deep frown. She chucked the pillow back toward Steve with tremendous force, along with a few other throw pillows. Only one actually hit Steve. The rest rained down on you.

And, as a mature, homeowning adult battling literal children, you knew there was only one correct response: to hurl each and every one of those pillows right back.

It didn’t take long before the scene devolved into utter chaos. Fluffy rectangles flew across the living room, smacking into bodies or simply into walls. The kids outnumbered you and Steve three-to-one, so you were doomed from the start. However valiant of an effort you two gave, the party still overcame you, burying you and Steve under an avalanche of pillows.

“Clearly, we won this fight,” Dustin said as he loomed over you. Steve had tried to act as your human shield, so he laid beside you on the floor. “I think that means we earned the right to stay.”

“Dustin-“

“No, Steve, it’s okay,” you said, turning towards him. “I know it’s not what we originally planned, but maybe a sleepover with the kids would be fun.”

Steve looked at you with admiration glittering in his chocolate eyes. “Yeah?” he asked softly.

“Yeah.” You shifted a few pillows to get closer to Steve and plant a gentle kiss on his mouth. He smiled as your lips brushed his, and for a moment, you forgot about the gang of gangly tweens in your living room.

Then, a symphony of “ew”s and “aw”s and “can you not”s and “I think it’s sweet”s erupted throughout the room.

Steve shot into an upright position, pointing his finger in the general direction of the sitting area. “Hey, this is my house, and my girlfriend, and if I want to kiss her, I will. And if you dweebs want to stay here to watch your stupid show, you’ll keep your mouths shut.”

“As long as you keep yours shut,” Dustin quipped. “I think I can speak for everyone when I say we’d rather not see you and Y/N sticking your tongues down each other’s throats.”

You tossed the last pillow throw of the night at Dustin but agreed. You and Steve kept the PDA to a minimum that night. They were just kids, after all, and you didn’t want to corrupt them. However, when Nancy came to pick up Mike the next morning and Steve waved to her from the porch, you didn’t hesitate to flounce out the front door in your robe and draw Steve into a passionate kiss.

You just had to make sure Nancy knew what was yours.

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home

You're my, my, my, my lover

Ladies and gentlemen, will you please stand?

With every guitar string scar on my hand

I take this magnetic force-of-a-man to be my lover

My heart's been borrowed and yours has been blue

All's well that ends well to end up with you

Swear to be overdramatic and true to my lover

And you'll save all your dirtiest jokes for me

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover

Your favorite part of the day was coming home to your best friend.

Steve more or less memorized your schedule. You arrived home around the same time every evening, so Steve knew when to start listening for the sound of gravel crunching under the wheels of your car. He would then meet you on the porch with a “hello” kiss and a “how was your day, honey?” You always feigned indignance as he took your bags, murmuring something about how weak he must think you are to not be able to carry them two more steps. But, secretly, you spent your entire commute home anticipating the interaction.

This was especially true on the stressful days, the ones you felt would never end. Even though Steve was completely clueless in most situations, he could typically tell when you were in a foul mood. Those were the times he pulled you a little closer to his heart, hugged you a little tighter, loved you a little extra-just in case you needed it.

Today, you really, really did. It had been one of those days where everything seems to go wrong. You couldn’t wait to crawl into bed with Steve and snuggle all your sorrows away.

As you pulled into the driveway, your heart beat faster in anticipation. You watched the front door swing open. It took you a second to realize that the figure standing on the porch wasn’t your boyfriend. Rather, it was a short, stocky kid with a halo of golden curls. If it hadn’t been for the unmistakable hair, you might not have recognized him; you’d never seen him sans ballcap but plus a paisley-print bowtie around his neck and certainly never with dish rag was draped over his arm.

“Hey, Dustin,” you said. When he responded by simply smiling back at you, you asked, “What...what’cha doing here, kid?”

“Hello, Ms. Y/L/N. I’ll be your server for the evening,” he responded without missing a beat.

“My server?”

Dustin bent his head slightly in what he must have considered a sophisticated spin on a nod. “Indeed. Now, if you’ll follow me, ma’am...”

You kicked off your shoes and set down your purse before wandering after your guide down the dimly-lit hall. Something crinkled under your footsteps. You quickly noticed small ovals scattered across the wood floor. As you stepped on one, it felt like silk against your bare feet.

Petals?

You were too busy staring at the flowers scattered across the hall to realize you’d reached your destination. Dustin stopped, and you ran right into his back. You stumbled before regaining your balance and taking a look around the room.

The “server” had escorted you to your own kitchen-a place you were quite familiar with, since Steve couldn’t cook a decent meal to save his life. (To be fair, though, you weren’t much more skilled with the stove, so approximately 90% of your diet was comprised of takeout and peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwiches.) However, you’d never seen the kitchen quite like this.

It was the cleanest it had been since move-in day. Not a dish sat on the counter or even in the sink. The crumbs typically scattered across the floor had been replaced by rose petals. Sparkling white Christmas lights stretched across the room, and Elvis Presley crooned over the record player in the corner of the room. You didn’t even know Steve owned a record player. (As you later discovered, he didn’t. He’d borrowed it from Jonathan Byers.)

In the center of the room, your cheap card table was draped with a lace tablecloth. Wedged between two covered silver platters that looked like they belonged in a castle, a flickering candle cast shadows on the face of the boy sitting beside it. As soon as his eyes fell on you, he scrambled to his feet and over to you.

“Hi,” Steve said, winding his arms around your waist. He sounded breathless, even though he’d literally just walked a few feet.

“Hey.” Your eyes flicked from his slicked-back hair and freshly-shaven face to his crisp button-up and newly-polished shoes. “What’s-um-what’s all this?” you asked, vaguely gesturing around the room.

“Oh, you know.” Steve pressed a quick kiss to your lips before taking your hand and leading you to the table. “I just thought I’d do something special for you tonight.”

"That’s...really sweet.”

Steve scooted your chair in before placing himself back into the seat across from you. Dustin disappeared into your pantry, then returned with a bottle of sparkling grape juice. As you watched the teenager carefully pour a splash into each of your glasses, you asked whether Steve had bribed or tricked him into spending his Friday night playing restaurant.

“This is my full-time job, ma’am. This is how I earn my living,” Dustin answered dutifully before breaking character. “Besides, four of my stupid friends are on a double-date, and Will’s sick, so I had nothing better to do.”

“Way to sell us on the idea that you want to be here, dipshit,” Steve remarked.

“Hey, show our waiter a little respect!” you teased, gently kicking Steve under the table.

“Thank you, Y/N. But, actually, I prefer the term server,” Dustin corrected. He proceeded to produce a notepad from his pocket and read you the specials-or, rather, special, considering there was only one: spaghetti with meatballs. “On our regular menu, we also offer a wonderful noodle dish with a marinara sauce for the same low price as the special-zero dollars.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “So...just spaghetti again?”

Dustin clapped a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Excuse you, madam. It’s spaghetti without meatballs, which is a completely different experience.” Dustin glanced around as though someone might overhear before quietly adding, “Personally, I would recommend the spaghetti with meatballs, unless you want grubby hands digging around in your dish to pull out the meatballs, which may or may not already be incorporated into the pasta.”

You rolled your eyes but laughed nonetheless. “I guess I’ll have the spaghetti with meatballs, then.”

“Excellent choice. And for you, sir?”

“I’ll have the same,” said Steve.

“Well, you’ve both made this very easy for me. Pardon my reach,” Dustin said, leaning over to pluck the covers off the platters. A heaping hill of noodles, red sauce, and meatballs lay underneath.

Dustin took the lids and disappeared into the living room. You weren’t sure if Dustin was just trying to stay out of the way or if he was going to attempt to wash them in the bathroom sink. It definitely wouldn’t have been the weirdest thing he’d done in your house; once, you and Steve caught him trying to explain morse code to a squirrel in your backyard. That kid was truly an odd duck.

And speaking of weird behavior, you were still seriously questioning what was happening. Steve was a sweetheart, and he did everything in his power to make you happy. This definitely wasn’t the first time he’d surprised you with a thoughtful gesture, but it was probably the most all-out he’d ever gone. The last time he even attempted to cook for you was during senior year of high school, when you first started dating. As an after-school snack, Steve had popped some pizza rolls in the microwave and promptly forgotten about them...until, of course, the kitchen appliance burst into flames.

As strange as it was, you didn’t want to ruin the moment by verbally expressing your curiosities. You simply swirled slightly-soggy spaghetti around your spoon and savored the small talk. Eventually, Dustin reappeared to clear your plates and ask if you wanted dessert.

“What are my options?”

Dustin’s excellent waiter facade faded for a second. He glanced at Steve with wide eyes. His gaze begged for guidance-which Steve failed to provide. He simply squinted at Dustin as if to say, Figure it out for yourself.

The entire ordeal lasted about fifteen seconds. It was too long for Dustin to turn back to you with a tight-lipped smile plastered on his face as though nothing had just happened between them.

“The final course is-the dessert, uh-it’s a surprise.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you could have sworn you saw Steve offer a nod of approval.

“Okay...” You drew out the word as your mind jumped to every conclusion possible. “Is it a good surprise? Or is it, like, a somewhat-edible science experiment that might actually poison me?”

“Oh, no, no. It’s a good surprise. You’ll like it. I promise,” Dustin said. “I-uh-I’ll go get it,” he said, then disappeared once more.

“Steve, why did Dustin just head toward the bathroom? I swear, if he made Jell-O in the toilet or something, I’m going to lose it.”

Steve just shrugged. He avoided your gaze, and a few beads of sweat had broken out across his forehead. That pretty much solidified your suspicions that Steve and Dustin were pulling some weird sort of prank on you.

Dustin returned a few minutes later with yet another silver platter. (Seriously, where was he getting these things?) This time, though, there weren’t any noodles on the plate he unveiled. Instead, a small velvet box sat on the metal.

The next few seconds happened in a blur. You recalled Steve rising from his chair and reaching for the box. Then, suddenly, he was on one knee in front of you. The box opened like an oyster. Instead of a pearl, though, its treasure was a glimmering diamond ring.

Tears began clouding your vision before Steve’s lips even parted. As soon as he spotted the water in your eyes, Steve started to get choked up, too. He tried to power through, but his voice became more strained with each syllable.

“Y/N. These past few years with you have been the best of my life, and I never thought...shit." Steve blinked rapidly, attempting to clear away the tears. “I never want to spend my time with-with anyone else-damn it,” he murmured as a drop of water finally escaped his tear duct and rolled down his face. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I had this whole speech prepared, but now I’m a mess-”

You stopped his ranting by placing a gentle palm on his cheek and a kiss on his forehead. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I love you for the whole-ass mess you are.”

Steve leaned into your touch for a moment and whispered, “I love you, too, Y/N.” Then, he straightened up, cleared his throat, and softly asked, “Will you marry me?”

“Of course.”

Steve barely had the patience to slide the ring on your finger with his shaking hands before he picking you up and swinging you around. He kissed all over your face, and your happy tears mixed with his in a joyous saltwater solution.

The kiss fest didn’t end until Steve, caught up in all the excitement, accidentally pressed his lips to your nostrils. The two of you burst into a fit of giggles amplified by the ecstasy of the emotions you were feeling. Your hysteria lasted for several minutes and ended with you and Steve laying on the floor, lungs devoid of oxygen and limbs tangled together.

“Are you guys really that happy, or are you, like, on something?”

You both glanced toward Dustin, whose presence had completely slipped your mind. Luckily, Steve had a response ready. It was cheesy and cliche, but nothing could have fit the situation more perfectly:

“No, dude. We’re just high on life.”

Can I go where you go?

Can we always be this close forever and ever?

And ah, take me out, and take me home (Forever and ever)

You're my, my, my, my

Oh, you're my, my, my, my

Darling, you're my, my, my, my lover

***

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