#so i started using lightbulb because i wanted to go back into Pinterest with a casual mindset and not a content creator mindest

[kirbythesixth]

weren't you kirby the fifth for a while? or am i stupid?

i am. so sorry to inform you. i think you're stuck in 2012.

[girlygraphics]

it is currently 14:21, as i write the (revamped) intro to my blog. A blog that has been long abandoned, other than the occasional likes and reblogs to let others know I'm still #alive. But i also write this as a stressed yr13 alevel students. First exam in 25 days (akschoully ☝️🤓 24 days, 17 hours, 34 minutes and 46, no 45, no 44 seconds left but hey! who's counting??) but weirdly, instead of loading up my psychology flashcards, i decided to restart this page. Procrastinated both things but yall can clearly see where my priorities lie.

it would be very rude, audacious even, if i made an intro without introducing myself. So greetings all, (an: even since seeing @hrrtshape blog, i just LOVE how she writes & want to reward her a golden trophy for inspiring me to pick up such a philosophoful writing style; it reminds me of the good ol' days when i use to read books with sophisticated literature for fun....when i actually had time to waste, now every second feels like it needs to be dedicated to at least one of my subjects), i go by ???......i'm still tryna find out a name for my alter ego. Its not really a act-different alter ego, its more of an alter-ego where i can act like my most authentic self (with a sprinkle of whatever internet media that helped raised me *cough, cough* pinterest, fluttershy games, coryxkenshin and so much more). An alter-ego where i can express my interests freely without worrying about "what if someone perceives me".

*rolls up long ahh bedazzled scroll* what??? can't a girlie be extra in this lifetime??!! anywho, my interests are indie horror games—only when im watching gameplays—, indulging in nolstalgic media, pinterest, reading and writing, video editing, utilising my creatvity in the form of art, making pinterest boards, listening to music while on pinterest. gaming, shifting and law of assumption.

if i could describe myself in 3 words it would definitely be whimsy, bubbly and weird. i'm weird, weird as in glmm with a side of cookies dipped in lukewarm milk before bedtime typa weird. WEIRDO??? now, that's where i draw the line.

So now to conclude this intro and finally start on my pile of undone assignments (i had 2 weeks to do my easter holiday homework and all i got done was REVISION, absolutely bonkers if i say so myself) . I am 7teen, blk shifter and this is my cutesy lil blog where i rant about my drs, shifting, interests, etc and i hope yall enjoy my posts ( ੭ ˘ ³˘)੭‎°｡⋆♡‧₊˚ (also fyi, im a CHRONIC kaomoji user so if yall see me spam tf outta kaomojis in my posts, dont say i didnt warn ya!)

now back to the drafts this post goes until i can finally figure out a cute theme, alterego name + username (something that has people thinking "gawsh darn it" *snaps fingers cartoonishly* "why didn't i think of that")

*taps into mic* testing, testing, 1,2,3, is this mic on?? choosing a name for an alterego-not-so-alterego can be one of the hardest things ever, after alevel chemistry. You want a name that screams the vibe you are going for but at the same time, you don't want it to be a name associated with bad memories + leaving a bitter taste in ur mouth (now i see why choosing baby names are so hard, i apologise to all the parentals out there!). A name that will have people playing (insert favourite song) theme song in their heads whenever they hear it. As for my username, i settled with @girlygraphics. Why?? because i was on pinterest and one of my recommended searches was "girlygraphics". It was like a pink led lightbulb went off and i thought to myself "i love this way this rolls off my tongue". I'm betting £100 that i wont get bored of this username and change it before the end of this month (heh, this is like a HUUUGE loophole because this month ends in 10 days). And for the theme, we are hopping in a time machine & tapping into the minds of 2k21 submakers (with a dash of @foxxiee theme because their whimsyness is #UNMATCHED!!)

as "slow down - chase atlantic" plays in my head, i hover my mouse on the post now button (obvsiously after switching the settings from "save as draft" -> "post now) and ready to indulge to this whimsical metaverse of shiftblr.

𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋𝐘𝐆𝐑♡𝐏𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐒 𝐌𝐘𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄

boundaries! . solar system . a brat's brain . 75 day hard challenge . vaunts from a pretty princess . other/misc . shifting storytime's b4 slumber

post ib: @hrrtshape , & 2k21 submaker luvcore aesthetic

divider creds: @strangergraphics @sweet2000s

[antisocialbunnysims]

Hi! Firstly I want to say how much I love your videos. Asylum is my comfort TV at the moment. And I'm so excited for Season 3. I would just like to ask where you found those large, filled ashtrays you used in, for example, your Casino build? I've scoured your Pinterest boards, but I couldn't find it. Maybe I just wasn't looking hard enough. I found some smoking clutter here: https://ano2uk.livejournal.com/. But it's not exactly what I need. I also wanted to ask if you have any tips for creating atmospheric lighting? I think I'm finally going to install Cinema Secrets, I'm just so fed up with the bright, white, clinical lighting of the vanilla game. Thank you, good luck with your future endeavours!

hi, aw thank you so much that makes me so happy to hear!! I am really excited too, I've been so bummed that I've been so busy lately because I'm like i literally only want to just work on season 3 and i keep having to be an adult with a job and shit!! lmao

and as for the ashtray i found it! i really thought i had it pinned, and i did but on my ..military/crime/scifi board? 🤔 i guess i was like...private eyes investigate crime..and smoke? lol so i do not blame you for not finding it and i'm sorry it was hard to locate!! it is a bioshock ashtray converted by mistyfluff here!

https://fictionalshelter.wordpress.com/2022/05/05/pd-noir-office-part-1/

and as for atmospheric lighting, I loveddd the cinema secrets mod when I had it installed! The lit by firelight setting you could turn on for specific lots is amazing. I ended up uninstalling it and going back to using the maxis match lighting mod only because, you know that glitch where sometimes all the furniture in a build doesn't get lit up by the lighting anymore and you have to pick up each one and place it down? That started happening to me a lot more when I had cinemasecrets idk if it was related or if I just psyched myself out into thinking that lol -__- but it's beautiful! For me, I literally hate white light so much that I don't use it in any sim builds anymore basically lololol unless it's supposed to be a fluorescent and unpleasant area. At this point I really only use lights with a warm tone and I love how it feels cozy! pineappleforest has a post here showing the different maxis light settings and how to change custom lamps to a different type of light. Pineappleforest labels which lamps in their sets are warm/cool so I use a lot of warm PF lamps, like pretty much every lamp I use lol. And I also love the Still Here lamp by nixed sims, it's really warm lighting that is very retro. I also love to use the neon rods from PF's neon set because there is an invisible one! You can put an invisible colored neon and if there is other lighting nearby in the room, the effect is pretty subtle so it's fun to try different combos. I also love the big crazy neon maxis lightbulb lamps that are green/blue/and..orange? whichever, they are SO intense but that makes them really useful for photos or areas you want to feel spooky/scifi/moody etc. anyway I rambled a lot lol but I hope some of this was helpful at all!! <3

[applebees4prez]

i worked at a balloon counter for three years and i need to put my knowledge somewhere so here is the most niche advice ever

latex are “regular” balloons. they are the ones you are most likely to see in clip art. they will sometimes have designs on them but usually don’t. they will only stay in the air for 8-10 hours so use helium wisely. there are a few types but the main two are pearl and regular. pearl are shinier and tend to be smaller while regular are more matte and see through. they are on the left under this section.

mylars are the shiny ones and will last longer. they crinkle before they fall, and big ones can take a week before they crinkle. they can come in different shapes. they are more likely to have designs than be plain.

do not leave your balloons in a space where the temperature is not controlled!! in the cold they will deflate and in the heat they will pop.

when buying balloons off of a random, non-party store aligned website that are not blown up, look at the reviews. when i was at work, most of the time people brought in their own balloons they would pop when we tried to inflate them. if you bring in your own balloon and it pops, you cannot get a refund usually as the helium was still used and cannot be gotten back.

helium is expensive. there have been helium shortages in the time since i started working with balloons. they suck.

don’t get confetti balloons. the store will have them because people want them, but they never look like they do on the package. the confetti will just sink to the bottom because that’s how gravity works. i didn’t realize either until i started working with balloons. don’t waste helium on them, but sometimes kids like to play with them.

blowing up a balloon:

when blowing up a latex balloon, stop when the bottom is mostly coned but doesn’t yet look like a lightbulb. lightbulb balloons are ugly!!

hold latex balloons against a (non-sharp) surface like a counter or couch with the tip facing up while tying them. it will make your life easier by holding the balloon in place. it can be kind of inconvenient but if you get used to it you can just tie them in the air.

mylar balloons seal automatically and don’t need to be tied. they will stop inflating on their own, and you will (most likely) be able to tell if they are full.

if you’re tying balloons to a weight, tie around the straight neck of the balloon.

getting from a balloon counter:

DO NOT YELL AT THE PEOPLE BEHIND THE COUNTER. they are trying their best! their job is hard! everyone makes mistakes! if you have a problem with something they did, look for an older worker and ask about a manager. they will talk to them. for my store it was very casual because we are a small, family-owned business (but also i was part of the family that owned the business so maybe i missed some stuff idk).

come in with an idea of what you want. do not drag an employee around the store for half an hour while you are unable to make a decision. look on pinterest (the store most likely won’t have exactly what you want but it’s still good to have an idea). if you are getting balloons for someone else ask them what they want. if it’s for a child, KNOW THEIR INTERESTS!! do not get them a superhero balloon just because they’re a boy or a princess balloon just because they’re a girl. you wouldn’t believe how many times someone came up to me, told me the child’s gender, and just expected me to know exactly what the kid would like.

you will be told not to keep the balloons in a parked car. that is in relation to the temperature controlled thing. listen to it. if it’s cold outside, your balloons might deflate a bit on your way to the car. that is normal. they will reinflate. if you leave your balloons in a parked car, do not tell some made up story in hopes of getting a refund. we will know you are lying.

go to the store and place your order ahead of time!!! it makes everyone’s lives so much easier, and that way you’re not standing around waiting for them to be ready. if they don’t have what you want, you can likely order it online for them to inflate.

if you’re placing an order to be done at the time it is placed, remember that latex only last 8-10 hours. ask if the store has hi-float. it will make them last longer, but the balloons will by smaller.

i think that’s it for now! let me know if you have any questions!

[sacrificethemtothesquid]

Hi! You always reblog really nice posts about mental health and writing, and I wanted to ask for advice! I’m struggling to focus on my writing. I spend the day thinking about scenes I want to improve etc, and when I can finally write I start doing something else, and then I waste my time with stupid shit on social media instead of doing what I wanted so badly! Do you have any tips that help concentrating? I turn off my Wi-Fi at times but my brain just keeps telling me to go check twitter or whatever, and I fall for it every time. :/ I write so slowly I lose a lot of nice stuff I make up in my head, I really wanted to get better at this. I love your blog, hope I’m not being annoying!!! Xxx

I am so sorry for the late response to this. I've been wrapped up in offline things and wanted to give you the proper consideration you deserve. You are absolutely not annoying - I'm sorry I've left you hanging for so long!

In terms of concentration, I don't know that I'm the best person to ask. I have an ADHD diagnosis and my meds help me focus. That's the simple answer, which I don't think is what you're hoping for.

BUT that being said, even with my meds, I also do the social-media-instead-of-writing thing and I completely understand how frustrating it is. I have ideas! They're good ones! But they evaporate the second I open the document, and to console myself, I seek out the instant dopamine of tumblr and pinterest, feeling guilty the entire time.

My question for you: are you trying to write everything in a straight line, or are you making notes for whichever scene is currently in your head? If I love a scene but I'm not there yet in terms of the overall story arc, I'll write that as it comes. I think of it as quilting: I come up with scenes like fabric squares, and then I can arrange and stitch them together as the narrative dictates. Sometimes they don't fit, and that's okay. Not all the fabric gets used in the quilt, but the simple act of writing benefits the whole. No writing is wasted.

There was a post here on tumblr that changed my entire outlook on living with ADHD, and it also applies to writing. I can't find the post right now, but it had to do with "junebugging": instead of forcing yourself to do a specific task, ie the dishes, you put yourself in the vicinity of the task, ie the kitchen, and putter around until you eventually get your hands in the sink. In the past, I would have been vicious to myself, cursing myself for my failure to just do the fucking thing, but if I'm a junebug - big and striped and a little dumb - I can bob around the lightbulb, occasionally harmlessly bonking against the glass in my single-minded pursuit of light. It's not my fault my executive function is fucked. It's just the way my brain is wired. Might as well embrace it.

It works for my writing too. If I'm not feeling particularly linear, I'll open the document and poke at what I've already written, or I'll brainstorm new stuff, or stitch some scenes together. I'd love to say I do this without judgement, because my therapist would be proud of me, but although I've gotten much better, I am still working on the whole "radical acceptance" thing.

And radical acceptance: it's hard. It's really hard, but it's so, so necessary. It can be true that you desperately want to write while also being true that you would much rather check twitter. These are not mutually exclusive. I want you to let go of that guilt, if you can. Like we say in my support group, if being hard on yourself worked, it would have worked by now.

Look at your writing. Ask yourself what is stopping you, what's got you snagged like a sleeve on a doorknob. Are you not sure how to proceed? Does the scene in your head not fit with what you've already written? A piece of advice I got years ago: if you're having a hard time writing a scene, the problem doesn't exist with the scene itself, it exists three pages back. It's like trying to solve a maze: sometimes if you get stuck in a corner, you have to backtrack and find a new path. This might mean getting rid of something you've written - don't delete it. Don't delete anything. Open a blank document and copy/paste it in there. Label this document "bits and pieces". You might be able to use those bits - those quilt squares - later. Another piece of advice: what exactly is the story you're trying to tell? I'm having issues with my novel. It's ostensibly a murder mystery, but the mystery part wasn't coming together until I admitted it wasn't really a murder mystery, but a love story between the protagonists. Admitting that let me change my focus from the whodunit - which I hadn't connected with and felt forced to continue - to the developing relationship, with the whodunit as the vehicle. Now it's working a lot better.

The last thing I'll say is that you might be burnt out. That's okay. Muscles can push against a weight for only so long, and creativity is the same. Are you dreading opening that document? Take a break from it. Junebug. Work on something else. Take a shower. Clean the sink. Read something else you've written. Read something written by someone else. A farmer can't work the same field all the time without the soil getting depleted. It needs some fallow time and maybe a nice cover crop to recover. This is part of the process.

Be kind to yourself, my friend. I hear a lot of pain in your voice and I want you to know that it's all right. It's going to be all right. Even if you're not writing right at this second, you are still a writer. You will always be. Every writer that ever lived has gone through what you're going through. You're never, ever alone.

Take care, and let me know how it goes.

[lightthewaybackhome]

Sorry this is so long. Probably should have done a 2 parter.

"My darling girl, when are you going to realize that being normal is not necessarily a virtue? It rather denotes a lack of courage!" - Aunt Frances, Practical Magic

 

My whole life, as far back as I can remember, I’ve wanted to be artistic. I’ve wanted to create. I love beauty. I love artistry. I love creation. I love the artsy look: jewelry, tattoos, flowing clothing, and funky hair. It is a personal aesthetic I keep returning to, especially as I get older. As a child, I tried so many different forms of art—painting, photography, drawing— but none of them seemed quite right. None of them got what was in my head out. All of them fell short until I started writing. Writing was a flame, a fire, a drug. Writing allowed me to express what was in my imagination. This is the first thing to understand.

Everyone is artistic and art is everywhere. I’ve believed this as long as I can remember. There are amazing artistic feats in our world: books, movies, video games, paintings, sculptures, and magnificent pieces of music. Yes, art can be very high and very special. But, art can also be found in charcuterie boards, homemade quilts, sourdough bread, cocktails, soup, and all ordinary things if we but look and see. Art can be high magic and art can be ordinary. This is the second thing to understand.

As I’ve embraced being a homemaker, a HearthKeeper, a woman where she’s meant to be, I came across the term domestic artist. As much as I didn’t like the book Eve in Exile by Rebekah Merkle, it gave me this. It gave me the term domestic artist. That stuck with me. It spoke to me because it captured both the first and the second thing. It captured the never-ceasing call to create which haunts me at all times, and it elevated and honored the ordinary in a sprinkling of fairy dust. It said, “Yes, you have to cook today. Three meals plus snacks and drinks. It’s your job, but, but, what if, what if instead of looking at it as some drudgery, some Cinderella enslavement, what if you looked at it as an opportunity to create beauty?”

Not every meal, every outfit, every moment of your day can be a work of art. Some days you just have to do what you have to do. Some days get upended in the opening credits with a broken washer or a sleepless child. Some days plans change. Life changes. One minute life looks like this, and then the next it’s on to something completely different. But, the beauty of being a domestic artist is that you can create art in any of these moments and in any setting. You can find art in any moment and in any setting.

See, the world tells us that homemaking, HearthKeeping, is boring. It tells us it’s pointless. A waste. You could be changing the world. Only dumb useless women keep their homes. And that’s because they’re either tied down by a dictator of a husband or the demands of children or the cultural trappings of their religion. Courage, dear heart. Courage! Homemaking is magic. Homemaking is flexible. Homemaking changes with the seasons and the woman. I, I am a bit bohemian, a bit rustic, a mixture of rugged and romantic. I grew up a tomboy, but have embraced being a woman in her home since I was a child. I love leather and lace. I love cottage-witch aesthetics. I love boots and long flowing things. I like deer heads, linen, skulls, and ruffles. I like feathers and dreamcatchers, but I also love to decorate with open space. I love pies and feeding my husband. But, look at this, one of my best friends is a classic. She loves clean lines, traditional and timeless pieces. She loves modern accents. She loves beachy highlights and hammocks. She’s not into farmhouse, rustic modern, or raw-edged wood. On any given Sunday, she’s in a pencil skirt, simple top, simple heels with her three daughters in matching dresses while I’m in distressed boyfriend jeans, a mullet-tucked top, and wearing my crow skull. We’re very different, but we’re both homemakers who love making our homes.

I have a woman in my life who quilts and that flows out into their decorating. So many of her things are beautifully hand sewn. If she wants it, she makes it. Another friend grew up in Africa and her home is filled with her love of that culture. One dear friend loves plants and grows amazing flowers that she uses to create Instagram-worth bouquets. Another woman isn’t super fluffy-feminine but she has an eye for remodeling and so is constantly making improvements on her home: flooring, painting, and more. My sisters, like me, both enjoy a minimalist approach to decorating and all three of us have a special place for coffee. Both my sisters’ homes are welcoming and peaceful even with kids running around like crazy.

That’s the point, the world tells women to band together, that we’re a sisterhood, that we should go out and change the world, abandoning our homes before we’re relegated to only kitchen and nursery work, but reality tells me that the most amazing women I know are busy in their homes. This is sisterhood. This is where we bloom. It is here that we have flexibility. For over five years, I’ve struggled with chronic health issues. Homemaking lets me decide each day what I can do and how I’m going to do it. Homemaking lets you change what you do for each season of life. Lots of littles? Keep it simple. Empty nest? Explore. Somewhere in between? Keep growing. Lots of energy? So many things you can expand into if you just refuse to believe the lie that homemaking is beneath you. Don’t be normal. Don’t believe that homemaking is a waste of time. Don’t buy into the lie that you are somehow being less than everyone else when you raise your children, love your husband, and create beauty. Have the courage to be strange. We were made for this! It suits us. This is an environment women thrive in.

When I got over my grammar inhibitions and started writing, I felt like my soul came alive. I felt like I’d finally found what I’d been searching for since I came into this world. It doesn’t matter whether I’m writing an epic story or writing about HearthKeeping or just word doodling, writing, words, stories just flow from me. Wonderfully, homemaking is like that for me, too. I want to read books, I want to learn, I want to talk about it, I want to do it. It’s not perfect. I don’t always feel glorious, but I do feel ‘right’ when I’m doing this. I feel like I’m where I belong. I feel like this is a place I can both rest in and grow in. I feel safe when I’m having a fatigue flare up and I feel excited when I think about all that I can do.

A real-life example: Sundays are long hard days. They’re days that generally spike my fatigue and my husband is worn out. They’re both the best and hardest day of the week. When we get home I make a cocktail and we crash. Inevitably, the minute I sit down my man asks for a snack and what we’re having for dinner. For several years, this drove me up a wall. It is Sunday. The day of REST, why is it my responsibility to always make food? Epic sigh. Epic whiny sigh. I would meal plan for the whole week and then wing it on Sunday and Monday, always with poor results and grumpiness on my part. Then, one week as I meal-planned, I realized that I could also prepare for the weekend. Lightbulb. Facepalm. Really? Why had it taken me into my 40th year of life to realize that if I want a quiet, restful, happy weekend, I should just plan snacks, drinks, and meals ahead of time? I’m going to blame it on my chronic health, brain fog addled mind. I’m going to blame it on laziness. I’m going to blame it on being a young homemaker. Some are understandable, some are inexcusable.

Sundays now involve way less stress because I can immediately prepare snacks and know what we’re eating the minute we get home. No more attitude issue. No more stress. Easy and nice.

Did this change the world? Does this matter to anyone but myself? Did my husband even notice? Maybe not, but this is homemaking. This is HearthKeeping. It is my job and my calling. Even without notice or world-shattering consequences, I’m pleased with the outcome. More than pleased, I’m really happy about it. It brings me joy and delight to find a better way to take care of my family. It allows me to sprinkle my Sunday afternoon with just a little bit of artistry. I make drinks, snacks, dinner. I feed my family.

See, one of the lies that the feminists preach is that we’re wasted in our homes. And yet, the majority of the women I know who work outside the home aren’t doing glamorous jobs. They’re not travel bloggers or world-renowned chiefs or CEOs. They’re cosmetologists, retail workers, bank tellers, nurses, teachers, and such. Now, none of those are bad. Working outside the home isn’t bad. (I think each family has to decide what family looks like to them.) Please, please, don’t read that as degrading. I worked retail and I think retail is important. These are all God-honoring employment in which you can strive and serve. I’m not bashing any of those jobs. I have many many dear friends who work outside the home. What I am saying is that I think we as women need to ask ourselves if leaving our homes en masse was worth it. Has it given us all the joy, delight, and fulfillment the feminists promised us?

I’ve done both. I’ve been a co-owner of a business that I helped grow from nothing to something amazing. I’ve worked as an everyday retail worker. I write and am the main editor for a small neighborhood magazine. And I’m a HearthKeeper. I will tell you right now, no qualifications, that HearthKeeping is the most satisfying job I’ve ever had. It not only challenges me every day but it also works with me. The boundaries are what I set in place and so I grow as I can. The work never ends, yes, but it also never ends. There is always something else to explore.

I think being a homemaker is largely attitude. You can buck against what you do, and most women do. Just spend two minutes on Pinterest looking at doing laundry or dishes and the bitter hatred comes pouring out. Look at the complaints women make against their churches: we’re relegated to doing nursery work and kitchen duty. What if, just for a moment, we decided to be Domestic Artists? What if, for just a moment, we tried loving our jobs instead of complaining? What if we thought that dishes meant food and good times and healing of the souls around us? What if we saw laundry as a way to keep beauty and cleanliness around us? What if we saw it as our privilege and delight to take care of the food, children, clothing, cleaning, cooking, gardening, growing of the next generation, and the men of the world? What if we embraced the domestic arts and saw them as truly magnificent, glorious, unique arts? How many of us would be able to say with a straight face that working retail is more fulfilling than managing a small world? Is it more fulfilling to go work in an office than it is to orchestrate a place of welcome, rest, and renewal for your husband and yourself? It might be more visible, but is it truly more long-lasting?

I can say that it isn’t. I can say that I think being a homemaker is uniquely suited for women and that we should have the courage to go against the grain of our world and say no. No, I’m not going to give all of myself to work outside the home when the home is far more challenging and interesting. No, I’m not going to believe the lie that homemaking is oppression and boredom. I will find beauty in the ordinary and I will embrace art in the everyday. This is one of those amazing jobs where it is what you make it. It is what you pour into it. If you think it’s boring or demeaning you won’t get anything out of it. If you think it is challenging and rewarding, you will get the world out of it. You will grow yourself and those around you. Think about what a wonderful thing it would be if we made our homes our careers! If we women really took on the label Domestic Artist in our own individual ways.

[multific]

Soundtrack

Timothée Chalamet x Reader

Request: Hey! Could you do an imagine where y/n is a pianists/musician and she meets Timothée on set (or something like that). Few months later she wins an Oscar for CMBYN soundtrack and Tim is proud of her. He could be a boyfriend or just a friend (it’s up to you ). Thanks! Have a nice day!

 Music was all you ever knew. All you ever cared for and loved.

Since the moment you were able to reach your grandma’s piano, all you did was sit there while she taught you.

Then your obsession became your passion and you were very talented in it. While others were playing around, going to high school, had boyfriends, you composed and practiced.

You won many prizes with your performance and then came the biggest opportunity, you got the job to compose, write songs and music for movies.

You started off with small projects and small or short songs. But then Call Me By Your Name came around. A movie about two men in love. You read the novel and absolutely loved it, you couldn’t wait to see the movie itself.

When all of your soundtracks and the main theme song was done, you met the cast.

Armie Hammer took you off of your legs in a matter of seconds with his sweetness, however, the one who caught your eye was Timothée. And something in you told you that he liked you just as much as you did.

However after that one time, you didn’t meet with him.

Months passed and you got new jobs. Then you got the news that the movie will be premiering and you were to attend the red carpet event.

It wasn’t unusual for you to be standing in front of hundreds of people, but this was slightly different. Because as soon as you arrived, you were bombed with interviewers asking questions.

Was this normal to ask the composer?

Thankfully during a rather uncomfortable interview, you felt a hand on your back and as you looked there he stood, head full of curls, smile just as wide as on the day you met and he looked extremely handsome in a suit.

“Let me help.” he whispered to you.

He must have noticed how uncomfortable you were with the cameras and people around you, and he came to your rescue. And thanks to him, you soon found yourself to be in a more secure place.

“Thank you.” you said smiling at him.

“You are not used to this, are you?”

“Oh, I had many competitions and I used to perform in front of people, but this was a bit much.”

“Understandable. I’m sorry if I’m rude, but I cannot remember seeing you during shootings, which was your character?” he asked, and you had to admit his thinking face was rather cute.

“Oh, no, you got it wrong. I’m not an actress, I wrote the soundtrack for the movie! We met once back in March I think.”

“I’m sorry. I remember now. You are quite something, the soundtrack came out amazing.” he smiled.

“Thank you. I will have to see about your acting though. I haven’t seen it yet.” at that the two of you laughed a bit, then he had to leave.

You were so disappointed that you couldn’t sit next to him. Timothée wasn’t only handsome and charming but something about him helped you keep your calm.

You loved the movie, however, it was a bit weird to hear the songs you heard thousands of times before, but they sure fit.

You were pleased with the end result and the movie as well. The story was still heart-warming for you and the acting, perfection.

Too bad you couldn’t tell Timothée that.

That’s what you thought, but fate and Timothée had other ideas.

***

You wanted to try yourself out in a competition. They were advertising their show where they were looking for young talented pianists who wrote their own songs on the tv the other week and you decided to sign up.

You weren’t really in it to win, it was more for that you needed to write more and move out a bit.

You had a month left and you were still struggling to finish your piano piece. Since you just got the news that Call Me By Your Name soundtrack got nominated for the Oscar’s and you could potentially win an Oscar for it, blew your mind, you were so shocked and happy, you couldn’t think straight for days.

That is how you found yourself in your studio, sitting by the piano, with a pen in one hand the other on your half-finished piece.

Nothing seemed to work. You decided to go with a piece about love and passion. You wanted to feel the same as you did when you did the movie’s soundtrack. You remember feeling all sorts of things purely based on the novel you read.

Even if you never really experienced love before. Then Timothée popped into your head.

And as if a lightbulb got lit above your head, you threw the papers away to grab new ones.

Your new strategy was simple, yet effective, a piano play about crushes.

That could work.

You were so into the song, you didn’t hear the knock on the door behind you. The door opened and a person came in, you failed to notice since you were distracted and you couldn’t hear because of the piano.

However when a hand was placed onto your shoulder, it made you jump and nearly fall off the chair.

“Sorry, sorry. I knocked but you didn’t seem to hear.”

That voice.

And surely enough, Timothée was standing right in front of you. With a hand still placed onto your chest in a weak attempt to calm yourself, you gave him a small smile.

“It’s okay, I was just…in thought.”

“It actually sounded rather nice. Sad but happy at the same time. What is it about?” he asked so casually like it wasn’t weird at all that he was just there out of nowhere. But you just went with it as he sat beside you.

“It’s for a contests I signed up for. The theme is… crushes. I just… something about it is both sad and happy, like you have these feelings for someone you barely know, and it's sad because you know you just can’t reach them and happy because it makes you all fuzzy and warm when you think about them.”

“WOW. You really are talented. To tell a story like that with piano…amazing. I can relate to that feeling.” you watched him as he just sat there, staring at the piano key and then he hit it with one finger.

Then you got an idea. You started to play the piano duet from Tim Buton’s Corpse Bride. He seemed to recognize it, but it was clear, he couldn’t play it. You heard that he practiced playing the piano and the guitar.

“I’m sure you’ll win.” he said after you ended the song.

“Thank you, it’s a small competition bu-“

“No, I meant the Oscar.” he said as you locked eyes with him. You blushed a little.

“I can’t possibly win that. Have you seen the others? They are experienced. I was just lucky even to get nominated. People might just be confusing a great story and amazing acting with the soundtrack.”

“You can’t possibly think that to be true. I think, that 1/3 of a movie is acting and the story and 2/3 is the music. Music makes people emotional, music is what makes us help feel things. Like in sad moments, if you put the right song over it, people are sure to cry or laugh or feel the tension. You did an incredible job. When I first saw the scenes with the music over them, it blew me away, I needed to know who did such an amazing job. You will win for sure.”

“Thank you, really. I feel a bit more confident now, I still have my doubts and when I go next week, I’m sure I’ll faint, but still, thank you.” he smiled at you, that signature happy smile of his.

“Then, we should go together. I’m invited anyway, and if we go together, it might help you calm down.”

“Good idea. I have to ask though. Are we going as…friends or?”

“No, you’ll be my date. If you want to, I don’t want to pressure you or anything.”

“I’d love to.”

***

You never actually went out to buy a dress like this one before but since you will be attending the biggest award show, with no other than Timothée, you needed to look good. You even called your best friend to come and help you out. And he delivered. He chose you a gorgeous dress, the color complimented your skin complexion, and the length was perfect for your height. Your back wasn’t covered by fabric, however, the dress did have a jewel-like back. You looked marvelous in the dress and you knew, Timothée will love it.

So, you stood in front of your mirror, looking at yourself for the hundredth time when the doorbell rang.

You opened the door, and it was exactly who you expected. With his curly hair, amazing eyes, and smile.

“You look beautiful.” he said as he handed you a bouquet of flowers.

“Thank you, and for the flowers too.” you went to place the delicate flowers into a vase while he came after you and looked around your home. He had to admit, it was exactly how he imagined it. It was almost like someone looked up musician aesthetics on Pinterest and made a home out of it. But he had to also admit that it looked rather nice and homey.

When you came back with the vase and placed it on your table, you found Timothée petting your cat. Weird, your cat never liked strangers or anyone besides you really.

“She likes you.” you said as he looked at you while the cat purred and rubbed its head against Timothée’s hand.

“She’s cute.”

After that the two of you left and you were very nervous.

You knew you wouldn’t win the Oscar, yet you were hopeful. And with Timothée by your side, you were able to calm down and walk the red carpet, even answered some questions about the two of you.

Timothée didn’t hide the fact that he saw you more than a friend, an interviewer asked if you were his date which he responded with, “I’m her date!” You didn’t mind it though, at least you knew what to expect from him.

You ended up winning.

Which shocked you so much, you froze when you heard your name being called, Timothée was the one to push you to stand and get your award.

After everything went down and you could finally go home, you could only think about the fact that you were an Oscar winning composer. You felt wonderful, joyful, and proud. And you will surely call every person you know the next day and show them your new treasure.

Little did you know that the gold statue not only awarded you with a new chapter of your life in composing and music, but with a new relationship too with a certain handsome actor none the less.

And what a wonderful boyfriend Timothée was. You told him from the beginning that you weren’t good with love, since you never really had time for it. He was more than understanding with you. He not only inspired and helped you, but he also took you wherever he went. He took you all around the world. When he took you to France for a weekend, just the two of you, he even spoke French, which didn’t really shock you, but you had to admit, it sounded sexy when he spoke a different language.

“You look absolutely stunning tonight.” you heard him whisper in your ear as the two of you stood on the balcony of the hotel room. It was late at night and of course, your room had a direct view at the Eiffel Tower.

“Thank you.” you said as you felt him squeeze you closer to him. Heat radiated off of him, and it made you feel cozy.

You knew that this was only the beginning of your love story with Timothée, but something in you told you that the two of you were meant to be. Your life felt more than full with him in it.

All thanks to a movie.

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[lukneetoonz]

LITTLE GODDESS PART IV

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Summary: As a newer goddess you think back on how you got to where you are; in the throne room sitting next to your husband, the god of the dead.

Pairing: Hades!Aizawa x fem!reader, DadNyx!Izuku x fem!reader platonic, MomSelene!Uraraka x reader platonic.

Warnings: Drinking, cussing, possible harassment undertone meanings, mentions of sex, and Denki being one hot motherlova

Word Count: 2,894

A/N: Hey guys, so life is pretty crazy so next couple updates might not be on time due to my birthday coming up, plus a lot of other family tingz. But I hope you all like this one because I worked supa dupa hard for ya babies!! 🥺👉👈

NO ARTWORK POSTED IS MY OWN AND IS FOUND ON PINTEREST

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You had no idea what to wear to the party. The only reason you weren’t having a total meltdown was because you had toga with you to help pick out an outfit, which thank the gods you had her since she at least had some experience with these parties. So instead of going to your place and staying, you just grabbed basically your whole closet and fizzed to her place, getting ready there. The blonde stood behind you, making sure your ponytail was perfect and didn’t look ‘casual’, but instead gave you a sassy look. Toga giggled as she played with a loose strand of your hair, meeting your eyes through the mirror.

“You’re gonna be the attention grabber tonight, trust me when I say I’ll have to fend off some horny gods for you.” Her words made you blush as you tsked at her words, “They only look because they’ve never seen me before…” you mumbled back, not liking the idea of attention on you for reasons that could anger other goddesses. Toga rolled her eyes at your humbleness, something that isn’t common within Olympus, especially the women of Olympus. “You’re being too humble Y/N. Goddesses are beautiful, and you are no exception.” Before you could argue, Toga clamped her hand over your mouth and gave you a knowing look, which you submitted too.

“Fine- I won’t bring it up again…” with your muffled admittance of defeat, toga whooped in glee and got up changing into her own dress, it was red, which seemed to be her favorite color. Walking over to a drawer, she pulled it open with devious little eyes as her mouth cracked into a grin and pulled out makeup brushes, “Now it’s time for the final touches…” She stalked over to you, never giving you time to oppose what she was about to do. “Just sit back and relax… let momma toga do her work!” The blonde giggled before cool gel? Was it? Met your face, and there was no turning back.

*•*

“Hizashi… would a tuxedo be too… fancy?” The ravenette king barely met the golden Olympian's eyes as he looked through this walk-in closet, which very much amused the loud god. “Shouta, a suit would be just fine. This is just a party to celebrate Kirishima’s victories in the human realm . So it’s a bit fancy but not tux fancy. Cocktail attire, that's the word I’m looking for” Hizashi pointed his finger at shouta and winked, “Listen yo, I know you wanna look good, but just relax. You’re a king! What goddess wouldn’t want you?” Aizawa huffed and grabbed a three piece plaid grey suit.

“They call me the unseen one, and every time I go somewhere they turn and whisper about the tales they’ve heard about how cruel and horrible I am. Because let’s be real Hizashi, no goddess wants to be the queen of a place that never sees the light.” The cold king's words made Hizashi frown as he tidied himself up and winked in the mirror because of how good he looked. “Oh c'mon shouta! You’re too hard on yourself!! Why don’t you go to rei and tell her you’re ready for marriage? I’m sure she can find you someone” Aizawa rolled his eyes at those words, slightly blushing at the thought.

“Do you know how embarrassing it would be for me to go to Rei and ask her to set me up? And then for her to not find any goddess on top of that? The underworld wouldn’t be a far enough escape from the embarrassment I’d receive.” As the dark haired man put on his vest, he frowned while looking in the mirror, the ugly scar that adorned his face was a constant reminder of the war he fought in only to receive being shunned to the underworld. Aizawa had fought the hardest and bravest, but because he didn’t look the part, he was given the place that everyone judged the most; the place where souls roamed.

Hizashi groaned after his friend's sour attitude, moving his hair down but slicked back, whereas Aizawa went for a loose ponytail with his front bangs hanging loose but out of his eyes. “You know shouta, sometimes I think you’re the god of being negative. Cause that’s what you are, negative. Just let go for tonight and have fun! Who knows, maybe you’ll take home a nymph that isn’t that insufferable sea nymph Emi.” Just the mention of the nymph made Aizawa shudder, “Don’t mention her. She might sense it and come.”

Laughing, Hizashi pat Aizawa’s pat before quickly snapping a selfie with a less than pleased Aizawa. “Yo, you look fly for once! Can’t you just smile?” Aizawa glared, his eyes shining red in warning, “Try that again and I’ll kill you.” The black haired males tone only made the smiling one laugh harder, “You would never, you like me too much but you just won’t admit it.” Aizawa merely waved off Hizashi’s comments, not wanting to admit he had a heart beyond the supposed cold exterior of his. Together they walked to the garage and got into their respected cars, planning on meeting at the party.

*•*

As you arrived at the venue of the party, you noticed the fun atmosphere right away. Decorations were made of golds and pearls, all though it was beautiful, it was a tad too bright for your taste… you would of much preferred gold and black or pearl and black. You even had to squint slightly to adjust your eyes to how bright everything was, it was like they wanted it known that the gods were celebrating tonight. Toga latched your arms together as she knew it was easy to get lost or separated at these parties, so she told you to make sure you were always touching no matter what.

“Hey toga, what is this party for exactly?” Toga shrugged and laughed, skipping forward while she grabbed a glass of wine, “Who knows, and who cares? It’s free food and drinks… in all honestly they could be celebrating the fact that two of them had sex. These suckers celebrate anything and everything.” Her words made you chuckle as you nodded along, not exactly understanding but figured you’d learn along the way. “So really, we just have to show up and we’re good?” Toga made a dinging noise and winked at you, “Exactly new blood! See you’re catching on fast.”

As you guys walked through, you saw a familiar pair of golden wings, paired with blonde hair. Forgetting togas warning you ran off and hugged the Male from behind, not caring that he was blatantly hitting on multiple people at a time. “DENKI!” You couldn't even finish your words when the Male turned around and hugged you back, both of you suddenly in the air as his wings spread wide in glee. “Y/N! Gods it’s been too long Babygirl!” A kiss was pressed to your smiley cheek and you took in his attire, seeing he had a red floral silk button up with black dress slacks and a choker around his neck. He really was the god of sex and love, and he made it known.

A blush spread along your face like wildfire as you giggled at his nickname for you, “The letters really aren’t enough… especially after hearing about-” his eyes grew sad and he shook his head, “Please don’t say her name… my mother took care of it and that’s all there is too it..” you frowned and brushed his hair back, hugging him tightly. “I’m so sorry I haven’t been able to visit you Denki… you’ve been an amazing friend to me and- it hurts to see you like this.” The blonde god bit his lip and sighed, ruffling your hair slightly before smirking as he took in your appearance. “Enough about me, the last time I saw you, you never had an impure thought in your life… but now, I can smell your sexual desire dripping from you.”

Choking on air you looked away, body heating up at his words as your mind flashed with thoughts of a certain dark haired king, quickly you shook your head and punched denki’s shoulder. “Stop doing that! I thought you couldn’t use your powers on innocent goddesses like me…” Denki flicked your forehead and chuckled, “I can’t use my powers on the big man after Rei got pissed at me and ma, but you, you’re my best friend, you’re free game babygirl” Pouting, you crossed your arms suddenly aware that you lost your other blonde friend. Eyes wide, you looked around and pursed your lips, “Shit… I lost toga.”

Denki laughed at you, lazily wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he led you through the party, “As in controls the underworld river toga? Blonde, kinda crazy, but nonetheless fun toga?” You nodded at his questions, smiling. “Yep, I work in the underworld and met her… I swear it’s us against all the horny gods that work there… or so that’s what she says” Rolling his amber eyes, he grabbed you both drinks, handing a glass of wine to you. “Oh so all those moody underworld goers already want to court you? And let me guess you didn’t even notice until toga said something.” Deciding you would rather take a drink than answer his question, but the golden winged man took it as an answer as he smirked.

“Don’t you smirk! You’re too smug for your own good.” Suddenly there was a shift in the mood as people started whispering, and eyes were focused on the person who just entered. Curious, you decided to look too, only to blush as a pair of dark eyes met yours. The king of the underworld himself had decided to make an appearance, the staring did not go unnoticed by your friend as a lightbulb went off in his head. You were so enhanced by the dark eyes you didn’t notice the presence beside you leaving, and you certainly didn’t notice him pushing someone into you so your wine would spill all over your navy coloured dress.

“Fuck-” A gasp left your lips as you looked down at your ruined dress, the person in front of you looking apologetic, but slightly pissed that they were shoved. “My deepest apologies, I was pushed into you.” Different colored eyes met yours as you waved them off and offered them a smile, “It’s okay, truly these things happen.” You took In the man's appearance, noting right away that he was a god, he looked familiar But you couldn’t place his name. “At least let me get you another dress? My sister and mother have plenty, or we can exchange information and I’ll buy you another at some time… is that okay lotus flower?”

The nickname caught you off guard, making you gulp and blush slightly, raising your hand for him to shake. “I’m Y/N… daughter of Izuku and Uraraka.” The multicolored haired man smiled and took your hand, kissing the back of it gently as he hid the shock well, surprised that you haven’t dismissed him or walked away by now because of the scar on his face, deeming him the ‘ugliest god’. “Shoto… you have a beautiful name Y/N.” Neither of you could feel the glare that was casted upon your conversation, but Denki did, and so did toga. Denki stalked across the room like a lion hunting his prey before he was next to Aizawa, standing next to him nonchalant.

“You do realize that she basically reeks like fresh meat to starving bears, don’t you?” The snide remark from the young god made Aizawa glare harder, his demeanor growing increasingly more threatening. “Just because your mother has done me a few favours, doesn’t mean you can talk to me like that.” Denki held his hands up, and toga seemed to swoop in on the other side of Aizawa, her giggles filling the air. “Dear king, don’t you see our little new blood won’t be so free for long, because it doesn’t work like that here in olympus. We move fast. Love fast. Live fast. You better do the same if you want her.”

Jaw clenching, Aizawa tensed at her words as he saw your smile directed at his nephew. Not him. “Toga is merely speaking the truth, and oh unseen one, don’t think I can’t smell your desire for her. Because i can and it’s so desperate and needy, it makes me want to just lock you two in a room.” Toga peaked at Denki as he looked at his red painted nails, like he didn’t just expose a king's secret. “You two do realize who you’re talking to, right?” Aizawa grumbled, hearing a few nearby wine glasses shatter from his emotions. Why did he even come to this party? That’s right- he wanted to see you. A stupid man, that’s what he was.

A second was all it took for you to disappear from his vision, along with shoto. Panic setting in as he realized he lost the only person he could possibly care for to his fucking nephew. At least he’d keep you in his life. He was so lost in his thoughts he didn’t see tweedle dee and tweedle dumb leave and follow you, their plan rolling in motion as soon their words started getting to the Raven haired man. It only made it better that you went to the bathroom so it was easy to get you out of the party without any eyes on you…

*•*

Groaning, you woke up holding your head, trying to help the pain that was shooting through it. It wasn’t until you sat up did you realize you were not in your bed, nor were you in togas. In fact you were in a place that was completely unknown to you. Eyes wide you quickly checked your attire and sighed in relief as you noticed your clothes were still on, but your shoes weren’t and your hair was put up in a nice lazy bun, makeup wiped off. Letting your feet touch the cold ground, a shiver ran up your back, taking in the dark hues that decorated the room, feeling comfort in it. Navy’s, blacks, greys, and some darker whites, it all brought a sense of calm to you that made you smile.

Walking out of the bedroom, you’re met with the sweet smell of crepes and coffee, honestly something you could get used to in the morning. You let your nose guide your way and mindlessly you walked into a kitchen that had an open concept with a dark marble island and dark kitchen cabinets. But what caught your attention the most was the man that stood with his back to you, hair half up and a black silk robe loosely on his shoulders that matched his black sweatpants and slippers. Realization settled in and you stumbled, covering your face, trying to hide the blush that colored your face; you were in the king of the underworld's home.

“Oh- I see you’re up… do you need medicine, or some water? I did brew up some coffee, because I know that helps hangovers sometimes…” A deep raspy voice made you peek through your fingers, seeing soft dark eyes looking at you with concern. “I-I don’t even remember last night.. I must have been such a bother- I’m so sorry” Aizawa flustered slightly as he remembered one particular moment, a moment that made his heart beat at rapid speeds. His lips tingled just thinking about it, and you didn’t even remember. It made him feel like a silly little boy.

Putting on a smile he just chuckled at the state you were in, “You weren’t… I’d let you bother me every day of my life if it meant you were near me little goddess.” Aizawa hummed so smoothly that it made your heart turn into a butterfly. Blushing you moved to peak over his shoulder, chest pressed to his back, “That looks very good ai- I mean shouta…” Just the innocent little move made him want to cup your face and call you his; if you asked shouta when was the moment he knew he wanted you forever, he would tell you it was the morning he made you crêpes for the first time, and he meant it, because in that moment it was such a domestic gesture that confirmed to him that he only wanted you to be able to do that.

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Taglist; @present-mel @maya-ngpirit @leeeah-loooser @nhievyenne @negansnumberonewifie @darkqueenhyde @minfani @creolepier @lhcartoonist @fairy-inthegarden @taylor----wonderland @the-british-koala @vinaios @a-match-into-themoon

[ladyluck852]

Go To (Hyunjin x Reader)

A/N: I wouldn’t like to admit that Hyunjin wormed his way into my heart, but he has and I love him(he’s even my phone background now). You guys already know @kpop-and-overwatch experienced every second of it and now we laugh at each other’s downward spirals with Stray Kids. As always, photos were found on Pinterest, collage made on PicsArt. Lmk if you have more questions, enjoy!

Genre: Fluff! Coffee Shop AU☕️💕

Word Count: 2.6k

Warnings: None! Just your average cuss word and none too severe!

“Iced americano for y/n!” The barista yelled, breaking y/n out of her daze after she’d been staring out the door for too long, lost in thought and disappointed. She didn’t even want her coffee anymore, the only reason she liked frequenting this place wasn’t here and she just sat down in a chair by the window to pout about it.

“You dropped this” a lady said on her way out the door, dropping a notebook onto y/n’s table before y/n would even protest. She turned to look at the lady who was halfway out the door, her eyebrows raised in shock.

“Thanks?” Y/n sighed as she went back to her coffee, her instagram feed not providing her with enough distraction to NOT go peeking through the notebook in front of her. It was nice, probably moleskin, she knew this because she had a red one just like it in her book bag, she was very curious but also didn’t want to be nosy.

She glanced around the room, making sure no one was looking for anything especially not the notebook, before prying it open to see if there was a name written. She didn’t find anything, so she flipped to the center page and skimmed it quickly, appreciating the persons very nice writing. Every page was dated, an entry every single day, she was flipping through the book when she caught a glimpse of her name.

Y/n glanced around the coffee shop, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up as a chill ran through her, the journal entry detailing the persons morning and including her in detail.

‘My morning was okay, slow, I couldn’t wait to get my coffee and see y/n. She looked really pretty today, maybe she has a job interview or something, I hope she has a good day. It’s really nice seeing her because it makes my day, it helps me look forward to tomorrow, maybe one day I’ll get the courage to talk to her’ Y/n flipped through the pages, the admiration this person held for her made her freak out, the caffeine not helping her racing heart as she took the book to the front and cut the line of people. The barista, Wook, smiled nervously at y/n who looked like she’d seen a ghost, “um, did I forget the pump of caramel?”

“N-no. Who are our regulars? Your regulars I mean, someones been writing things about me in this journal and I just...who...” y/n sighed, her heart clenching in her chest as Wook frowned, asking another employee to man the front as he removed his apron and came around the counter.

“Okay, lets calm down for a second okay? What are they saying? Bad things? Here sit down” Wook said gently, pulling a chair out for y/n who took a deep breath to calm her nerves. She handed him the notebook, a small smile growing on his face as he looked through it, finding it cute. He figured y/n hadn’t read through it much, at least not the beginning, the boy clearly talked a lot about himself and how he was attending community college nearby. Wook kind of figured out who it was just from that, seeing that y/n and him were his only regulars who were under the age of 25.

“What if it’s a creep? I don’t ever want to come back here if that’s the case” y/n said, making Wook panic as he pulled up a chair next to her.

“No, you can’t do that. We love you here, you’ve been coming here for four years, I see you every day” he whined, not knowing what he’d do without having y/n to joke around with during morning rush time and sometimes when he worked late shifts. She was always so great, a good friend and someone who deserved the best, not to mention she had a bit of a crush on another one of the regulars and now Wook had plans.

“Yeah, And you’ve been working here since before that, old man, when are you going to get a real job?” Y/n teased, glancing up at him while he beamed. “One more year and I’ll own this place!” He laughed, saying the same thing he said whenever y/n brought it up, “I can hold onto the notebook for you and see if anyone comes in to pick it up, give them a stern talking to and let you know who it is”

“You’re the best”

Across town, Hyunjin was getting home from school and burrowing himself in the blankets, ignoring his moms questions about how he was feeling and wanting to sleep. His day had been so terrible, it all started when he was late to class, not remembering that today it was an hour earlier than normal. Then he lost his notebook. He didn’t know where, or when, all he knew is that it was gone. His therapist recommended carrying around a notebook a while back, said it would be good to write down his thoughts and reflect on the good progress he was making since graduating high school. She was kind, encouraging, when she read the journal entries about Y/n she’d told him to go for it, there was nothing to be afraid of. Truthfully he’d planned on talking to her today, but she wasn’t there.

His phone rang, an irritating buzz that made his head ache more, he wiped his eyes before pulling it from underneath the pillow and answering with a glum, “hello?”

“Kid, got your notebook. Let’s talk”

Hyunjin got to the coffee shop quickly, locking his bike out front and walking in to find Wook sitting at a table drinking a beer. Hyunjin sat across from him, eyeing the can of beer, “you can’t just be normal and drink coffee in the coffee shop?”

“I’m an adult, being an adult is hard okay?” Wook sighed, rolling his eyes as he handed Hyunjin his notebook. A sigh of relief left him, he looked through his notebook and realized the last page had been torn out, a letter he’d written to y/n that he’d never give her. He planned on saying it in person, but it worked if it was written out first.

“Where...where’s the page?”

“Oh, don’t know,” Wook shrugged, sipping his beer like the embodiment of nonchalant, “come by tomorrow night. We’re having an employee party, free coffee and cookies and those stupid little gummies you like”

“But I’m not an employee...” Hyunjin said, seeing Wook slide him a cookie with a smile.

“Might as well be, y/n will be there” Wook said, patting Hyunjin on the back as he escorted him out the door. Hyunjin had begun to blush, getting flustered just hearing her name, cursing the fact that everyone knew about his crush but her.

“Okay”

Y/n showed up the next night hoping to see the person who’d written such nice things about her, kind of hoping it wasn’t Wook because then that would just be weird, and clutching the torn page of the notebook in her hand. Hyunjin was already there, Wook was teaching him how to use the espresso machine and making sure he didn’t burn his hand on the milk frother, to always use a towel when touching it. Hyunjin noticed y/n, in a flowy sundress and low heels, her hair down and a look in her eye that made his brain turn into jelly. She was looking for someone, he got the sense that someone wasn’t him.

“Ow, shit!” Hyunjin cursed loudly, his hand burning as Wook rolled his eyes.

“I told you not to touch that! What are you all googly eyed fo- oh, well wow, she looks great. Who knew?” Wook said, wrapping his arm around Hyunjin’s shoulders while he pouted and tried to ease the pain with the ice cubes next to him.

“I knew” Hyunjin mumbled, blushing a bit as he took a deep breath, “should I?”

“You should. I need grandkids” Wook mumbled, ruffling his hair while Hyunjin hurled his apron at him.

“You’re 25, stop acting like you’re my dad! I got this, I can do this, I-“

“I’d like to order an americano please” y/n said teasingly, her head peeking around the counter as Hyunjin’s mouth fell open and stayed like that, “what’re you two doing back here? Barista classes? Can I join?”

Wook smiled, giving her a thumbs up as y/n sauntered around the corner and slipped into an apron Wook handed her, “she...I...Wook!” Hyunjin hissed, smacking his arm while y/n pretended not to notice.

“Have some respect you little shit, show the lady the ropes, I’ll be over here, make sure to use a towel when you...” Wook made an obscene hand motion as he walked away, a furious blush spreading across Hyunjin’s cheeks as y/n kept her eyes glued to the floor.

“Hi,” y/n said nervously, refusing to look at Hyunjin who couldn’t stop looking at her. His heart was racing and he thought he’d explode on the spot, a million pieces of him everywhere so every time Wook made coffee he’d always have a part of him, “so...how do I make coffee? I’ve always wanted to know”

Hyunjin bit his lip, trying to remember what Wook had taught him and feeling a lightbulb go off. He explained everything perfectly, y/n was impressed to say the least, her crush intensifying just a little bit when he handed her a perfect looking cup of coffee.

“Holy shit Hyunjin this is really bad” y/n laughed, covering her mouth as she handed the cup back to him, he quickly took a sip and almost didn’t want to swallow it.

“What did I do wrong?” He huffed, waving Wook over and handing him the cup. After he tried it, he couldn’t stop laughing, shooing Hyunjin out from behind the counter with a plate of cookies.

“Go sit down while I make you guys a real cup of coffee, man Hyunjin, what are you actually good at?” Wook teased, winking at Hyunjin who was turning pink. Once they made it there, y/n set her things down while Hyunjin passed her a cookie, noticing the piece of paper she had with red ink.

“What’s that?” Hyunjin asked, his heart hammering in his chest as y/n choked on a piece of chocolate chip cookie. There was no possible way y/n knew, and if she didn’t say anything soon Hyunjin was going to start talking and talking a lot.

“Uh, something I found. It’s nothing I’m just... looking for someone” y/n laughed, her cheeks turning red as Hyunjin had to force himself not to turn into mush looking at her. Y/n had the same problem, she felt like she was on fire just looking at him, he was so sweet and although they’d spoken like once or twice nothing compared to sitting with him and eating cookies with him.

“Oh, someone like who?” Hyunjin asked quietly, shoving half a cookie in his mouth in embarrassment.

“Someone who thinks I look like sunshine and says I make their day” she snorted, covering her face while her heart could only hope it was him. She had butterflies from her head to her toes, she wanted to sink into her seat, Hyunjin just shoved the other half of the cookie into his mouth until his cheeks looked like they belonged to a chipmunk.

“Well I-“

“Iced americano, I put an extra shot of caramel because you looked like you needed something sweet and Hyunjin wasn’t giving it to you. Want a beer Hyunjin?” Wook asked, making Hyunjin roll his eyes from both the question and the interruption.

“Like hell, did you make me some too?” Hyunjin asked, noticing how y/n was now sitting up from her seat, her cheeks red.

“I have to go, um, I had a nice time. Thanks for teaching me how to make coffee” she said, taking her things and dashing out the door.

“Did you tell her about your action figure collection or something?” Wook asked, glancing at Hyunjin who looked like he was going to fall apart. He patted his shoulder, telling him everything would be okay and that tomorrow was another day.

Hyunjin didn’t see y/n for three days, she usually didn’t get coffee during the weekend and his days were long and boring, especially when she didn’t show up on Monday either. He worried she was sick or something, little did he know she was freaking out and nervous because now she was pretty sure that Hyunjin was the one with the notebook saying all those sweet things about her.

“The usual, dear?” Wook asked, when Hyunjin came in on Tuesday morning, a holiday so school was out, he looked so bleh and Wook wanted to cheer him up, “may I suggest something extra sweet?”

“Whatever, I just need a pick me up” Hyunjin sighed, chewing on his bottom lip as Wook gave him a sneaky smile. Wook had been waiting all morning for him to come in, knowing their favorite gal y/n HAD to come in and when she did, it was going to be good.

“On the house” he shrugged, pointing over Hyunjin’s head while Hyunjin whirled around, seeing y/n sitting at his usual table by the window with two cups of coffee. His eyes widened, not being able to get over the fact that she bought him coffee and how ethereal she looked sitting in the morning sun. Something about that made him feel good, gave him some sort of confidence, although it might have been the adrenaline.

“Good morning” y/n said with a smile, blushing at the way Hyunjin was staring at her, she couldn’t pinpoint it but he looked like he was seeing right through her. Think, Superman and Lois Lane type stuff, she wondered if he really did have x-ray vision.

“Hi, good morning, where have you been?” Hyunjin asked, not knowing where the confidence boost had come from as he sat in the chair across from her. She pushed a cookie and a cup of coffee towards him, urging him to take a sip before she answered.

Y/n laughed at the way his eyebrows raised, a warm blush spreading across the both of their faces until it met their ears, “is it weird that I know your coffee order?”

“Is it weird if I know yours?” Hyunjin asked, moving his feet forward until they touched hers.

“I just really want to know if you meant all that you said...wrote. What you wrote?” She asked, leaning forward in anticipation as her eyes grew wider. Hyunjin laughed, reaching out to pat her head and catching Wook’s attention from behind the counter. He almost burned himself pouring a customers coffee because of his shit eating grin and staring.

“I think you’re beautiful and you make my days, don’t ask me where I got the confidence to say that, I guess you brought it out of me”

“I think you’re beautiful and you make my day too, you don’t know how long I’ve waited to just talk to you, I know we’ve talked before but I want to talk to you. A lot, for a really long time” y/n said quietly, biting her lip when Hyunjin laced his fingers with hers.

Hyunjin’s mind was racing and his heart was hammering in his chest, thoughts full of y/n and the smile that made his day when he felt so much gratitude. He was so glad he left his journal at the coffee shop, so glad y/n knew how he felt and he didn’t have to stutter and choke his way through a confession.

His eyebrows raised when y/n pushed her unlocked phone towards him, a page open as he glanced up at her, “what’s this?”

“My notes, I wrote about you too”

[chantelle-x0x]

Suck Up - Avengers x Peter x Reader (Platonic)

Masterlist

A/N: I saw this post on Pinterest, and I honestly loved it and laughed so hard. So credit to the creator of the post, and I hope you like this funny little thing I put together. It’s all platonic, even the Steve x Tony relationship in this. Based on the image bellow. I’m tagging all ships that are mentioned in this plus others because of character inclusion x

Permanent tag list: @glorious-fandoms, @rousetta, @fuckyourgondola, @alepowell

Disclaimer: **All characters besides Reader, belongs to Marvel (MCU)**

Word count: 880

Pairing: Avengers x Peter x Reader (Plantonic) 

Rating: General!

Warnings: You might laugh to death, but you also might not find this funny at all! Also, couple of swear words. 

Summery: Peter got a month of detention, but Tony isn’t happy with that since, well, Peter has to be on-call, so you have an idea that will be the story of the century. 

You were sitting with the some of the Avengers when your best friend Peter Parker walked in. His face wasn’t the most lit up thing you’d ever seen, and you felt a feeling of worry for him.

‘Hey Peter, what’s wrong?’ You asked looking into his eyes. He sighed and walked over to the couch. You scooted over so you could sit.

‘I may or may not have gotten a month of detention for not being at my best for a while. And by that I mean, I’m totally gonna fail a few of my subjects if I don’t get my grades up.’ He put his head in his hands and you rubbed his back.

‘Well, I’m sure you’ll be able to pass. You just have to catch up on missed classes and all that. You can do that while you’re in detention, that way you won’t have any distractions.’ You offered your idea to Peter and it was like a lightbulb switched on in his head.

‘Yeah! That’s great idea, thanks Y/N!’ Peter thanked with a smile.

‘Anytime Peter.’ You smiled back. You dropped out of school after a while. It wasn’t your thing. You were really smart and you were a straight A student, but you wanted to experiment with your powers. You could heal and you could break things, however, you couldn’t do that in class, so you left.

‘Only downside is, no missions for a month.’ Peter said sadly. Just as he said that, Tony and Steve walked into the living room.

‘Wait what? What do you mean no missions for a month? Fill me in kid.’ Tony looked so on edge with what he just heard, so Peter filled him in on the whole detention thing. ‘No no no! We need you Peter, like, you have to be on call.’

‘Don’t stress Tony, I have an idea.’ You said smiling.

‘I know that smile Y/N. That’s the ‘crazy idea’ smile.’ Steve said raising an eyebrow.

‘Wha? No it’s not. I have no such thing!’

‘Yeah, you do.’ Nat joined in the conversation with a smirk.

‘Fine, I do, but you want this idea or not?’ You asked.

‘I don’t see why not.’

‘I cannot believe I let you talk me into doing this Y/N!’ Tony said looking at his reflection in the mirror.

‘Hey, you’ve gotta thank Pepper. She was the one who helped.’ Tony looked at you with a death stare.

‘This better work Y/L/N, or you’re not on missions for a month.’

‘It’s gonna work T-man.’

‘Never, never, call me “T-man” ever, ever again.’ You chuckled and fixed his hair.

‘You look great, “Tania”.’ Tony rolled his eyes.

‘Where’s Peter and Steve?’ He asked.

‘Steve is waiting in the living room, so is Peter, so you need to get your fine feminine ass down to your “husband and son” .’ You winked and you could tell Tony was growing agitated. ‘Okay, okay, I’ll stop.’ You held your hands up in defence and continued to smile. ‘Just remember, lie through your teeth.’ Tony nodded and headed down to the living room.

‘Thanks so much for doing this Mr Stark.’

‘Yeah, I’m not so much doing this for you, I’m doing it for all of us.’ Tony said checking his phone.

‘C’mon Tony, there’s a man that looks like he runs the school.’ Steve whispered.

‘Yeah, he’s the new principal.’ Peter said smiling.

‘Mr and Mrs Rogers.’ Oh, how Tony hated this moment.

‘Good afternoon the both of you.’

‘Afternoon sir.’ Steve said.

‘Let’s cut to the chase,’ Tony started,

‘Or let’s start talking about things.’ Steve finished.

‘I’d like to ask, why are you two Rogers and he’s Parker?’ The principal started.

‘Peter’s adopted and took after his parents. They died.’ Peter rubbed his forehead while Tony rolled his eyes at this whole situation.

‘Look, we’re very sorry for any problems our son may have caused you, Principal.’ The principal looked at everyone in the room before proposing his next question.

‘I’m sorry, but are you really Peter’s parents?’

‘What are you trying to imply, asshole?’ Tony asked clearly annoyed. Peter shrunk in his seat and cursed the idea that you proposed.

‘I’m sorry if I’ve upset you. I just want to make sure,’

‘Look, I’m pretty sure I’d know if Peter was my son, I just need you to know that he can’t have detention.’

‘And why not?’

‘Because Peter isn’t a bad kid. He’s just going through some tough times right now, can you really blame him?’

‘No but,’

‘Exactly, so drop it. C’mon Peter.’ Tony walked out with Peter trailing (very embarrassed).

‘If I may, Peter is just dealing with a lot. His parent’s death is the high topic right now and it’s not easy for any of us. You know, his parents death anniversary coming soon and all. Just let him catch up at home. We’ll make sure he catches up.’ Steve said nicely.

‘Thank you for that, and I’m extremely sorry for bringing up such a sensitive topic. His detention will be revoked, but if this happens again, he will have it. Make sure he catches up. Thank you for your time Mr Rogers.’

‘Suck up.’ Tony muttered as Steve left the office.

If you’d like to be part of my tag list, let me know!

Constructive criticism and general feedback would be awesome as well! Thanks for reading x

[buckyscrystalqueen]

The Winchester Blood Line: Part 4

Pairings: Sam x Reader, Past John x Reader

Warnings: One Night Stand, Swearing, Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 4,170

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Well, well.” A familiar voice said behind you as you walked down the road. “What’s a pretty young thing like you doing in a place like this?” You turned around to look at the man that had broken into your home two months prior with tears in your eyes and stained on your cheeks.

“Is it true? You’re a demon?” Crowley, who was rarely caught of guard, took a step back and raised his eyebrows.

“You’ve been talking to a hunter.” He said simply as he snapped his fingers and caught a steaming mug and a blanket out of thin air. He offered them to you, but you took a hesitant couple steps back. “Come now, darling. It’s just cocoa. You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’m OK.”

“Then do it for your child.” He said, playing into your motherly instincts. With a sigh, you conceded, and stepped forward so he could wrap you in the warm blanket. “There’s a girl.”

“Is it all true?” You asked again as he built a fire from nothing and created a seat for you as well. “Is Sam lying?”

“I’m sorry to say, love. He’s not.” You nodded your head and cradled the cocoa glass to your chest as tears filled your eyes yet again. 

“But why me?” You said as you looked over at the demon. “Why am I being targeted by these things? I’m just a music teacher. That’s all. I didn’t do anything to deserve this! Why am I being hunted?” Crowley smiled internally but kept his face emotionless as he realized that the woman in front of him, and therefore, the youngest Winchester had no idea of the baby’s true blood line. Which also meant being one step ahead of John Winchester as well. So on the spot, he came up with the most convincing lie he could.

“Look, kitten. My demons tend to go a little rogue sometimes. They’re not fond of rules. But I will ensure that no matter what, they will stop hunting you, how’s that sound?” You nodded your head as you sipped your drink.

“Will my baby be safe, too?” You asked as you searched his brown eyes, almost waiting for them to turn red again.

“I swear upon my immortal soul.” He said as he looked over his shoulder. “About bloody time, Winchester.”

“Back up!” Sam growled with venom in his tone.

“Now, now.” Crowley taunted as he gestured over to you. “We were just having a pleasant conversation in front of a nice, cozy fire on a cold night. Isn’t that right, kitten?”

“Don’t call her that.” Crowley watched closely as the youngest Winchester moved his body between yours and the King’s protectively. Almost too protectively. “Leave her alone.”

“Oh, I intend to, Moose.” He said with a mental chuckle as he realized that Sam was head over heels in love with the mother of his brother. “I’ve no need to harm the innocent thing.” Without another word, he disappeared right before your eyes. Sam whipped around, and kneeled down in front of you.

“Did he hurt you?” He asked as he cupped your jaw in your hands. You shook your head, and showed him your cup.

“He gave me cocoa.” You whispered as you looked down. Sam sighed and relaxed as he sat back on his heels in front of you.

“Please, please don’t do that ever again. I know what’s in the woods. That alone is a terrifying thought.”

“I’m sorry.” You breathed as you started to cry again.

“No, hey, shhh.” He said as he got up, picked you up off the chair, and sat down in it with you in his lap. “It’s OK. But just don’t go wandering off by yourself, OK? Crowley may seem trust worthy but he is so far from it…”

“Oh.” You sniffled as you looked down at the cup in your hands. “Is my cocoa OK?” Sam huffed a laugh, and smiled as he nodded his head and rubbed some warmth into your slightly exposed legs.

“Yea, sweetheart. I’m sure your cocoa is just fine.”

——

“Daddy?” We’re here!” You called out as you walked into your house a little later than you expected since you had a hard time dragging yourself out of bed after your late night excursion.

“‘bout time!” He called back from the back of the house where he was probably sorting through the Christmas boxes in what was lovingly referred to as ‘head quarters’, also know as your spare bedroom slash decorations storage room. “Mikey, come give me a hand.”

“Avoid the kitchen.” You reminded Sam as you steered him toward your living room where there were already a few boxes waiting for you. “That's Princess.” The small Pomeranian, who was laying on her bed in front of the roaring fire, perked her head up at the sound of her name, but almost instantly laid back down when she realized her daddy wasn’t in the room. “She’s lazy unless Rico’s in the room. I just leave her alone.” Sam nodded as he put your bag on the stairs to take up for you later as you opened the first box to look at your Santa collection.

“Boy.” Your dad said as a greeting as he walked past you and Sam with the bottom of four ten foot tall poles that would resemble Christmas trees when he was done.

“Dad, I won’t tell you again to be nice!” You called after him as your brother, who was ‘only’ six foot tall jogged to keep up with your dad’s brisk pace. Hearing your voices, RJ came power walking out of the kitchen in a flashy red shirt, and tight, green skinny jeans that had been bedazzled to death with a tray of appetizers.

“Hi. Cute dress. So, we have the caramel apple cheese dip from last year that you liked, pita and hummus, my queso bean dip, and this is crab dip so that’s not for you this year.” You nodded your head as RJ looked up at Sam, pursed his lips, and nodded, approvingly. “You can keep him.” He turned to kiss your cheek with a loud ‘muah’ before practically running back into the kitchen.

“That’s Rico Suave.” You said as you grabbed a cracker and dipped it in the apple cheese dip.

“I see that.” Sam laughed as he took the tray from you since you were having a hard time getting the actual cheese on the cracker one handed. “Which one should I try first?”

“This one.” You said as you made him a cracker. “Taste.” He nodded his head as you offered him the cracker, and he tried to not bite your fingers. You smiled at his moan of approval as you licked a bit of cheese off your finger before making one more for yourself.

“Damn that’s good.”

“He found the recipe on Pinterest, I think. I can ask him later if you want.” Sam nodded his head as you quickly snagged a piece of pita with hummus and turned away so you wouldn’t over eat too early in the day. “Alright, decoration time. I always end with my Santa’s. That’ll be these two boxes.” Sam nodded as he put the tray down on the coffee table and wiped his hands off on his jeans.

“Look out then.” He said so he could move the boxes around for you.

“This one I think is towels… yea, this one I can do. Can you move it closer to the stairs for me?” You stepped out of the way to check for a box Sam could do and nodded to yourself. “OK, this one is your job.” He looked over at you as you started to pull out long strands of garland and sort them on the ground. “The darker one goes on the banister in swoops. You start at the top, and there are little zip ties. Then you go back over it with the lights, and cover the zip ties with the bows. They have twisty ties on them. But make sure the plug in part is down stairs. I have it on a light switch that I can turn on and off from up there and down here. Makes it easier for the pregnant girl.”

“I think I can handle that.” He laughed as he started pulling stuff out of the box. “Wreath go, too?”

“That goes at the top of the stairs so it hangs down over the foyer here because there’s not much I can do with this weird section of vaulted ceiling. You’ll see where it gets tied because there’s a couple scuff marks on that banister. Just… here, I’ll just do it because it’s not pretty enough.”

“Oh, so it’s gunna be one of those days.” He chuckled as he held out his arm for you to use to stand up, and not tip over.

“Oh, you have no idea.” You said with a smile as you went over to grab the towels for the upstairs bathroom and the wreath. “I’m pretty particular about my decorations.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Is it all set up?” You asked your brother a week after Thanksgiving as he did some last minute tech fixes before the big, annual neighborhood reveal of your light show.

“Just fucking chill.” He snapped as he looked back and forth between his laptop and the lights in your yard and on your house and garage. You smirked at him as he called out to your dad to adjust one of the sections over RJ’s shouts for the sweets and drinks you had for sale to help pay for the electric bill and to donate to the local hospital where he worked as an LPN. “Sam, section four, channels 28 and 29 need to be switched back on the strip!” 

“Sam?!” A voice from the crowd yelled causing you to turn to look at the hundred or so people standing in the road and on the sidewalks. You watched Sam’s head perk up as he stood to look for the person that called his name. 

“Dean?!” You quickly grabbed the megaphone you used to talk over your neighbors and turned in the back of your dad’s pick up where you had a chair set up for yourself.

“Dean Winchester. Please follow the sound of my voice to the driveway. You’ve officially been recruited for light duty.” You went to put the megaphone down, and thought better of it for a moment. “Show should start soon, people. Y’all know the drill.” You set the megaphone back on the truck bed floor, and smiled at the man walking toward you. “Dean?”

“Pretty face like yours?” He said as he moved to the side of the truck by where you were sitting. “You must be (Y/N).”

“Oh, you’re a charmer.” You giggled as you shook his offered hand. “Your brother’s over there, sweets.” He turned to look over where you were pointing to where Sam was replacing a lightbulb that was out on his way past.

“Oh, ho, ho.” Dean chuckled as he pulled his phone out of his pocket with a giant smile. “He’s wearing a fanny pack.”

“It’s a tool belt.” You corrected as you used a piece of PVC pipe to tap his arm. “And no pictures until the show starts. House rules.” You smiled at him sweetly as he put his phone back in his pocket with a forced scowl.

“Well you just ruin all my fun.” He teased as he climbed into the back of the truck and took the seat beside you. “So… you’re pregnant…?” He said hesitantly, obviously not knowing what else to say to the complete stranger beside him.

“Not at all.” You replied as you rubbed your stomach. “You see, I swallowed a watermelon seed at a picnic back in May. And the doctors are just afraid to remove it because it’s gunna cause all sorts of problems. They say I only have two months to live. Told me the watermelon’s due to burst somewhere around Valentine's Day, too.” Dean huffed a laugh, and nodded his head as Sam came over with a chuckle of his own.

“I like her.” Dean said as he got up, and jumped down from the truck to say hi to his younger brother. 

“What are you doin’ here?” Sam asked as your brother jumped up into the truck to conduct the show from there.

“Was passing through on my way back from Louisiana.” He said with a glance back at you. “Headed up toward Bobby’s for a little.”

“What’s up at Bobby’s?” Sam asked a little softly as he leaned against the truck. He followed Dean’s glance up at you as Mikey jumped right back down to check the main panel that was stored in a shed in the back yard to make sure the music volume was turned up. “She knows.”

“Werewolf clean up. We got a lot of them this past moon cycle but Dad wants to make sure that we got them all.” Sam nodded his head as he took off his tool belt and laid it gently in the truck bed so the spare lightbulbs in it didn’t break.

“You have fun with that. I have an interview next week to get back into school, and I’m not letting you make me miss this one.”

“So you’re staying here?” Dean asked before you silenced both of them because your dad was walking over with RJ and the table of desserts and drinks.

“We’re ready when you are.” Michael said as he sized up Dean. The older brother stuck out his hand but your dad just growled at him. “No.”

“Dad.” You sighed as he easily jumped up into the truck bed to sit on the toolbox. “Ignore him, Dean.”

“Alright, we’re ready on my end.” Mikey called out as he jumped back up into the trunk. You grabbed the megaphone and used Sam’s shoulder to stand up carefully. All four men around you reached up to grab the closest body part so you wouldn’t topple over thanks to your 29 week along bump.

“Alright, every one. It’s that time again! Now, just like every year, we replay the show with music at 7:30 on Friday, Saturday, and Sunday nights. Tell your friends. Cookies and drinks will only be sold on Friday’s this year though because I’m pregnant and y’all demand a lot of cookies and it’s hard enough to keep up when I’m not pregnant.” There was a collective laugh from the crowd as Mikey remotely turned off all the lights on your property to start the show. “And now, I am pleased to present, the (Y/L/N) family holiday light snow.” Sam helped you sit back down in your chair as Mikey took a deep breath and hit ‘play’. 

You all waited on baited breath as the opening sounds of the ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ intro you used every year started with a ‘wave’ effect of all the lights starting on from the far side of the yard and ending right next to you. They lights went dark for only a moment before Mikey’s current line up of Christmas rock songs blared the four speakers on your front porch. Just like it did every year, the eight minute long show played through sixteen different song blips, and lit up over ninety-seven thousands lights, thousands of times. And just like every year, you were always in awe of what Mikey was able to put together.

Your heart soared as you listened to the ‘ooo’s’, ‘ahh’s’, and gasps from your neighbors and you reached over to pat your brother on the shoulder. He reached up and held your hand, proud of what he had accomplished. You couldn’t stop the tears that fell on your cheeks as your hormones ran wild, and almost as if he knew you were gunna cry, Sam reached over and put his hand on your knee. He gave it a gentle squeeze, and you laced your fingers his.

“We did good.” Your dad said from behind you and your brother as the show was wrapping up. You nodded in agreement as the neighbors all cheered at the end of the show. With a couple clicks of his keyboard, Mikey turned the lights back on so that they played through the show at a quarter of the pace and with no music. RJ, who had been watching the show from the tailgate of the truck, reached back to grab the megaphone to make his announcement.

“Thank you all for coming!” He called out as he stood up so people could see him. “Now, as you know, the proceeds from tonights little bake sale get split fifty-fifty. Half goes back to the (Y/L/N) family to help cover the extravagant costs this show accumulates each year. And this year, on behalf of the new mama bear in our family, the other half of the proceeds will go to use in the recently updated maternity ward at Medical City Alliance to cover costs where it’s needed. We still have some goodies left tonight! And from our family to yours, happy holidays.” The crowd cheered again as you sighed, contently.

“You do this every year?” Dean asked as he turned and leaned on the side of the bed of the truck while your dad and brother both went off to turn off the sound system and pull the speakers a little farther back on your porch so they didn’t get wet if it rained or when the sprinklers came on. 

“Every year since I was ten. Help me up, babe.” You said as you let go of his hand and stretched your arms out in front of you.

“Alright, come on, watermelon smuggler.” Sam teased as he jumped up into the truck bed and pulled you to your feet. “I told you you should have put the chair on the ground.”

“Wouldn’t have helped much.” You said sarcastically as Dean came over as well to help you get down. “Such heroes.”

“Oh, stop.” Dean said as you kissed his cheek.

“OK, now you gotta come buy me a cookie and a cocoa. It’s for a good cause.”

“There it is!” Dean laughed as you shot him a wink and grabbed Sam’s hand. “Just usin’ me for my money.” You pulled Sam over to the table with you after Dean and leaned against his side to wait for your turn in line and say hello to your friends. Neither the two Winchester boys, nor you saw the familiar black GMC pickup truck drive past your house a little slower than the rest of the cars in the line heading home after the show.

——

You sat in a chair beside your piano, watching one of your nine year old students bumble roughly through ‘Jingle Bells’ for the thousandth time, when Sam knocked once, put in the code for the lock you had given him, and walked in your house like he did practically every afternoon when he got off work. You held up your finger and tried not to cringe at yet another wrong note, as you glanced up at the clock.

“That’s good, Jasmine.” You said with a nod as her mom honked her horn outside. “But you gotta remember to keep practicing when you’re not here, OK? You’ll get it before you know it, then.” She smiled at you as she grabbed her backpack since she had come from school and waited for you to get up yourself to walk her out.

“You got it?” Sam chuckled as he jogged over and helped pull you to your feet because even though you were only 30 weeks, you looked like you were 50 weeks.

“Hush your face.” You said as you held his arm and your bump while he pulled you up right. “Alright, honey, let’s go.”

“I’ll walk her.” Sam offered as he watched you trudge at a glacial pace toward the front door with your student. “You just stand on the porch.”

“That OK with you?” You asked Jasmine to make sure she was comfortable with that. She nodded her head a little frantically and looked up at Sam, causing her face to flush bright red, and a small giggle to escape. “Alright, I’ll see you at the bus stop on Thursday, then I won’t see you again until the new year. Make sure you keep practicing, though, alright?” She nodded her head as she took Sam’s hand and let him walk her down the steps. You waved at her mother, Cara, and leaned a bit to the side to talk to her when she rolled down her window.

“Having fun yet?” She teased.

“Yea, loads!” You laughed with a shake of your head. “He just keeps getting bigger.”

“They do that.” She joked as she looked back at her only child. “You have a name yet?”

“I’m not even close.” You sighed. “Nothing feels right…”

“Don’t rush it.” She said with a nod. “One day, you’ll hear a name in a movie or read it on a poster or something and you’ll know… you’ll just know.”

“I’m in no rush.” You smiled with a shake of your head. “I have a feeling it’s a name I’m gunna be yelling for a long, long time.” She laughed and nodded her head as she put her car in drive and waved goodbye. You stayed out in the cold, waiting expectantly and impatiently for Sam to make it up your walkway and back up the steps of your porch. “Well?!” He stopped at your front door and sighed, dramatically and you could see he was trying to fight his smile.

“I’m back in.” He said as he looked over at you. You screamed and cheered as he wrapped his arms around you and let out a sigh of relief. “I just have to make up the last semester I walked out on.”

“And the scholarship?” You asked as you walked back into the house to get out of the cold.

“Different story.” He sighed as he locked the door behind you. “Full ride I had in Stanford is gone. And they don’t really offer full rides to dropouts that come back six years later.”

“OK, but there’s options.” You groaned as you simply let go of Sam’s helping hand and fell back into the couch with a sigh. “Damn, I’m way too pregnant. But there’s other scholarships you can apply for, right? So you don’t have to take out a loan. I mean, I’ll fib and say you’ve lived here for a year so you get in-state tuition. You can even move into the bedroom down stairs to save on rent because this house is paid for…”

“Hey, slow down.” He chuckled as he sat down on the couch beside you and pulled you into his side. “Look, I’ll figure it out, sweetheart. That is not something you have to worry about. I have my job, I can hustle my ass off. I’m still really good at that. I already have the financial aid paperwork, I can do work study. I’ll figure this out, sweetheart. And if I have to, I’ll take out a loan. But it’s on me. Not you. You have a baby to worry about.”

“Sam…” You sighed but he shook his head and got up.

“Not your problem.” He called out on his way to the kitchen. “My problem.”

“You’re a pain in my ass.” You sighed as you kicked your feet up on the table and wiggled down in your spot. You looked down at your bump and smiled as you pushed against your skin. “Hi baby boy.” You cooed softly when he kicked at your fingers. “How are you feeling today? You nice and cozy warm in there? Chillin in your personal water bed? You’re a lucky one, baby boy… Luke.” Your brow furrowed as your son double kicked your fingers when you poked at the same time you said the name. “Luke? Are you a Luke, baby boy?”

“Did you say Luke?” Sam asked as he came around the corner with drinks in his hands. “Luke (Y/L/N)…”

“I think he likes it, too.” You said with a smile as you pressed against your son’s feet. “Do you like it, Luke?”

“Can I?” Sam asked for the first time. You smiled and nodded as you reached out for his hand, and put it on your bump.

“You just gotta press down. Not a lot but not to lightly either.” You said as you pushed on his hand until you knew it was enough. His smile grew when Luke pushed back in protest.

“It still blows my mind. The capabilities of the female body…”

“We grow people.” You agreed with a nod. “It’s quite a feat.”

“That it is.” He agreed with a nod as he leaned closer and gently rubbed your bump, playing a little game with Luke.

Part 5

[archiveddvrpg]

Congratulations, BECKY! You’ve been accepted for the role of GONERIL with an approved FC change to URSULA CORBERO. Admin Jen: Truly, Becky, you have left us speechless with this wonderful application! Your take on Grace was a bit unusual, and certainly not what I was expecting as I had established her in my mind as very cold and clinical. But the way you integrated emotions into her portrayal was brilliant -- it gave her a touch of volatility and extremism that accentuated the terror that Grace embodies so perfectly. I loved your future plots especially the evil scheme that you elaborated on and your writing sample left me trembling in both fear and admiration; everything just came together so intricately! I can’t wait to watch as she burns Verona to the ground! Please read over the checklist and send in your blog within 24 hours.

WELCOME TO THE MOB.

Out of Character

Alias | Becky

Age | 22

Preferred Pronouns | she/her

Activity Level | I’ve sold my soul to you now, I can’t ever leave

Timezone | Ok so I wrote BST on Odessa’s app but the rest of the UK gang put GMT (time is a social construct and I’m actually a cosmic entity floating around the globe giving u all forehead kisses)

Current/Past RP Accounts | x  x

In Character

Ok so I know you didn’t exactly accept her as an FC for Grace but I’m hoping you warm to edgy-looking neo-noir Úrsula Corberó once you’ve read the app. I admit that my idea of Grace may not be quite what you’re looking for but I wanted to give applying for her a shot because I love me Hot Mess of a character! (but I am also happy to come up with alternatives if not)

Is evil something you are?      Or is it something you do?

Character | Grace ‘Goneril’ Daly

What drew you to this character? | So like any good prophecy/vision/intervention of fate, I woke up one morning with a mighty need to play a character who is Odessa’s opposite, the black fur coat leather skirt cigarette ash psycho babe to my honey sweet lace and silk angel of retribution, so I’ve sort of been slyly waiting for Grace’s bio to be released.

It’s her contrast to Odessa that initially drew me in with the chance to explore another character whose existence and presence in Verona revolves around her father’s ties to a mob, but resulting in a drastically alternate result. It will be very different playing a character who doesn’t particularly have a motive for killing (beyond self-preservation and power-lust) and is loyal to only herself.

Whilst I would usually play a character like Grace as being a cold-hearted, emotionless ice queen, I feel as though Grace is better suited to burning. She is a slave to her emotions, the rise and fall of them dictating her mood, all while highly strung and fuelled by a chaotic form of energy. You can very much tell when she is happy and when she is not. She’ll cry in front of you just as gladly as she’ll laugh and kiss you. She’s unkind, ruthless, impulsive, emotional, and she’s ready to antagonise people to her tar-black heart’s content.

Character inspo: Azula from Avatar, Jennifer Check from Jennifer’s Body, Bellatrix Lestrange from Harry Potter, War from Good Omens. Trope inspo Alpha Bitch, Ambiguous Disorder, Blatant Lies, Daddy’s Little Villain, Go-Getter Girl, Hair-Trigger Temper, Improbable Weapon User, Jerkass, Sadist, Spoiled Brat, Virtue is Weakness.

What is a future plot idea you have in mind for the character? |

i.                    A masterplan;

Step One: Grow to become an important part of the mob you were all but born into. Turn yourself into the perfect player, capable with weapons and unblinking in the face of danger. Step Two: Leave them. Join their rivals. Prove yourself to them by dispatching of a few former associates, low hanging fruit. Become just as relevant within their ranks. Step Three: Collate what you have learnt about the two mobs. Their strengths, their weaknesses. Make a few friends with similar goals to yourself. Corrupt them. Step Four: Start your own mob. You now know your enemies intimately. You know what it takes to break them. Bit by bit, steal Verona out from under their noses. Laugh at their mistakes and dance in the ashes of their burning empires as you build your own. Step Five: Be remembered forever.

ii.                   The double agent;

Traitor. Grace wears the title with pride, her smile sharp when she comes face to face with both Capulets and Montagues alike. Slinking from one mob to the other was a seemingly effortless transition, welcomed by none other than Damiano himself. She fed him information about Cosimo and his crew, spilling secrets around the end of her lipstick-stained cigarette. It was an easy way in, but now that she’s settled amongst her new comrades she finds herself looking back across the bridge with interest. Power is power but information is advantageous – Grace isn’t above feeding Montague-whispers back to her old associates, not if it means she wins friends on both sides of Verona. That way, it’s impossible for her not to win this war.

iii.                  Sisters, sisters

Regina and Catherine. Both are equally as disgraceful to the Daly name – one can’t even bring herself to be enthusiastic about the opportunities that lie, shiny and golden, before them, and the other flutters her lashes and talks of peace, of all things. Grace has never paid them much attention, but now that she’s sided with the Montagues she’s realised that the Capulets could do with having their numbers thinned. Whether she’ll try to convince them to switch sides with her for the Montague brownie-points or simply wipe her sister off of the face of the earth forever remains to be seen, but if Regina and Catherine think they can keep their heads down and get away with making the Dalys seem anything less than destined for greatness, they’ve got one hell of a storm coming.

Are you comfortable with killing off your character? | I sure am, same goes for Odessa now, it’s time to make like Grace and embrace reckless abandon

In Depth

In-Character Para Sample:

She is the thing watching you from the edge of the road, where long grass shivers with the motion of something far more alive than it has any right to be; a pair of eyes that glint in the final rays of the sunlight’s reaches, bleached white enamel teeth ready to sink themselves into those who mistake the night’s cloak as a thing to hide under rather than be consumed by.

She is fresh fruit in the heat, a slow rotting taking place at the centre disguised by mouth-watering scents and a flesh that glistens under the sheen of morning dew. Decay is a dance, slow and tantalising, the heart turning to a sticky dark mess that slides through the fingers of anyone who dares to try and save it.

She is a doctor who has never been able to stop her hands from shaking at the prospect of a new body, eager to pick up the scalpel and press it down into soft flesh, revealing a mass of life clinging to the bones. Her favourite colour is red, the sort that looks black in the evening, droplets turning to pools that spread through pressed shirts and silk pyjamas like tears on pillows. There’s blood on her hands, not always metaphorical. She licks it off, rarely quite satisfied.

Grace fucks like the meeting of hips will reveal the monster that lies beneath her, as though touching there and there and there will unlock ribcages and unleash what’s trapped inside of hearts. But to understand why, you must crawl inside her skull and make sense of what lurks there beneath the smoke of burning houses and vultures picking at once-satisfied things–

“Please take a seat,” Damiano says, and Grace lingers before lowering herself onto the chair, her gaze gliding over the mahogany desk between them before raising to study the man himself.

He smells like her father. That’s the first thing she notices, the faint cologne. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes and the signet ring on his finger keeps catching on things, releasing a dull metallic sound each time. His presence is more regal than Cosimo’s and yet she finds herself thinking the exact same thing – you aren’t worthy.

These men had all inherited their empires, passed down like heirlooms, and as a result they had become lazy. Content. Uninspiring.

“I’m very happy to be here,” she chimes pleasantly. “However… unexpected it may be.” She doesn’t tell him how much she wants this. Doesn’t explain that being welcomed into the inner sanctum of the Montagues is as pleasing as a night of post-murder hot sex. “I’ve always been a huge fan of your work.”

Damiano doesn’t laugh, but he doesn’t need to. Grace is well aware that she wouldn’t have gotten this far if he didn’t intend to offer her something. “I have a proposition.”

I bet you do, she thinks, her well-orchestrated plan playing out like the sweetest of songs. Black-nail-polished fingers press to her chest, feigning surprise. “For me? Damiano, you’re spoiling me.” The words curl up from her lips like tendrils of cigarette smoke. She punctuates them with a light laugh.

The deal is a simple one: information for protection. Spill some secrets to join the ranks. Grace does so without blinking, switching silver for gold, and slowly the pieces begin to fall into place. As with any self-proclaimed god, she grazes her knees on carpet to say thanks to Damiano, sacrifices those she’s left behind, and fills her head with only the loveliest visions of tearing his and Cosimo’s empires to the ground.

Extras:

Pinterest board

Time for more of ‘Becky attempts to write headcanons’:

Her parent’s little angel turned little devil. Spoilt from a young age, she soon learnt that she could get away with near enough anything provided she smiled sweetly to her parents and told them just how much she loved them. When her sisters were born, the attention that had been on her drifted and Grace found that she had to work harder and harder to hear her name on her parent’s lips.

Grace grew up restless. Her ambitions would flit like moths around a lightbulb, becoming half-planned dreams and broken things. It wasn’t until she was rushed to hospital following a road traffic accident* (which resulted in the removal of a kidney) that she decided to train to become a paramedic. *Her parents later suggested that it was no accident and had in fact been planned by the Montagues,

As a paramedic, she always manages to be first on the scene when an incident linked to the mobs is called in. Strategically, if someone fails to complete a murder she can finish the job herself, or silence any witnesses. Similarly, it also gives her the opportunity to plant fake evidence or remove weapons from the scene. For those evading the eyes of the authorities, she can also help those who have been hurt and can’t risk a trip to the hospital.

She is resourceful and will use whatever is to hand as a weapon. Has been known to dish out the odd black eye, broken nose, crushed windpipe, and acrylic nail scratches. Her father himself trained her to use a pistol and rifle under the guise that he was teaching her to hunt (which, technically, wasn’t a lie – they just never specified the quarry).

She lives by 3 important rules. One: trust only those you would die for. Two: protect what is yours. Three: if something is boring or unimportant, do not waste time on it.

Grace needs to be needed and wants to be wanted. She can’t stand shrinking into shadows and being forgotten. No, she must remain the life of the party and attract the attention (be it good or bad) of everyone.

She was once arrested and fined for drunk and disorderly behaviour on whilst on holiday in England. She slept it off in a cell and was released the next morning with a hefty fine.

She is a big fan of piercings and has a stick n poke shark on her ribs.

Inspo quotes:

“I’m a slave to my emotions, to my likes, to my hatred of boredom, to most of my desires.” – F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise.

“Her mood is cruel, her nature dangerous. Her will fierce and intractable” – Euripides (translated by Philip Vellacott), Medea

“But if these years have taught me anything it is this: you can never run away. Not ever. The only way out is in.” – Junot Diaz, The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao

[fluffyjoeck]

Can you write about a wedding??

He passes a beer to Joe, who’s currently laying down on thefloor like a starfish, and sits down beside him, his back against the bed. Hetakes a sip of his drink, as he allows himself to take a breather and unwindafter such a hectic day.

“I can’t believe our friends are getting married already,”Joe moans, and Jack just nods, having heard this several times throughout theday. Poor Joe’s not had it easy, with friends and relatives of friends asking why wasn’t he married yet. “Meanwhilewe’re stuck on our own, me and you Jack. Alone.”

“Thanks,” he says sarcastically, but it’s painfully true. Hecan’t remember the last time he had been intimate with anyone, let anyone lethimself think of being in a serious relationship.

“Even Josh has got a girlfriend,” Joe continues, and hethinks that Joe might have had one too many drinks tonight. Not that he’s soberhimself, but he likes to think that he’s the responsible one out of the two ofthem in this situation. He attempts to take the bottle away from Joe, but Joe’sgrip tightens. “Jack why are we so unlovable?”

“Speak for yourself mate,” he says, as he grabs his phoneout of his pocket. He decides to take a picture of Joe in all of hisself-hating and lonely glory, sending it to Caspar who’s still downstairs onthe dancefloor with his new wife.

“We’re going to die alone,” Joe continues on, and it’senough for Jack to throw a pillow at him. He doesn’t like being included inthis one-man pity parade. “Jack stop!”

“I won’t die alone,” Jack tells him, confidently. “I’m justwaiting for the right person.”

“You know who says that?” Joe asks, and he shakes his head.“People who die alone! I said it at Zoe’s wedding, and look at me. You’re nobetter.”

“Well what do you suggest then? We get married orsomething?” he watches as Joe sits up at this, and Jack can see that Joe’sactually interested in the idea. “No, I didn’t mean that.”

“We should totally get married!” Joe grins. “Could youimagine the wedding? We could do it in a castle.”

“Modest,” Jack snorts.

“And – and we could invite everyone! We’d pick a giantcastle somewhere in the countryside, so it’d have to be a warm summers day.Maybe get some farm animals involved, that would be amazing. You could walkdown the aisle beside a pig! And I’m not talking about your brother,” he jokes,making Jack chuckle. “We’d have our reception outside with a giant ball pin forthe kids, and a huge bar for the rest of us. And a pizza bar. We’d cover theplace in fairy lights and balloons. Make it a real Pinterest wedding.”

“Kids? You want me to father your children too?” he asks,playing with the bottle in his hand.

“No! Zoe’s expecting her first child,” Joe tells him, forthe first time, and he starts to laugh. “That wasn’t something I was allowed totell anyone. Pinky promise you won’t let anyone know?”

Jack rolls his eyes, but intertwines their two baby fingers.“You’re an actual child.”

“But we could have kids too,” Joe says. “How many childrendo you want?”

“A few,” he answers. “I liked having siblings. Don’t thinkI’d go for just the one.”

“Same,” Joe says with a nod of his head. “I think I’d be agreat dad, I’d spoil them rotten.”

“What’s our first dance going to be then?” Jack asks.

“We need to be cheesy,” Joe replies. “We should dance to anabsolute classic. What about Can’t HelpFalling in Love with You? We’d definitely get a few tears from our guestswith that.”

“Dude we’ve just planned the perfect wedding,” he sayswistfully. If this was a cartoon, Jack would suddenly have a glowing lightbulbabove his head. But it’s not, and all he has above his head is an empty bottleof brandy that was discarded on the bed as soon as they made it to theirSingles Only afterparty in Jack’s room. “Let’s do it.”

“Are you serious?” Joe asks, tilting his head.

“Not right now – in the future. When you turn thirty-five?”he says, slowly. “If neither of us are in a relationship, we could marry eachother!”

“So if no one loves us?” Joe asks, and Jack throws anotherpillow at him.

“We love eachother,” he tells him, and Joe pulls a face. One that Jack’s drunk enough topull back, not caring about what they look like. “It’s a backup plan Joseph.You’ve been moaning the whole day about how you don’t want to die alone. So whynot just marry someone you already deem tolerable, you know? We get on prettywell already, we spend so much time together that we know how to live in eachother’s pockets. I think it’s a great idea. One of the best ideas I’ve ever hadin fact.”

There’s a moment of silence hanging in the air, and Jackshuts his eyes as he leans his head back. Since he isn’t able to hold his drinkas well as he used to, the alcohol starts to catch up on him a lot quicker thanbefore. “When I’m thirty-five?”

“When you’re thirty-five,” Jack repeats. His eyelids areslowly drooping closed, fingers going slack around the beer he’s clutching.

“Wake up asshole,” Joe says, throwing his empty bottle inJack’s direction.

It misses him by an inch, and lands with a soft thud on thebed next to him. “Aw,” he says, grabbing at the bottle and clutching it to hischest. “Our first fight as a couple.”

“I’m already regretting this,” Joe says, but Jack can see asmile just waiting to come out.

“We’ve done stupider things,” he points out. “We need tomake it official, so we do this properly.”

“You gonna get down on one knee or something?” Joe asks, andJack just shakes his head. Instead, he lifts himself up from his position andwaddles over to Joe, who looks bewildered at the sudden lack of personal space.“Slow down there Jack, you need to buy me dinner first.”

“Shut up and stop ruining the moment. When our kids askabout our proposal, it’s got to be perfect,” he says, before he clears his throat.“Joseph Sugg, my bestest friend in the entire world. Will you do me the honourof making sure I don’t spend the rest of my life alone and miserable, and also helpco-host YouTube’s best ever viral wedding?” he asks, grinning from cheek tocheek.

“Yes,” Joe says, and Jack leans in to kiss him right on thelips.

It’s more like they’re smiling against each other’s lips,teeth in the absolute wrong places and Joe lets out a loud snort halfwaythrough that sets Jack off, and he pulls away from laughing too much. It’s adisaster, but there’s nothing about this day that hasn’t screamed tragedy forthe two of them.

Conor walks in on them, grinning like idiots at the other a little later, when they’re sitting beside each other. “What’s he doing here?” Joe asks, barely acknowledging the fact that Conor’s actually in the room with them.

“I thought I’d lose my key card so I gave Conor my spareone,” he says, which Joe takes as an answer. 

“We’ve been looking for you two,” Conor tells them, eyeing the mess they’ve made up. “What the hell have you been doing up here?”

“We were tired of being the only single people, so we wentand had our own party,” Joe tells him. “Oh! And we decided that we’ll get married in the future if we continue to be lonely and miserable.”

Bless Conor, because he really tries to take in that lastpiece of information. “You’re just going to settle for him if no one will marryyou?”

“I’m right here,” Jack mumbles, glaring up at his brother.

“I’d say I’m punching above my weight more than anything,”Joe says, and Jack actually smiles at that. Suck it, Conor.

“Potentially getting married to me is an honour,” he says,and the smile he gets back from Joe feels a little more personal then it should be at the moment.

“I’m way too drunk to deal with this right now,” Conor says, before he makes his way out of the room.

“Punching above your weight?” he repeats, and he watches as Joe blushes ever so slightly.

“Shut up,” Joe says, nudging his elbow as he leans his head against Jack’s shoulder.

They eventually make it onto the bed, and they spend therest of the night coming up with more ideas for their wedding and ways toconvince Mikey to become their flower girl. It isn’t the most romantic story,but when Joe starts to throw up from all the alcohol he’s consumed, Jack’sthere with a glass of water and his phone to take lots of photographicevidence, so he thinks he’s shared worse nights with people.

[thisisheffner]

Clubbing: ‘I can’t bear the idea that there is an age at which you should stop’ | Music | The Guardian

Nightclubbing is seen as a young person’s game. Sightings of older clubbers – such as the elderly Polish couple who went viral after a night out at London’s Fabric in 2016 – are considered a novelty. But the septuagenarian tourists – who partied until 5am – are not alone.

A recent poll by ticketing platform Eventbrite found that more than 3.7 million Britons aged over 45 go clubbing every week. The nation’s nightlife may not be in rude health overall, but certain DJs, clubs and clubbers have endured. Fabric turned 20 this year, and DJs such as Danny Rampling and Terry Farley are still drawing crowds 30 years on from the summer of love that made their name. From nostalgia nights to dance festivals, older clubbers – such as Mick Jagger, 76, spotted at gay club night Horse Meat Disco earlier this year – are finding their second wind.

Typically, clubbing loses its appeal in our early 30s; 31 is the age at which most give up, according to a 2017 survey. But for those who do keep dancing, it can be much more than just a night out. What starts as an act of teenage transgression becomes radical in middle age. We talked to six older clubbers who refuse to hang up their dancing shoes. Have they still got the moves?

‘It’s like galloping across the universe in a spaceship’

Brett, 70, and Sylvia Van Toen, 69, retirees (above)

Sylvia Our first love is hard house – it attracts a different, much younger crowd. We go to hard house clubs and festivals, after discovering psytrance at Glastonbury in the mid-90s and thinking, “This is it.” The music builds up tension; you’re waiting for this particular tune and then suddenly it drops in and you’re going yes, yes, yes! Then it carries you along. It’s a bit like galloping across the universe in a spaceship.

I got married at 18 and had children young. I was a housewife. I didn’t know a lot about music, I didn’t dance. Brett and I were in our late 30s when we got together. I had two young children and so we decided to live apart, and we’ve kept doing that. We see each other during the week but get excited about going clubbing together on Fridays. It’s like going on a date.

Brett We are very lucky. Many couples we know don’t like the same music. We go clubbing once a fortnight. It’s intense. It’s hard work. The clubs often run from 11pm to early morning. There are more afternoon clubs now, which I love.

If we go to a dance festival, we make as much effort as we can to get sleep. We take a campervan, which is good because parking tends to be away from the main field. We don’t drink alcohol, just water. We don’t do afterparties; that would hurt. We don’t have any plans to retire, though that might change as we age.

It’s a social thing. We went to heavy techno clubs and it was too dark to dance because you couldn’t see what the hell was going on. So that didn’t work for us. Dancing with other people is important. Clubbing has taught me a way of being I don’t think I would have found otherwise. I used to be curmudgeonly but I have learned a lot of acceptance from hanging around young people. There is much to admire about them. They are also complimentary and it’s a lot of fun. It gives you energy.

‘There’s no judgment: it’s utopia’

Roy Brown, 56, songwriter and club host

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I’m a Brummie lad. I went to my first shebeen [unlicensed bar] in Birmingham, aged 13. It was this small venue behind a shop with huge sound systems in dark rooms, pumping with reggae and ska music. Seeing guys and girls dancing really close to each other, the music pounding, the smell of weed, a lightbulb went off in my head. I thought, this is amazing. That’s why I’m still doing it.

I knew the music – reggae, jazz, funk, blues – because that’s what my parents played at home. My parents were Jamaican and every Caribbean house has these family gatherings with music and food and dancing. That warm place they created in their houses is what I’m trying to emulate when I go clubbing: that womb, that happiness. No one can hurt or harm you because you are with like-minded people.

I moved to London at 18 in 1981, where my cousin Claudette introduced me to a group of fashionistas and club kids. They are still my friends. My aunt lived close to a huge club called Bolts. I walked past it one evening and there was a long queue of clones: gay men dressed identically in check shirts and Levi’s 501s. I had the same epiphany as in the shebeen: I saw like-minded people.

Some of Claudette’s friends sussed me out. Juicy (real name Ronald) came up to me and said: “What’s your game then?” They took me to my first gay bar and it was full steam ahead after that. My motivation was really good music. If there were hot guys there, brilliant. Drugs were a huge part of it. The majority of clubbers were white men but the only thing that mattered was that you stuck to the dress code.

I’m still on the clubbing scene. I started out on the door at the central London club Kinky Gerlinky in 1989. Now I’m a host at the Eagle in south London, where I have my own night, Soul on Saturday. I was MC and host for a club in Ibiza a few summers ago. They fly you out Friday morning for Saturday and Sunday night. I thought, can I do this? I am not 19. I’d aged 20 years. But because of the music and the amazing time, I lost 40 more.

I grew up Methodist and clubbing is like going to church. I still go out now if a night is euphoric. It’s human nature to look for something uplifting. There’s no judgment, just inclusivity. It’s my idea of utopia.

‘That moment a beat drops and everyone’s smiling: it’s wicked’

Victoria Saunders, 50, hairdresser

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I still want to go out and listen to good music played loud. But now I’m older, I don’t want to go to a big busy nightclub. I think, I can’t be arsed, actually. You walk in and you’re told you’ve got to queue here or go here if you want to smoke a fag. I’m an adult, I can manage myself.

When I first went clubbing, it was lawless. In 1988, I was 18 and Ibiza was happening, it was the summer of love. That kickstarted it for me. When I went to Houghton dance music festival in Norfolk last year, I saw people from different points in my clubbing career. It’s nice to see people who still have that affinity.

I’ve always been more of an afterparty girl; I prefer it when all the wallies have gone home. I’d rather take my time and go out at about midnight, ease myself in and then hit a dancefloor.

Hairdressers like me are like Vikings; we can just do it. I remember coming home, having two hours’ sleep, then getting up and going to work. Now it shows more, on my face, after a couple of days. I hit Wednesday and I think, oof. But people tell me I look good for my age. I’ve pickled myself. When you’ve had so much fun and such a laugh going out, that also shows.

I go to a club called Pikes in Ibiza, where Wham! shot the video for Club Tropicana. I like to properly lose myself in music – that moment a beat drops and everyone’s smiling because they know it, that feeling of oneness: it’s wicked.

I was at a house party recently and my friend was up dancing. She said, “If I don’t do this now, I’ll be dancing in the aisles of Tesco.” It’s rare to find those moments as you get older, but 30 years of clubbing means it’s something that’s deep in you. You hear good music and you just want to dance.

‘After we scattered my stepdad’s ashes, I needed to get to Horse Meat Disco’

Amanda Freeman, 56, music publicist

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I’m straight, but I prefer gay clubbing. It started in the early 2000s, when I went to places such as the Joiners Arms in east London with gay friends. It was a completely different world.

My friend Dan opened a gay bar in east London, Dalston Superstore, in 2009; by then I had been single a long time. It was a nonjudgmental space. There was no stigma attached to being a woman of my age as there could be in a straight environment; at a straight club, I’d be lucky if they let me in.

I’ve had a couple of difficult years. My mother has multiple sclerosis and my stepfather had dementia. I’m an only child, so I’ve been juggling all of this. My stepfather died in March. The weekend we scattered his ashes, I remember thinking, when I get home I’m going out to Horse Meat Disco. If I’ve been through a tough time, going out is the way to put myself back on track.

A lot of the younger people I’ve met out clubbing have been incredibly supportive. Not to say that my older friends haven’t, but they have kids and their own stuff going on. It seems easier for millennials to make those approaches, to ask me how my mum is doing, how I am. I’ve been hugely grateful for that.

I am happy to go out on my own, which is empowering. I can go to regular places and see people I know, or chat to people I’ve not met before. The music is important. My nickname is Lady D’Amanda because I’m very forward about asking the DJ for certain tracks. I’m first on the dancefloor and get people to dance with me. It’s always done in a joyful way.

I can’t bear the idea that there is an age at which you should stop. I feel more comfortable in my 50s than I did in my 40s. I chose not to be in a relationship and nobody in this community has ever questioned that. They admire people who have ploughed their own furrow, and a club night was held in my honour in January.

I hope I am an ally. I’m a music publicist and I am always available if LGBTQ artists or acts want help or advice. I’ve suddenly acquired a tribe: the community is made up of many different people, ages and persuasions. It doesn’t matter. It’s about what you bring to it. It’s a small world but it’s a really important one to me. A doorman once said to me, “You’re an icon”. That’s a lovely thing to be.

‘Drugs aren’t my thing. Someone asked what I’d had and I showed them my sandwich’

Suddi Raval, 49, music technology teacher

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Acid house took over my life at 15, in 1986. The music was on the radio. Smiley faces – the acid house symbol – popped up on the news. House music has melodies and basslines but acid house was abstract, bendy, weird. It was like music from another world. It just grabbed my attention.

There was a week that changed my life. I was walking down the street in my home town, Ashton-under-Lyne. I was too young to go out but I dressed as if I was on the acid house scene: long hippy hair, a jumper by French brand Chipie. This guy called Kelvin came up to me. He could tell from my clothes that I was into that music and said: “You need to go to the Hacienda and the Blackburn raves warehouse parties.” I said: “I’d love to but I wouldn’t know how.” He said he’d take me, and he did.

I couldn’t believe it when I set foot in the Hacienda in Manchester. There were a couple of thousand people as into it as I was. I didn’t know everyone was off their heads, drugs were not my thing. One time at the raves, someone asked what I’d had. I didn’t know they meant drugs. I reached into my bag and pulled out my butty box, a pile of cheese and ham sandwiches and a can of Coke – you can’t dance all night on an empty stomach.

The only nights I wouldn’t go to the Hacienda were when it was closed. I’ve never stopped. As I get older, young people think I am either the DJ, a promoter or a drug dealer. I’m usually the only brown face in a club. I’ve always been in a minority; there were so few Indian, Pakistani or Asian clubbers. But I’ve always felt 100% safe.

I live in London now and go out a couple of times a month to clubs across the UK. I pick up my friend Sarah and drive to the Attic in Liverpool. It’s not about nostalgia; I go to dance to new music. It’s difficult to get back to normality if you stay up to 6am, so I don’t stay out late. I’m a teacher, so I have to function at 100%. My clubbing gives me credibility with my students. I’ve not been clubbing with them, though they’ve asked.

I met my wife when I was in London for an acid house night. She was concerned I might be into drugs. She’s come out clubbing with me, but she’s a doctor so she’s usually on call. She’s not a convert but she’s not against it. Our wedding in 2017 turned into a rave. It couldn’t have worked if she’d thought, who is this man-child obsessed with dance music?

My mum found it really cute that I had smiley faces all over my bedroom as a teenager. When I visited her up north recently, she showed me a smiley face emoji on her phone. “Look, Suddi,” she smiled, “acid!’” I said, “Yes, Mum, you are bang on! That is acid!” I was so proud.

• If you would like your comment on this piece to be considered for Weekend magazine’s letters page, please email weekend@theguardian.com, including your name and address (not for publication).

This content was originally published here.

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Hi r/Entrepreneur this is my first post in this sub-Reddit. I hope it is okay to post such a long form story. I am the editor of the Ecommerce community Capital & Growth. It is from our How We Made It in Ecommerce Series. We will eventually do one a week and also publish the resulting podcasts. The pictures can be viewed on the original article.What do you do when you suspect the skincare companies you trusted are actively harming your health? For Trina Felber, the answer was obvious: start a skincare company of your own.“I’m an all or nothing kind of girl,” she says. “When I jump in, I jump in with two feet and two hands, 120 percent. So I literally ditched all my skincare and just started making my own products from scratch.”Her brand, Primal Life Organics, boasted a $4.7 M revenue in 2017, with a three-year growth of 487 percent, earning her a spot on the Inc 5000 fastest growing companies.Felber now has more than 20 employees. But she never imagined that life would lead her here.​Humble BeginningsFelber spent most of her adult life working as a nurse. At age 40, just after getting her Master’s degree in anesthesia, she discovered a welcome surprise: she had unexpectedly gotten pregnant in record time while on her honeymoon in Fiji.She headed back to the States with her husband, excited to face this new chapter in life. But her future was not going to be that simple. “I was seven weeks pregnant,” she says, “and I suffered a miscarriage.”Thanks to her nursing experience, she knew there could be a biological reason behind it. While some people might have simply tried to forget such a devastating setback and move on, Felber was determined to find the cause.​“I’m an all or nothing kind of girl.”When she was seven weeks into a new pregnancy, at the same point when she’d miscarried before, something on the label of a skincare product caught her eye.​“I glanced down at my moisturizer that I was getting ready to put on my face, and I started reading the ingredients,” she recalls. Although it was a natural, organic skincare line -- a brand she trusted -- the ingredients list was filled with things that sounded toxic.​Suspecting that these skincare products were the cause of her miscarriage, Felber immediately trashed them all and started making her own. When she researched the suspicious ingredients on the Environmental Working Group’s website, she found that her concerns were valid.The “natural” skincare products she’d once used contained hidden endocrine disruptors, neurotoxins, and carcinogens.📷Trina’s twins--the inspiration for starting her line of non-toxic products.From Nurse to CEOFelber’s commitment to sharing what she’d learned made entrepreneurship the logical next step. She was the quintessential bootstrapper, starting in her kitchen with no outside capital, making just one or two products at a time.“I was smart enough to put on the website that it’s made fresh when ordered, so it could take two weeks to ship your order,” she says. She invested her own money in her website, products, and ingredients.However, not having capital also meant that every dime the business made had to go right back into the business. “For probably the first year and a half to two years, I didn’t pay myself,” Felber adds. Instead, she used the money to do things like upgrade labels and buy new inventory.📷Trina in the early days of the business. She made each product after it was ordered.Felber’s relaxed confidence when she talks about her brand makes building a company sound simple. However, her entrepreneurial journey wasn’t such a straight shot.​“For probably the first year and a half to two years, I didn’t pay myself.”​When she initially launched the business, in 2009, she named it Olive’s Organic Botanicals.However, she soon realized that the skincare market was already flooded with organic options. “I was out there in this big blue ocean of organic skincare -- and I did pretty good,” Felber recalls. But the brand didn’t quite take off the way she’d hoped.About a year later, her husband introduced her to the Paleo diet. First designed in the 1970s, this diet strategy maintains that eating the way early humans in the Paleolithic age did is the key to health.Paleo eaters avoid processed grains, dairy, and anything else developed after the rise of agriculture, sticking to meats and unprocessed plants instead. In 2010, these diets were just starting to become popular again among health enthusiasts.Like many budding companies, Felber’s brand had struggled because it didn’t have a focused niche. Realizing that she had a Paleo product, Felber did a quick Google search for Paleo skincare. Nothing came up, except a brief thread on a single website, which suggested using coconut oil.“A lightbulb went off in my head,” Felber says. “I said ‘You know what? I have the answer for you -- my skincare’s Paleo.’” She’d finally found her niche.Rebranding Changed EverythingAs soon as she could, she relaunched her business as Primal Life Organics. Her first employee was actually the nanny she’d hired to help out with her three young children. When the kids went down for their daily nap, the two worked side by side to build the brand.📷“I basically created my own ocean,” she says. Instead of swimming in the vast pool of organic skincare, she now had a specific focus: people who wanted Paleo products to fit their Paleo lifestyle. “And that is what turned my company around.”At the time of the rebrand, Primal Life Organics was the first and only Paleo skincare line on the market -- and it remains the most popular one to this day.​“I basically created my own ocean.”​As the brand grew, Felber started learning how to better focus her marketing tactics. At first, she reached her customers using organic strategies, like podcasts and emails. But in just a few short years, the methods for building traffic became drastically different, with the rise of paid posts.“Things have changed,” Felber says. “You have to know what you’re doing -- you have to have the resources to put money into it in order to get money out of it.” Luckily, Felber’s husband has the marketing expertise to run her social media campaigns. In addition to Facebook ads, the brand uses Instagram, Twitter, and Pinterest; email marketing; and a few sales funnels.Although Felber isn’t doing the marketing all by herself, she still takes a very hands-on approach. She writes content for her website’s blog, speaks at Paleo events, and even published an international bestseller: Beauty’s Dirty Secret, available on Amazon.📷She also does a lot of podcasts, interviews, and Facebook Live videos, where her warm, gregarious nature shines.“I like [Live videos] because, of all the skincare companies in the world, I don’t see any other skincare company’s CEO -- the owner of the company -- getting on Facebook Live and answering questions for people,” Felber says. Even in the age of ecommerce, the importance of personally connecting with your customers remains.She recognizes that her nursing background strengthens her ability to build trust with customers. “The way I was brought up as a nurse was to be able to communicate to the patient in a way that they can understand.”These communication skills carry over into her entrepreneurial career, as she teaches people how to use her products to live their best lives.Streamlining for Success📷For Felber, connecting with customers was always the easy part. But nailing down the best tools and technologies for her brand posed a bigger challenge. Today, she names using an inventory management system as one of the keys to success. “I’m a products-based business,” she says. “It’s the life or death of my company.”Another key for success is maintaining focus. “When I started, I made a ton of products -- I wanted to solve everybody’s problem,” she says. But when Primal Life Organics streamlined its offerings, the brand became more successful. “We actually cut about half of our inventory, because we couldn’t focus.”Felber notes that about 80 to 90 percent of a brand’s income usually comes from just 10 to 20 percent of its products. She recommends focusing on those products that truly generate the income, and getting rid of the rest -- even if a few customers miss those products.​“I wanted to solve everybody’s problem.”Streamlining has allowed Felber to invest in new brand goals, like retail and local marketing. With its shorter list of products, Primal Life Organics will soon appear on the shelves of some big-name stores. However, the Shopify store remains the core of the business.The original website required HTML coding, but Felber found that Shopify did everything she needed with a lot less work. A user-friendly platform that minimizes setup time helps aspiring entrepreneurs get off the ground.Felber also recommends taking the time to hire the right people, so you can minimize the need for outsourcing. “Bringing it in-house has its own value, because [your employees] know your culture, they get to work side-by-side with you, as opposed to outsourcing something.” She loves hiring people who have healthy desires to learn, instead of only hiring those who already have certain skill-sets.Even as the owner of a thriving brand, Felber still turns to her community of fellow entrepreneurs for camaraderie and problem-solving. “Sometimes [the] answer just isn’t black-and-white, it’s more gray,” she says. Fellow entrepreneurs can often suggest the right solution or someone who can help.Lessons Learned📷Felber herself has plenty of advice for aspiring entrepreneurs. She strongly recommends getting the trademarks or patents needed to protect your products and company.But the biggest challenge faced by new entrepreneurs, Felber believes, is building the brand itself. It’s simple to start a Facebook page or build a Shopify store, but the hard part is figuring out your message.How can you nail down that message? She recommends taking a couple hours to ask yourself, “What is my mission? What is my message? And how can I convey that to my people?”Once you attract a few people who get your message, they’ll bring in even more people who that message resonates with, she adds. “But you have to know who you are and what your message is to attract those people.”For Felber, Primal Life Organics is more than a skincare brand -- it’s a community of like-minded people who love helping each other out. “I always say that this is an extension of my nursing career,” she says. “I loved nursing because I got to take care of people and help them get better. And by providing healthy products, I’m able to do that now across the world.”​“You have to know who you are and what your message is.”📷​She also loves the other perks of being a business owner, like having the freedom to travel, attend new events, and work from anywhere.Her children and husband often travel with her, and they’re attentive to health on every level, from diet to meditation to, of course, skincare. “We really do live the lifestyle that we have built, that I talk about, and that I try to help people achieve on their own.”Her final words of wisdom for aspiring entrepreneurs? “Don’t give up! It’s tough out there sometimes.” But even if she knew ahead of time about all the challenges she’d face, Felber says she’d go back and do it all again. “My life is better serving the people that I serve right now.”​By the way, for the entrepreneurs looking to raise capital, we also did a series of investor interviews in the past (here) with folks like Y Combinator's CEO and TechstarsFounder but have since refocused on ecommerce entrepreneurs.

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Top 23 Fantastic Experience Of This Year’s Interior Home Deco | interior home deco

Your home’s got style—and boy, did you assignment to accomplish it. You followed architectonics blogs, pored over Pinterest boards, and chose emphasis pieces and colors to add aloof the appropriate note. That is, you did bristles years ago. Or 10.

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But assumption what? Style isn’t static, and your home adornment shouldn’t be, either. Alike the best admired architectonics elements can alpha to feel unbearably dried afterwards a while.

“Some architectonics trends arise and go with boundless speed,” says New York City artist Ellen O’Neill. “Others assume to aloof adhere about continued accomplished their sell-by date.”

We won’t acquaint you to canal the actuality that speaks to your soul, alteration trends be damned. But if you’re agog for a architectonics advancement and aren’t abiding area to start, ask yourself if your home is antic any of these looks that accept beat out their welcome.

These are the architectonics associates the experts can’t delay (please, oh, please) to canal in 2019. Full disclosure: We’ve alleged out a few of these decidedly assiduous trends in antecedent years. Onward and upward!

Photo by Tim Barber Ltd Architecture It’s time to air-conditioned it with nailing 20-piece photo collages assimilate our walls. Instead, accomplish a bigger burst with one ample allotment that leaves an impression.

“I adulation ancestors photos, but the abrupt atramentous or albino copse frames—thank you, Ikea!—that we’ve put up on the bank are a little, well, not trending,” says Los Angeles home artist Kim Gordon.

A bank abounding of little frames, Gordon says, fails to accomplish a account and ends up actuality disregarded and ignored. Plus, those frames will aloof accrue dust and fingerprints.

In the new year, Gordon says the annoying ataxia will accord way to “big, potentially colorful, and actually impactful” art that wows—think charcoal sketches or watercolors—“anything to abate some of the monotony.”

Photo by PowerSmith Design Three years later, and we’re still campanology the closing alarm on this beat look. It seems old habits (and Edison bulbs) die hard.

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So, we’ll say it afresh for the bodies in the back: Industrial chichi is played out. It’s time to cast the about-face on cage lighting and aggressively apparent pipes and beams.

“More generally than not, [this look] fails and lacks the actuality the artist is agilely aggravating to create,” says David Shove-Brown of Washington, DC–based architectonics and architectonics close //3877.

Industrial kitchens are “not the best agreeable abode to be the affection of your home—more like active in a Costco,” O’Neill adds. “So, unless you are a able chef, let’s retire this trend.”

Make the bandy for lush, abundant hues in the kitchen—deep (almost black) greens and blues, and aphotic woodwork—and angular on matte metallics for contrast, recommends Debbie Schamberger of Elite Kitchen & Bath.

“Gold is able for hardware, faucets, and lighting fixtures—a bendable gold, like Champagne,” she says.

Photo by We Are In Our Element We can already apprehend the boos and hisses on this one, but Portland, OR, designer Justin Riordan isn’t accepting it.

“Boho has to die,” he says. “It’s absolutely flippin’ over.”

You apperceive what we’re talking about: The macrame bank hangings, the waxy-fake succulents (“You’re not bluffing anybody,” Riordan says), and your Moroccan lanterns all had a acceptable run, but it’s time to rein it in.

“You can, of course, abide to buy $19 batik pillows at Target, but actuality like that is aloof fodder for your abutting barn sale,” Riordan says. “It comes on absolutely fast and goes abroad absolutely fast.”

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If you aloof can’t breach yourself abroad from that gypsy-soul-world-citizen vibe, Riordan suggests channeling those animosity into an accurate allotment that reflects a absolute indigenous tradition—say, a kilim rug—and architecture the allowance about that.

Photo by Bach Homes We know—we can’t accept it either, but the chat art trend is still happening. In 2019, however, the pros are bent to accomplish it assuredly stop. Alike if you can live, laugh, and adulation with the best of them, those words don’t accord on your walls.

“Any argument art afraid in the home meant to be absolute aloof comes beyond as abominable and predictable,” says Jessica Boudreaux, an autogenous artist in Miami and New York City. “Stuart Smalley called, and he wants his signage back.”

Ana Cummings of Ana Interiors agrees: “It’s about as blah as you can get.”

Photo by Havlicek Builders Inc. But isn’t the island array of ultimate #kitchengoals? Diana Blaszkiewicz, an accessory with TTR Sotheby’s International Realty in Washington, DC, doesn’t anticipate so. Her audience more appetite to canal the kitchen island, and she’s blessed to oblige.

“They’re beefy and generally don’t board able accumulator space; plus, they’re actual accessible to bang into in the average of the night,” she says.

In lieu of an island, bury the dining table afterpiece to the kitchen, Blaszkiewicz recommends, or use modular, moveable accumulator instead.

Photo by Creative House Zone Will 2019 be the year we do abroad with gray?

“From walls to napkins, from Florida to Maine, it has been all about gray for so continued now, I can hardly bethink back it snuck in,” O’Neill laments.

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“Because we’ve concentrated on air-conditioned grays for so long, it aloof feels anachronous at this point,” Riordan adds. “Everything I see in that palette aloof feels absolutely algid to me.”

Plus, gray has become the go-to aloof for home staging—and that agency this hue generally “screams ‘newly flipped,’” Blaszkiewicz notes.

That doesn’t beggarly neutrals are out, but designers are accessible for a about-face to warmer tones, like albino taupes.

Photo by Mabry Construction, Inc. Certain residential appearance are the brainchildren of home builders—not autogenous designers. Such is the adventure of microwaves anchored aloft cooktops.

“It was never a acceptable architectonics choice,” Cummings says. “Microwaves are so ugly, to put it bluntly.”

The microwave-over-the-range bureaucracy is not alike functional, says Doug Lewis, a kitchen and ablution remodeler in Richmond, VA. The combo’s acceptance is apprenticed absolutely by the charge to economize space—and it sacrifices the blast capabilities of a full-size awning aperture (as against to the angular account congenital into the basal of over-range microwaves).

“With those, you’re maybe accepting 25% discharge function,” Lewis says. “Plus, it’s aloof an awkward acme for adolescent or beneath bodies to use. Ever approved to ability over your arch to get hot soup out of the microwave? Not good.”

So what’s a space-starved homeowner to do? Undercounter microwaves are accepting popularity, Lewis says, and a growing cardinal of chiffonier manufacturers action designs that board them. You can additionally arise your bake beneath high cabinets while still attention that adored adverse space.

Photo by LuxWest Interiors For years now, microfiber has been the hero of home furniture—an affordable and applied best for its durability. So durable, in fact, that this vaguely suede-like bolt is accessible for a rest.

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Why? Best microfiber appliance can accomplish the all-embracing architectonics of a allowance arise anachronous and cheap, says Beverly Hills, CA–based artist Kita Williams. And while it’s not absurd to acquisition a microfiber allotment in a avant-garde shape, aren’t you accessible to try article new?

“Err on the ancillary of caution, and break abroad from microfiber,” Williams says. “Stick with linen, leather, pleather, tweed, and canvas-type fabrics.”

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