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banesapothecary · 4 years

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when the autumn leaves fall

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Halloween was David’s favorite holiday, though most people never seemed to understand why. David never bothered to explain it most of the time, but Patrick was one of the few people he didn’t need to explain it to—if not the only person. Patrick just understood.

Maybe it was that Patrick had heard enough stories from David’s time in New York, his relationships and the way he was treated, that it just clicked into place for him. Maybe he just really, truly saw David so much that he would’ve seen it without those stories. Whatever it was, the first time they’d celebrated Halloween together and David expressed his excitement, Patrick simply kissed his cheek and gave him a supportive grin that mirrored his glee over the holiday.

Halloween didn’t mean the same thing it had once meant; it didn’t need to anymore. In New York, Halloween was a night to be someone other. To escape himself and all the expectations. He could go to a party and be completely anonymous in his costume, if he wanted, and most of time, he did.

David knew he didn’t need to hide anymore, though. He knew it because Patrick saw him, because Patrick loved him, but he knew it for other reasons, too. He’d found his place, finally, where he belonged, where he was loved, where he’d made a happy life for himself with the people he truly cared about. He didn’t need to be someone else anymore, not on Halloween and not any other day of the year, either. Here, in Schitt’s Creek, he was loved for who he was, unconditionally.

But that didn’t mean the holiday didn’t still have a very special place in his heart.

It had been almost two months since they’d been married, and while it certainly wasn’t their first Halloween together, it was their first Halloween as a married couple and in their new home. The motel had never attracted much of a crowd of trick-or-treaters, and Patrick’s apartment building had only had one or two kids who lived in the building. This was the first Halloween since the Roses had lost everything and been forced to move that David could truly, authentically celebrate the holiday.

And celebrate, he intended to do.

“Are you sure you don’t want help decorating?” Patrick asked for the thousandth time that morning as he pressed a pleasantly warm cup of coffee into David’s hands.

David smiled and shook his head in exasperation as he inhaled the sweet smell of caramel and cocoa. “I make the creative decisions, remember?” He leaned forward to give his husband a quick kiss and pushed him toward the door, gentle but firm. “You go handle the store, I will turn the house into a fall haven.”

Patrick frowned, but he kissed David again. “If you’re sure—”

“I am,” David said with a tinge of annoyance in his tone, but he was still grinning at Patrick. “And don’t forget the candy!”

“You know,” Patrick said, walking backwards towards the car. “I wouldn’t need to go buy candy if you hadn’t already eaten the candy I bought last week.”

“Mhm, love you, too,” David called before shutting their front door.

***

Decorating should be an Olympic sport, David decided when he was finally finished. It was worth the sweat, though, as he stepped back to admire his work.

In the flowerbed next to the porch, David had carefully planted a tombstone that read “R.I.P. Moira Rose” that Roland had ordered from somewhere as a joke after her “death.” The front porch itself was simple: a few black wicker baskets with orange and yellow mums, fairy lights draped over the railings, and a witch-themed wreath from one of the store’s vendors. He’d been sure to leave room for jack-o-lanterns once those were done, too. He was saving that job for Patrick, knowing he loved the holiday, too, and would insist on doing something.

Inside, he’d stuck a little closer to his usual black and white aesthetic. At a craft fair he and Patrick had visited the weekend before, they’d found some painted ceramic pumpkins, and a few knit ones, as well, that he’d distributed throughout their home. On the little table by the entryway, he’d placed a few crow figurines left over from the Crows premiere, along with a few of his favorite candles from the fall collection at the store.

He’d also bought a grey and white plaid blanket to drape over the couch, and quite a few black and white pillows that matched the pattern. He’d even gotten some of those cheesy pillows that said things like “Hello Fall” and “Happy Halloween” in a cursive script that he used to think were tacky, but now that David had his own home to put them in, he couldn’t resist. As soon as fall was over, though, he would vehemently deny owning such basic decorations.

Satisfied with his work, he sat heavily on the couch, content to spend the rest of the afternoon reading.

A few hours later, his phone buzzed with a text from Patrick.

FROM: Patrick — Received 5:21 p.m.

--Closed the store. OMW to buy candy.

--Do we need anything else? Those pumpkin things you like?

TO: Patrick — Sent 5:21 p.m.

--Yes, please

--They’re called Pumpkin Delights and we respect them in this house

FROM: Patrick — Received 5:23 p.m.

--Of course, my apologies.

David rolled his eyes and grinned, returning to his book until Patrick texted him again a little later to say he was on his way home.

He set the book aside, stretching as he stood. It was nearly 6, and he knew neither of them would be in the mood to cook tonight. David was tired from decorating, and he knew Patrick would be exhausted from running the store on his own all day. After a moment of self-debate, he called their favorite pizza place and placed their usual order for delivery.

A few moments later, David heard the front door open and went to greet his husband, smiling as Patrick set the Rose Apothecary tote they used as a grocery bag down so he could take off his jacket.

“Okay, David,” Patrick was saying, “this candy is for the trick-or-treaters only. You can eat whatever’s left over after Halloween.”

“Mhm, yes, okay,” David said. “I’m so happy you’re home.”

Patrick smiled. “Miss me that much?”

“I was talking to Little Debbie, actually,” he said, pulling the box of Pumpkin Delights out of the bag. “But, yes,” David added, pressing a kiss to Patrick’s cheek.

Patrick’s arms slipped around his waist, holding him in place. “Missed you, too. The store is too quiet without you.”

“I don’t know if that’s a compliment or if you’re implying I’m loud,” David said.

Patrick’s eyes widened innocently. “Both,” he said.

David rolled his eyes. “So,” he said, changing the subject. “What do you think?” He turned his gaze around the living room, looking back to watch his husband take in his work.

“It looks great, David,” Patrick said. He was smiling, but David could see the slightest hint of a frown in the set of his eyebrows.

David smoothed a thumb across his brow and the line softened. “What is it?” he asked softly.

Patrick shook his head. “It’s nothing. I just...I wish you’d let me help a little.”

David grinned. “Ah, see, that’s where you’re wrong.” He gestured around the room with a loose hand. “You think all this is finished already.”

“It’s not?”

David slid his hand down Patrick’s arm to take his hand, and silently led him out the back door that opened onto the deck. Two large pumpkins sat on a patch of newspaper where David had set them in the middle of the deck earlier that afternoon.

“Obviously, Halloween decorations aren’t complete without jack-o-lanterns,” David told him. “You’re more than welcome to help with those. Actually, I encourage it.”

Patrick smiled at him, wide and brilliant as the fairy lights twinkling over the front porch and deck railings. “Thank you, David.”

David waved his thanks away with a grin. “Well, I draw the line at touching pumpkin guts, so,” he said. “Really, this is more selfish than anything.”

“Oh, of course,” Patrick nodded, stepping closer into David’s space and kissing him. He pulled away with a breathy laugh when his stomach rumbled. “Come on,” he said, pulling David back towards the house. “I’m starving. Dinner first, then pumpkin guts.”

“You say the most romantic things,” David said as they stepped into the kitchen. “Pizza is already on the way.”

Patrick turned to grin up at him. “Have I told you you’re my favorite husband?”

“Mm,” David hummed. “I better be, or you’re not getting any Pumpkin Delights for dessert.”

#david x patrick fic #david x patrick #david rose #patrick brewer #schitt's creek #my fic

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indestinatus · 4 years

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Graveyard Shift

TIVATOBER 2020 // DAY 15

↳ prompt: Cemetery - rated T (832 words)

summary: Three Musketeers shenanigans, but this time in a spooky setting.

A/N: Also known as the one story I wrote more because of the Halloween aesthetics than anything.

A/EN: As a little note here, I just want to say thank you so much to everyone who has been following this series!!! Your kudos, comments, and support mean so much to me and I'm so happy you're enjoying it :) I cannot believe we're already halfway through with this, but it's been so much fun!!! Sending you all my gratitude and love <3

read it on AO3 ⚰️

A sly black cat crossed his path, its long, curled tail swaying from side to side. It jumped onto one gravestone and stayed, choosing the spot as his residence for the night. The image was so fitting, Tony could’ve sworn he had seen it in a movie somewhere.

The cat tilted its head towards him, and the piercing gold eyes appeared to know a lot more about the secrets of life than humanly possible. Heavy clouds parted in the sky, revealing a silver moon that illuminated only dimly the rows of tombstones. Dry tree branches swayed with a silent breeze, and as Tony looked down, he missed a step—the fog was too dense to see anything past his knees.

Tony tightened the grip of his flashlight, though not out of fear. No, he was scared of letting it fall and lose it among all that fog, and now he just couldn’t afford that—the scenery was too amazing for him to suddenly go blind. It was as if he was stepping right into a Terence Fisher production, the characteristic spookiness of an approaching Halloween palpable in the chilly air.

It was perfect, and as he passed by the black cat, Tony cast him a wide grin; thinking for a moment he saw it smile back at him too, following him with its bright eyes.

“Don’t tell me you never tried it,” Tony said enthusiastically, continuing the conversation they had started in the van.

He heard McGee let out a tired sigh just behind him, apparently not as thrilled to be there as he was.

“I’m not a creep,” he huffed.

Tony looked over his shoulder to beam his flashlight in McGee’s face, who protested, clearly annoyed.

“It’s not creepy,” said Tony, wiggling his eyebrows. He pointed the flashlight to himself and grinned, “It’s exciting.”

“What is?” chimed in Ziva.

Tony smirked towards her. “Having sex in a graveyard,” he replied smugly. “Horny teenagers in the backseat of a car, late hours into the night, the thrilling fear of getting caught?”

He certainly remembered the number of times he sneaked out from his boarding school, and sometimes later during college. There was something really appealing in having a date seek his protection, then end tangled up together under the moonlight, sweaty and breathless in such contrast with the cold late night air.

Ziva’s chuckle took him out of his reverie, and Tony briefly wondered if she would even cling to his arm like the girls he used to date. Was she a different person when she was younger? He really doubted that.

“By the ghosts, you mean,” grunted McGee.

“Says the man who slept in a coffin,” replied Tony, yearning another soft chuckle coming from Ziva.

“I would not recommend it,” she said.

Tony frowned. “Sleep in a coffin?”

“Sex in a graveyard.”

He huffed in delight. Of course, he mused. Of course, she’d already done it. He wondered if it had been her idea.

“So you’ve tried it.” He stopped walking to turn to her, curious to hear more. “What was the most dangerous place you did it?”

Apparently, it had been a good memory because a smirk started to twitch in Ziva’s mouth.

“A bomb storage,” she said as she passed by him, and the sparkle in her eyes made him think back on the too-knowing cat.

“So the rumors are true.” Tony chuckled, following her. “She’s a killer queen.”

Ziva laughed then, and Tony was sure it had been her idea.

“What about you, Probie?” He asked as McGee matched his pace. “Your living room?”

“A mausoleum.”

Tony chuckled, surprised, then met Ziva’s gaze, who also looked at McGee with her brow raised.

“Thought Abby had a coffin,” quizzed Tony.

McGee’s brow pulled in, puzzled. “What? No, I mean…” He pointed straight ahead. “A mausoleum.”

And as the three of them followed where he’d pointed, there it was—a tall structure made of angular gray stone, its pillars stained and dirty, revealing the passage of time. A statue of an angel with one broken wing was perched on the top, its arms opened wide as if embracing the fog that now swirled around it.

“Oh,” said Tony, recognizing the name engraved on the stone as their victim’s.

“Well, nothing can top that,” mused Ziva, following McGee towards the crypt.

Tony’s eyebrows shot skywards. “Is that an offer, David?”

Ziva laughed then, turning over her shoulder to cast him a sly grin.

“Perhaps in another life, yes?”

She had already disappeared behind the crypt’s entrance when Tony caught the double meaning of her words, barking out a laugh towards the sky and disturbing some crows in the process. He wondered if he would be able to find a bomb storage nearby, but that would probably not be too wise on his part.

He had already crossed a black cat tonight, and if there was something he’d learned with many Terence Fisher’s movies… it was not to mess with too-knowing cats.

Israeli ones included.

#thank you <3 #here's musketeers shenanigans #tiva fanfiction #tivatober2020 #once upon a halloween #my fics

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nightashes · 4 years

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Virgil’s Self-Care Day

A/N: Inspired by @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes post. This fic is just utter silliness and fluff. No plot in sight.

Summary: "A fluffy fic where Virgil actually loves himself" Otherwise known as "Virgil has regular self-care days and the others join in."

Warnings: Food

Ao3 version - writing masterlist

The day begins with Virgil’s eyes snapping open. A smile spread across his face as he thinks of what day it is, the third Sunday of the month (otherwise known as Virgil’s self-care day.) He flings his covers off, springing from bed with a wide stretching grin. His alarm sounds a minute later and a song from Evanescence, his favorite band, begins blasting through his room. Virgil smirks at his phone.

“Sorry, bud, but your gonna have to be a little faster to beat me. I’m just too good for you.”

Was it weird to talk to his phone? Maybe. Did he care? Absolutely not.

Virgil takes a quick shower. His skin buzzing with excitement. Jumping out he speeds around his room throwing on his favorite ripped pants, combat boots, and for a change of pace he pulls out his Christmas sweater. The one that was made for him by Patton and Roman. Gosh, did he love those dorks.

Yes. Today was a great day. The thought came again and again. He just couldn’t get it out of his head. Nor did he want to. For today was his self-care day. A day just for him to spend doing what he loves best and hanging out with the people he cares for more than anything in this world. He studies his face in the mirror. A day like this deserves some extra special eye shadow. Maybe something even a little more.

Shifting through the makeup on the top of his dresser, the varying types of eyeshadow, mascara, highlighters, and lipsticks. For a day like this, a special day, would require some extra special care and attention. A foundation pale enough to make any vampire swoon. A purple lipstick dark enough for even his Gothic soul. And a smokey eye that was well... smoking. Yeah. Virgil was rocking it today.

Stepping back, he surveys his completed work. Brushing his hair to lay just in such a way as to cast shadows over his face, increasing his spooky vibes by ten. No one could deny (not even Roman) that being scary was just plain fun.

Speaking of the others, it was time for breakfast. Virgil bounds down the stairs, recipes he had searched for the night before buzzing in his head. This was going to be good. Logan was already in the kitchen making his morning cup of coffee. He looked up in shock at Virgil not only being awake this early, but also being so chipper about it. The thought disappeared as the pieces clicked together in his mind. And of course they would. Logan was just that smart.

“Self-care day, Virgil?”

“Self-care day.” Virgil smiles in response. “So pancakes? Or eggs and sausages? Maybe cinnamon rolls? Oh, I found a recipe for a quiche! What do you think?”

“As this day is for you and not I, I think it would be best to hold my opinions to myself and support your choice. Even if some of those choices are sorely lacking in nutritional value.”

“Quiche it is.” Virgil can’t help but appreciate Logan’s comment. The others always go the extra mile to make sure that he puts himself first on his self-care day. They truly do care about him.

Virgil begins pulling out all the ingredients from the fridge and cabinets, summoning whatever they don’t have. He mixes the wet ingredients (quiches sure do have a lot of eggs), folds in the veggies and extra goodies, and pours it all into the ready-made crust. Just in time for the oven to beep, letting him know that it was ready to go. Sliding the tray in with ease, Virgil leans back against the counter to appreciate this moment. Breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth in a semi-meditative state.

Patton speaks up from behind him, “Oh, is it your self-care day already?”

Virgil turns to see Patton already beginning to clean up the mess he had made baking.

“Leave that for me, Pat. I can handle it.”

“Virgil, if you’re baking for us. It’s only fair that I clean up after you.”

“Thanks, Popstar. You’re pretty cool.”

“Am I ice cold?” Patton throws back.

“Colder than Antarctica.”

“Awww, that’s pretty cold there, Mister. So what’s cooking, or should I say baking?”

Virgil chuckles out. “A quiche.”

“Sounds wonderful. And what are your plans for today?”

“Oh, I have some ideas. But I think I’ll just let the wind carry me, you know.”

“Something smells great. Whatever is in the oven is fit for a king.” Roman calls as he shuffles down the stairs, still in his crown pajamas. “Oh, Virgil!” He calls seeing the two shuffling around the kitchen. “I am looving that lipstick, I was hoping your self-care day was soon. I have a wonderful idea for what you can do to tick off your ‘spending time outside’ box. That is if you are willing?”

“Depends on whatever the idea actually is, Princey.”

“Well, picture this. The imagination. Flower fields. I know not spooky enough. But instead of the usual, I take you to see the new Deadly and Poisonous Plants and Flowers Exhibit. Made by yours truly just for you, Mr. Dark and Cheery.”

“Dark and cheery? Geez.” Virgil smirks at the nickname. “Yeah. Sure. I guess it sounds kinda cool.”

“Excellent! Just knock on my door when you’re ready. Now please tell me whatever you are baking is almost done! I swear that smell is making my mouth water.”

“In just a moment.”

And so after a family breakfast, where everyone made sure to compliment the quiche. Virgil had to say, it really was a good recipe. The group separated. Roman and Patton went to get ready. Logan insisted on cleaning up the table, since Pat and Virgil had done everything else. And Virgil sprawled himself across the couch, earbuds in and music on.

Virgil often called this time his “be like a cat hour.” Where he would lazily stretch out, taking as much space as he needed, and just spend an hour listening to his favorite songs and scrolling through his favorite Tumblr tags. It was a moment of pure bliss. Just an hour, where he could just be with himself and enjoy the moment. But like all things, the hour had to come to an end. And so with a heavy heart, he stretched out one last time, refusing to abandon the calm atmosphere of the moment, and rolled himself off the couch. He landed on the floor with an umpf. Blinking up at the ceiling, his mind slowly coming back online and thought through all of the options for what he could do next. Roman’s offer naturally came to mind. And so not a moment later, Virgil shuffled off to knock on the prince’s star-studded door, star-studded in that it was literally covered in sparkling stars. Virgil even recognized a few from that weirdly echoey mind palace that Roman had created during the Growing Up video.

He knocked once, twice, and before his fist could land a third time. The door swung open to reveal, a panting Roman with windswept hair. His pajamas finally replaced with his prince attire. “Ready, for the best self-care day you will ever experience.”

“I mean a self-care day isn’t really supposed to be a competition-”

“Just, come in. I have so much to show you.” Roman swings the door open, sweeping his arms through the air. “The imagination awaits.”

And so together, Dark and Stormy with Bright and Rosy made their way into the imagination. Walking across rolling hills, past a bustling town and castle, and to a wide expanse of meadows stretching across the west territory.

“Gardening has become a bit of a hobby of mine. And I get to grow so many nice flowers to gift to you and the others. Did you notice Patton’s flower crown the other day? Forget-me-knots, lily-of-the-valleys, and some daisies. All grown right here. Of course, I knew that wouldn’t interest you. So I was determined to cultivate a field of the strange and mysterious. Right over here.” Roman’s voice is loud and booming. His chest puffed out with obvious pride as he leads the anxious side deeper and deeper into the gardens. Across the twisting and turning paths until they stop at the edge of something right out of an Addams family movie. A knotted and scarred tree takes center stage with ivy growing up the twisted bark. The ground around the specimen is filled with black roses, deadly nightshade, oleander, hemlock, and varying types of thorny bushes.The path through the garden is scorched ground, as if Roman had created it by directing lightning strikes.

“Roman, this is actually pretty cool. How’d did you do this?”

“C’mon Virge, you can create anything with a little creativity.”

Virgil snorts at the cheesy answer. “Right sure. Just show me around.”

“Well, right done here, you will see a dried out fountain. And over there is a small cemetery. Nothing is actually buried there, but I thought you’d appreciate the aesthetic. There’s even a murder of crows that hang out there now.”

“Ah yes, my people, we do love to hang out in cemeteries and caw at the moon.”

“Oh, so you caw at the moon?”

“Do you doubt me?”

“No. no. How could I doubt someone who has shown they love to hiss as a way of communication? In fact, there’s a mini moon that floats above this garden just for you. Why don’t you go and caw at it now.”

“You think you can embarrass me into not cawing at the moon. Oh, Princey, Princey, Princey... You have no idea what you just started. Brethren crows!” Virgil calls to the birds settled amongst the tombstones. “The moon awaits us, let us caw!” And then the dark and stormy side runs off into the cemetery, flapping his arms and literally cawing at the moon.

Roman looks on, his mouth dropped, as his feeble mind tries to process the true magnificence that is Virgil cawing while the crows are flying around his head joining in his song. Some even land on his outstretched arms as if he were the Crow King and they were his humble subjects.

Virgil finishes his call with a wave of his arms, as the entire murder takes flight. Their bodies covering the mini moon as they fly off into the “night” sky darkening the already overcast garden. And the anxious side turns to his companion, a devilish smirk on his features as he delights in Roman’s flabbergasted expression.

“What’s wrong, Princey? Is my pure Halloween spirit too much for you?”

The creative side’s face immediately switches to a look of pure mischievousness. “Oh, you asked for it now. I’m going to tell all the sides all about your Halloween spirit.” He announces as he runs back through the garden heading towards the door to the imagination.

Virgil smirk only grows into a full-fledged Cheshire grin. “The hunt is on.” And then he is gone, sprinting after the creative side, his lanky form racing through the gardens, jumping over any obstacles. Barreling after the man who dares to try and best him.

Needless to say, Logan and Patton were both entirely shocked when Roman came rushing into the commons. Breathless and with windswept hair, gasping for words, only to be tackled by a cackling Virgil with murder in his eyes. The two dissolving into giggles as Roman fights to speak. “Logan… Patton… Virgil and… and the crows… and…”

Virgil manages to pin Roman to the ground, fighting to keep his laughter at a manageable level. He growls at his friend. “You’ve been caught by the Crow King. Prepare to perish!” A black permanent marker appearing in his hand.

Roman pales at the sight. “Virgil, wait. no. I’m sorry.”

Patton gasps at the sight. “Please, Virgil. He’s too young. He’s just a boy.”

“That doesn’t excuse him of his crimes. I am only doing what is just.”

“My beautiful face!” Roman bemoans as the marker meets skin.

Virgil is cackling.

Patton is clutching his heart.

And Logan… Well, Logan is just rolling his eyes.

“There.” The anxious side stands, releasing Roman from his grasp. “The deed is done.”

“What did he do?” Roman asks, desperately feeling around his face. “What did he write? Quick, a mirror! Someone get me a mirror.”

Patton manifests a mirror, passing it over to the panicking prince. “It’s okay. I’m here for you.”

Roman grips tightly onto the fatherly side’s hand. “Thank you, Patton.” He slowly raises the mirror with his other. Bringing it ever closer to his face to read the words written in bold across his forehead and cheeks ‘The Crow King Was Here.’

“My face. My poor beautiful face.” Roman waxes to the unforgiving world.

Meanwhile Virgil merely chuckles evilly. “You can’t embarrass me, Roman. I always win. That’s why I’m the king and you’re the prince.”

“Are we done now?” Logan asks with a look as if he and he alone carries the weight of the world.

“I’ll get you for this, emo.”

“Come at me, bro.” Virgil fires back.

Roman launches himself at Virgil, tackling him onto the couch. Virgil hissing in protest as he fights against his oppressors grip.

“Patton, help me.” Virgil reaches out to the moral side.

Roman flops down on top of Virgil, entrapping him beneath him. “Virgilcallshimselfthecrowkingbecausehecawsatthemoon.” Roman speaks quickly, his words running together.

“Huh?” Patton cocks his head.

“Virgil apparently caws at the moon?” Logan translates with utter confusion.

“I do!” Virgil shouts, his voice muffled as his face his pressed into the couch cushions. He struggles against Roman, lifting his head in defiance. “And I’m proud of it. I am the Crow King! Fear Me!”

“Mission Accomplished.” Roman collapses against the anxious side. “I’ll think I’ll just take a nap now.”

“Noooooo.” Virgil protests from beneath him.

“Oh, you silly kiddos. Do you guys wants some lunch?”

“Yes, please.” They speak in unison.

“Right. Virgil after lunch I was hoping to ask you to join me and Patton in our knitting club again. It was quite…pleasant the last time. And I thought it would check off your ‘do something creative’ box.”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” The dark and stormy side speaks from beneath Roman, resigned to his fate as a couch cushion.

Virgil’s self-care days didn’t always contain such chaos. But if Virgil was being truthful it was days like this, where they could all let loose without care or concern, that made him look forward to them with such excitement. And as he laid there, smushed underneath Roman and planning out his knitting project revenge, while Roman chatted on and on about how he should be the one to make dinner and then they could have a movie marathon after, Virgil decided that tickling his way out from under Roman just required too much energy. Instead, he allowed Roman’s flowery language to wash over him, surprisingly at peace with his predicament, as he patiently awaited for Logan and Patton to return with lunch.

awesome people to tag: @stop-it-anxiety @rainboots-are-for-snobs @hexatrash @ollyollyoxinfree

#virgil sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #sanders sides #sander sides #ts fanfic #ts fanfiction #sanders sides fanfiction #my writing #virgil loves himself #fluff #fanfiction #fanfic #food tw

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theelven-forest · 5 years

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Raven/Crow/Blackbird aesthetic/mood board (made by me)

“To the divine, mischievous spark in you”

Board requests are open!

Image Description: A black, white and gray Crow, Raven, or Blackbird collage including images of 2 bird silhouettes in mid-air a bubble with the quote “To the divine, mischievous spark in you”, a closeup of a black bird wing, a silhouette of a bird sitting on a fancy tombstone, and under those a quote saying ” à la folie. To Insanity”

#therian #otherkin #moodboard #aesthetic #ravens #crowkin #blackbird #birdkin #wingedkin

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muhgie · 5 years

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21 questions

Tagged by: @elfrootelf <3 :)

Nicknames: maggie (real name is margot), mad dog, mags, magster, magoo, muhgie, etc

Zodiac Sign: taurus!!!

Height: 5’5

Hogwarts House: gryffindor but honestly who even watches hp anymore

The last thing I googled: “hypertrophy 1 rep max”

Favorite musicians: guster, romany rye, fleetwood mac, matchbox 20, rob thomas, ella mai, coheed and cambria, g-eazy, tears for fears, counting crows, man man, hop along, hall & oates, marcy playground, migos, van morrison, snow tha product........etc :)

Some song stuck in my head: What a Memory by Romany Rye :-)

Following: 646

Followers: 283

Do you get asks: sometimes!!! i love getting them if they’re nice

Amount of sleep: uuuhhhhh 7-ish hrs

Lucky number: idk but when my mom would play the lotto on the tv’s at bars she’d let me pick the numbers and i would always choose 36 and 80 so i guess those ones!!!

What you’re wearing: gray hoodie, black leggings, and slightly mismatched socks

Dream job: private practice mental health therapist

Dream trip: i really wanna go out west, like to arizona to see the grand canyon, oregon, northern california, nevada, etc

Instruments: recorder!! lol! i tried to learn to play guitar but it wasn’t for me and i didnt apply myself enough

Languages: english, i want to learn Hebrew and Italian tho!

Favorite songs: OMFG OK, what a memory - romany rye, untitled (love song) - counting crows (& romany rye), i will buy you a new life - everclear (the “in a different light” version!!), like every van morrison song, september - earth, wind, & fire, real world - matchbox 20, c’mon - guster, ramona - guster, diane - guster, black jesus - susto, GAY IN THE SOUTH - SUSTO, county line - susto, college drop - sage the gemini, calm down - g-eazy, im a lady - santigold, etc

Random fact: i turn 22 next sunday

Aesthetic: detroit at night. green, vibrant woods. houses at night with soft light glowing from one window. freshly cut grass. rain. mossy cemeteries with old tombstones. cornfields at dawn. pseudo-catholic imagery. long car rides through woodlands in the summertime. freshwater lakes.

i dont have anyone to tag!!! but pls feel free to use this !!!!

#i love these #this one got me thinking abt music a lot :)#me

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acklest · 5 years

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@1000roughdrafts tagged me! I love these.

Rule: answer 21 questions and tag blogs you’d like to get to know

Nickname: I’m just Amanda, named for the Waylon Jennings song of the same name. I do not like Waylon Jennings.

Sign: Pisces

What I’m Wearing: Maylene and the Sons of Disaster t-shirt, Deadpool pajama pants, and socks with tiny American flags on them.

Dream Job: I have desperately and unwaveringly wanted to be a writer since I was 8 years old and read Madeleine L’Engles’ A Swiftly Tilting Planet.

Favorite Quote: Aut inveniam viam aut faciam (”I shall either find a way or make one”), attributed to Hannibal (the military commander, not the psychopathic serial killer), have it tattooed across my arms. It’s like my little always-visible “you can handle this” thing.

Favorite Food: Meat. Bring me all the red meat you have.

Favorite Movie: L.A. Confidential; The Usual Suspects; Michael Clayton; Galaxy Quest; Man on Fire; The Crow; Fight Club; Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang; Get Carter (the Michael Caine original), I have Tombstone memorized, so that’s a thing.

Favorite Sport: Hockey

Dream Trip: Before I die, I want to see Niki de Saint Phalle’s Tarot Garden in Italy. I also want to see The House on the Rock in Wisconsin and make a whole road trip out of it.

Languages: Seeing as I am: (1) an ex-smoker who always sounds like she has a slight cold (2) a southern mush-mouth, (3) (at the moment) pretty drunk, I assure ya’ll that, at the best of times, I barely speak English.

Favorite Song: I have 25,000 songs in my iTunes library and I love so many of them. I’m going to go by the top 5 “most plays” or I could literally sit here for hours trying to decide. Disposable Heroes - Metallica; How Many More Times - Led Zeppelin; Where the Devil Don’t Stay - Drive-by Truckers; Mind Eraser, No Chaser - Them Crooked Vultures; Sinister Kid - The Black Keys

Favorite Book: I’m counting the entire Lois McMaster Bujold Vorkosigan saga as one book and no one can stop me; ditto Steven Brust’s Vlad Taltos books, American Gods - Neil Gaiman, Good Omens - Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman, Snow Crash, Cryptonomicon - Neal Stephenson, Farenheit 451 - Ray Bradbury, Downbelow Station - CJ Cherryh, The Crocodile Bird - Ruth Rendell. Ugh, I’m gonna think of 900 more right after I hit Publish.

What Do I Hate: Oh my god, Tumblr doesn’t have the server space for that particular list. But if I have to pick one, it’s people who feel its their duty to coax introverts into “fun”, to fix them. Introverts don’t go around telling extroverts to read more or be quiet. Leave us alone.

Random Fact: I once dropped acid with four other high school friends out in the middle of a field and I spent my whole “trip” making sure they had blankets and water and making sure bugs weren’t getting on them and I was apparently very orderly and aggressive about it. I was therefore called Mama Buzzkill well into my twenties.

Describe Yourself as Aesthetic Things: Abandoned buildings, radio static, cheap paperbacks, black coffee that is now barely warm and has to be consumed like a shot of whisky or it will be cold and gross, wet piñata full of drug paraphernalia, the exchange of an unmarked brown envelope for a wad of cash... Am I doing this right? It just feels so dramatic. Is “Costo” an aesthetic, because we have to go to Costco tomorrow.

Do I Get Asks: Nah, I have anon disabled, it’s nothing but trouble, and if someone wants to reach out directly, it makes more sense to hit the message button and strike up a conversation that way. Is that “Fan Mail” thing still a thing here? That was hysterical.

Other Blogs: Not really, the multiple blogs thing was a pain in the ass. I don’t have the time or patience.

Hogwarts House: Pottermore placed me in Slytherin years ago.

Patronus: Honey badger

Favorite Characters: Dean Winchester (Supernatural). Let’s just go with him. I can’t think of any other character right now anyway. I am overwhelmed with grief.

Any Updates on a New Fic: I just had to delete chapter 9 of Anything and Everything All at Once because I jacked up my plot line. I’m not going to post more chapters until I have all of the remaining chapters done. I’ve learned my lesson.

#tag games #personal #about me #not spn #I have to go sleep now #longpost

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