#Baby ariel coloring sheet

[winterwolvesandstarbucks]

There was an odd torture to be found in the lingering silence that surrounded Bucky inside of the bathroom. Were it not for the dim glow of the strawberry-scented candle on the sink, the total darkness would've made him feel even more lifeless than he already felt. He laid as still as a decorative statue inside of the bathtub, his listless eyes gazing impassively at the dull shimmer of light reflecting off the obsidian colored scales that made up his lower body. The tail-fin of his merman form hung off the edge of the tub, its shape and visage changing in his perception the longer it remained immoveable in darkness, like a monster waiting to jump at him. Of the horrendous torments he'd endured in his long unnatural life, this was by far the most surreal and strange of them all. Life as a merman was often romanticized in fantasy novels as a form of beauty and freedom, but Bucky couldn't help but feel those notions were sorely overrated. Life as a merman was being a prisoner to your own vulnerable condition, especially when you lived in a high-rise studio apartment in Brooklyn. Ever since he'd been turned into a man-fish, his nerves were on the fritz and there was nothing he wanted more than to scream out his agony and frustration due to the hopelessness of his predicament. Selina, his beautiful and persevering kitten, had taken everything in stride and made the necessary arrangements towards getting him the necessary living accommodations. The bathtub he was presently laying in was nothing more than a common luxury no different from the others in the building until a few weeks ago. Thanks to a suspiciously charitable donation, Selina had the tub retrofitted with a heat-pump that kept the water at a warm temperature, so he wouldn't freeze at night. There was another pump that he suspected was used to clean the water and pour fresh salt into the tub. The noise was practically mute that were it not for the soft vibrations moving against his hips, Bucky would forget they were there. Despite how unfavorable he found his situation to be, Bucky couldn't help but be impressed by it all. He suspected Steve or even Stark had a hand in all this behind his back. Time would've been unknown for him were it not for the radio Selina would turn on for him each morning and afternoon. Those were the only high-points of his day; Selina in some ways was his anchor that kept him from drifting across the sea of despair he found himself standing in. A crushing abyss formed in his chest each time he watched her leave, and each time he had to tell her that he didn't want Mattie to see him like this. His baby-girl, so pure and full of life and innocence, he wanted to protect her from the oddities and cruelty this world presented with each passing day. The grief he felt was a welcomed hardship, but he knew that unless Steve's sorcerer pal found a way to help them undo this cursive magic, Bucky would have to face his little darlin', sooner or later. His troubled thoughts were interrupted by the sound of small steps encroaching outside the bathroom. His heart thumping with anticipation, he waited with baited breath until the doorknob slowly began to jiggle and turn.

With the devious prowess of an inquisitive kitten, seven-year-old Madison Barnes cautiously trudged into the darkened master bedroom, the soft illuminance of moonlight caressed her tousled, damp mahogany tresses, she had just finished her evening bath within the guest bathroom, encompassed by bubblegum scent mounds of frothy bubbles and deep sea-driving with her Disney princess doll-Ariel. She wasn't allowed to venture beyond the stairwell, to snuggle under the sheets that were soothingly infused with her Daddy's masculine scent of heady sandalwood and mint. Nothing compared to that smoky fragrance; Mattie missed her Daddy terribly, feeling detached from his protective warmth, the soft pressure of his quirking shapely lips gracing her cheek with a loving glide, the boyishness of his hearty laughter and heaviness of his corded muscles cradling her. Without him, she became a hostage of a restless sleep and disinterest of Disney movies and scraping her knees on home base. As hope restoked her brazen spirit, she collectively advanced past the vacant bed with stealthy paces of her delicate bare feet and neared the closed bathroom door. Her tiny hand reached up for the knob, jiggling it bit, only to realize that it was locked and etched with a keyhole. Selina always wore the key around her neck, along with Bucky's GI tags-there was no way of infiltrating the forbidden room, unless... Alighted with a surge of ingenuity, she whirled around with balletic poise and fixed her jeweled- bronze irises determinedly on the elegant wooden vanity, finding a hairpin atop of a collection of shabby notebooks. "Yeah, that could work," she murmured in hushed volume while suppressing a melodious giggle. "Mommy's kitty tricks can always open things that are locked..."

In the span of a few seconds, Bucky briefly considered raising his voice to warn off who the suspected visitor was. Or failing that, hide himself beneath a sheet and the tub-water since he now had no trouble breathing underneath it. Or, he could just growl and pretend to be sea-monster in the hopes that Mattie would find it alarming enough to run back to bed? He mentally slapped himself the moment the thought entered his mind. His little darlin' was far too clever and old to fall for that. Indecision tore at him, and he felt increasing dread and panic settling into his bones as the knob continued to jiggle; he discreetly hoped that for once that his daughter's skills would fail her. Once the latch successfully turned and the knob with it, he felt his heart stop and his breath catch in his chest. There was no stopping her now, he knew. She would see him for what he was, what he'd become. A freak, not the handsome human she used to call "daddy". Slowly he let his head sink into the tub water until only his steel-blue eyes were above the surface. The silence that was enveloped the room was disturbed as the door slowly creaked open and a soft voice entered his midst.

Registering a slap of water gushing over the low-dipped whirlpool tub, Mattie reeled back hesitantly at the second her dark irises alarmingly captured a monstrous shape arching reactively against her swift intrusion. With steeled control etched over her angelic, kittenish features, she harbored resistance taking a moment to effectively steer her questing gaze against the semi-darkness and faint glow of candlelight. Everything bespoke isolation in the contrasts, the air was potent with a stench of salt, bracing herself, she edged closer to the granite step that had an empty plastic bowl of soggy corn pops and a half-filled glass of cranberry juice. "Daddy, are ya in here..." she beckoned with a hitching breath. "You gotta stop hidin'..."

Bucky's eyes shuttered tightly to mask the pain that was moving through him. The sound of Mattie's voice had the power to undo him from even the most hardened knot. Beautiful and tentative with child-like wonder as she brazenly entered the bathroom wearing her PJs. Her mahogany locks were curly and wild as if she had just got out of bed, yet the sound of her voice and the clear complexity of her face made it clear that she hadn't been sleeping much. He wondered where Selina was, or if she was still asleep and Mattie had just been that good—that stealthy—to have slipped past her. It didn't matter now, his little darlin's steps took her closer towards the tub where he could no longer hide himself in the dim shadows and the sloshing water surrounding him. "Mmph, go back to bed, Mattie. You can't be around daddy right now. Daddy's not doin' too good," he said with tired voice that he hoped sounded convincing. There was no use hiding himself, but at least he could gently deter her from him he hoped. He could let her see him like this. What if she screamed in shock? What if she ran to bed in distress and he was unable to go and comfort her? He couldn't decide which outcome was worst, but they both made his heart feel heavier. Swallowing, he watched as she paused a few feet from the tub, her brown orbs peering at him with thought.

[whisperthatruns]

Tulips

The tulips are too excitable, it is winter here. Look how white everything is, how quiet, how snowed-in. I am learning peacefulness, lying by myself quietly As the light lies on these white walls, this bed, these hands. I am nobody; I have nothing to do with explosions. I have given my name and my day-clothes up to the nurses And my history to the anesthetist and my body to surgeons.

They have propped my head between the pillow and the sheet-cuff Like an eye between two white lids that will not shut. Stupid pupil, it has to take everything in. The nurses pass and pass, they are no trouble, They pass the way gulls pass inland in their white caps, Doing things with their hands, one just the same as another, So it is impossible to tell how many there are.

My body is a pebble to them, they tend it as water Tends to the pebbles it must run over, smoothing them gently. They bring me numbness in their bright needles, they bring me sleep. Now I have lost myself I am sick of baggage— My patent leather overnight case like a black pillbox, My husband and child smiling out of the family photo; Their smiles catch onto my skin, little smiling hooks.

I have let things slip, a thirty-year-old cargo boat Stubbornly hanging on to my name and address. They have swabbed me clear of my loving associations. Scared and bare on the green plastic-pillowed trolley I watched my teaset, my bureaus of linen, my books Sink out of sight, and the water went over my head. I am a nun now, I have never been so pure.

I didn’t want any flowers, I only wanted To lie with my hands turned up and be utterly empty. How free it is, you have no idea how free— The peacefulness is so big it dazes you, And it asks nothing, a name tag, a few trinkets. It is what the dead close on, finally; I imagine them Shutting their mouths on it, like a Communion tablet.

The tulips are too red in the first place, they hurt me. Even through the gift paper I could hear them breathe Lightly, through their white swaddlings, like an awful baby. Their redness talks to my wound, it corresponds. They are subtle: they seem to float, though they weigh me down, Upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their color, A dozen red lead sinkers round my neck.

Nobody watched me before, now I am watched. The tulips turn to me, and the window behind me Where once a day the light slowly widens and slowly thins, And I see myself, flat, ridiculous, a cut-paper shadow Between the eye of the sun and the eyes of the tulips, And I have no face, I have wanted to efface myself. The vivid tulips eat my oxygen.

Before they came the air was calm enough, Coming and going, breath by breath, without any fuss. Then the tulips filled it up like a loud noise. Now the air snags and eddies round them the way a river Snags and eddies round a sunken rust-red engine. They concentrate my attention, that was happy Playing and resting without committing itself.

The walls, also, seem to be warming themselves. The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals; They are opening like the mouth of some great African cat, And I am aware of my heart: it opens and closes Its bowl of red blooms out of sheer love of me. The water I taste is warm and salt, like the sea, And comes from a country far away as health.

Sylvia Plath, Ariel: The Restored Edition: A Facsimile of Plath’s Manuscript, Reinstating Her Original Selection and Arrangement (HarperCollins, 2004)

[let-the-dream-begin]

In My Daughter’s Eyes Chapter 28: Storm Surge

Chapter 27

Read on AO3

Storm surge: rise in seawater level during a storm

——

Four days. That was how long Claire was stuck at the hospital, how many nights she slept on that shitty cot, how many days she’d eaten nothing but hospital food, how many days since she’d seen her daughter.

How many days that Jamie had spent with her daughter.

The roads were finally clear of debris at around noon, but her shift hadn’t ended until 8:30. She was racing home, desperate to get there before Faith fell asleep. She was certain she’d burst into tears if she couldn’t hug her after the longest separation of their lives. The last text she’d received from Jamie had assured her that they were both wide awake and watching The Little Mermaid, but who was to say that she wouldn’t crash during her drive home?

Unfortunately, the power was still not back at the apartment complex, and Claire’s drive home confirmed that it was not just them. People at the hospital were predicting it would be out at least a week. Claire prayed it would be sooner considering how upset Jamie said Faith had gotten when the lights would not work.

She pulled into the driveway, and did not even bother grabbing her duffle bag from the back seat. She snagged her purse and bolted up the front steps. The door swung open, and there she was, her little girl, bouncing with her arms stretched upward.

“Oh, hello!” Claire exclaimed, letting her purse fall to the floor and scooping Faith up. “Oh, my sweet girl, I missed you so much…”

Faith was humming loudly, squeezing her mother around the neck, and kicking her dangling legs uncontrollably. She began rubbing her cheek against Claire’s and running her fingers through her hair.

“Oh, yes, hello, love…” Claire kissed both of her cheeks over and over, then her head, then her cheeks again. Faith intercepted more kisses by slapping her palms against Claire’s cheeks, causing Claire to sputter and flinch, but she didn’t have the heart to scold her for it. Faith held her mother’s head in place, squishing their faces together.

“Yes, hi, baby, I missed you, too…” Claire nuzzled her nose against Faith’s, even as her little hands squeezed the life out of her cheeks. From the corner of her eye, Claire could see Jamie standing back, watching them. Claire shifted Faith in her arms, settling her on one hip so she could see again. Faith was not finished, however; she continued to rub Claire’s face and fiddle with her hair and rub their cheeks together.

“Hi,” Claire said, her voice thick with emotion, her face flushed.

“Hi,” Jamie answered, stepping closer.

Claire flicked her eyes down to the fort of sheets in the middle of the living room, and she bit her lip.

“It looked bigger in the pictures,” she said, laughing. “You really fit in there?”

“Aye,” Jamie said in mock offense. “It would be a failed endeavor entirely if I didna.”

Claire broke into an enormous grin, and she slid Faith down her body to set her on her feet. Before she could step into Jamie’s arms, Faith wrapped herself bodily around Claire’s legs, rubbing her face on her capris. Claire snorted with laughter as Jamie closed the distance between them, and she was still laughing when he captured her lips with his.

Behind Claire’s eyes danced every photo that Jamie had sent her over the last four days, every play-doh sculpture, every coloring book page, every lego structure, every selfie of the two of them in the fort, and she was overcome. She grasped his face in her hands, squeezing, deepening the kiss.

Despite how busy she’d been at the hospital, she’d had lots of time to think, many hours on that damned cot where sleep eluded her. And she knew, she knew to the very marrow of her bones the truth of what was ready to burst out of her like a storm surge.

Just when she was becoming dizzy for lack of air, she broke the kiss, and Jamie gaped at her. “What was that f— ”

“I love you.”

Jamie’s voice broke off immediately, his mouth flapping soundlessly. As Claire cradled his face close to hers, her stomach flipped, and her heart leapt into her throat. She’d meant it; meant it more than anything in her life. It was something she supposed she knew for a while, perhaps even before that first kiss, but it wasn’t something she’d allowed herself to feel until very recently. And it wasn’t something she was ready to say until it was ready to burst out of her. She was smacked over the head with it on that first night in her hospital cot, and the days and days before she could get back to him and tell him had been agony.

“What…” Jamie’s voice was light and airy, “did ye say..?”

Claire’s breath stuttered out of her with a tremble, and she wet her lips. “I love you, Jamie,” she repeated, resolutely, tightening her grip on his face.

His shuddering exhale danced across her skin, and she watched as his eyes welled up. They danced all over her face, as if to memorize her every feature the moment she’d said it.

“Christ…” His voice broke, and he laughed in spite of himself, a single tear spilling over. “I love you, Claire. God, how I love ye.”

As if he couldn’t control himself, he kissed her feverishly, threading his fingers through her hair. Claire nearly tipped backward at the force of his affection, being that her legs were rooted in place by a thirty-eight pound weight. Jamie quickly adjusted to catch her, covering the entire span of her back with his two hands. Their lips broke apart to laugh, and Jamie pulled her back upright into a tight embrace. They swayed for a good while to the tuneless melody of Faith’s joyful humming.

God, how I love you.

Claire inhaled deeply, breathing him in. He smelled of his aftershave, crisp and clean, and somehow also like spaghetti-os, like Angus’s dental treats, and like Faith’s shampoo that somehow always clung to her hair no matter how long it was between showers.

He smelled like home.

Reluctantly, Claire peeled herself away from him, then looked down at Faith. She debated using her harsher tone to make her let go, but then decided she didn’t have it in her at the moment. Instead, she melted to the floor, forcing Faith to topple on top of her. Faith got an idea then; Claire could see it in her eyes. Then she was being pulled into the fort, and there was absolutely nothing Claire could do about it.

Before Claire could even blink, she was nestled in a veritable bird’s nest of blankets and pillows, Faith in her lap, and Prince Eric was finding Ariel on the beach. Jamie crawled in after them, grinning impishly.

“I hope you realize what you’ve done,” Claire said. “I’ll never be able to take this down now. It’s going to become a permanent fixture. Are these pillows from my bed?”

She arched an eyebrow at him, attempting intimidation, but given the spread of Jamie’s grin, she supposed it was not at all working. He settled in beside her on the air mattress, brushing hair off her neck and kissing her there and then nuzzling the spot with his nose. Like a cat whose favorite scratching spot had been found, Claire’s body went limp and liquid against him until she was in his lap, pulling Faith with her. Eventually, they were in an indecipherable pile of limbs, all three of them. During “Kiss the Girl,” Jamie kept looking down at Claire and waggling his eyebrows absurdly until Claire rolled her eyes and obliged him for a quick peck. She lost count of how many times it happened by the end of the song.

Faith didn’t fall asleep during the movie, but neither did she want to move when it finished. Jamie retreated from the fort and returned with a plastic cup that came from the kitchen, a bathroom Dixie cup, and Faith’s toothbrush. To Claire’s bewildered look, Jamie replied:

“I wasna gonna let her get away wi’ no’ brushing until the power came back. So I brought it to her. It’s been working.”

Claire’s face softened as she remembered the meltdown over the lights that Jamie had mentioned on the first night. That he had found a workaround solution that did not distress Faith was astounding and heartwarming. She watched in awe as Faith sat in her nest of blankets with her mouth open, putting up no fight as Jamie brushed her teeth. He had her spit into the empty plastic cup, and then rinse and spit with the water from the Dixie cup.

“Good girl,” Jamie praised, poking her nose with her toothbrush. He departed then, and Claire could hear him washing the cup in the kitchen sink.

“Good job, baby,” Claire repeated, rubbing her shoulder and kissing her head. “You had so much fun with Jamie, didn’t you?” Faith hummed contently, swirling her fingers in Angus’s fur. “Such a good girl.”

Jamie returned shortly after, and Claire could not help but laugh at the sight of that Viking of a man crawling into the small opening. “So what now?” The words bubbled through her laughter. “We lay here all night?”

He blushed a little. “Well, that’s what I’ve been doing.”

Claire gawked. “Are you serious? I was joking.”

His blush deepened. “She got upset when I tried to leave. And she’d already melted down twice that day. Figured it wasna fair to make her go again just fer me.”

Claire could literally feel herself melting, inside and out. If she hadn’t already found the nerve to say it, she would have been overcome and blurted it out right then. Perhaps Jamie could see it, because he inched closer.

“Come here,” Claire crooned, holding onto Faith with one arm and pulling Jamie closer with the other, kissing him soundly. She pulled away when she felt something plastic poking at her nose, and she went cross-eyed trying to see what it was.

The medicine dropper.

“Right,” Claire said sheepishly, and Jamie smirked at her. Claire lifted Faith off her lap as Jamie simultaneously swiped the pillows that came from Claire’s bed off the air mattress. Faith settled in on her pillow, nestled under her blanket, and Claire gave her the Risperdal.

“Good girl,” she said, and she patted the space next to Faith, which Angus hopped into obediently. When she shifted in her seat on the air mattress, she saw Jamie lying on his back with his hands behind his head, a pillow on the floor for each of them. He raised his eyebrows invitingly and nodded toward the unoccupied pillow, and Claire groaned audibly.

“I am not sleeping here all night,” she grumbled, even as she nuzzled into him, mostly on him rather than the pillow. “Not after four nights on a cot.”

“Aye, alright,” he said, kissing her forehead. “We can move in about an hour.”

Claire sighed resignedly. “You’re staying the night?”

“I don’t have to — ”

“I want you to,” she interrupted firmly, resting her chin on his chest to look him in the eye. “It wasn’t really a question.”

“Aye.” Jamie chuckled nervously. “Alright.”

Smiling in victory she lay her head on his chest again. They lay tangled together, Jamie rubbing up and down her back, Claire tracing circles on his chest. Once Faith’s breathing grew heavy, they tentatively sat up. One by one, they inched out of the small opening to the fort, each of them holding a pillow, both of them having to bite their lips to keep from giggling like school children. Once they got to their feet, they crept quickly and silently to Claire’s bedroom, and the second the door was shut, they let loose the bubbling laughter. Jamie tossed the pillows onto the bed and turned back to her.

Even as they were both still laughing, Claire locked the door behind her and pressed her mouth to Jamie’s in one swift motion. She felt the growl in his chest before she heard it, and both sensations sent heat rushing to her core. They stumbled back until they landed in a heap on the bed, laughing again. Claire straddled him immediately, deepening the kiss and rolling her hips when Jamie greedily seized handfuls of her arse.

She sighed a delicious moan into his mouth, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt and pulling it off between kisses. In return, he pulled off her shirt and undid her bra with an expert ease of someone who’d been having sex much longer than he’d been.

“Oh, I missed you…” Claire crooned, her entire body tingling with delighted electricity at the feeling of skin on skin, her breasts pressed flat against his chest. To further relish in this feeling, she scooted lower to suckle at his neck, delighting in his groans and how his roaming hands on her back would stutter and dig their nails into her when she nibbled. She made her way down to his nipples, having recently learned that he was nearly as sensitive there as a woman. She teased him for probably longer than he could bear, considering he yanked her face back up to his for a searing kiss. He abruptly sat up, pushing her up with him, so she was straddling his lap. He bore his eyes into hers while he undid her button and fly.

“Take them off.”

She shivered from head to toe at his command, and she immediately obeyed, getting up on her knees to slide her capris and underwear down, and he did not help her get them over her knees and heels. She stayed up on her knees and he growled hungrily, reaching up to kiss her, trailing his hand up her inner thigh, and resting to cup her, cover her entirely. She gasped raggedly, tugging on his hair roughly. His fingers slipped in easily, and she groaned loudly, unable to stop from thrusting her hips, riding his hand.

“It is such an honor…to worship this body…” he breathed into her neck, stroking her walls deftly. “To love this body.”

Love.

Claire had had sex. She’d had sex before Frank, had sex with Frank. She’d had sex with Jamie, of course.

But she’d never, ever made love.

That was what this was, what it had to be. Sex, fucking, was not enough to describe it. She’d never been caressed inside the way Jamie did, she’d never known such affection as his other hand roaming up and down her torso, tenderly squeezing each breast in their turn. Every touch said he loved her.

And she believed him.

It would have been too easy to let his fingers finish her, and she would have been all the more ready for him, but she couldn’t stand another moment without him inside her. Caught off guard, Jamie did not expect the rough shove she gave him, pushing him onto his back, forcing his fingers out of her. She undid his fly and slid off the remainder of his clothing until he was fully bared to her.

She greedily roamed her eyes all over his perfect form, her lips flapping uselessly. What could she say that could even come close to the poetics that Jamie had uttered to her? “I’m honored to worship your body, too,” would be ridiculously stupid, not to mention inadequate.

So, she settled on the only thing she could think to say.

“I love you.”

She whispered it against his lips as she took him in, inch by inch, his grip on her arse tightening and tightening with every inch. He kissed her then, groaning. She rode him slowly, savoring every second; every second of their love-making.

“With all my heart, I love you.”

Tears sprang to his eyes at that, and she kissed them away. She didn’t realize that she, too, was crying, until he flipped her over, staying inside, and kissed away moisture on her own cheeks.

“I love you, Claire,” he groaned into her ear, moving slowly inside her. “My heart is yours. I love you.”

He loved her tenderly, softly, wildly, hard, so achingly hard, loudly. They fell together in shared ecstasy, their hearts beating as one. 

If his heart was hers, then hers was his.

Even while Claire was still convinced she was in love with Frank, she’d never known what it was like to lose her heart. Not until Faith. The second her baby was put in her arms, her heart was no longer hers. She thought it was impossible to give away something that had already been given.

But, without her knowing, there’d been a piece tucked away all along, a piece that was waiting for Jamie.

I’ve waited all my life to love you.

And as the blackness of a deep, dreamless sleep overcame her, the scent of their combined sweat dancing in her nose, his arms like a vice around her, she knew it to be true.

——

From a dead sleep, Claire was woken by a sudden chill. For a terrifying moment, she thought she might be coming down with something. She listened to her body for aches and pains but felt nothing. And then she realized.

Jamie’s warmth had left her.

She sat up, too quickly considering how her head spun, and could see in the light of the moon that Jamie was getting dressed.

“Where are you going?”

Jamie turned around, putting his arms through the sleeves of his t-shirt. “Ye didna hear?”

A loud bang sounded, making Claire jump ten feet in the air and instinctually cover herself with the sheets. The bang was followed by a loud whine, and the pieces clicked in her head.

Jamie tossed Claire a t-shirt, one of his given the scent of it, and a fresh pair of underwear. Claire was too tired to remark on his going through her underwear, but she tucked that away for later. Now in flannel pants and a fresh shirt, Jamie made his way to the door, turning to make sure that Claire was dressed before unlocking and opening it. Faith did not even address Jamie, and before he could say anything, she was already shuffling past him and toward the bed. Claire glanced at her phone for the time, two in the morning.

She sighed in defeat, helping Faith as she climbed clumsily into the bed. Angus trotted behind her and hopped up onto the bed, settling at Claire’s feet. As Claire was getting Faith settled, she felt the bed shift, and looked up to see Jamie getting in on the other side of Faith. It did not take long at all for Claire to fall dead asleep again, Jamie’s arm draped over Faith’s body and around Claire’s waist. The last thing she heard was a muffled kiss to a curly head, and not her own.

“I love ye, sweet Faith.”

[sunkissedpages]

breaking curfew [part one] || th x reader

A/N: did i proofread this??? uhhhhh...

Summary: When you got the job to be a counselor at the summer camp you’d grown up attending all your life, you expected to see some familiar faces. But you certainly hadn’t counted on having to work alongside the boy who had made it his life’s mission to make your life a living hell every summer. In fact, you thought you’d never have to see Tom Holland again. But he’s is in the cabin right across from yours with campers of his own- smirk, jawline, and all. If you didn’t know any better you might’ve thought that he applied for the position just to spite you, but who were you kidding? What kind of asshole would do something like that?

Warnings: swearing, few mentions of anxiety symptoms

What I listened to while writing: the breaking curfew playlist by @cinnamon-roll-peter!!

Word Count: 3.5k

Prologue | Series Masterlist

“And she’s allergic to shellfish! It should say on the form, but I just wanted to be extra sure you knew!” You nodded reassuringly as you listened to the nervous mother ramble on about her daughter’s health. The little girl, May you thought her name was, looked eager to join the others who were coloring on the floor inside the cabin, but her mother kept a tight grip on the strap of her backpack. You couldn’t say that you blamed the woman. She was about to leave her child with you for two whole months with only one visiting weekend in between. It was enough to make any parent anxious. “She always keeps her epipen on her too, and she knows how to administer it to herself, but if you want to show the other kids how to do it at some point tonight that would be really he-“

“Mom!” the girl sighed, cheeks red with embarrassment.

You smiled. “I’ll show all my campers how to use the epipen before bed tonight. One of my other girls has a good allergy as well, so we’ll all be sure to be extra careful.”

The mom seemed to relax a little at that and let go of her daughter’s bag. “Okay, thank you. I guess that’s my cue to leave then.” 

May turned around to give her mom a big hug and a kiss on the cheek before skipping past you into the cabin to color with the other girls. 

“I love you, May!” the woman called after her, eyes glassy. “Make sure to behave, okay? I’ll see you soon!”

May waved noncommittally from inside, and shouted a weak ’I love you’ back at her mom. She was already engrossed with the Disney Princess coloring sheets you’d spread out on the floor and was currently trying to decide what color Anna’s outfit should be. That was clearly too important to be distracted from by anything else, even her own mother.

You watched as May’s mom turned and walked back down the steps towards the parking lot and breathed a sigh of relief. Three down, two to go. 

Drop-offs were always a tossup. Sometimes they went off without a hitch, and sometimes there were tears from both parties, parent and child, and having to gently separate them from each other was a nightmare. So far, though, things had been running relatively smoothly. There had been some sniffling from your first camper, Grace, but as soon as another camper showed up she was too busy making a new friend to even think about missing her dads. 

You glanced back at your campers, all chattering and coloring excitedly. Grace, Evangeline, and May. You tried to memorize the distinct features of each girl so you wouldn’t get them confused later, or worse lose one of them. 

May had fair skin, and light brown hair done in neat, small braids down to her shoulders. Eva had a few missing baby teeth already and dark curly hair. And Grace, your first camper, had dirty blonde curls and a few freckles dotted across her nose. 

You already knew a little bit about what they were like from reading through their files and stalking their parents’ social media accounts, but you tried not to make judgements based off of what you’d already seen. You wanted to get to know your girls organically. As much as parents liked to think they knew their kids better than anyone, they often only got surface level versions of their childrens’ personalities by only seeing what they chose to see. 

Amalia was dropped off next by both of her parents. She was your only international camper, coming all the way from Senegal. You had been wondering why she’d travel halfway across the world to go to a tiny camp in the Smoky Mountains, but that question was answered when her father explained that they had business up in Maine for the summer. 

You shook his hand as well as her mother’s before they kissed Amalia goodbye and sent her off into the cabin. You watched her join the group no problem. Eva even made a space for her in the circle and handed her a coloring sheet. 

That just left Theo. She was the last camper you were waiting on and the dropoff window was starting to get narrow. Parents and campers were supposed to check in between three and five pm so that everyone would be there in time for dinner, but it was already a quarter till five and still no word. 

You left the front door propped open in case they showed up and took a spot on the floor with your girls. 

They all stopped coloring and looked up at you expectantly. You cleared your throat awkwardly and smiled tightly. Why were you so nervous all of the sudden? You were the cool college kid... right? And they were just second graders... who were you kidding, you really wanted them to like you.

“Hey guys, I’m your counselor for the summer,” you said, “and I met all of you individually, but I wanted the chance to get to know you as a group! So we’re gonna go around the circle and introduce ourselves with your name, where you’re from, and showing everyone what you colored. I’ll go first. I’m y/n, I’m from New York, and I colored this picture of Belle from Beauty and the Beast earlier.” You pulled the folded piece of paper out of your pocket and showed it to the girls. You’d rushed it this morning so it was subpar at best, but they all complimented it anyway. “You wanna go next?” you asked Grace, who was sitting to your left. 

“I’m Grace, I’m from Washington, and I colored this picture of Jasmine and Raja.” She showed you and the other girls the sheet. She’d given Jasmine her signature blue outfit, but the tiger was now pink. Respect.

You turned your attention to Eva and the girls followed in suit. She held up a picture of Ariel to show everyone. 

“I’m Evangeline, I’m from Arizona, and this is what I colored.”

Then, “I’m May, I’m from California, and I did this picture of Anna and Elsa.”

“I’m Amalia, I’m from Senegal, and I colored a picture of  Mulan, but I didn’t finish it.”

With introductions out of the way, the four of them turned their heads back towards you, waiting for further instruction. You checked your watch and sighed quietly. There was still a bit of time to kill before dinner.

“Okay, let’s start making our beds and unpacking our things before we head to dinner and meet everyone else.”

The girls scrambled for their bags that you’d stashed over in the corner to keep out of the way and started pulling sheets, blankets, and random clothes out all at once. You quickly realized none of them would know how to put a fitted sheet on a bed and cursed under your breath. You should’ve done things in a more organized manner, but now here you were, standing in the midst of chaos. And several pillow pets. 

You decided to do beds one at a time, which is really how you should have done it the first time, and got the other campers to help you. Each girl took a corner of the fitted sheet and wrestled it onto each mattress. By the time you got to the last bunk the five of you were like a well-oiled machine. The final bed was able to be made in under a minute flat, pillow pets and all. 

 The girls all congratulated each other on their hard work with high-fives, and then asked if they could do it again. Unmaking and remaking all of the beds sounded like a nightmare so you promised them you’d let them try and break their bed-making record on the next laundry day and they seemed satisfied with that.

It was almost time for dinner and your last camper still wasn’t there yet. You decided to round up your girls anyway and head over to the mess hall. They were probably getting hungry and you didn’t want to be known as the late cabin so early in the game- though knowing you it was inevitable at some point. 

Only Eva needed help tying her shoes, and then they were all ready to go. You were about to leave when you remembered May’s allergy band. Forgetting it could’ve been potentially disastrous. You quickly fastened it around her wrist before slipping into your own already-tied sneakers and beckoning the girls to follow you out of the cabin.

You locked the door behind you and hustled down the stairs two at a time onto the wet grass. The sky was streaked with thin pink clouds, alluding to the sunset that would follow. You admired it as you walked, thinking about how good it felt to be back in this place. The girls chatted behind you as you walked, but you were zoned out and focused on the scenery around you. 

A light layer of fog was draped over some of the mountains in the distance, sparkling where it caught the light from the sun. From where you were standing it looked like a big blanket had been thrown across them and it reminded you of those early morning hikes your counselors made you and your friends do when they caught you sneaking out at night.

The mess hall was already buzzing one you arrived with your campers. There was already a line of kids weaved around the room, waiting for food. You ushered your group over to table eleven to put their stuff down and then go hop in line. You watched them go and started after them, but stopped to talk to Z. She was leaning against her empty table, waiting for her campers to come back from getting dinner so she could make sure they all got food before she did.

“Nice outfit,” you quipped nodding at the stiff blue polo tucked into khaki shorts.

She looked unamused. “We’re literally wearing the same thing.”

“Yeah, but you just wear it so much better.” You popped your collar and winked.

“Don’t do that, you look like a frat dude who’s about to get expelled for hazing.”

“You sure you’re not talking about Tom?” you asked, looking around for the curly-haired boy.

Zendaya snorted. “Well in that case the both of you look like frat boys.”

“I know you’re joking, but I’m still offended.”

“For what it’s worth, you’d make a much hotter frat guy than Tom.”

You didn’t know about that, but you appreciated the sentiment. “How’s your first day so far?” you asked, “everyone getting along?”

“Yeah, things are going okay,” she cocked her head to the side in thought. “I mean as ‘okay’ as they can be with fourth graders.” You chuckled. “Why did I do that to myself? Puberty starts in fourth grade, that’s common knowledge I’m a fucking idiot.”

“I mean we were angels as fourth graders.”

“We were assholes as fourth graders,” Zendaya corrected with a roll of her eyes. “And this is my karma.”

“Oh yeah... stealing Tom and his friends’ mattresses and putting them in the lake in fourth grade must’ve slipped my mind,” you mused.

“Five bucks he’s still bitter about it and brings it up at some point this summer?”

“Oh that’s guaranteed, but fingers crossed I don’t even have to talk to him at all to find out.”

“You’re just gonna, what, avoid him all summer?”

“That’s the plan.”

“Let me know how that goes for you.”

All of the sudden, the walkie-talkie at the waistband of your shorts crackled to life, and you all but shouted in surprise. You’d been carrying the thing around for days, and you had been starting to suspect that it was just for looks and didn’t even do anything, but clearly you were wrong. It was Lorraine telling you that your last camper had just checked in and that you need to meet her and her mother at the office. 

“Can you watch my cabin while I’m gone?”

You turned to go, but Zendaya held out an arm to stop you. “Hey, I wanna hear all about your day later, okay?”

“Wanna sit together at the bonfire tonight?”

“Sure, if my campers don’t kill me first.” 

“Best of luck to you.” You saluted her with your fingers before breaking into a jog and running out of the mess hall. Your camper probably felt bad about being late already, and you didn’t want to make her feel worse by taking forever to pick her up.

When you got to Lorraine’s office the door was already tapped so you went ahead and knocked lightly before pushing it open. She was currently speaking to who you assumed to be your camper and her mom and didn’t notice you come in until you cleared your throat awkwardly.

“Oh, y/n! That was quick, come meet Theo and her mother, Jeanne.”

You smiled and stretched your your hand for Jeanne to shake, then turned to Theo. “Nice to meet you both.”

Theo had her dark hair tied up in a ponytail on top of her head with little strands escaping the hold of the elastic. Big green eyes blinked up at you shyly and you offered a small grin to try and ease her nerves. 

“Sorry we’re so late,” Jeanne apologized. “I thought the drop-off time was at six and then once I realized we were still four hours away and then I blew a tire- we’re a bit of a mess if you can’t tell.”

“Well you’re here now! That’s what matters, and now that Theo’s here our cabin is complete!” 

The little girl smiled and stepped across the invisible line that separated her mother’s guardianship and yours. Wow, apparently that was all it took. You were surprised when she grabbed your hand in hers, but went with it, using your free arm to grab her duffle bag off the ground.

“Does anymore paperwork need to be filled out?” you asked Lorraine, looking back and forth between her and Jeanne. 

“Nope, Theo’s all set if you’re ready to bring her back to the mess hall to join the rest of your girls before they run out of nachos.”

“They might run out of nachos?” Theo screeched in disbelief and you couldn’t stop the laugh that followed. 

“Not if we hurry!” you urged and she was almost dragging you out the door before her mom reminded her to hug her goodbye.

She let go of your hand for just a second to give Jeanne a quick hug before rushing back over to you.

“Bye, mommy! I love you!” Theo shouted over her shoulder and she led the way out of the office and onto the path. 

You tried your best to keep up, but she was deceivingly fast. You weren’t sure how she knew where she was going since this was her first year, but somehow you ended up where you’d started at the mess hall in less time than it had taken you to get there. 

Your kids were all back at the table, talking amongst themselves and picking at their nachos. They perked up when they saw you in the doorway and peered curiously at Theo, who was looking overwhelmed by all of the chaos. While everyone else had slowly acclimated to the atmosphere, Theo had been thrown right in and you were worried that it might be too much for her. 

You made your way over to the table with her on your heel and introduced her to the rest of your girls. 

“Girls, this is Theo. Theo, this is the rest of cabin eleven.”

Instead of cowering behind you like you thought she might, Theo hopped right up to the table and started learning everyone’s names, eager to get to know her new friends. 

“You guys keep talking, I’m going to grab my dinner and I’ll get some for you too, Theo, okay?” She nodded, still absorbed in whatever Eva was saying.

You shook your head and chuckled to yourself as you got in the back of the line. The sun hadn’t even fully set and you were already ready to go to bed. To be fair, you’d been up well before the sun had this morning getting ready for the campers, but as you looked around you noticed that all of the other counselors looked like they’d shotgunned six to seven energy drinks after chugging a few cups of coffee. How the fuck did they look so awake? And what were you doing wrong?

Almost as if life wanted to rub it in your face, the doors to the mess hall flew open and Tom’s entire cabin came running in, yelling at the top of their lungs. He must’ve taught them a cheer or something because they were all in sync, but their words were too jumbled to comprehend. You checked your watch. Late. Typical. And they were all dripping wet, no less. Technically, everyone had to wear a shirt and shoes in the mess hall, and Tom’s boys were adhering to neither rule as they were all in swimsuits, but you knew he’d never get in trouble for it. He never did when he was a camper. 

Tom whooped and shook out his curls like a dog, spraying water everywhere. His boys followed in suit, making even more of a mess. You rolled your eyes when you saw them make for the food line, not interested in engaging.

As luck would have it, Tom was a counselor for second grade boys, so the plan you’d told Z about was probably unrealistic, but you were still going to do your very best to avoid him at all costs. 

“Evening, y/n.”

You tensed and scowled even though he couldn’t see your face. 

“Thomas.”

“People only call me that when I’m in trouble.” He sidestepped so that he was parallel to you and leaned up against the wall. “Am I in trouble?”

You flicked your eyes between him and his campers who were all staring at you and decided it wasn’t worth it. You shrugged casually. “It’s only a matter of time.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You brought your hand to your mouth and faked a cough “fuck off”.

He didn’t answer, but gave you a satisfied look that you ignored. You continued through the line without further incident, stacking as many nachos as humanly possible onto your tray for you and Theo, only vaguely aware of Tom’s presence behind you.

 And you were almost in the clear too, your table was in sight and your campers were waving at you cheerfully when you stepped in something wet and slipped, completely losing your balance and eating shit. Your tray went flying and made such a loud noise that it got everyone’s attention and all conversation in the mess hall stopped.

In all of the confusion you realized what you’d slipped in was just water, but you didn’t connect the puddle to its source until you looked up into his deep brown eyes. 

You wanted to kill him. Your pants were wet, your food was all over your shirt, and your ass hurt. All because he thought it was okay to track all this pool water into the mess hall. In fact, he was still dripping as he stood over you. 

“Tom,” you growled.

For a moment his smirk fell away and an expression of concern flashed across his face. But it was fleeting. The playful gleam you knew too well reignited in his eyes and he licked his lips, holding out his hand to help you up. 

You didn’t take it and pushed yourself up off the ground without help. You started brushing the chips and vegetables off your polo, but you knew the queso stains would have to be revisited later. It had already saturated the cheap whatever-the-fuck material the shirt was made of and there was no way you were getting it out without some sort of chemical.

“Y/n I’m sorry,” Tom tried, but you weren’t having it. You could tell his apology was genuine, but this all felt too familiar and you could feel your chest getting tight.

“Can you just leave me alone?” you pleaded desperately under your breath, knowing your night, week, month- the summer would go a lot smoother if he did.

He winced and pushed his damp curls out of his face. “Um, that’s going to be kind of difficult.”

You glared at him. “Why?”

“You didn’t check the activity assignments? We’re instructing arts and crafts together.”

You wanted to laugh at the irony, but you physically couldn’t. “Every day?”

“Every day.”

You didn’t say another word to him, just picked up the tray off the ground from where it had fallen and walked away slowly back to your table.

Out of all the staff members here you were assigned to instruct an activity with Tom? What were the fucking odds. How could you have been so naive to think that this summer would be different from all the others? Because evidently nothing had changed, even after all these years.

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

Forever Tags:  @mischiefmanaged49  @bookingbee @cloverrover  @captainbuckyy @perhaps-he-schnapped  @awkwardfangirl2014 @the-queen-procrastinator @tastingthestarz @sleepybesson@everythingbooknerd  @sunshine96love @bitchymathematician@livingincompletesilence @melsbooktrash @tommy-holland  @fizzy828 @spider-slutt @theamuz @nedthegay @astroasethic @stuckonspidey @darlingtholland @sgtbookybarnes @tinyplanet-explorers @nnatasha @gennyld @devin-marie @r-wooooosh @definitely-not-black-cat  @hell-yeah-peter-parker @itssnowingandimstuckinside @relise-thefury @osteporosis @legendsofwholock @starsholland @peterunderoos @fuckyeahomerun @nobelwarriorheroes @delicately-important-trash @thwip-it-real-good @claryfray101 @gioandreolli @tomhollandseverything @cool-ultra-nerd @jillianaholland @dinasaur36 @farfromhaz @hanlons-wp @moon-390 @parkerstylesperalta @httpchrisevans @screeching-student-unknown 

Breaking Curfew Tags: @lafemmefatal @sebastianstansbae @parkerstylesperalta @t0mh0llandimagines @draqcnheartstrinq @ragnarqks @di3connected @its-the-unknownspidey @fandomhoe @fallingspidey @obsequentdiapason @goldenpeaxh @timelock97 @theefactorygirl @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @rhapsodyparker @sunshiney-souls @bluevelvetcosmos @sebxstianbarnes @screeching-student-unknown @peterbrokenparker @emilymarie0422 @fangirlingisajob @tomzfrog @castieltheredfox @still-awake-daydreaming @morbiddanvers @jurassicparker @originalpinkpowerranger @curlyshawnie @myfinalwords @ilytomholland @tomhollandseverything @nnatasha @imfreefallinall @maddub23 @eastofeeden @hollandary @spideyyeet @seaveyheartful @jackandsally9605 @itsthwippingtime @occhiolism-sonder @sunshine96love @maybemona @tomhollandsbitch @thedaydreamingwriter @wannabewolf @jessasarah @maryjane-michelle @spidxrparkxr @alinakaisato @iriaaarb @natasha-black-widow-romanoff @dobriksbitch 

Send me an ask to be added/removed from a taglist

[artificialqueens]

Of Course I Care (Jaida/Jan) - Campvanjie

AN: This was originally written for and posted to AO3 under my now deleted account there on May 24th, 2020. I’m the original author of this work, and there’s definitely no plagiarism going on!

Summary: Jan is sick, and doesn��t want to miss her gig. For the prompt: ‘ah-ah-ah. you’re sick. you need to stay in bed.’ (Girl pronouns; but they’re not in drag here… or at least one of them gets out of it relatively soon!)

“-migranes aren’t contagious. So you need to-”

Jan gripped at the edge of their door frame, steadying herself as she was watching Jaida, who cocked one perfectly manicured eyebrow at her from their bed, the television remote in hand.

“I need to what? Come on, baby.”, Jaida shook her head. “What do I need to do?”

She had spent the morning trying; and failing on various fronts, to get Jan to cancel her brunch; though she’d spat every old New York platitude right back in Jaida’s face, unwilling and completely unrelenting.

“Our season was shit.”, she had reminded Jaida. “If I start cancelling in my city now, I’m done. I’ll be double booking with Ariel Versace and my mom will start coming to my shows-”

“Girl, stop that. One brunch isn’t going to ruin your whole reputation. Some of these bitches are doing all sorts of messy shit and they still get booked!”, Jaida told her, pressing her thumbs in tiny, precise circles against the back of Jan’s hand.

“I don’t care what everyone else is doing. They’re not me, and I can’t just stop because I feel like shit. What’s gonna happen when we go on tour?”

The two of them were lying in bed, Jan’s eyes tightly closed against the sunrise; as Jaida tried to keep her voice down, knowing how much it all probably hurt.

Jan got migraines occasionally, though they usually weren’t too bad, needing only a few hours of quiet time between the two of them; Jaida working on her costumes while Jan would leave an old record to play quietly in their bedroom and emerge just in time for a late, leisurely paced lunch. But, the change in the seasons and the steady flow of bookings that had suddenly begun to open up again in the city clearly had her knocked out; no matter how much Jan hated to admit it.

Sometimes, Jaida knew, it was best to let her burn out; as quickly as she fired up.

Three hours later; Jan had certainly given it her best shot, leaning against their bedroom door, her eyes barely glassy behind bright contact lenses; a thick layer of makeup caked over her face hiding how pale she must have been, her wig hanging limply in brunette ringlets as she teetered on her slick, purple latex boots.

“-You… you need to just shhhh-“, Jan started. “I’m gonna… ah, I’m gonna call the car and I’ll be back later, like at five? I don’t know.”

“Ah-ah-ah. You’re sick. You need to stay in bed.”, Jaida finally put her foot down.

“I don’t wanna-“

“Seriously?”

She had gotten up from the bed to meet Jan, wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Baby, c’mon. Let’s get you out of all of this.”, she said, gently guiding Jan back into their bathroom, her hand steady at the small of her back.

“I don’t-“

“You’re not letting anyone down. Don’t worry about it.”

Jaida sat her at the edge of the bathtub, dimming the lights in their bathroom as she gathered Jan’s products in her hands.

“You shouldn’t have to- ah-“

“Don’t think of it like I’m taking care of you. I’m protecting my investment in those good ass sheets before you smear whatever busted-ass color this is all over our pillowcases!”, Jaida joked easily, slowly massaging the cleanser over her face.

“They are really nice pillowcases.”, Jan murmured, sounding just as exhausted as Jaida suspected.

“All ready for you.”, she said, pressing a kiss to Jan’s forehead as she wiped away the glue. She had dropped her head against the bathroom tile, cool against her cheek while Jaida’s fingers ghosted over her arm, reaching for the zipper to start to unzip her costume.

“Now see, now I’m getting a treat.”, she teased, running her hand up Jan’s bare chest, making her grin despite how their morning had gone.

“I don’t- maybe not today?”

“Something to look forward to then.”, Jaida whispered, letting her head drop to Jan’s shoulder.

“Okay.”

They finished in the bathroom, Jan latched to Jaida’s chest as she led the both of them back to bed.

“You don’t have to stay.”, Jan murmured, her face half buried into the pillows the moment they fell into the bed together, Jaida’s body warm against hers, pressed together under the blankets.

“Well, I do have to answer my emails.”, Jaida chuckled, squeezing Jan’s hand under the sheets as she pulled her phone from the charger.

“Besides Baby, I can’t think of anywhere else I’d rather be.”

[x-nephophile-x]

OC ?s

Favorites 1-10

:)

For your main baby V

aogfkeaogkeao THANK YOU <3 Favorites: favorite place in night city? – Definitely Japantown. She misses Heywood from time to time, hangs down there a lot, but it also reminds her sometimes of why she left to begin with. Before she met Jackie, she was on a downward spiral anyhow and after her grandmother passed, there was nothing really keeping her in the area and she couldn’t afford to keep the place. favorite color – She loves black mostly, but if she’s 100% honest, she wears black mainly for the ease of matching pieces and for intimidation. She owns a few things in light teals that she really likes. favorite tv show and/or movie – Honestly, if we’re considering that a lot of today’s movies exist in the Cyberpunk 2077 world (since apparently Keanu Reeves himself exists in the world) then her favorite film would definitely be Boondock Saints. favorite vehicle. do they prefer cars or motorcycles? – She’s biased for that damn Porsche of Johnny’s since 1, its his and sometimes she imagines him driving and it makes her feel closer somehow, safer when she’s not and 2, because she never imagined she’d drive something so fancy, let alone own it. Jackie’s bike is the same way. Outside of nostalgia and love though, she really loves that car Jackie helped her get. She calls it ‘sweetheart’ often, especially when she first got it back from Delamain after not seeing her for a while. favorite food – Pepperoni pizza. Will devour anything spicy tho just to make Johnny bitch. favorite drink – Nicola! “taste the love” (can you hear that advert? I can). She likes the regular the best but the blue isn’t bad. favorite song – Night City by Arielle… or Black Dog by Samurai. Night City makes her feel understood, at home, at peace with her mess of a life because it is indeed the nature of Night City. Black Dog makes her feel... a whole host of other messiness but its one of the few Samurai songs she can kinda sing along with. The first time she hums along, quiet and unsure and half-running on autopilot, too much so still to remember Johnny can hear her, she remembers he can indeed hear her only when he appears next to her in the car and hums along too... and then afterwards ribs her for knowing his lyrics. favorite type of weather – RAIN. She loves parking the car and just watching the neon lights through a sweeping sheet of rain, listening to it pound on the roof, feel the rolling thunder as it seems to vibrate the earth around her. if shes on her bike though, rain can fuck off. favorite radio station – She listens a lot to Body Heat, Morro Rock Radio, and Pacific Dreams. Mostly goes for techno/synth music, but also has a penchant for good ol’ fashioned rock n’ roll. favorite pastime – d a r t s. She reeeally likes darts. She sets up a board sometimes to play in her apartment, either by herself or with Judy when she comes over sometimes. Its times like this Johnny likes to play chicken with her darts just to fuck with her. Sometimes she really wants to nail him with one.

[yeolkisses]

I got tagged a long time ago by @starchild--27, thank you 💗💝💞💓💝💗💗💝💞💓💓💕

Rules: answer 20 questions, then tag 20 bloggers you wanna know better.

(I counted and there’s actually 19, so one of them disappeared, but oh well 😅)

Name: Ariel

Nickname: Ari

Height: 5’8” (172 cm)

Languages: English, learning Spanish & Korean

Nationality: American

Fav season: winter

Favorite flower: peonies and baby blue eyes

Favorite scent: vanilla or citrus

Favorite color: blue

Favorite animal: hedgehog

Favorite fictional characters: Prince Zuko, Baymax, Ice Bear, the Mystic Messenger gang

Coffee, tea or hot chocolate: coffeeeeeeee

Average hours of sleep: like 5-7??

Dog or cat: ...dog. But I love both.

Number of blankets you sleep with: a sheet and a blanket in the summer (with the fan on) and add a second blanket for winter

Dream trip: going to South Korea with my mom

Blog established: July 2016

Followers: 338

Random fact: I really like baking

Tagging @sunsmileyeol @me-evil-never @pastelyoongi and anyone else who wants to do this

[ofmaeves]

MEET MAEVE’S FAMILY 

father: dermot arthur kelley, 60. chef & restauranteur.  ( pierce brosnan )

mother: sibhoan maria kelley, 57.  award winning actress. ( helen hunt )

older sister: neve arielle kelley, 26.  pastry chef.  ( gabriella wilde )

younger sister: oona laura kelley, 21.  actress.  ( freya mavor )

daughter: avery blake kelley, 2.  

FAMILY FACTS

dermot was born the sixth of eight children.  his mother and father run a farm and his dad owns a famous restaurant.  sibhoan is the ninth of ten children.  her mother made her money as a seamstress and her father was a butcher.  

dermot and sibhoan met when they were children in ireland.  they were married before either of them made it big in their chosen fields--when dermot was twenty and sibhoan was seventeen.  

maeve’s oldest sister, neve, was born in a cold january when their mother was filming a movie.  -- this is actually the movie sibhoan won her oscar for, no one knew she was pregnant during filming until just two weeks before she went into labor on set.  

maeve was born on april 27th during a rainstorm.  in fact, maeve is the one kelley girl to be born in ireland as the family was home for her maternal grandparents’ anniversary.  

oona was born in september, and always hated having to have her birthday right when they went back to school.  

the three girls were pulled from school when maeve was eleven ( due to maeve’s own issues with not being challenged enough with the curriculum and also because it made it easier for their parents to travel knowing they could take all three girls with them ).  maeve typically went with her father whenever he opened his restaurants up.  oona and neve would switch back and forth--though oona typically stayed with their mother once she began acting herself.  

though her parents spend a lot of their time apart due to their own work, maeve swears she’s never seen two people more in love with each other.  they want to be around each other always when they are together.  

she’s very close with her family, always saying her cousins are more like siblings than her extended family.  

QUESTIONAIRE 

do you think you’re anything like your biological parents?  why or why not? 

“i think i have a lot of qualities from both my parents.  my parents are both very protective and want what’s best for me and my sisters--which i think is a quality that i take on for my own daughter.  you can ask anybody, i have the worst time balancing everything for her.  i also think i get my confidence from my mom.  i mean, she’s got to go up on a stage and act her heart out.  it takes guts.  i’m nowhere near as confident as she is, but i think it takes confidence to do what i do.  but i have massive stage freight too.  i couldn’t act in front of people.  i get my skills in the kitchen from my dad.  i grew up in his kitchens and i’ve always felt comfortable there.  it’s where i go to relax and think things through, or to just forget about my troubles.”  

what do your parents / siblings / guardians look like?

their fcs are listed above.  but dermot is pierce brosnan, sibhoan is helen hunt, neve is gabriella wilde, and oona is freya mavor.  

physically dermot is tall.  he’s got darker hair than the rest of his daughters, though for a while they thought maeve was going to get his dark hair until her hair started going blonde when she was three.  he’s got a boisterous laugh, infectious as it takes over the room.  dermot’s always looking out for everyone he can.  he wants to help people whenever he gets the chance to.  he’s kindhearted and strongwilled.  his hand’s have several marks from kitchen injuries.  and maeve says that he smells like oil.  

sibhoan is lean and works out often.  she’s always worried about how she looks for the cameras, even though her husband assures her there’s nothing to fret over.   her blonde hair is naturally curly, though she always straightens it.  she started out in the industry by working in the clothing department of a studio before she got her first role.  she sometimes thinks that if acting is going to end, she’ll have fashion.  she’s worked with several companies to do fashion lines and such over the years.  

her older sister neve is definitely the more innocent of the girls.  she was never swayed by the bright lights or anything to do with her mother’s world.  she moved to ireland and lived with their cousins for some time, coming back with a thick brogue.  neve’s hair is naturally straight, a brighter blonde like their mothers.  she’s got a long burn mark on her arm from when she was twelve years old and took a cookie sheet out of the oven only to drop it on her arm.  

oona is the youngest, and most reckless of the three kelley girls.  her hair is naturally a darker curly blonde--but she’s dyed it different colors before.  she loves doing that in her off seasons from filming--dyeing her hair wild colors.  she’s taller than maeve, which only slightly bugs the middle child.  in fact, oona and neve are the same height, which only makes maeve sad since she feels like she’s the baby of the family.  

avery, maeve’s daughter, has her mother’s blonde hair and it’s naturally curly/wavy.  she’s got a bright smile with dimples, like her father.  she loves to talk about anything and everything--confident and assured for being as young as she is.  tiny, but doesn’t let that stop her from attempting to get things off higher shelves.  

how’s your relationship with your parents / guardians?  

“i’m definitely closer with my dad, but i think i’ve got a fairly good relationship with both of my parents.  i spent more time with dad growing up than i did with mom, so i would say maybe that relationship is stronger because of it?  but i think that my mom and i have grown to bond over the years too even if it’s not as close as she is with, say, oona who’s also an actress.”

how do they feel about your rise in fame / wealth?  

"they’re both relatively okay with it.  i think that they’ve adjusted, since they made their own money.  i think that they’re proud i’ve found my own way around to make enough money on my own--especially with the obstacles i’ve faced, and even the ones i put in my own way.  i’m not sure they understand how i can make much money through writing, but they read everything i write and frame articles.  it’s actually adorable.  they’ve got boxes for all three of us, with articles about us saved and stuff.  i just think my parents are proud that my sisters and i have come so far in our own ways.”  

any siblings? how many of them and how old are they? what do they do for a living? what are your thoughts on them?

“i’ve got two sisters.  neve and oona.  i’m the middle child, and we’re all basically two years apart give or take with the months of our births.  neve’s got her own bakery and she works with our dad when he opens up new restaurants--he’s in charge of the chefs and she’s in charge of the baked goods.  oona’s an actress, like mom.  she’s done more stage work than film work, but she was actually in my first movie!  not a big part or anything, but it was fun having her on set that whole time.  i’m close with both of them, though we don’t see each other as often because of our work.  but they always come back to la to spend our birthdays together and everything!”  

[jacked-kirby]

#JackedKirby - Thundarr the Barbarian... Kirby Style!!! 💥💥💥 So looking for recommendations once again I got a great one from my buddy @al_boulder in Thundarr the Barbarian! One of my childhood favorites, Thundarr is unique in the sense that most people remember the show but have no idea Jack was an integral part of its creation. 💥💥💥 The genius idea of a show came from Steve Gerber, famed creator of Howard the Duck. Working alongside artist Alex Toth, Gerber got the green light from Ruby Spears for his post-apocalyptic fantasy cartoon opus to be created. But Toth has to bow out due to other obligations... so Toth and Gerber both recommended Jack for the task of creating concept art & character one sheets! 💥💥💥 This particular piece of art features the three main characters: Thundarr, Princess Ariel and Ookla the Mok done by Kirby! (Pic 1)This layout was eventually finished and colored, and would be used as cover art for VHS versions of the series years later (pic 2). The show ran for two seasons and is a staple for 80s babies who grew up on Saturday morning cartoons with a bowl of cereal on a TV tray in front of the boob tube!!! 💥💥💥 #JackKirby #KingKirby #Kirby #Thundarr #ThundarrTheBarbarian #OoklaTheMok #PrincessAriel #RubySpears #SteveGerber #AlexToth #KirbyAnimation #Cartoons #80sCartoons #SaturdayMorningCartoons #80sBabies #KirbyRecommendations #PromoArt #ConceptArt https://www.instagram.com/p/B-A1kiMhEuC/?igshid=1u1ly1cc13ng

[suckitsurveys]

What’s something that makes you feel more creative? Listen to music, color stuff, cre...ate...stuff?

What are the last three nail polish colors you wore? The green glitter I have on now, black, and....probably red for Christmas. 

How often do you switch up your nail polish cover? I like to do it ~once a month.

What’s the last thing you binge watched? DeGrassi.

Do you watch youtube videos or tv shows more? TV.

Who’s the most shallow and superficial person you’ve watched on youtube? There’s definitely a handful.

What’s the last magazine you’ve read? I don’t even remember. It’s been years since I’ve read a magazine.

What’s a DIY project that you don’t think actually works? I don’t know.

Do you collect Mason jars to use for crafts? I have some. 

What are you tired of right now? This pandemic.

Do you have any rugs on top of carpet in your home? Nope.

What color is the last teddy bear you bought? Black and white. It was a panda.

Have you ever gotten rid of something and then regretted it? If so, what? (or what’s one thing?) I can’t think of anything. 

How does your stomach feel right now? It’s hungry.

What color is the zip-up hoodie you wear the most? Black.

Do you have a mattress cover on your bed? A sheet?

Do you live in an apartment that has inspections? No.

Do you hate taking naps during the day? I don’t like naps cause I wake up feeling worse.

Who in your immediate family has the best natural hair? My sister’s hair is really thick and wavy.

Who has the best personality on youtube? Bunny Meyer.

Would you ever audition for American Idol? Well, no. I can’t sing.

Do you know anyone who thinks they’re more talented than they are?   Yes, my brother in law.

Do you buy gum? I haven’t in a long time. 

What’s your favorite dollar store? Dollar Tree.

How many cell phones have you had in your lifetime? Like 6 or 7.

Can you play the ukulele? Nope.

Do you correct spelling and grammatical errors? Sometimes.

Did you get a perfect SAT score in any subjects? I don’t remember, but probably not.

What is the origin of your last name? Czech. 

Do you know the meaning of your first name? If so, what is it? "Grace” or something.

Have you ever been inside a Victorian mansion? Yes

What was the most boring field trip you ever want on? I always enjoyed field trips.

The last time you went, what were your favorite rides at Cedar Point? I’ve never been.

Have you ever ridden a horse? Yes.

Do you enjoy watching videos of babies being born? No.

If you had a boy and a girl, what would you name them? No thanks.

Which country would you most like to visit? Mexico.

What is your nationality/what are your origins? What is the stereotype associated with that nationality? And do you feel like you fit it? My nationality is American.

What are your favorite types of videos to watch on youtube? Everything.

What’s a DIY craft project you want to try? Some party decorations BUT WE ALL KNOW I CAN’T DO THAT RIGHT NOW!!!!!!!

Is your room clean? No. The laundry needs to be put away.

Are you a hoarder? Nah.

When you think of your past, do you hurt? With some things.

Is there a guy (or girl) that you wish things had worked out with? Eh. 

Do you ever call yourself stupid in your head? Yup.

What was your favorite Barbie doll? I loved Barbies. I had a roller skating one whose limbs moved and I loved that one the most because she could sit with her knees bent.

If you were to start a collection, what would it be? Hundred-dollar bills.

If you were rich, what things would you get done cosmetically? New teeth, smaller boobs, smaller tummy.

How old were you when you got your license? 21.

Are you parents too controlling? No.

Do you think “Sarah/Sara” looks better with an “h” or without? >> As an unnecessary H-er myself, I am pro Sarah.

Would you ever give your daughter the middle name Marie? No.

Do you think “Ann/Anne” looks better with or without the “e”? >> I like Ann.

Who is your favorite fictitious redhead? Brendon Small or Philip J Fry.

Name 5 fictitious redheads that you can think of. ^ and Ariel, Pepper Ann, Daphne.

Do you like musicals? Yeah.

What shows have you seen on Broadway? None on actual Broadway, but I’ve seen too many plays to count here in Chicago.

What big cities have you been to? I live in Chicago, but I’ve been to Boston and SLC and Memphis and Nashville and St. Louis and Cleveland and Milwaukee and Indianapolis to name a few. I’m blanking on others.

What other big cities do you want to go to NYC, LA.

Do you follow through with your new year’s resolutions? Lol. 

Do you make bucket lists? Eh.

What’s #1 on your bucket list? --

Do you have a relationship with God? I do not.

Do you hate haters? Whatever.

What do you want to be for Halloween this year? I don’t care I just want there to BE a Halloween this year.

Do you like unique spellings of names? Not really.

Do you trust anyone? Yeah.

What kind of milk do you drink? Soy or coconut and occasionally whole. We use whole milk for a couple recipes sometimes and I’ll drink the left overs with pb and j sammiches or cookies or something. 

Have you ever “fired” a doctor? No.

What’s your favorite type of cheese? Goat, Bleu, and cheddar

What store do you want to win a shopping spree at? Target.

What clothing store would you like to win a shopping spree at (if different)? Torrid.

Do you wear heals or flats more? Flats.

Do you love shopping? Sometimes.

Who is the prettiest Asian youtuber that you can think of? What a fucking specific and weird question. 

Do you watch a lot of youtube videos? Yeah.

What is the best news you’ve heard lately? I don’t know.

Do you use a sunlamp? No.

What was the temperature where you live today? COLD.

Is your sleep schedule all messed up? OH YES. Fuck this shit.

Do you keep up with trends? Eh.

Did you wear green last St. Patrick’s Day? Nope. That was right around the time all this shit started happening.

Name three positive things about the Internet. Connecting with friend and family, information about anything at your fingertips, entertainment. 

[quentinsquill]

Fic: “Four Letters and a Funeral” (The Magicians)

Four Letters and a Funeral

Author: Lexalicious70

Fandom: The Magicians

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 1,943

Warnings: Canon character death

Spoilers for 3x05

Summary: Four letters from the mosaic universe and how they play a part in the lives of Quentin, Eliot, Arielle, and little Rupert.

Author’s Notes: This is for the @whitespiresarmory’s Armory Challenge, Week 3: “Letters.” All errors are my own. I don’t own The Magicians, this is just for the fun of it all. Comments and kudos are magic: enjoy!

Read it on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19758550

Four Letters and a Funeral

By Lexalicious70 (all_hale_eliot)

 Quentin wrote a letter the evening he’d kissed Eliot.

 Words always came to him simpler when he put them on paper. There was no eye contact to maintain, phrases and meanings could be chosen with more care, and his pen didn’t stutter or become afflicted with a severe case of what Eliot called the ‘uhms.’ With these circumstances came a kind of confidence that Quentin didn’t possess very often, and the letter flowed out onto the page as Eliot dozed on the blanket they’d laid out earlier in the evening. The words flickered in the firelight.

 Dear Eliot,

 I’ve never been very good at being sure of my actions. No matter the situation, I usually end up second guessing myself or obsessing over the outcome had I chosen the other option. You’re probably aware of this, and maybe you’ve even been on the receiving end of this habit I can’t seem to shake. But I want you to know that tonight, when I kissed you, I’ve never been surer of anything, even when Dean Fogg asked me if I wanted to study magic at Brakebills.

 I keep thinking about the way you kissed me back . . . it was so different than the night we had with Margo. I don’t remember a lot of details, but your kisses then were hungry, like you’d been waiting your whole life to kiss me. I don’t know if it was the wine or the emotion bottles or if you really had been waiting to kiss me since the moment we met, but the time we spent together tonight makes me realize that it doesn’t have to be complicated; it seems like we both want the same thing, so why the fuck not? We’re here, and we care about each other, and that feels like it’s enough. I’m sorry that it’s taken me a year to figure this out, but I do love you, Eliot, and I hope it’s not too late for me to live my life here—to live it with you.

 Yours, Always,

 Q

 Quentin slipped the letter into Eliot’s pocket and stretched out next to him on the homespun blanket, under the cover of starlight, before giving himself over to sleep.

 5 Days Later

 A letter appeared tucked between the pages of The World in the Walls, which Quentin had been carrying in his Sharo bag when they’d traveled to this universe. Eliot was outside sorting mosaic tiles, and Quentin pushed back his long hair as he sat down in the little eating nook they’d made and opened the sheet of cream-colored parchment. Eliot’s handwriting was as elegant as everything else about him, the script leaning toward the right.

Dear Q,

 There is no ‘maybe’ when it comes to being on the receiving end of your lack of self-confidence, but thank you for acknowledging that shortcoming. I have plenty of my own, however, so please don’t think that I hold this against you. We all have our demons, and sometimes they cause us to hurt the ones we care about.

 I never expected you to kiss me that night, but my God, it was like you opened a door that I was sure had slammed shut that night with Margo (actually more like shut and then nailed closed,) and you gave me another chance at something I thought I had ruined forever because I was selfish. And I was hungry that night, Q, I’d been dreaming of the taste of your lips, your skin, your cock . . . and I gave into my desires even though I knew it was selfish. Maybe I knew, as drunk as I was, that what we did was bound to cause trouble between you and Alice. I don’t know if I can say I’m sorry for that, because once I tasted you, Q, all I’ve ever wanted was more.

 I have plenty of reasons to refuse you: the strangeness of this world, the thought that you may just be lonely, my own issues with commitment and my fears that I may somehow end up hurting you. But all that aside, Q, I have one overwhelming reason for saying yes, and it’s this: I love you, Quentin Coldwater. From the moment you stumbled from the bushes, sweaty and floppy-haired, and asked me if you were hallucinating, you’ve held a piece of my heart.

 That being said, all I can do now is offer you the rest.

 Always Yours,

 Eliot

 Two Years Later

 “Oh, goddamn it!”

 Eliot turned from the weaving loom to regard Quentin, who was crumpling up what looked like his sixth piece of parchment in fifteen minutes, his cheeks flushed with emotion. Eliot locked the loom so the shirt he was making wouldn’t unravel and went over to his partner.

 “What is it, Q?”

 “I’m trying to write a letter to Arielle so we can—you know—tell her how we feel and everything? But I can’t get the words right. It either sounds too formal or like I’m offering something that’s inappropriate. I love her—I’ve told her that already, so why is it so hard to write this?”

 “Well let’s see.” Eliot dragged a chair over and produced a new piece of parchment. “Maybe I can help. After all, I want her to stay too. She’s good for you, Q,” Eliot had said as they sat down to write the letter together. “and didn’t our P.A. teacher say that the triangle is the strongest shape in nature?”

 “You and Margo always ditched P.A.”

 “Did we? Hmmph . . . I must have heard her say it while we were portaling our way out the back. “Let’s see . . .”

 The letter took over two hours to draft, and when it was finished, Eliot and Quentin left it in the empty wicker basket near the door, where Arielle always placed their fresh fruit. It read:

 Our Dearest Arielle,

 There are many things we’ve found to be special about this place, but you are the most unique by far. Your kindness, the way you always went out of your way to visit us, spoke volumes about your generous nature. Our fondness for you has, over the past few months, become something more, and we’d like to invite you to stay. We know from past experience that this kind of relationship is pretty common in Fillory, especially when it comes to a man having both a wife and a husband. While we consider ourselves married, we know that adding you to our family would only make it stronger and more complete.

 It's true that we never expected someone to come into our lives that would affect us like you have. But life, like magic, is unpredictable. You may be a part of the puzzle when it comes to the beauty of all life, or maybe you appeared because you hold a different kind of beauty, one that Quentin certainly doesn’t want to live without. We both believe you’re good for us in many ways, Arielle, and because we’ve learned that families in Fillory are created and not always bound by blood, your staying with us and becoming a part of our family makes sense.

 We hope you say yes.

 Affectionately Yours,

 Quentin and Eliot

Six years later

 They found the letter hidden in a folded, embroidered piece of cloth among Arielle’s things a few weeks after her death, when Quentin finally responded to Eliot’s pleas to leave their bed, where he’d been since Arielle and her stillborn daughter, Grace, were buried in the woods behind their cottage. Neither magic or medicine could stop the hemorrhaging once little Grace had come into the world, blue and silent, leaving Quentin, Eliot, and their four-year-old son, Rupert, bereft.

 “What do we do?” Quentin asked, fresh tears coursing down his cheeks as he held up the envelope with Rupert’s name on it. Sun poured through the cottage window and Eliot noticed a few glimmering strands of silver in his husband’s long, tawny hair. “He’s too little to read and maybe he won’t understand—he keeps asking me when his mom and the baby are coming back.” The last word hung itself on a sob and Eliot drew Quentin into his arms.

 “Shhh, Q. It’s all right. Shhh, my love.” He soothed, kissing Quentin’s forehead and temples before producing a cool, wet cloth in one hand. He used it to wipe Quentin’s face. “Hey . . . listen. Rupert is going to be fine. He’s a tough little man. Why don’t we read it to him? Hmm? I bet he’d like it.”

 “Y-Yeah,” Quentin sniffled. “It’s his, after all.”

 ***

They sat in the main room of the cottage, where the sun cast long fingers of light through the windows well into the late afternoon. Eliot made himself comfortable in the rocker while Quentin sat in his favorite chair with Rupert in his lap, the boy’s head on his shoulder. Quentin rubbed his back while Rupert sucked his thumb and listened to his Papa Eliot read.

 My Dearest Little Rupert,

 If your daddies found this letter, I hope they read it to you. You are my special little blossom, and I want you to know how much you are loved.

 You live in a world of infinite magic, little one, but if fate decides that I can’t be with you, there are a few things I want you to remember:

 Always listen to your daddies. They know what’s best for you and will always protect and love you

Be kind to nature. It will always return your kindness with bounty

Fall apples make for the best pies

Eliot passed the letter to Quentin, who cleared his throat and continued reading.

 Flowers and fruit blossoms want to be noticed and admired—always stop and do so

Nature has its own magic

Learn to weave from your Papa Eliot—it’s a talent you will use all your life

You will always be in my heart, my little blossom, no matter where I travel. I am a part of you, which means you never have to feel lonely. I am no further away than the beating of your own heart. Take care of your daddies—they’re a part of you, too.

 I Love You Forever,

 Mommy

 Quentin folded the letter with one hand and set it aside. Rupert raised his head from his father’s shoulder.

 “Daddy?”

 “Yeah Rupe?”

 “Can you teach me to read and write, so I can write mommy a letter back?”

 “Sure I can,” Quentin smiled and smoothed his son’s hair to one side. “But for now, I think it’s time I helped you wash up for supper.” He lifted Rupert up and carried him toward the little washroom they’d added a few years earlier, his free hand trailing along Eliot’s shoulder with affection. Eliot touched it in return and watched the light fade from the room as he recalled the words of the letter Quentin had written him so long ago.

 We’re here, and we care about each other, and that feels like it’s enough.

 Fin

[the-stick-scribblers]

Dragon Whiskers

Love is found in the silence, after.

Curtains striped with baby blue and white chevron crinkle where they drape onto the floor, next to linoleum speckles in clusters like toys in a bin. Silver instruments line the wall, sharp, dull, confusing, repeat. Arielle's gown, with its dollhouse clasps and cartoon rainbows, repeats too. It covers her knees underneath the blanket, the smallest size they had clean when we arrived early yesterday morning for her rushed admittance. A loose thread from the hem tickles my thigh; I hold my breath and shift in slow motion, until the tickle disappears. Thankfully, Arielle's pale eyelashes stay glued to her cheeks by sleep.

The whole room is maybe twenty by sixteen, and made of patterns, as if by surrounding us with them will force being here to make any more sense. Or maybe I'm projecting. Forty hours awake and counting - I can't trust myself at all right now.

Primera Point Hospital is not a children's hospital, but they do host the world's leading team for researching all the things no one knows yet about the body. Like why people dream. Or the point of the whole human micro-biome. Or why our cellular damage accelerates faster and faster each year until we reach a tipping point in mortality. Or why some people don't make it long enough to tip over.

Recurrent metastatic cancer of the brain. In a three-year-old. What's the fucking point of it all? 

Fucking God.

Dr. Simian broke the news to us one at a time, because someone needed to stay with Arielle; even with the IV-induced sluggishness, she's smart, and hospitals are a scary enough world before all the big words start getting tossed around. James went first. Through the little door window, I watched him push his hair back with his hands and leave them there, the time-old posture of bewildering grief. He looked wrecked. Twenty minutes later he came back in with two coffees and a steely sort of vacancy that reminded me of when my childhood home flooded in the desert, a miracle all the more devastating for breaking from the pattern. He's the crier. I'm the one who holds it in for the shower. Or, he was. I was.

How do you tell a baby she's going to die?

You can't. Or at least, James can't. He's gone home to pack a real suitcase and to retrieve my Kindle that I forgot in the chaos and to update the family (and to cry some more in private, I'm sure, the only reason I envy him the drive). Andrew is staying with Noah so he doesn't miss any school while we stay with Arielle in the city. It was only supposed to be for a couple of days, but Summer is an angel and before I could finish explaining the change she already had meal plans for the extra mouth made a full month in advance, the first easy thing since Arielle's headaches came back. Summer sent me a picture just as I was laying down with Arielle for a nap - Andrew and Noah, half blurry, running laps around the big granite fountain at the top of the field. It looked so sunny, I wept again. Andrew looked so happy. None of this is fair; we should be there with him.

Arielle's sleepy face is flushed, lips pursed, and it's a small stretch for my tired imagination to bundle her up in her monkey hat and stroller with the broken cup holder and take her to the park with me. We stop at the gate, first, to re-attach a wandering sneaker, and to look at the new tulips; we stay there for ten minutes making the other stroller-parent duos go the long way around. I always apologize, but Arielle's limited attention is reserved for things her size or smaller. 

Next stop is to chase a bug, Arielle toddling over the grassy hill in earnest pursuit while I sit on the warm garden wall and cheer her on. In contrast to my own coffee-fueled weariness, she is her own battery pack, glowing bright and indiscriminately joyful at each new stop on the hill. It seems she could run forever. But in the funny, honest way of babies, when she does decide she's tired it's all at once, once she's tripped and discovered the grass is a soft place to land. I scoop her up and tuck her back into the stroller, brushing off an errant leaf to the soundtrack of her sleepy breathing. We meet up with James and Andrew at the fountain, where they've been drawing uninspired, brilliant suns all over the place in chalk, to make up for its lack in the late day sky. 

Where the real sun is missing, however, are kites - bag kites and classic diamonds and kites that look like they airplanes and kites that look like they have wings and dragons with tails strung with bows that match the lopsided ones in Arielle's hair. Dozens of them fly against the clouded sunset, soft and fierce and eager in turns. Their colorful shadows cast colorful lights onto the sidewalk and stain the people watching like glass. It's breathtaking. I want to wake Arielle up to see, although if I do she'll never make it to dinner without a tantrum.

“Mommy?"

“Good morning, dove.” My eyes open and I pretend they were never closed, banishing the joyful spectacle of color in favor of reality. I press my lips against Arielle's dark hair, full of static from the hospital sheets, escaping in every wild way from her pigtails. God, I love her so much. “Did you have a good nap?"

"No."

"I'm so sorry to hear that." I wipe a piece of hair away from her eyes and use the corner of my sleeve to clear away a bit of lingering lunch by her mouth. "Do you feel better now that you're awake?"

"No."

My toes clench, the only part of me she won't notice. I file it away to tell the doctors later. "Did you have bad dreams?"

"No."

"Did you have any good dreams?"

Her eyes light up, and I savor it. "Yes!" She thinks, then announces very with great seriousness. "I dreamed...I dreamed about dragons."

"Oh! Were you a dragon too?" I remember the park and the ribbons in her hair. What a coincidence that would be.

"No," she says, and gives me a look that says I should know her better by now. "I was a Arielle."

[xebelrebel-blog]

CHARACTER SHEET

BASICS.

full name. Princess/Queen Mera of Xebel/Atlantis  pronunciation.  “Mare-uh/Meer-Uh of Zeh-Bell” nickname. Ariel height. 5′7″ age. 30 zodiac. Scorpio. spoken languages. english

PHYSICAL CHARACTERISTICS.

hair color. Red. eye color. Blue. skin tone. Pale. body type. Slim, athletic  accent.  trans-atlantic lmao dominant hand. right. posture. regal scars. a few any warrior would have tattoos. None.   most noticeable feature. hair color

CHILDHOOD.

place of birth. Xebel (Bermuda Triangle) hometown. Xebel birth weight. Baby weight? 7lbs? birth height. idfk manner of birth. in the way ones are born first words. fuck atlantis  dad siblings. Hila parents. King Nereus, unknown mother parental involvement. Raised by King Nereus, views Queen Atlanna as a mother figure

CURRENT LIFE

occupation. Queen of Atlantis  current residence. Amnesty Bay, Atlantis  close friends. Diana Prince, Arthur Curry, Tula relationship status. Married to Arthur Curry  financial status. Literal Royalty, twice over driver’s license. do not let mera drive a car, but she drive a boat criminal record. Disorderly conduct for public outbursts, charges always end up dropped  vices. Volatile, cursing, really just an angry bean.

SEX & ROMANCE.

sexual orientation. Bisexual.   romantic orientation. Biromantic. preferred emotional role. submissive  |  dominant  | switch  |  unsure preferred sexual role. submissive  |  dominant  |  switch libido. : probably too high for her own good turn on’s. : arthur curry turn off’s. :  arthur curry

love language. acts of service

relationship tendencies. dedicates her all to her loved ones, but can struggle with being vulernable. overly blunt and honest at times after being bred to lie. 

MISCELLANEOUS.

character’s theme song. undo by transviolent  hobbies to pass the time. music physical illness. None. left or right brained. right af fears. losing her loved ones, death of the ocean due to pollution, war breaking out self confidence level. self-assured vulnerabilities. feeling like a tool of others, her own anger

tagged by: @maximummuses tagging the lovely: @amazonexile @thelastdaughterofel idk who has done it im sorryyyy

[randomestfandoms-ocs]

OC Olympian Asks

Not tagged by but taken from @themildestofwriters 

Rules: Bold those traits and aesthetics that apply to your character.

OC: Ariel Blossom

APHRODITE    laughter-loving | sweet smiles | dressed in silk and satin | flower in their hair | thrives on attention | sees the world as a runway | unapologetically sexual | the sea washing their ankles | in love with love | stirrer of passion | cunning concealed by painted lips | secret daggers | doves | revolution in their kiss | delighting in the waves | flirtatious winks | strolling along the beach | staring wistfully from a balcony | this is how to be a heartbreaker | your girlfriend thinks they’re attractive | wants to be adored | gets turned on by danger.

APOLLO          glitz and glamour | art galleries | turning the volume up | being made of gold | neatly-organized music sheets | notebooks filled with poetry | bathing in the sunlight | the powerful urge to create | collecting vinyl records | beautiful cover of wonderwall | playing multiple instruments | tasting like sunshine | healing touch | speaking in prophecies | smile mingled wrath | shunning lies | sporting shades | hanging out at music festivals with their friends | sleeps naked | arrow to the heart | paint brushes | probably has a Tinder account.

ARES     armed for battle | wants to raise a dog with their significant other | soft spot for children | gives piggyback rides | scarred body | blood on their hands and face | willing to fight the world for the ones they love | fights against injustice | warm hugs | well-worn combat boots | boxing gloves | bandages wrapped around bruised knuckles | fist raised in protest |  ignites revolutions | fear is a prison | more sensitive than what their tough shell will make you think | exhausted | damaged goods | force to be reckoned with | red roses | curses under their breath.

ARTEMIS      keen sense of a hunter | freckles like constellations on their skin | piercing eyes | dishevelled braid | moonlight peeking through the shadows | the calm of the forest at night | lying on the grass and staring at the stars | mother doe and her fawn | protecting their kin | the moon shimmering on a still lake | quiver full of arrows resting against the bark of a tree | running with wolves | bonding while circled around a campfire | not being much of a people person | arrow hitting a target | popping egos | patience on 3% | touches heaven and returns howling.

ATHENA      discerning gaze | unreadable face | the patience of a lifelong teacher | quiet museums | owl perched on their finger | armour that intimidates | eye for architecture | plays the sims for the sole purpose of building houses | studied the blade while everyone else was busy getting laid | big fan of logic | loves brain teasers | go-getter | balls of wool displayed on shelves | ancient buildings | sweaters in neutrals and cool colors | hair done up | can kill you with their brain | heads to the library often to research | sharpened pencils | abs that can cut steel | stoic statues | pottery classes.

DEMETER     soil-covered hands | smile that can bloom flowers | skin loved by the sun | being the mom-friend | can lift you and your friends | flowers kept in the pockets of overalls | takes pride in their beautiful garden | speaks to their plants (elementals) | leaves rustling in the wind | stalks of wheat | picking fruit | greenhouses | heart as strong as a mountain | values simplicity | daisies dotted across a collarbone | curls crowned with flowers | folded pile of sweaters in warm hues | pulling out fresh-baked bread out of the oven and the smell wafting through the air.

DIONYSUS          drunk shitposter | on their sixth glass of wine before you’ve even finished your second | seductive smirks | untamed curls | rich fabrics on dark skin | sleek-furred panthers | theater masks | stage productions | receiving a standing ovation | rose caught between their teeth | being the baby of the bunch | wild parties that last from sundown to sunup | creeping vines | inspiring loyalty | grand opera houses | masquerade balls | rolls of film | shattered chandeliers with broken glass scattered across the wine-spilled floor | pouring champagne into flutes | lives for the applause.

HEPHAESTUS      the calloused hands of someone who knows labor | sweaty brow | flame burning in their eyes | inventive mind | broad shoulders | steampunk goggles | nuts and bolts stored away in little boxes | ashes | striking a match | blueprints for future projects | fixing up a busted up car and giving it cool upgrades | wrestles with bitterness | work boots have seen better years | wrinkled plaid shirts | iron melted in blazing fire | huge jackets | crafting masterpieces | greased-stained overalls | fascination with robotics | pain is fuel | stack of weaponry | even their muscles have muscles.

HERA          resting bitch face | dressed to the nines | cows grazing on a pasture | cool rain | loving and hating fiercely | hand clutching a string of pearls | large chandelier with glittering crystals | plays the sims for the sole purpose of killing off their sims | romance to realism | pictures of the sky while flying on a plane | files that under ‘fuck it’ | downs glasses of wine as they relax with a scented bubble bath and netflix | like their selfie or you’re grounded | knows 57 convenient ways to murder a man | dark eyes that penetrate your soul | marble and gold.

HERMES          devil-may-care smile | ink-stained hands | always up-to-date on the latest technology | will steal your french fries | does it for the vine | shitposter | puts googly eyes on everything | meme hoarder | long drives on the highway | ma and pop diners | spontaneous road trips | folded maps | fingers dancing across the keyboard of a laptop | shooting hoops on the basketball court | chatting up strangers as you all journey to your own destinations | goes jogging in the morning | mixes redbull with coffee | menace on april fool’s | hoodies and sneakers.

POSEIDON         storm with skin | colourful coral reefs | waves crashing against the shore | the sea casting its spell | stroking the soft fur of a cat | their heart pounding as their horse’s gentle trot speeds into a gallop | tousled locks | clothes smeared with paint | owns several sketchbooks yet always yearns for more | leather jackets | fondness for diy projects | handwriting that flows across the page | nimble fingers playing the strings of a violin | velvety singing voice that haunts your dreams | mood as ever-changing as the sea | the roar of a motorcycle | compass with a spinning arrow.

ZEUS          thunder in their heart | running on coffee | flash of lightning| natural charisma | eloquence | badass in a nice suit | aficionado of history| force of nature | lenny face | pretends they don’t have feelings but they do | nightmare-filled nights | proud arm around their lover’s waist | high-rise buildings | planes soaring through a cloudless sky | technician on the piano| maintains order | strong handshake | juggling multiple events on their busy schedule with ease | most likely to be voted class president out of their peers | expensive watch.

[sklminho]

Happily Ever After? - Hyunjin

Paring: Hyunjin x Reader

Genre: Angst(?)

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: Requested by @litaeriture ! i’m not sure i’m happy with how it turned out but i wrote the second part like three times so I do truly hope you like it, please let me know what you guys think!

You still believed in fairytales. The ones where the prince would fall in love with the princess no matter what the circumstances were. Something like Cinderella; the prince fell in love with her whilst she was wearing her beautiful ball gown but when he found out who she truly was and what her life was like, all that mattered was that the shoe fit. Or, maybe something like Ariel. The girl couldn’t talk and definitely didn’t fit in with the rest of the people on land but the prince took her in and fell in love with her anyway.

That was the kind of story you wanted. A sort of unconditional love only found in fairytales. A love that could push past all barriers and wasn’t concerned with trivialities.  

You knew it was practically impossible, a sort of love where nothing mattered, but that didn’t stop you from believing there was a chance it could happen. A sliver of hope that you could find someone that would defy the odds.

Maybe, even a certain boy that could fulfill the idea of love that you had in your head. A certain boy that you call your first love.

He was the most beautiful person you had the pleasure of knowing. Not to say you knew him, really. More that he was in your class and you’d been in the same class as him since third grade. It seemed like fate, being put together for six years in a row.

Where you would call it fate, others would call it misfortune. This certain boy was no prince.  Hell, he couldn’t even be considered a knight in shining armor or whatever would be below that. He was a bully. It may be a childish word, but it was a childish game. Him and his friends weren’t nice. They weren’t even nice to each other. Somehow putting someone down for something they couldn’t change was funny to them. Making fun of someone for the way they had a few more blemishes than others or the way their teeth weren’t perfectly straight.

In Hyunjin’s case, he called it doing them a favor. As if telling someone about their imperfections would help them change it. Although it was possible to blame it on age, it wasn’t a good excuse. Only fourteen years old. A confusing age. Everyone’s too busy just trying to figure out who they are and what they want to be.

That didn’t stop you from trying.

You tried to get his attention when you could. Handing back papers for the teacher and letting your hands brush when you give him his. Or going through the trouble of doing a second sheet of homework and turning it in with his name on it because you didn’t want him to fail. All your actions went unnoticed. Which is for the better, knowing how much you’d be teased by him if he were to ever find out.

All of these unseen actions and uncared for thoughts led to the day where you no longer believed in such silly fairy tales. It was probably better that you found out how cruel the world can be but it didn’t mean it should’ve happened the way it did.

Hyunjin had bullied everyone in the school, including you. Unlike others, you always brushed it off like it wasn’t a big deal. You were always told by your parents that a boy teasing you meant he liked you. A simple, yet troublesome way to excuse a boys behavior and yet you chose to believe it. How else were you going to get your fairytale ending unless you let simple trivialities not matter to you?

Usually, Hyunjin would make fun of the dress you wore that day or the new makeup you were finally allowed to wear to school. But that fateful day, he just made fun of everything. Your hair, your clothes, your face. Everything that you might have been confident in completely washed down the drain and discarded like they never mattered. These comments went on for weeks as if he was now only targeting you. You didn’t understand what you did wrong. There could’ve been a million different reasons but you never found the right one. So instead, you blamed it on yourself, like any rational preteen would.

Looking back on it, you regret not saying something. Not becoming the bully yourself but just a simple way of telling him that what he was saying hurt your feelings. It most likely wouldn't have helped but it wouldn’t have hurt to try.

You endured his venomous words for three months. It seems like a short amount of time in the long run but in the moment, it felt like forever. You requested to be put in a different class, one Hyunjin wasn’t in and far away from where he could find you.

First loves are supposed to be the person you look back on and smile about. The love that was innocent and pure, a blooming of feelings you’d never felt before. Yet the only memories you had of your first love were rude words and tear-filled days.

The world has to tear you down a bit to make you stronger. Not to say what Hyunjin did was okay, but to say that you’re not going to let silly fairy tales dictate how you should love someone. It’s all apart of growing up and you’re ready to move on from trying to live in a fantasy world.

Junior year prom.

Just thinking about it made you nauseous.

You wanted to go because high school events may seem cheesy and they were something you’d never be able to enjoy again. It was the fact that you didn’t have a date yet you weren’t exactly looking for one. All the boys in your class were assholes or already dating someone so you were fresh out of choices.

Thankfully, your friend wasn’t going with anyone either so you two decided to go together. Maybe next year could be the year that a decent guy would ask you instead of all the douchey ones in your class. A few of them tried and you kindly refused. You knew the only reason they even decided to talk to you was that you’ve grown up since middle school.

You had a “glow-up” of sorts. Your body had become, what you could say, more mature looking and you began to wear clothes that suited your new figure. Your hair had become softer and you picked up a thing or two on how to properly use makeup. Your skin had cleared as much that was possible for a high schooler and you were in a good place in your life.

It was the summer after sophomore year that you finally began to feel good about yourself. Even your best friend would agree, saying you’ve begun to glow. Her words embarrassed you but you were thankful you had someone like her by your side.

The two of you went shopping for prom dresses a week before the over-hyped high school event. Your friend picked out a simple, baby blue, laced a-line dress that you knew would make all the boys swoon. You went for more of a bold dress. A two-piece, laced, wine red dress that snuggly hugged your figure. They were a bit pricey, as prom dresses were, but worth every penny.

The night of prom had finally arrived and the two of you showed up an hour after it had started. You like to call it fashionably late but your friend would argue otherwise, complaining that it took you too long to do your hair when you had the entire day to prepare.

All of this is what led you to where you were now.

Sitting alone near the back of the crowded gym. You held a drink in your hand that your friend had given you before she was pulled away by some boys. The music was blaring and the lights were a bit blinding as they flashed colors in all different directions. The middle of the gym was filled with sweaty kids who considered to be jumping up and down dancing. You were just waiting for someone to slip and fall.

Sitting alone wasn’t as bad as it sounded. Being away from all the chaos and people yelling was something more enjoyable for you. You just felt bad for whoever was going to clean all of this up because you’ve watched at least four kids spill their drinks on the floor.

Before you knew it, the kids that filled the gym settled down as a slow song came on. Everyone was rushing to find someone to dance with so they wouldn’t be the odd man out. You felt bad for them really, feeling like without someone by their side they would be seen as an outcast. Girls were asking their friends and there were always the few boys that danced together to get a good laugh out of everyone. You were fine where you were. Not feeling the need to get up and find someone to awkwardly sway side to side with. That was until someone held their hand out to you, asking if you wanted to dance. You stared at the boy in front of you, blinking to make sure you weren’t just seeing things. Letting your heart get the best of you, you took his hand and let him bring you away from your table and dance on the outskirts of the crowd.

“You look amazing,” he coyly said, putting his hands on your waist. You didn’t know how to respond as your mind was going blank. Was the boy in front of you the one you knew from all those years ago? The one that would bully others for his own enjoyment?

He’s grown up just as well as you did. His shoulders were broader and his jaw had become more defined. His once short hair was now longer and dyed a light brown which you thought suited him well. He was gotten taller and you could definitely tell all the sports he did were doing him well. The boy’s hands were wrapped a bit tightly around your sides as you barely placed your hands on his shoulders.

This didn’t feel right, nothing about it did.

This was something you dreamed of for years. A scenario that would only happen in a fairytale where the prince accepts the girl for who she is but it’s all backwards.

He moved his face closer until his lips were ghosting over your ear.

“Maybe after this, we can get out of here? Go get something to eat? Go have some more fun than being at this lame thing?” he whispered. That was when you finally decided to look him in the eye. Truth be told, you hesitated for a moment. His words made you question all the things he did, considering maybe he’s changed. Your first love was here and asking you to leave with him.

You wanted to say yes. You wanted to look away from the past and all the triviality of love. It was going to hurt but you knew you would thank yourself in the long run.

“You’re kidding right?” you asked as you pulled away from him. “Do you remember the shit you said to me? Hell, do you even remember who I am? I moved classes to be away from you. I’m sorry to ruin your night, but this isn’t some sappy love story where I just forgive you.” You began to back away from him. His eyes were wide and looking at you as if you’d just done something completely terrible even though all you did was tell him the truth. You could feel the eyes of some people on you but you didn’t care. “I was in love with you, you know? In love with Hwang Hyunjin, the kid who everyone hated,” you mocked, jokingly waving your hands by your sides, “and I never knew what I did that was so bad that you had to bully me for months. And now, here you are, trying to pick me up like I’m any girl here that wants to be with you.”

Hyunjin reached out his hand and tried to apologize. Blame it on the fact that he was a kid and that’s what kid do. Make some excuse so his reputation wouldn’t be washed away since it took him so long to build it up and away from the things he used to do. You weren’t having it though. Kids or not, people don’t change that easily.

Without another word, you walked away and out of the gym, the kids who overheard making a path for you. You found your way home and didn’t even care to change, throwing yourself onto your bed and letting a few tears out. It wasn’t your proudest moment but you couldn’t help it.

You’ve learned that life isn’t about fairytale endings. It’s not about the princes, or princesses, that will be there to tell you they’ll love you no matter what. It’s not about finding someone that will love you unconditionally as long as you accept all that they’ve done. It’s about finding someone who will love you from the start. Sometimes, as much as it hurts, it not worth the pain that it’ll cause you.

So yes, every story has to do with love. But maybe, in this one, you’ll tell the world you loved him too much. You loved him with everything you had but it wasn’t enough to amount yourself to something below your worth.

You stopped looking for your fairytale ending long ago and one stupid boy wasn’t going to change that.