#and aple got buried on top of her

[sioster]

me when the shitty kid grave got a bite taken out of it -_-

close ups

the graves did not have any thought put in them, thats why the perspective doesnt make sense and why Aple is buried in one of em.

i did try to do perspectove with dream tho. so at least thats good <3

boy doesnt know whos been chewing on dirt yet. L

[captainjimothycarter]

Steggy + picking apples

“Stevie? Do you have her? I can pull the wagon.”

Peggy looked behind her to see her slender, asthmatic boyfriend pulling the wagon that held their eleven-month-old baby girl and a few baskets. She wrapped her scarf firmly around her neck, smiling when Steve finally reached them. She adjusted her boyfriend’s pale blue scarf and the wool hat over the tips of his ears, kissing the tip of his nose.

“You always flush,” she teases, rubbing her gloved fingers over his flushed cheeks. “Look at you - you’re going to make yourself sick, darling. Let me pull Sarah. We still have to go up the hill.”

Steve’s eyes followed Peggy’s towards the rising hill that looked taller by the second. He took in a large breath and tried to hide the fact he needed to airy cough it out but Peggy was looking at him with a purse of her lips.

“Okay,” he sighed, handing her the rope they’d wrapped around the handle. “You win, but only because I wanna carry Sarah up the hill.”

There was no argument in that regard, only because she worried about Sarah tumbling out of this red-wagon that obviously had been Steve’s since childhood. It was well-loved and cared for, so she didn’t worry about it falling apart. Plus, Peggy knew how much her boyfriend had been missing their daughter with his newly recent job tour guide had kept him away from home more often than either of them would like. 

Sarah giggled at her daddy’s new attention diverted to her, grabbing two tufts of his blonde hair in her fists. He didn’t even make a face as she pulled on them and let out a shrill of laughter as she settled onto his shoulders.

“Dada! Dada! Aples! Ma!”

Their little girl, having been born so early, so small, and in such a rush had grown more and more each and every day. Steve would take each moment of eye-watering pain that came from her pulling on his hair over the knowledge he’d nearly lost her. His hands wrapped around her legs, gently jostling her as they walked beside Peggy.

“Yeah, baby,” he breathed, giving an airy laugh. “We’re goin’ to get you apples, so daddy can make you apple pie! Mama Sarah will make you apple sauce!”

The little girl responded in loud screeches of apple sauce, sounding closer to ‘sauses’. It just made both adults laugh as they walked over the hill, Peggy pausing on the top to take in deep breaths of the cool air. The view down below was just breathtaking.

Down below this steep, grassy-green hills were rows and rows of neatly aligned apple trees, sectioned off in groups of their hybrid types. The smell of them was fruitful and woodsy, wafting from the fields down below. The sound of families already below, their laughter, and the sounds of heavy thuds from apples hitting the forest grounds can be heard.

“What kind do we want to start with?” Peggy asked on their slow descends, looking down at the app on her phone. “They say right now they have five available. granny smith, pink pearl, fuji, Honeycrisp, ooh, and pink lady.”

“I’m prone to granny smith. Oh, don’t make that face.” Steve snorted when Peggy’s face pinched, in her detest for sour apples. “You like them in my apple pie!”

“Only in your apple pie, otherwise they’re banned from the household.” Steve’s eyes rolled. “It’s not my fault we had so many during my pregnancy or I craved them. If anything, it’s your fault.”

The granny smith apples were the closest to the end of the hill, following the chained and beaten path towards the granny smith section. Peggy made a pleased noise, glad to see each tree had a ladder secured to it. No need to worry about carrying one or climbing.

“Mammms!” Sarah made grabby hands at Peggy, Steve dipping down so Peggy could scoop her up. “Mums! Maaams!”

The little girl screeched as Steve climbed the ladder and disappeared into the trees with a basket in hand. Down below, he could hear Peggy and Sarah, the new mum whispering to her daughter about the plants and things around them.

All Sarah knew was that her mother was giving her attention and she loved it. 

“Look, Sarah, look at the butterfly. Oh, he loves you.” Sarah’s excited shrill of laughter made Steve smile as he held onto the branch, shaking his head.

God, he loved them. He loved them more than anything, more than life itself. He loved both Peggy and Sarah more than himself. He thought he knew love when he met Peggy, the sacrifice that came with wanting to date someone, with wanting to do anything for them, to make them smile, to bring them happiness. He thought he knew love until he laid his eyes on his tiny daughter, fighting for her life in the incubator. 

He knew love then, he knew love came with a sacrifice. He knew that within just a matter of seconds he would kill for her. He would destroy the world if it meant his daughter’s happiness.

He had a plan for when Sarah was born to ask Peggy to marry him with her assistance, a ring around Sarah’s neck, but that was put to a pause when Sarah was born three months early. They’d focused so much on her survival and put every effort into it that Steve put it on the back burner. Now that Sarah was for the most part, in the clear, Steve decided no time was better.

“Steve?” Peggy called, drawing Steve from his thoughts as the last apple fell from the branch and into his basket. “Are you okay, darling? You’ve been up there for a minute.”

“I’m coming down!” Easing the basket down on first, Steve followed after and landed on his feet with a flushed smile. 

“Daaaa!”

Steve caught Sarah in time as she lunged at him, kissing over her face and grinning into her flushed skin. “Daddy wasn’t gone that long,” he laughed.

Sarah thought otherwise, mirroring her mother’s pursed lips and patting his flushed cheeks. 

“She’s a daddy girl,” Peggy laughed. “Always was, since she first saw you.”

“She loves you too,” Steve breathed, kissing Peggy’s cheek and earning Sarah smashing her face in between their cheeks to join in on the party. 

--

It was nearing sunset by the time the Carter-Rogers family had slowly trudged up the hill, this time Sarah was laying amongst the many baskets of apples. Steve’s small basket of Granny Smith was buried under Peggy and Sarah’s many varieties. 

“Why don’t we stop here?” Steve asked, taking a blanket and laying it out on the grassy hill. He picked their daughter up and sat her down, laying out their small picnic of apple cider donuts, warm apple cider, and sandwiches.

“Why are you playing with those donuts, darling?”

Steve looked up from where he’d put the plastic container in his lap, finding Peggy using a napkin to clean their daughter’s face from the applesauce Mama Sarah had made them earlier. 

“Oh, uh, nothing.” He could feel his face warming, his ears tinting a shade of pink. Peggy’s pointed look didn’t go amiss. “I...just made these donuts.”

“I know, darling, I was there. I was taste testing the filling the entire time,” she teased, making Steve’s face grow warmer. “What’s really going on? Did you change the apple filling on us?”

“Y-Yes!” The squeak escaping him did nothing to hide the face he was embarrassed. “Yes, yes exactly.”

“Well, I’m sure it’s still good. Come on, Sarah, love. Let’s have one of daddy’s donuts.” 

Steve’s fingers shook as he picked up one precise donut, right in the middle, that looked like all the rest. “This-this is yours. I have...Sarah’s.” He scooped his daughter up, the little girl having no problem in whose lap she was sitting in, long as she got her sweet treat.

If Peggy suspected something, she didn’t say anything. She just took a bite, nearly stuffing half the donut in her mouth. Steve’s breath was in his throat, half focused on Sarah and feeding her torn off pieces so she didn’t choke.

At Peggy’s slight choking noise, Steve’s head shot up, a worried look on his face. He didn’t get to see the love of his life taking the parchment-wrapped ring from the middle of the donut. However, he did get to see her expression.

The blatant shock that etched on her face, eyes wide as she stared down at the unwrapped ring and to him.

It was a simple ring, Steve knew. He’d picked it just for that, simple but elegant. White gold band, with blue sapphire and red ruby’s. Etched inside, with the jeweler's touch was Sarah’s birthdate and the saying our moment in time.

He hadn’t even been aware he was holding his breath until he felt Peggy’s touch to his cheek, their dessert laid forgotten. 

“Darling, are you crying?”

Looking into her eyes, the very same eyes his daughter had, Steve, saw tears in her eyes too. He could just manage a nod and throw his arms around her, Sarah between them as he hugged her.

“I am, because of I-I…” Steve let go to hold her face, kissing her deeply. He tried to convey all the emotions he felt in one single kiss. How much he loved her. How happy he was they were together. How he was so terrified when she was sick with Sarah when he almost lost her and had to make that difficult choice when they had their baby girl and saw how small she was, how proud he was of both of them. 

“I love you too,” Peggy whispered, pulling away and not bothering to wipe either of their tears. “I love you too, darling. Yes, yes darling, yes.”

Steve made a choking sound that might’ve been a sob if Sarah hadn’t made her presence known in a heavy scream of delight, unknowns to the situation, just that her parents were loving one another. He picked her up to their chest level and kissed her face.

“I think,” Peggy laughed. “Sarah says yes too.”

[brookelynnsanders]

Practice Challenge 1 - Prompt 1

A/N a very big thank you to my amazing beta @freykitten for fixing my mess. Love you lots! Also thank you to @dawningofdrag for being my personal cheerleader! Hope you guys enjoy

In the Dream Girls and Pageant's flat the weekly post-lecture drinking session has just got started. An array of different whiskies, canned cocktails and wine litters the second hand dining table where Brooke’s Bachelor thesis has laid not five minutes earlier. A’keria pours herself and Brooke the second glass of scotch for the day - the first one was for calming their nerves while finishing up the last touches on their theses. Meanwhile, Nina helps Vanessa transform her favorite homemade dish, puerto rican pasteles de carne, into a vegan version - which seems to take longer than expected. Not really a surprise when considering the fact Vanessa’s abuelita had never used any proper measurements and just went with her gut. And if Brooke isn’t mistaken, she can hear Vanessa argue from the kitchen that the recipe just flows through her Latin blood, and therefore she needs no “motherfucking measurements”. The blonde can only chuckle and slightly shake her head before taking another sip from her drink. 

“Kiki, have you seen Silky?” Brooke asks out loud, surprised by how relatively quiet the shared household is. The only noises to be heard coming from the kitchen, and, for once, they don’t even include wild chatter or singing.

“If I remember correctly, she wandered off to buy some pastries, but who knows where Big Silk actually is,” A’keria answers without even taking her eyes off her phone for a second. Her manicured fingers swiping left and right across the screen. 

“Are you on tinder again?” A teasing smile present on her lips.

“You fucking know I am.” The snip of her fingers highlights her cocky attitude, knowing damn well most mean swoon over her. Fall for her feisty but wise dementor within seconds.

“Have you matched with- ” The blond starts, before getting cut off mid sentence.

“Guys, girls, and nonbinary pals - I have humongous news!” Silky bursts through the entrance, adding an extra door slam for the shock value. Three pairs of blown wide pupils stare at her - not necessarily in shock, rather in anticipation.

“Spit it out!” Vanessa shouts as Nina popps her head through the doorframe as well. Intrigued by the ongoing comotion - not even bothering about getting the sauce stains off her cheek.

“The application letters for Prince Arin Schreave’s Selection just arrived.”

For a second the world stands still. Everyone, including Brooke, holds their breath. The calm before the storm.

This sentence alone is enough for hell to break loose in the tiny college apartment. Vanessa and A’keria flock around Silky like pigeons waiting for seed to be tossed at them. Vanjie, the shortest of the trio, bounces like a ball around the other two, making up a song with random Spanish words and screeching at the top of her lungs, while A’keria and Silky argue about who would be a better queen. Nina simply settles by Brooke’s side with a small cuckle, brushing her blonde fringe out of the way. Both only roll their eyes, having forgotten about the Selection since the day it has been announced. There've been way more important things on Brooke’s mind - like how many additional hours she needs to spend in the lab to gain extra credit.

"How can someone be so excited about being objectified by the entire nation," Brooke mumbles to herself - very unimpressed by the whole ordeal, not really understanding the hype around the upcoming Selection. How come that her 20 something year old friends turned into 12 year old teenage girls dreaming about life as a royal within seconds? 

Hormones - I guess.

"Because this ass deserves to be objectified," Silky whoops, putting on an entire twerking show in the living room with Vanjie and A’keria hyping her up and joining the jelly shaking. Usually Brooke finds her friends intoxicating goofiness amusing without any alcohol in her system. Apparently, today is not the day. So she falls back into her seat, taking a heavy swing of her liquor and watches her friends chatter about the possibility of an average looking rich boy falling for one of them. 

An hour passes and the giggly girls still haven't calmed down, and since nearly everyone abandoned the food immediately - it’s between Brooke and Silky to finish the puerto rican delicacy. Tipsy Brooke doesn't mind that now even Nina joined the hype, seemingly having forgotten about her current boyfriend. The blonde keeps herself busy with alternating between online shopping for new pointe shoes and new plants she can add to her steadily growing collection. Not an ideal Friday afternoon, but at least this time around A’keria didn’t forget to buy vegan pork. 

A glance to her clock tells her that her favorite trashy TV show starts soon. A silent prayer escapes her lips in hopes that this will spark a different conversation among the girls.

However, her prayer stayed unheard.

Another glass of liquor in, she starts to enjoy the laughter and excitement laying heavy in the air - drowning out the TV. The beaming smiles of her friends slowly melt her cold exterior, making her forget why she is so bitter in the first place. A fuzzy feeling spreads in her chest at the mention of sparkly ball gowns and which jewels would best suit Silky’s and A’keria’s darker complexion. Glue stains might now cover the table surface, but all Brooke can focus on is the twinkle in her friends' eyes. Especially Vanessa’s golden orbs seem to gleam like amber in the late afternoon sun. Brooke can perfectly imagine the same expression on a much younger version of the Latina - sparkling child’s eyes opening neatly wrapped presents on her 6th birthday.

A cashmere-like grin settles on Vanessa’s lips once she catches the blonde stare, adding a wink for good measure.

Ohh no

“Brookey, why don’t you wanna join us and fill out your applic-, aple-, whatever - your letter?” Gold orbs now work their best puppy look, while Vanessa attempts to milk every cute asset she posses, which leaves her with plenty of choice. Her head now rests on her palms propped up on the table, indulging the other woman in a silent staring contest.

“Vanjie, you know how I think about the Selection,” Brooke adds once she's glanced away. Her words merely louder than a whisper, accentuating her naturally husky voice.

“Prince Arin has two sisters,” Nina promptly slides into the conversation. The sly smirk on her face resembles a cat waiting for its prey. 

“Yes, I know, Nina, but what does this have to do with me?” Blonde bushy brows are raised high, while her nervous fingertips play with the golden cross around her neck.

“Quit this shit, B! We all know you like girls,” A’keria shouts from across the room, head buried in the wine cabinet. 

Wait what? Brooke feels her mouth fall agape before shooting back, “I’m not gay!”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” Nina retorts, which the blond pretends to overhear and checks the time on her phone again. An hour left before she has to catch her train.

“Well if you don’t wanna fill it out, me and Vanjie will have some fun.”

An eye roll from the blonde’s side is enough to make it clear that she couldn’t care less. Brooke Lynn takes a last swing to empty her glass, before grabbing the rest of the dishes littering the tiny table and bringing them to the kitchen. Instead of resorting to her usual weed abuse, she decides to clean the kitchen instead - hoping to take her mind off certain things. But with each scrubbed plate and cooking utensil the itch in her chest doesn’t seem to go away. What she would give for just a tiny puff- No, Brooke, you are going home tonight. Her shoulders slouch as she scolds herself, nearly missing the commotion going in in the living room. Nearly.

“I swear Brooke will end you if you note down ‘hiding in the closet’ for her special skills.”

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

“Too bad I am not deaf, Silky babe.” 

The stern look on the blonde’s face is enough for Vanessa to hide behind A’keria, yet unable to suppress the cackle bubbling up in her throat. However, Silky hasn’t got the memo, and attempts to pick a fight with Brooke. Nina frees the application from A’keria’s grasp and silently finishes filling in the last details needed to complete the form. A tap on Brooke’s shoulder is enough to break the two brawlers apart. The tick paper with carefully placed gold details is placed in Brooke Lynn’s hands who doesn’t look too amused. She slams the neatly filled form onto the table, adding wrinkles to the thoughtfully crafted application. 

“Do me favour and just let me be,” Brooke continues with a deep sight, before leaving the common area to retreat to her room, tired of her friends for once. A glance at the clock hanging above her king sized bed tells her she needs to hurry up if she still wants to catch the last train going home, so she grabs her tiny suitcase from her bedroom, slips on a pair of vans, and grabs and olive toned coat. 

“Brooke?”

“What?” The annoyance in the blonde’s voice only increases as the blood in her veins starts to simmer. Her fingertips already rest against the cold metal of the doorknob. 

“Can you come over for a sec?”

Reluctantly, she turns around and struts towards the direction of the voice. Vanessa is seated alone on the living room floor, everyone else already getting ready for their evening plans - whatever they may be.

“You aren’t mad are you? We were just playing.” The brunette clearly looking worried - probably pondering whether or not she had overstepped a line.

“I know, Nessa, I know. It’s just a touchy subject. You know my parents-”

“I know, B,” Vanessa whispers, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth. She signs grabby hands at Brooke, silently asking for a hug. 

With a loving eye roll, the other woman let’s go off the suitcase handle and envelops the shorter girl in a tight embrace. She sighs deeply as she inhales Nessa’s strawberry scented shampoo, taking a moment to just breathe.

But she can’t stay.

“I gotta go now, V. I don’t wanna miss my train again,” Brooke mumbles into the brunette’s wavy hair. But she holds on a tad bit longer, closing her eyes for just a second.

Vanessa buries her head a bit deeper into Brooke’s embrace cautiously slipping a sheet of paper into the olive coat pocket before letting go.

The blonde gives the smaller woman one last smile, before grabbing her suitcase and walking through the door. 

“Have fun in Dakota!” are the last words Brooke hears before leaving her flat behind. 

Once her feet collide with the gum littered pavement, she picks up her pace and barely makes it to the platform on time. With a little huff, she slides into an empty cabin, throwing her suitcase on the opposite seat and catches her breath. The train isn’t near its full speed yet when Brooke already opens the window, grabbing the cigarette pack from her coat, unable to resist the urge in her chest, needing to fix her itch. So she lights her last cigarette inside the vehicle in a desperate need for a calm moment in this chaotic week. Praying she will somehow survive the weekend at her parents' place without her bong. 

But honestly - how bad could it be?