#but I don’t really like the scent of cinnamon :( I associate it with Christmas and I also don’t really like Christmas

[beanmaster-pika]

My mom nixed the lemons so now I’m gonna smell like cinnamon for the rest of my life (<- exaggeration)

[innaminitus]

Gingerbreads

Pairing: George x reader x Fred

Request: WEASLEY TWINS CHRISTMAS SMUT YES PLEAASE where they both like the reader but like make a deal that it’s either both of them for her or none of them? THANK YOU

Warnings: smut, no twincest

Word count: 2671

A/N: BIG NOTE: if you are not okay with this kind of fic, you are free to not read it. there is plenty of similar fics all over tumblr, you can avoid them, too.

first fic from my Christmas at Hogwarts series! Feel free to send requests!

The hallways were filled with candles and glittery chains, on every corner there was a Christmas tree, decorated with all kinds of ornaments, gingerbreads and dried oranges, filling the air with the specific scent of holidays.

Disgusting.

You hated the so called ‘holiday spirit’ and basically everything that involved anything associated with Christmas. It wasn’t your fault, really. You remembered times when you actually quite liked Christmas. Not much of it you remembered, though, since you were just a small child when it all fell apart. It was Christmas, after all, when your father murdered your mother right in front of you. Cinnamon and oranges only made you anxious now.

Suddenly someone bumped into you from behind.

“Hey, Portkey!” The Weasley twins blocked your view and both walked backwards in order to see you.

“Stop calling me that…” You furrowed at the nickname, but couldn’t help but to smile.

You got the nickname after the circumstances in which you met the twins.

You were scrubbing the cauldrons in Snape’s office as your detention when the door opened and Filch jumped on his chair in which he has been snoring for at least half an hour now. Snape stormed through the door, dragging two boys by their collars. You saw them before, the famous Weasley twins, the jokers of Hogwarts.

“Messrs. Weasley will help Miss Y/L/N clean the cauldrons. I expect them to be clean enough to see my own reflection.”

“Of course, professor!” Filch nodded his head. “I’ll make sure they will!”

But despite what he said, right after Snape left Filch sat back on his chair and started snoring once again. Fred or George laughed at him and grabbed one of the sponges you were using to clean one of the cauldrons from something thick and sticky.

“I’m Fred” one of them said “and this is George.” He pointed at his twin who cringed at the sight of dirty cauldrons.

“I’m Y/N,” you murmured without taking your eyes off a particularly dirty place.

“And how did you end up here?”

You smirked and looked up.

“I turned Filch’s mop into a portkey. He ended up on the roof every time he touched it.”

They both laughed at your words.

“Brillaint!” said George. At least you thought it was George. “We gave the whole first year Fainting Fancies.”

“Only to test them, of course.”

“But Granger ruined the fun.”

You stopped scrubbing for a second and looked at them with dismay.

“What on earth are Fainting Fancies?” you asked, not sure if you actually want to know the answer.

“Ah!” Fred straightened, obviously very proud of himself. “Our invention! We are working on sweets that make you ill.”

“Sweets that make me ill?” You raised your eyebrow.

“Exactly. You take one and have, in example, instant fever. Perfect before an exam you forgot about.”

“You guys are really something else.”

It was in the middle of September. You have become quite inseparable ever since, the jokes and hours of detention really brought you together.

“Ready to leave for Christmas?” asked Fred, almost tripping over an old rug.

You dragged his arm and forced him to walk next to you, afraid he might actually fall next time. George also joined your side.

“I’m not leaving. I always spend Christmas here.”

“Well, actually that makes sense. I wouldn’t like to spend Christmas with a Slytherin either,” Fred laughed, but George stormed him with sight. “What?”

You only talked to George about what happened to your family. One night you were changing the lenses in telescopes in Astronomy Tower, so instead of stars they would show a giant eye of a person who would use them and ended up looking at the night sky filled with dark clouds. You were talking about everything and nothing, and from word to word you ended up confessing it to him. How your father killed your mother, because she wouldn’t join him as a Death Eater. How you run away through the back door of your house and, swallowing tears, stormed to your neighbors. How the Aurors would take your father to the Azkaban and leave you at an orphanage. How no one would adopt you.

“It’s just… Celebrating Christmas in an orphanage is never fun. I much prefer it here than there.”

Fred’s smile fainted. “I’m- I’m sorry, Y/N, I had no idea.”

“That’s fine.” You waved your hand at him. “You couldn’t know.”

He looked at his twin, they exchanged looks that seemed to say more than any word could.

“Alright, that’s it,” George said. “You have to come with us for Christmas.”

You shook your head with a faint smile. “It’s alright, boys. I’m fine on my own, really.”

“Well, we’re not.” Fred stopped, blocking your way up the corridor. “That’s it, you’re coming with us. I already told mom you would.”

You furrowed. “No, you didn’t.”

“But I will, so you better go pack yourself.”

You sighed. Would it really be so bad? Would you go down memory lane and get fifteen panic attacks by the time you step through the door of their home or would you finally soothe the horror you’ve been living in for past twelve years? There was only one way to find out.

“Alright. I’ll go.”

***

You were nervous during the whole train ride, and now you felt as if you were about to jump from your own skin because of anxiety. With the rest of the Weasley siblings and, of course, the one and only Harry Potter you were waiting outside the King’s Cross station for Mr. Weasley, who was going to pick you up. In a car, they said. You couldn’t possibly imagine how exactly you would fit in a car with all the baggage, but magic surprised you way too many times for you to still question everything. This time it was no different – although Mr. Weasley parked a simple black car, he supposedly got from the Ministry (it had something to do with Potter, but you didn’t ask too many questions) inside it was as big as a van. Every single one of you could fit inside, and you still had plenty of room left. They all chattered and laughed during the way, but you were too stressed to even listen to them. You regretted your decision already. You should be at Hogwarts, in your dorm room, alone, reading a book and drinking unholy amount of hot chocolate with marshmallows. The elves would always bring you some food and this perfect beverage since you never joined the rest of the students which stayed as well. But it was too late now.

The car stopped before an old, weirdly crooked house which looked like a patchwork blanket you had when you were little. Somehow it made you feel warm inside.

You got out right after Ginny, with your bag in hand, unsure what to do. You locked your eyes on flying lights around the roof of the house. Could it be fairies? Or just enchanted string of plain lights?

All of the sudden you felt heavy arm around your shoulders. “Hey, Portkey, you alright?” Fred asked, his sight following yours. “Yeah, I know it’s not much, but–“

“It’s perfect,” you interrupted, smiling.

His face brightened and you noticed sparkles in his eyes. Pretty.

“Go on, lovebirds!” Ginny waved at you and you noticed that it was now only you and Fred standing outside. You blushed suddenly and hurried inside.

“Oh, hello, dear!” Mrs. Weasley smiled at you and grabbed your arms, squeezing them lightly. A big warm smile bloomed on her face. “You must be Y/N! How lovely to finally meet you, I’m so glad you’ll spend holidays with us!”

“Thank you for having me.” You smiled back. This woman just greeted you like an old family friend, not an orphan she sees for the first time in her life. It was… oddly nice.

***

You were sitting on a sofa, your knees under your chin, staring blindly at the yule tree, your sight blurred to the point where you only saw points of colorful light. The dinner was wonderful. Mrs. Weasley asked George in a letter what your favorite food was, and of course made it just for you. She also made sure there was no scent of gingerbread spice. It was just a little too much for you.

“You’re not asleep?” Someone’s voice interrupted your mindless procrastinating.

You blinked and turned your head to look at George walking down the stairs.

“Not yet… I’m a little overwhelmed. Don’t mind me.”

He sat next to you. The sofa was quite small, that’s why you put your legs down, and now his thigh was touching yours.

“I know my mum can be… intense. To say the least, but she means well.”

“I know that, and she’s lovely, really, it’s just… I don’t know. A lot to process for me. I haven’t had real Christmas since I was a kid. And you are all trying to make me feel welcome…” You turned your head from him, suddenly ashamed. “I feel like I don’t deserve any of it.”

A second passed, then another, and you felt his warm fingers under your chin. He gently turned your face back to him.

“You deserve everything, Y/N.” He moved so close to you that for a second you were sure he was going to kiss you, but he hesitated mere millimeters from your lips. Hotness flushed your cheeks. He smelled like pine tree and suddenly you decided it was now your favorite scent. You waited for a second that felt like an hour, and slightly moved away in the same moment he moved forward. A small gasp escaped your lips, he leaned even more, undaunted, and kissed you gently. No tongue, not even opened mouth, just lips touching lips. It was a long kiss, though, and when he moved away you felt uncomfortable chill on your mouth.

“George–“

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I shouldn’t–“

“No,” you interrupted. “Do it again. Please.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. His hand landed on the back of your neck, he pulled you to him, and butterflies erupted in your stomach. Enough with the gentleness, he was needy, as if he’s been waiting for your lips his whole life. His other hand was on your thigh, he was turning you more towards him as his tongue slid into your mouth.

“Well, well, well.”

You parted immediately, somehow ashamed. Fred slowly walked down the stairs, a hint of smile on his face. “What do we have here?” He stood before you, hands crossed. “I thought we had a deal, Georgie.” Wait, what? “It’s either both of us or none of us.”

You blinked once, then twice, but couldn’t understand the situation. You looked at George, hoping that maybe he would make it clearer.

“I know, I know,” he sighed “but I couldn’t help myself.”

Your heart missed a beat, but not in a pleasant way. Were they… making a bet?

“Can any of you tell me what the hell are you talking about?” you asked, lovely moment from just a mere minute ago long gone.

George rubbed the back of his head and exchanged looks with Fred. They were doing it again, communicating without words.

He sighed. “We– we both like you, okay? And we agreed that none of us will be with you… unless the other one would also be involved.”

You swallowed hard. Did he mean… to be with them both? At the same time? It seemed crazy but… you liked them, too. They were both handsome, obviously. Would it be so bad?

“Okay,” you said, the steadiness of your voice surprising you. “We can– we can try.”

They seemed as surprised as you were, looking at each other once more.

Fred was the first to speak, after he cleared his throat. “Then maybe… let’s go to our room?”

You nodded and followed him up the stairs, feeling the warmth of George’s body behind you.

It was oddly arousing. You had to be quiet, to not wake anyone. You knew you’d have to be quiet later when… When what exactly? Were you going to have sex? Or was it just your hope?

You entered the twins’ room, bathed in moonlight. It smelled like pine here as well…

Suddenly a hand was on the back of your neck, Fred’s tongue first, a split second before his needy lips landed on yours. You didn’t think, you didn’t wait, you gave back every kiss, your tongue next to his. While his fingers were tangled in your hair another set of hands played with skin under the hem of your shirt, bolder with each passing moment. He traced the curves of your body, shamelessly traveled up, and up, his soft fingers caressed the side of your breasts only to finally land on your hardened nipples. You moaned in Fred’s mouth at which he bit your lower lip.

“You like how he touches you, huh?” His voice no more than a whisper, sent shivers down your body. “Wait till I touch you.”

George rolled your nipples in between his fingers, but soon his hands were gone, because Fred lifted you up. They seemed to have one mind, what one thought the other acted. George sat on one of the beds, Fred seated you between his brother’s legs. His fingers hooked on your pajama pants and your panties, but before he took them off he took a look at you, one eyebrow raised in silent question. You could go back now, they wouldn’t blame you. Only… you didn’t exactly want to go back. You lifted your hips, your answer just as silent as his. He grinned and slid your clothes down your legs. George gripped your shirt and soon it was also gone, but you weren’t cold. You had two bodies to warm yourself and you were gladly going to use them.

George’s soft lips traced the curve of your neck while Fred was watching your arousal grow under his brother’s touch. His hands slowly parted your thighs, showing your already pulsating pussy. His twin’s fingers were kneading your breasts and mercilessly pinching your nipples while his mouth landed on yours, kissing you passionately.

He caught you by surprise, really. Almost making you jump when you felt warm tongue spreading your folds, surprise quickly turning to pleasure when Fred’s tongue started to, gently at first, play with your dripping pussy. Oh, but he was impatient. Soon you were a moaning as he was sucking on your clit and slowly pushing one finger inside of you. George wasn’t planning on being any worse than his brother – his skillful fingers could probably make you come just by playing with your nipples and soon you were biting your lips almost till they bled, only to not moan their names.

The pleasure was unbelievable. Feeling of two bodies against you, flicks of Fred’s tongue and moves of George’s fingers and his lips on yours – it was all too much to bear, too much for one person to experience. And you found yourself lost in this pleasure when Fred joined another finger deep in your pussy. Your muscles clenched on him, he started sucking on your clit, George’s fingers pinched hard and all of the sudden you were almost knocked out by the most intensive orgasm you’re ever had.

They gave you a moment to come down from the high and slowly started to undress when you suddenly heard a knock on the door.

“Can you wrap it up?” You heard Ginny’s whisper. “Mom asked me twice already where you are, Y/N, I’m running out of excuses.”

You got all red and slapped your hand over your mouth, looking at the twins who tried very hard not to laugh. Fred handed you your clothes and George leaned to your ear “We’ll finish it tomorrow.” A shiver went down your spine. Well, now you’ve had new Christmas memory to hold onto.

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 19

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap

A/N: hope you enjoy this chapter xxx

NEXT CHAPTER

Y/N was submerged up to her neck up to the bubbles in her bath tube. She wanted to be mad at Gwen, mad that once again she had lost something over her own selfishness but most of her mind was telling her to be forgiving, Gwen could’ve never predicted a blizzard and if she had known she would’ve probably taken one less bag so Y/N could accompany her. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help but feel a ting of sadness as it dawned on her she would probably spend Christmas here. It wasn’t like she didn’t enjoy Sebastian’s presence, she absolutely loved to be around him when he wasn’t putting up a facade for his associates. However, it was different. It wasn’t the same, there were no fireplaces, no big kitchens in flames with every single scent related to winter and Christmas, no playing chess with Mr. Forrest or telling Gwen to wait for present opening. At the same time she was rather nervous to be left alone with Sebastian. That’s just like freeing a child in a candy shop without parent supervision and an unusual amount of money. No restraints and how was she supposed to have any restraints when Gwen wasn’t around to be the constant reminder that being in love with a promised man is wrong?

She sighed, lowering her body down til her nose touched the bubbles of the bath tube. Was the universe testing her? Yes, it was. She kissed a promised man and now she doesn’t get to spend Christmas like she normally does. What else is gonna happen? She hoped there was no mistletoe laying around the house. 

     - Miss Y/N? Are you okay? - she heard a light knock on the door followed by Amelia’s voice. Noticing the water had begun to cool down, she stepped off the tub, wrapping herself in one of Sebastian’s monogramed fluffy robes. 

The handmaid creaked the door open, peaking to see the maid holding a folded red jumper and black pair of sweatpants. Being in those soft materials sounded like a good idea. Being surrounded in soft materials was always a sure way to make her a bit happy.

    - I got you some nice and warm clothes and afterwards I can do your hair into something pretty. - Y/N nodded clearly not in the mood to disobey and quickly got dressed up in the freshly washed and dried garments. In no time she was sat in front of her vanity while Amelia brushed her hair and braided it along with a red velvet string. 

    - You know, Miss Y/N, we haven’t had a nice Christmas in this household in ages. Maybe with you here, we can have something nice. - she placed the brush back in the table. - There we go. Don’t you look pretty?

    - Thank you so much, Amelia. - she smiled. - Don’t you want to go home to your family?

    - This is my family. I’ve been taking care of Mr. Stan since he was as tall as a hobbit. However, I don’t think he needs someone to look after him anymore.

Before Y/N could question Amelia over her riddle speaking pattern, she was already rushing her down the stairs. Much to her surprise, the fireplace that wasn’t really a fireplace was on, there was a smell of apples, cinnamon and nutmeg in the air. She looked around wondering where the smell came from and judging by the amount of people in the kitchen along with bodyguards cooking various things, she wondered it came from there. She tried to suppress her smile as she walked barefoot to the kitchen, the little bells on her velvet red string jiggling.

   - It smells lovely. What are you cooking? - she asked Elias, her bodyguard, who had an apron over his suit. 

   - I have no idea, Miss Y/N. Some sort of pudding like thing. - he continued to whisk the dough. - Do you happen to know how to cook a Christmas Pudding?

   - I think you might me missing some brandy. 

   - I would love some brandy. - Elias mumbled.

   - Stop mumbling. When you applied for this job you said you could cook so cook. - Sebastian spoke from further into the kitchen which intrigued Y/N. He barely even stepped into the kitchen unless he needed his beloved coffee as other than that he got his meals in his office. Y/N bite her lip, walking further into the kitchen to find the perfectly polished mob boss struggling with whatever he was doing. - You know, angel, I can hear your bells. 

   - What are you doing? - like a curious child, she took over to his side. 

   - Sugar cookies. 

   - That is not sugar cookie dough. - she pointed at the bowl he was mixing which had a liquid like dough on. - Besides, I thought you said you didn’t cook. 

   - Well ... it is my fiancée’s fault you’re not at home having some sugar cookies so I thought I’d dust off my mother’s recipe ... It’s not working very well, angel. 

   - Yeah, cookie dough shouldn’t be liquid. 

   - The fridge will fix it. - he placed the bowl down, staring at the once straight but now crooked whisk caused by his lack of gentleness when cooking. Sebastian couldn’t cook and that was a fact. The only thing he could sort of make and turn edible was chicken breasts which he had learned during university and even that was somewhat questionable.

   - No, Seb, I don’t think it will. - the nickname escaped her mindlessly and, while she didn’t notice, Sebastian couldn’t help but smirk at how comfortable she had made herself around him. At least comfortable enough to give him a nickname. - Do you have the recipe? I’m sure we can make a new lovely batch. 

  - If you can understand my mother’s handwriting. - he handed her a rather old piece of paper which looked like a child’s tea paper. Y/N held the paper with both hands, chewing on her lip as she read it through. 

  - Alright we need sugar, flour, vanilla extract, butter, and eggs. - she scanned through the sea of ingredients that were standing on the table. - Why ... why are there chocolate chips here?

  - I thought I could put chocolate chips on it. - he rubbed his neck sheepishly and Y/N smiled. - I used to do it with my mum. It’s probably wrong.

  - You know, my nanny always said you bake from the heart. - she handed him an unopened pack of white chocolate chips. - Besides, I think we might make it work if we add it at the end. We start with butter and sugar in the bowl and then we mix it ... with an electrical mixer. 

  - You youngsters and your electronics. - he joked and Y/N rolled her eyes. If Gwen was to be trusted, Sebastian was 14 years older than both her and Gwen making him almost a decade and a half older than the two girls. She creamed the butter with the sugar and added the flour, eggs and vanilla. - Can I turn it on now?

 - Sure, just be caref ... - before she could warn him, he turned the mixer up to his highest speed sending a cloud of flour towards both of them. - ... with the speed. 

She looked at his surprised flour covered face, holding in a laugh as she bopped his nose. He looked so helpless in the kitchen she wondered if his associates knew the best way to get his weakness would be by making him cook. 

    - This is why we start with slow to medium speed. - she turned it off on medium, watching as the flour was incorporated with the flour. - Should I put a scarf on you and you can become the snowman?

     - You’re trying to be funny, angel? - his hand ran down her side, subtly ending on her bum. - Don’t forget who you’re speaking to. 

     - I won’t. - she handed him the glass bowl, successfully occupying his hands with something else. - I hope you know how to roll dough. 

It was nice and she had to admit it. Baking Christmas cookies with the mob boss engaged to her friend was nice and she didn’t know if to feel guilty or to relish on the memories that would probably haunt her at night time or whenever she thought of Gwen. She was stuck in her own conflict until she felt something run down her cheek. 

    - Sebastian ... - she cleaned her cheek, noticing the red icing. - Stop it. 

    - I always thought you were sweet angel but I think you might just taste sweet too now. - Sebastian kissed her cheek making her widen her eyes, looking around if any of the staff had noticed. To her luck, they were much too busy looking at a video on youtube on how to properly cook a turkey. Guess they shouldn’t have given the chef an early holiday. 

   - Stop it, you’re engaged. - she took a step to the right and handed him a bowl where she had placed the chocolate chips on. - Go on, decorate your cookies. 

   - They won’t say anything. - Sebastian observed as Y/N’s pipped some icing onto her cookies making them look like small pieces of art. Surely his cookies were not gonna be displayed. - Besides Gwen isn’t here. 

   - You could look a bit sad that your fiancée isn’t here. - she grabbed the tray of cookies and placed it in the oven, cleaning her hands against her apron. - You don’t need to mean it. 

   - Admit it, you’re also happy she isn’t around. 

   - I am not. We’ve spent Christmas together since we were kids, it’s sorta of odd that she isn’t around. 

   - C’mon, angel. Do you even have a day in your life that’s just for you? Your birthday perhaps?

   - Me and Gwen have the same birthday and besides, I don’t know what I would do with a day just for me. - she could possibly spend the whole day reading but other than that it would sound a bit weird not to have Gwen barging into her bedroom with her issues. - You spend Christmas with family and the ones you love. 

   - Alright, angel, if you say so. 

   - We should go outside. 

   - Outside? - he looked over the window, noticing the soft fresh snow on the ground. It looked way colder than the warmth provided by his heaters inside the house. - Are you sure?

   - We could go to the Rockefeller Centre, see the Christmas tree or even go to the ice rink.

   - You wanna walk all the way there?

   - It’s not that bad. C’mon, it’s gonna be lovely. - her eyes sparkled in a way that didn’t allow anyone with an once of a heart to say no to her. Sighing he just smiled and that wasn’t for her to kiss his cheek and rush out of the kitchen to grab her coat.

She returned in a few seconds in a white faux fur coat which most likely used to belong to Gwen and matching winter hat and gloves. He thought she looked adorable all in white like some sort of snow angel with the robin necklace in gold shinning with the reflection of the Christmas lights. In odd comparison, Sebastian was wearing his traditional signature long black coat, sunglasses with a Burberry scarf. As they stepped outside, she seemed to light up with energy, her hand wrapping around his as they looked at the other house’s outside decoration.

People couldn’t help but smile as they saw the two people contrasted with colours and with expressions. Sebastian himself would’ve gone home but his heart would skip a beat every time her gloved hand touched his pulling him along. In what felt like hours and hours of walking and looking at various lights, they reached the Rockefeller Centre and even Sebastian had to take off his sunglasses to look at the Christmas tree. 

   - Let’s go ice skating. - she grabbed his hand, smiling. - It’ll be fun.

   - No, angel. You can go, I’ll just watch.

   - It’ll be fun besides, I’m sure none of your associates are here to see you ice skating. 

   - Do you ever take no for an answer, angel? 

   - You’re gonna like it. 

   - Alright. - he gave in and walked over to buy the tickets and rent the skates. Mindlessly, she put her skates off and went off onto the rink, turning around to see Sebastian still trying to look as polished and stoic as he could. - What?

  - You can’t be holding onto the rail all the time. - she crossed her arms. - That’s cheating. 

  - I never said I would do the skating part of ice skating. 

  - You could always use this as an excuse to hold my hand. - she skated over to him, extending her hand towards him.

  - I don’t need an excuse to hold your hand, angel. But ... I’ll take your offer. 

tag list: @lilya-petrichor @xoxohannahlee @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater @nikkipea @madisonpillstrom @cevans98 @thelostallycat @sideeffectsofyou @anxiousdreamersworld @captainchrisstan @lookiamtrying @sarge-barnes-sir​​ @stuffforreferences​ @thebadassbitchqueen

[hexxling]

Yuletide Blessings

good morning & bright solstice to all of my wonderful witches here on Tumblr! today is the first day of winter, meaning it’s time to celebrate. here are some small things you can do for Yule if you don’t have much energy, or if you’re practicing in secret ☀️❄️

wear colors that remind you of Winter! I like to wear reds & greens or whites & blues around this time of year ❤️💚🤍💙

use essential oils or incense that ~bring the light back in~, or things you associate with fire & sun! Yuletide is a festival of light to celebrate the rebirth of the Sun, so using scents like citris (orange, lemon etc) or spices like cinnamon can really help get you in the festive mood 🔥🌞🍊🍋

give gifts, or give to the less fortunate! it’s the perfect time of year to give love to the world around you, and what better way than to give gifts to the people you love? handmade gifts are even better! I like to knit blankets & wrap pendants for my friends & family, but you could also make homemade food or even buy something special for someone. if you can’t afford that this year, you could also volunteer at a soup kitchen or other charity programs to help those in need during these cold months 🎁💖🧶

get cozy! is there anything better than wrapping up in a warm blanket with hot cocoa & watching a “christmas” movie? Polar Express will always be a favorite of mine 🎄

go outside! yes, you CAN go outside even when it’s cold. bundle up, put on some snow boots & get out there! this is a great way to reconnect with nature during the solstice 🌨

light a candle! nothing makes a room more festive than a holiday themed candle. I’m burning one called ~winterberry spice~ at the moment 🕯

meditate! close your eyes & reflect on the past year & how much you’ve grown. now is the perfect time :)

that’s all I have for you today! feel free to reblog & add your own ideas. wishing you all an amazing Yuletide!!

[lovelylogans]

love light gleams

masterpost | chapter one | next chapter

christmas eve will find me where the love light gleams i’ll be home for christmas if only in my dreams

-bing crosby, i’ll be home for christmas

part of the wyliwf verse.

the sideshire files | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: food mentions, complicated parental relationships, teenage emancipation, emotional abuse, mentions of being disowned, mentions of transphobia and homophobia, classism, mentions of past underage drinking, crying, religious content (church, going to confession), remus cameo, mentions of choking/killing someone, something similar to the canon “have you thought about killing your brother?” monologue, please let me know if i’ve missed anything!

pairings: gen 

words: 57,686

notes: the way i came up with virgil’s dad’s name is, in fact, the nerdiest naming shortcut i’ve ever used. also, i used a middle name generator to come up with virgil’s middle name and That popped up and then i went back and did it again and that popped up and i Literally Couldn’t Resist. many thanks to @teacupfulofstarshine​ and @ for talking this work through with me!!!

virgil checks the time, again. yep. still 8:27 in the morning. still three more minutes. still he’s just sitting here, waiting, staring eagle-eyed at the last remaining people having breakfast or the people on coffee runs to see if they need anything else, just to have something to fill the time. 

he ends up just restacking the donuts in the little cake stand—it seemed a little crooked, and sure, the rest of the diner has been polished up nicely, but it’s just—they’re uneven. it’ll be noticeable if someone looks closely.

how many times have you seen dad rearrange the donut stand, he scolds himself. they won’t care, you’re overreacting. it’ll be fine. they’re your parents.

he doesn’t really stop, though. once he’s started it, he may as well keep going. 

it takes all of a minute and thirty seconds. 8:28. two more minutes. maybe he should wipe down the counter again, even though he did that five minutes ago. or top off the coffee pots, even though he did that seven minutes ago. 

he ends up going back into the kitchen to see if they need to add anything extra to the usual supply run that happens each week, checking the fridge and the freezer and jotting things down on the notepad he’s got hanging up on the kitchen wall—they should probably get more condiments—when he hears the bell jangle, and a familiar voice booms, “taylor, you old tightwad, you better not have done away with my son to buy our lot next door, i haven’t forgotten those threats!”

virgil grins. he hears taylor spluttering irritably at his mom. just like old times.

"where’s my son?” she calls.

“kitchen!” virgil shouts, finishing his scrawl as soon as possible, capping the pen and darting to the door of the kitchen, catching the doorframe and leaning so the diner comes into view so he doesn’t look like a little kid running to see his parents, even if that’s how he feels.

his mom is already crossing behind the counter, his dad trailing in her wake, and he steps forward in time for her to wrap her arms around him.

“there’s my baby,” she says, and virgil closes his eyes, really, genuinely feeling like a kid for a second, just for a second—she still smells like cinnamon and lemon-scented cleaning supplies, even after not working in the diner for half a year, and she’s wearing the same soft plum sweater he’s seen her wear hundreds of times with the same puffy black coat she wears in the winter.

“hi, mom,” he says, muffled by her shoulder.

she draws back, smiling, and keeps her hands on his shoulders. she still has the dark hair that virgil inherited from her, the bright blue eyes that virgil didn’t, the mischievous smile that got passed to his siblings. “happy birthday, bunny.”

“ mom,” he grumbles, ducking his head, and she laughs, ruffling his hair.

“i’m allowed to embarrass you, i’m your mother,” she says.

“virgil,” his dad says, mild as always. still with the brown eyes virgil got from him, the brown hair that’s just enough lighter than virgil and his mother’s that it’s a noticeable difference, tanner skin, from the italian side of the family (his last name used to be palmisano, before he changed it to danes after he got married to virgil’s mom, virgil is technically a family name, along with one of the... other parts of his name) the calm demeanor that virgil really wishes he had, sometimes.

“hey, dad,” he says, and his mom tugs virgil closer so that his dad can hug him, just for a moment, before he places a hand on his cheek.

“are you all right?” he says. “you look peaky. pale.”

“i always look pale, ” virgil points out.

“not coming down with anything?” 

“no, dad.”

“sleeping eight hours a night?” he says, narrow-eyed, and virgil hesitates for just a moment too long.

“ cinnabun,” his mother scolds.

“i’m running the diner!” he says defensively. “if anyone should know how busy that is, it’s you two, but i’m fine!”

his mom pinches his other cheek, so now each of his parents have a hand on his face, framing it. “no, you’ve definitely lost weight. three meals a day?”

" yes, mom,” he says. 

“prove it,” she challenges. “sit down, we can have breakfast.”

“in a second,” he says. “i’m just gonna make sure everything’s set before i take a break. you can make the rounds and dad can go sit in a booth and gossip with mrs. torres about how i’ve been doing lately, i’ll bring you some coffee.”

his father looks mollified—which is fair, mrs. torres is a pretty frequent diner customer and a prolific gossip and as such will probably know a lot more about virgil than virgil might even know about himself—so with their coffee in hand, his parents go to make the rounds. since a lot of virgil’s regulars are their old regulars, they’re saying hello to everyone and catching up on all the happenings of the town since they’d moved away.

his dad is deep in conversation with mrs. torres (probably somehow trying to ascertain the exact amount of sleep he’s been getting based on how often the diner’s been open early or late) and his mom is cheerfully picking a fight with taylor over all the associations he’s part of in an attempt to rise in power in the town.

virgil inhales deeply, smelling the coffee, the bacon, pancakes and syrup. it’s just—it’s nice. it’s back to the old times. it’s just like how things were before.

he serves some breakfast, and tops off coffee, and he’s hauling a tray of pancakes and french toast and omelets to a table full of businesspeople when the bell jingles again. he glances over, balancing the tray on his shoulder.

“hey,” virgil says to patton gruffly, and patton smiles at him—logan’s hidden by the way he’s been placed in the baby carrier strapped to the front of patton’s chest, but he can see the massive pom-pom on top of his winter hat moving, so logan’s probably awake and not crying, which is frankly miraculous.

“morning,” patton says. “um—happy birthday.”

virgil blinks. “how’d you—?”

“maria,” patton admits. “plus you mentioned it when we met. twenty-three, right?”

“right. well, thanks,” virgil says, and gestures to the dining room with his free hand. “you two settle in, i’ll bring you some hot cocoa/coffee?”

patton nods, and heads for a booth as virgil heads for the table and finishes serving breakfast, checking that they don’t need anything else, and virgil heads back behind the counter.

just in time to see his parents both wandering slowly over to patton’s booth, zeroing in on the baby. they probably think they look subtle. virgil quickly fills up a mug with hot cocoa/coffee, so he can rush over and make sure his parents don’t steal logan. 

“i haven’t seen you, are you new in town?” his mother is saying by the time he drops off the mug.

“he is,” virgil says, leaning his hip against the booth. “patton, sorry in advance, these are my parents, mark and meredith danes.”

“oh!” patton says, and shakes hands with his mom, and then with his dad. “very nice to meet you both.”

his parents are exchanging a glance, one of those Married Couple looks that no one else can understand. 

“so, how long have you been in town?” mark asks.

“um,” he says. “a month or so?”

“why sideshire?” meredith asks, and patton exchanges a slightly panicked look with virgil. virgil clears his throat.

“um, so, patton, look out, they’re definitely going to try and steal logan because they’re desperate for grandchildren.”

“you should have some kids,” mark says.

“ dad,” he says pointedly. “i’m twenty-tw— three, plus i’m single, i’m not about to have any kids. i’m busy dealing with the diner.”

“well, they could help out,” mark says.

“half the reason we had you is because of the free labor,” meredith says fondly, and virgil rolls his eyes.

“if you want grandkids, bug wyatt, he’s oldest,” virgil says pointedly. “or essie! she’s getting married, bug her!”

“aw, it’s cute that you think we aren’t doing that too, bunny,” meredith says.

“ mom,” virgil groans.

“bunny?” patton says, amused.

“we all have food-based nicknames,” virgil grumbles. “they ran out of material by the time they got to me.”

“ cinnamon bun has the good fortune of offering even more nicknames, mister,” meredith says.

“oh, sure,” virgil says. “wyatt and essie and silas all get relatively normal ones, but by the time you got to freddie and i it’s snickerdoodle and bunny, this definitely isn’t eldest child favoritism.”

virgil isn’t just talking about nicknames here, but he digresses.

“why cinnamon bun?” patton asks, glancing between virgil and his mother, a smile on his face.

“he always fell right to sleep whenever we swaddled him, so we basically always swaddled him,” meredith says. “and he just looked like the sweetest little bun of a baby.” 

“as such, he became cinnamon bun,” mark adds. 

“that’s—”

“don’t—”

“ sweet,” patton finishes, and sticks his tongue out at virgil, who lets out a theatrical groan at the pun, mostly because patton gets very satisfied with himself when he does. 

his parents look thoroughly charmed. logan, however, makes a squalling noise of protest.

“oh, hey there,” patton says. “hey, i just fed you, you okay?”

he frees logan from his carrier, and holds him in his arms, and virgil sees both his parents melt, absolutely weak for the presence of a baby. he’s pretty sure the reason for his and freddie’s existences were partially about, yes, free labor, but also they wanted to have a baby around the house.

his parents are exchanging another one of those Married Couple looks. virgil wants to ask, but patton’s making comforting noises at logan, and he quiets a little.

“you just wanted attention, huh?”

“oh, he’s precious,” mark says.

“how old is he?” meredith asks. 

“two months on the third,” patton says. “so i guess a month and a half, give or take?”

his parents make the appropriate cooing noises, though virgil’s pretty sure that they’d react the same way if patton had said any passage of time from birth.

patton rocks logan a little, more and more, until logan’s quiet again. his parents are Looking At Each Other like that again.

“patton, would you like to join us for breakfast?” meredith says, and patton looks up, startled.

“oh, you don’t have to,” patton begins.

“i’m honestly trying to figure out the best strategy to get you to let me hold the baby,” meredith admits breezily, no shame, and patton laughs.

“well, you can now, if you want?”

so meredith swaps seats so she can slide in next to patton in the booth, and carefully starts cradling logan, and mark gets up too, straightening the hem of his sweater vest.

“virgil,” mark says. “why don’t i follow you back into the kitchen, to help get things settled before you take a break? i want to see how it’s doing.”

that makes sense—his dad’s domain was the kitchen, while his mom had been out front. so virgil nods, and he gestures vaguely back toward the counter.

“don’t steal logan,” he tells his mom.

“no promises,” meredith says without looking up from logan, and virgil and his father fall into step together.

“i didn’t really change much,” virgil says, when they’re in the kitchen. “just rearranged the cabinets a little, and—”

“virgil,” his father says, voice serious and quiet. “how old is that boy?”

virgil hesitates, looks around the kitchen—mostly empty—and pitches his voice as soft as his dad’s. “sixteen, but he turns seventeen next month.”

his father lets out a slow breath, and says, “his parents?”

“he’s a runaway, so i don’t know them,” virgil says. “but from what i hear, it’s not good. he moved here because when he was running away he happened to come into the in the diner, and it was—”

he breaks off, remembering it, and all the things that had happened since; how patton hands had been shaking for ten minutes on either side of his first attempted call home, which he’d hung up on before the phone had even gotten through its first ring, and how virgil had made the excuse of taking a break to sit with him when he called and the way patton’s voice trembled after. how he’d used a burner phone he bought in the city to be sure they couldn’t track his call to sideshire. how he’d held logan tight afterward in an attempt to calm himself down.

how scared patton had been. of losing what tenuous new start he’d had in sideshire, of losing his newfound independence, of losing logan, of any legal action his parents might take. how helpless virgil had felt to comfort him. 

so virgil might not know what his parents are like, but jesus, if patton’s that scared of going back—

“it’s not good,” virgil repeats. 

“not—” his father begins, looking incensed.

“no,” virgil says quickly. “no, no—i mean, they sound like assholes, but i don’t think they were abusive.”

his father’s face smooths back into its usual placid expression. 

“and he’s living... where?”

“at the inn,” virgil says, and scowls. “in the poolhouse.”

“in the—?”

“not maria’s choice,” he says. “she offered him a room, or at least somewhere that’s at least inside, but he didn’t want to take away business. i mean, i offered—“ he gestures above their heads. “but, i mean, i don’t blame him for not taking it, it’s for one person, not two people plus a baby—”

“not the lot next door?” he says.

“dad, that’s no place for a baby, it’s under construction,” virgil says, and his father sighs.

“i know, it’s just—“ his father frowns. “it gets too cold here, in the winter, and i can’t imagine a pool house has much in way of insulation.”

“we’re trying to work on it when we can,” virgil says. “but—i mean, it’s been a pretty mild winter so far, thank god, maria and i have been planning on tugging them in for a sleepover when it gets too cold.”

a familiar voice coos, “oh, what pretty eyes—i know it’s not everything, but he really is a cute baby, patton.”

“well, thank you, ma’am,” patton says, and the kitchen door opens to see patton holding logan again, his mom staring lovingly at the baby.

“we’re eating back here, aren’t we?” meredith says.

“i—yeah, yeah,” virgil says. “um—just here, i don’t think all of us will fit into the office, what do you—?”

“no,” meredith says, cutting him off. “you’re not working, it’s your birthday.”

“ you’re not working, you both retired,” virgil says.

“ none of you are working, it’s family time,” sarah says exasperatedly, sweeping past them with a tray, and his parents laugh.

“retired?” patton asks, glancing between them. 

“well, relocated,” meredith says. “we’re making a new diner but taking a step back from running it day-to-day, you know.”

“not open yet, but it will be soon,” mark adds. 

“what’s the estimate on that again?” virgil says. “you wanted all of us to come down for the opening, right?”

“all of us?” patton says. 

“siblings—wyatt, esther, silas, winifred, and i,” virgil says. at patton’s startled look, he gives his parents a Look. “yeah, virgil doesn’t sound so out of place with all that, does it?”

“we like old-fashioned names,” meredith says, unrepentant. 

“i mean, i can’t talk, my name is patton,” patton says.

“and what a lovely name it is,” meredith says. 

“well, thank you,” patton says. “i thought so too.”

“speaking of all those old-fashioned names,” mark says dryly, “virgil, do you know when your siblings are coming to town?”

“freddie’s coming tomorrow, silas and essie and annabelle are coming on the twenty-third, and wyatt can’t get off work until christmas eve, so he’ll be there in the morning,” virgil rattles off. 

“ah, wyatt,” mark says.

“darn wyatt, coming in late for family bonding time because he’s held up by being a surgical resident,” meredith quips.

“whoa, really?” patton says. “what kind?”

“orthopedic,” they all chorus. 

“still a resident,” virgil adds. “but he’s doing well.”

“that’s great,” patton says sincerely. “a surgeon, wow.”

“we knew as soon as he kept picking out operation for game night,” meredith jokes, and patton giggles. 

virgil’s found himself trying to make him laugh a lot, over the past month—when he does, it seems like the new bags under his eyes and the almost-always-furrowed brow disappear, and the transformation’s practically magic. eyes crinkling at the corners, smile wide and bright, carefree and happy. he looks like a kid, just for a moment. like he should.

it seems like, after seeing patton laugh, his mom picks up on that mission too.

she’s cracking jokes left and right—telling old diner stories, resorting to puns and knock-knock jokes, at some point, which patton sure doesn’t seem to mind—as sarah ends up taking their orders and his dad takes his turn on holding logan.  

mark danes is usually a pretty straight-faced, non-reactive kind of man, but every time he holds a baby, it gets pitched out of the window. virgil basically sees his dad melt into a puddle of syrup as he coos softly at the sleeping logan.

he kind of pouts a little when he has to put him down to eat.

after sarah darts off, meredith asks, “so what are you two planning on doing for the holidays?” and virgil freezes, just a little. he has been very carefully Not Asking that exact question, but now—

“oh,” patton says, and laughs a little nervously. “um, i’m not sure yet? working, maybe, i think maria mentioned something about holiday overtime pay—”

“you can’t work on christmas,” meredith says, aghast. “maria wouldn’t make you—“

“well, no, but since i don’t—i mean, i’m not really—“ patton fumbles.

“right, so, work is a potential plan,” virgil cuts in, mostly out of pity, in an attempt to take some of the attention of patton. “could you pass me the syrup?”

patton does, obligingly, and by the time he’s set the pitcher in virgil’s hand it seems like he’s a bit less spooked, a bit more settled.

“i guess i haven’t thought about it very much,” patton says. “it’s not very—i mean, i’m not much of a christmas person, i guess.”

virgil frowns. “you’ve been singing logan christmas songs since december started.”

which is true—logan does not seem to be a fan of “frosty the snowman” or “i saw mommy kissing santa claus,” considering he cries whenever patton tries to sing them, but he likes “deck the halls” and “god rest ye merry gentlemen.” virgil’d had no idea a baby could be so opinionated about music.

patton flushes, and virgil immediately feels bad. patton clears his throat.

“i don’t know my plan, really,” patton finishes in a mumble.

“well, if you’re looking for a plan,” meredith says, “surely virgil’s brought up—”

virgil could kick her—he would, if the counter wasn’t in his way—and hisses, “ mom, he doesn’t have to—”

“did you not offer? virgil danes, we raised you to have manners , for god’s sake, don’t tell me—“

“—well i didn’t know if we were still doing that, there isn’t as much space in the apartment as there was in the house—“

“—oh, and you expect the diner will be open on christmas, we’ve always done it in the diner, don’t try to pass off lack of space as an—“

“—well i didn’t know, usually you’re in charge of christmas stuff—!”

“—we’re having it in your diner this year, virgil, it’s not ours anymore—”

“ dear,” mark says, equable even as patton squirms a little in the face of virgil getting a parental lecture, “let’s remember that it’s virgil’s birthday, he has a friend here, and there’s still almost a week to christmas, shall we?”

meredith settles back with a huff, picking up her fork and knife to pointedly cut a triangle of pancake, and virgil, feeling his face heat, nudges at his hashbrowns with his fork, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“i was going to bring it up once i knew the whole plan,” virgil mutters, and his mother sighs—a familiar sigh, one that’s been decreasing since his teen years, but one that still grates anytime he hears it—and takes a sip of her coffee before she speaks. 

“it is your first time planning the family christmas,” she says. “sorry. long night of travel. you know how it is.”

he does. his mother, impetuous and quick-tempered and a direct inverse to his coolheaded father, was quick to snap but quick to calm—these kinds of squabbles with his mom tended to look bad, from the outside, but most every member of the danes family knew these fights are over and forgotten as soon as someone says sorry. 

at least, it’s over and forgotten as soon as someone said sorry with his mom. mileage on that ranged when it came to the other members of the danes family, considering all of them have been called some variation of “an impossible, bitter, surly, stubborn, infuriating killjoy” by taylor doose at least once in a continuation of the “doose vs danes” family feud that had been going on for two generations. granted, those two generations consist of taylor, meredith danes, and meredith danes’ children, so it’s not as impressive as it sounds.

“it’s fine,” virgil says, and it is, mostly. since he’s the only member of the danes family who’s prone to keeping arguments in the back of his head and running them over and over and over to see if the thousandth time he thought about it meant that he’d suddenly discover exactly why they hated him and why he was bound to be disowned. he’s also the only member of the danes family with anxiety. so. even though he might think about how everything is about to go wrong and collapse around him—

“it’s fine,” he repeats, more for his own benefit than anyone else’s. or at least, he thinks that, but his mother relaxes her shoulders and smiles at him, sheepish and apologetic, and... and it really is fine.

patton, observing this, seems to relax a little, too.

“patton,” mark says, cutting through any of the remaining awkwardness, “you wouldn’t happen to know maria’s christmas plans, would you?”

“she said she was going to visit her son, i think?” patton says uncertainly, and both mark and meredith make noises of recognition.

“oh, i wonder how john’s doing in—was it santa fe?”

“santa barbara,” virgil corrects absently, and the rest of the breakfast continues with virgil catching up his parents on the latest of the sideshire gossip, patton chiming in, when he can. 

when they’re straightening up the dishes once they’re done, and virgil offers another refill for everyone, patton checks the time and says, “mine better be to go.”

“right, work,” virgil says, making sure that his cup is half-caf—he’ll probably notice, he always does, somehow, but honestly, the kid should cut back on his caffeine intake, it’s ridiculous—before he hands it over.

“well,” his mother says, offering her hand to shake. “it was very nice to meet one of virgil’s friends, patton—“

“— mom —”

“—and since i’m apparently still in charge of christmas plans, if you find yourself free, we’d love it if you and logan stopped by,” meredith says, chipper, and patton blinks.

“um—?”

“only if you want to,” virgil says hastily, but his father raises his voice just slightly to say, “well, since all the kids are coming and none of them have blessed us with grandchildren—“

“— dad—”

“consider it?” mark continues. “especially since maria won’t be in town, and it’s baby’s first christmas, and all. i know he won’t remember it, but a parent does—”

“ dad, seriously—“

“well, think it over!” his mother declares, as she ushers patton toward the door, “and have a wonderful day, and no matter what you decide, i would love to see your precious little logan again—“

"o kay, thanks, mom, i think patton gets it,” virgil says loudly. “you don’t need to walk him all the way back to the inn, you can go back to interrogating mrs. torres now.”

virgil takes over the ushering and ends up ushering both himself and patton (and logan, by proxy) right out the door.

“uh,” patton says. “so. those are your parents.”

“i am so sorry,” virgil says. “i think their social filters skipped a generation and then all got crammed into me for an overabundance of filter, or something. i think that’s what anxiety is, right?”

patton laughs, soft. “they were nice,” he says reassuringly. “really, i liked them.”

“seriously, you don’t have to feel pressured if you don’t wanna come,” virgil says. “they can be kinda pushy, but if you don’t wanna come, i can—”

“virgil,” patton says. “i—just let me think about it?”

“yeah,” virgil says. “yeah, of course. um. i hope you two have a good day at work.”

“you too,” patton says, and virgil watches close enough to make sure that he and logan cross the street safely, to take a deep breath, and to re-enter the chaos that is having part of his family in town.

oh, great. now he gets to look forward to everyone in his family in town.

⁂

“ah, patton!” maria says, and patton comes to a stop, smiling the best he can at her. she’s nice. she’s incredibly nice. patton is still a little nervous around her, but that’s because she’s, you know. his boss? and landlord? even though he knows that she’s incredibly nice.

“hello, ma’am.”

“oh, when am i going to break you of all that ma’am nonsense?” maria says warmly, before handing him a slip of paper. “now, i’ve got your schedule for the day written down, here, but if you wouldn’t mind meeting me in my office for lunch?”

“oh!” patton says, and winces when his voice cracks. “um, okay. did i do something wrong—?”

“no, no, nothing of the sort!” maria says hastily. “you’ve been a model employee. since you’ve been here a month or so, i just want to talk about how you’re settling in, that’s all. very routine.”

“oh,” patton says, and tries for a smile again. “um, okay! sure. when should i drop by?”

“noon will work just fine,” maria says, and smiles warmly at logan before patting patton on the shoulder. “now, pip pip! we’ve got a lot of work to do. it’s a new day!”

“yes, it is,” patton says, and opens up the schedule. he thinks that they’re made only for him because one, he’s newest, and on decreased hours since maria had pointed out that patton wold still be on paternity leave if he’d started working at the inn before logan was born, but two, he’s just been really forgetful lately, probably since he doesn’t sleep that much anymore. he isn’t sure how much of it is logan crying, or general insomnia, or being kept up at night by his head, or the fact that his “bed” in the poolhouse is a busted old pull-out bed that was a reject from one of the rooms; maria keeps telling him that she’ll get him a mattress, but he made her promise not to rush it, or anything, so he’ll get a proper bed when a customer damages one. but, anyways, he’s been very forgetful, and he really only remembered that it’s virgil’s birthday because maria mentioned it on his way out the door. 

which he feels terrible about. sure, virgil didn’t mention the exact day of his birthday, when they met, but he still should have asked people. he didn’t even get him anything, and with how fast his funds are depleting, even with a job, he isn’t going to be able to get him anything nice. and virgil really deserves something nice, because virgil’s been so kind to him. 

really, everyone in sideshire is being kind to him. it’s kind of weird. because they’re not like his parents or his parents’ friends' version of kind, the “i’m being nice to you now so you’ll do something nice for me later” kind of kind, but real, genuine kindness.  

cindy in the kitchen had given him a ton of old baby clothes that might last logan until he’s two, swearing up and down that they’d been meaning to drop everything at goodwill for ages now and really patton was doing them a favor if he just swung by their house and picked it up, their wife would be glad to see them gone, she’d been lecturing cindy about it for ages.

hector with landscaping had been sealing up all the drafty parts of the poolhouse during his breaks, winking at patton and making him promise he won’t tell maria, because apparently hector was supposed to do that three summers ago and he’s really just catching up on late work, and patton doesn’t want anciano hector be in trouble with the big boss, now, did he? plus he’s promised to take a look at the clawfoot bathtub in the poolhouse where patton bathes, where the water never really heats.

pauline with the front desk had sniffed at his hair and said he looked like an unkempt puppy and given him a haircut, for free, and then a ton of her husband’s old sweaters, because patton had to at least look like he was proud to work at the inn, saying all of this sternly, even though when patton left he’d found three twenties slipped into various pockets that she refused to take back every time he’d tried to confront her about it.

rafael with repairs, after hearing he was trans, had donated some of his old binders for patton to use once he’s done with nursing logan, since he didn’t need them anymore, and had promised patton that this was a good place for trans people and if he needed anyone there was a group of trans or otherwise non-gender-conforming people in town who met up at remy aserinsky’s coffee shop once every month and he could give patton some of their numbers if he wanted and patton had nearly cried . (well, patton’s close to crying a lot these days, but all the post-partum research he’s been doing says that’s normal. even without.... everything else.)

and that’s just people at the inn alone, the big things they’d done, not even counting all the small, little kindnesses along the way—saving him a seat at lunch, making sure patton got whatever kind of cookie he wanted, helping pick up the slack with any rooms patton had forgotten, before he’d had a written schedule, picking up logan and bouncing him and cooing at him, and now logan has a cadre of honorary aunts and uncles and godparents. 

not even counting the store-owners who point patton to where to find sales or coupons or tell him when to swing by so he gets the old food they discard and donate at the end of the day. not even counting just the neighbors, who always wave or say hello or murmur at logan, and—

and virgil. god, virgil, who’s feeding him and helping with logan and now inviting patton and logan to his family christmas, who’s there to listen and hug patton, if he needs it, and patton—

patton’s overwhelmed, is the only word for it. he’s bowled over by the level of kindness here. it’s a level of niceness that patton would have thought impossible, like it’s a completely unattainable utopia. people are kind here like it’s a given, like it’s thoughtless to be good, kind, gentle. they’re kind in the way that patton wants logan to see, growing up, to learn about helping people and being nice like it’s a given, and not an exchange of services. they’re kind in the way that patton desperately wants to be, but he knows he falls short every time, and—and he doesn’t even know how to start paying people back for everything they’re doing for him.

so that thought’s rattling around his head all morning along with everything else—really, it’s been knocking around up there for the past few weeks—so distracting that it’s nearly noon before he remembers that he’s due in maria’s office and he nearly swears before he hastily finishes making the bed of the latest room and dashes up the stairs, swinging around the doorframe, one hand bracing logan’s head.

“hi!” patton pants. “am i late?”

“right on time,” maria says and gestures. “please, take a seat anywhere you like.”

patton hesitates, eyes going to one specific spot, and maria laughs.

“i put that there on purpose,” she says reassuringly, rising from her desk and settling on the patterned, childish rug with, well—a nice spot for logan to lie down, really.

“um, okay,” patton says, and lifts logan from his carrier, unbuckling it, before he gently sets logan on his back. logan blinks up at him, considering, before he sticks his fingers into his mouth. patton sits back, and tries to make eye contact with maria, just for a moment. well. tries.

“adorable,” maria murmurs, eyes soundly fixed on the baby.

“sure is,” patton says proudly. 

“and he’s doing well?” maria checks.

“other than the colic? healthiest little baby there could be, the six-week doctor’s appointment was a few days ago,” patton says. he’d swapped the appointment’s time three times to make sure that he wouldn’t have any surprise parent drop-ins, but they might have been notified by the insurance company that he’d gone, so. “he’s eating plenty, gaining weight, growing even more to make up for how small he was, since he was a preemie, you know—on track for all his milestones. early, for a few, actually.”

“oh?”

“yeah! apparently, it’s a bit weird that he started vocalizing early, that isn’t supposed to happen until about two months. oh! and i think he’s starting to recognize himself, yesterday he kept smiling and babbling and waving at whoever that strange baby in the mirror was. he seemed a bit confused that there were two of me. i think he’s due to start laughing any day now, too!”

“how wonderful,” maria says warmly. 

“yeah, he is,” patton says, beaming. 

“and the... other part, of that day?” maria asks, arching her eyebrows. “you were hoping to meet up with logan’s other father. christopher, wasn’t it?”

“yeah,” patton says quietly, looking down at logan, who removes his fingers from his mouth and waves an arm at him. “yeah, it’s christopher.”

mostly, kind of stunned to see patton. mostly, kind of stunned that patton had told him that yes, running away was a serious, permanent thing. mostly, kind of stunned that patton had a job, and a place to live, and no intention of returning home. mostly... well. mostly, stunned that out of the pair of them, it was patton who was going to legally sever himself from his parents. but... well. patton probably wouldn’t have to grocery shop for diapers or formula or anything a nearly-two-month-old baby could possibly need for about three months, along with a few things that logan is distinctly not old enough for—he’s pretty sure that the stuffed animals are okay, but the toys with little parts aren’t, and also that the brandy christopher got him (”you know giving a baby brandy to help with teething is an old wives’ tale, chris.” “didn’t say it was for him, mac.”) is going to turn into a christmas gift, or a donation to the inn’s kitchen, or something.

bittersweet. that’s what it was. it had felt so distinctly like an ending, for the two of them. patton and logan had both started crying during the drive home— home . to sideshire. patton guesses this is home now.

“he was good,” patton says. “supportive of, you know. the plan.”

maria surveys him for a few seconds, before she says, “well, that’s good, i suppose. do you have a preference for lunch? i can’t remember what’s on the menu today.”

“i don’t have a preference,” patton says quickly. he doesn’t want to put anyone at the inn out any more than they need to—who cares if he doesn’t like cassoulet, it’s food that they’re giving him, right? he doesn’t want to be ungrateful.

maria smiles at him, says “all right,” and buzzes for cindy to bring in some food and coffee. 

they drop off a tray of sandwiches, and chips, and some cut-up fruit. okay. patton can stomach that. it’s unexpected, sure, considering the usually fancy menu that the inn boasts, but—but patton can stomach it.

“so, patton,” maria says, picking up a sandwich. “how have you been liking it here, so far?”

"it’s been fantastic,” patton says honestly. “everyone here is so nice.”

“i’m happy to hear it,” maria says, and she continues to ask him questions: does he knows his way around now, are his hours are good, would he like to switch up his schedule to better care for logan, now that he’s nearing the end of both paternity leave and shadowing the other housekeepers, have any guests given him any problems, is there anything he’d like to suggest to better the inn? 

she and patton eat their way slowly through about half of the sandwich platter (turkey bacon, basil chicken, ham and cheese, italian deli) and maria continually pushes fruit in his direction.

“i swear you and virgil are ganging up on me,” patton says ruefully, accepting the grapes she’s nudged toward him, shortly after the melon, strawberries, and cantaloupe that he’s already eaten. 

“you’re a growing boy,” maria says, blasé, and patton smiles a little at that.

“now,” she says, picking up yet another sandwich, “tell me about your plans for the future, what you’d like to do here.”

“oh,” patton says, startled. “um. to tell you the truth, i haven’t really—i haven’t really thought about it very much?”

“well, rightfully enough, you’re sixteen,” maria says. “plenty of things you could do, if you wanted, and you’ve only been here a month.”

“do you have any advice?” patton asks, because sure, he may have only been here a month, but he knows that maria is smart.

“well,” maria says. “i’d wager you don’t want to be a housekeeper forever.”

patton smiles sheepishly. “no, i don’t think so. i mean, it’s great here! but—”

“but you have quite a life ahead of you, i can tell,” maria says. “you’d be capable of plenty, you’re an intelligent young man.”

patton looks down at logan, face burning, and pretends to occupy himself with making sure that logan’s comfortable. intelligent. right. 

“well, i don’t know about that,” he mumbles.

“well, i do,” she says firmly. 

she’s just being nice, patton thinks. 

“i’d like to keep you on, for as long as you like,” maria continues. “if for mostly selfish reasons.”

“i—i would like that,” patton says. “thank you.”

“now,” maria says. “i know i mentioned working on christmas, but i’m afraid that won’t be an option—there aren’t many guests staying, so it’s down to a skeleton staff. it will be up until after new years, i’m afraid, but christmas day seems like it’ll be out of the question, in terms of pay. it’s first come, first serve, and we have some employees who volunteered for it rather early this year, i hope you understand.”

“oh,” patton says.

“i hope you have plans,” maria says.

“i—well,” patton says, “i mean, virgil invited me to his family’s christmas, but—”

“oh, good!” maria says. “you deserve a nice christmas break. i’ll let cara know. their christmas dinners are wonderful, you’re in for a treat.” 

“i—i’m sure i am,” patton says.

“on another piece of christmas business,” maria says, and digs around in her suit pocket, handing over an envelope. “we did very well this year, so here’s your christmas bonus.”

patton hesitates. “i—i can’t take that—”

“well, of course you can!” maria says. “everyone else is getting one too—”

“but everyone else isn’t living in your pool house,” patton says. “i mean, i-i’m grateful, of course i am, but i’m not paying enough for rent as is, and—”

“i take your rent out of your paycheck,” maria says softly. “the pool house is in disuse anyway, the most we were using it for was storage and we have a unit for that, regardless.”

“but—“

“patton,” she says, and then, firmly, “if you won’t take it for yourself, then take it for logan. put it toward toys, diapers, his college fund, whatever you like. children are expensive.”

a beat, and then she adds, “and if you won’t take it, i’m afraid i’ll have to use the check to buy logan a drumset when he is old enough, and you will think back on this conversation and rue allowing me to keep it.”

patton huffs out a laugh and, reluctantly, takes the check.

“thank you,” he mumbles to the ground. 

“you’re quite welcome,” maria says, and then, “some mail came for you today.”

she reaches up onto the desk, and hands patton a manila folder.

patton’s mouth goes completely dry as he takes it. “oh.”

he swallows, and opens it just enough to slide out the sheaf of papers to see the heading— PETITION FOR EMANCIPATION —and swallows again, suddenly feeling dizzy and very grateful that he’s sitting on the floor.

“now, i know you didn’t want my john tangled up in it, but he has a friend who’s still in a firm in-state who knows this kind of law, and is willing to do it as a favor,” maria continues. patton slowly slides the papers back into the folder so he doesn’t see the heading.

“right,” he says.

“i know you’ve been struggling with whether or not you want to do this, but whatever you decide is right for you,” maria says gently. “do not let them change your mind. you will have help here, always, and not just from us in town—you can apply for temporary family assistance, if you like. but i looked into it and it would be much more likely if you were living with a relative—”

patton’s already shaking his head. 

“state administered general assistance, then, i think it’s called,” maria says. “the lawyer—rachael, i can’t remember her last name—could probably help walk you through anything to get any help you and that sweet boy might need. i could give you her number.”

“right,” patton says, voice barely a whisper. “okay. thank you.”

maria sighs, before she reaches over and gently pinches the squishy part patton’s cheek.

“oh, my baby,” she says, “i know this will be hard for you, and i am so sorry. there is not a person in the world who deserves this level of heartbreak less.” 

patton sniffles and swallows. he feels the strong urge to look away, to bury his face in his hands, and he could—maria’s hand on his face is in no way restrictive—but the cool, reassuring weight of maria’s hand is too comforting to discard. maria gently swipes her thumb across his cheek, erasing whatever tear track there might have been. 

“whatever you decide, just... just know that you and that baby will be able to stay here for as long as you like. all right?” maria says softly. 

“all right,” patton whispers. “thank you.” 

maria smiles at him, sad, before she pats his cheek. “all right. would you like some cookies? chocolate is the fastest way to defeat sadness, you know.”

patton sniffles, again, and picks up logan, just to hold him close. “i—yeah, okay. sure. i’ll have some cookies.”

⁂

virgil has a morning routine half because routines and habits help with virgil’s anxiety, and half out of necessity.

he rolls out of bed and drags himself into the shower. he gets dressed in whatever combination of purple, plaid, and black that he wants to wear for the day. he gets a cup of coffee, because the timed coffee machine that he got himself after he moved into his apartment was frankly a blessing. he eats breakfast—usually a protein bar or an apple or something small, which his parents would probably disapprove of, but it’s fine because he makes up for it by having an early lunch to beat the usual lunch rush—and then descends the stairs to the diner, where he kicks on all the coffeemakers downstairs and turns on the lights and then unlocks the front door, for all of the workers on morning shift, and then retreats into the kitchen to start, well. cooking.

he’s on his way to unlock the front door when he draws back and tries not to shriek.

there’s someone sitting there, leaning back against the door, so he can’t see their face, with a winter coat and scarf and hat so he can’t even see their hair or skin color or any identifying factors.

virgil hesitates, before he moves to unlock the door and knocks gently against the door. please move please move please move please don’t be someone who died of exposure on my stoop—

they get to their feet before they dramatically spin and throw the scarf away from their face, revealing an impish grin that has haunted virgil since he was born, basically, and virgil slams his hand against the door as soon as he notices that she’s laughing, before he throws open the door.

“you asshole, i thought you were someone who decided to camp on my stoop and die of hypothermia to make some kind of anti-junk-food statement!”

“aw, i love you too, v, the most babiest of brothers—“

“—i am not a baby, i’m twenty-thre—”

“—gimmie a kiss!” freddie sings, attempting to box virgil in with some kind of hug. “kiss, kiss, kiss—“

“—ow, get off , you’re demon sent straight from hell to torment me—”

“—do not make me jump on you i will jump on your back and hang on until you acknowledge that your favorite sibling is back in town with some outward display of affection—“

“—okay first of all saying that you’re my favorite sibling is a stretch—”

“—well, it sure as hell isn’t silas, we both know wyatt is an alien, and considering essie is further from you in age, this means that you’ve clearly bonded the most with me—”

“—and second of all, if you jump onto my back i will throw you onto this tile floor, you see how mom and dad aren’t here to stop me and this is my diner now?”

“what are you, a professional wrestler?” freddie says, and virgil manages to squirm free and makes a hasty retreat to the counter. or, well, he tries. freddie is hot in pursuit.

“you realize that if you don’t now i’ll start this again during breakfast rush!” freddie taunts. 

virgil weighs these options, before he heaves a massive sigh and, making a show of how grudging he is, leans over to give her a hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

freddie gasps, and clasps her hands under her chin, making a show of beaming up at him with a loud “ awww!”

virgil looks like a more even blend of their parents—dark hair, brown eyes, pale—whereas freddie much more favors their mom, dark hair, blue eyes, that same mischievous smile.

“aw, you do love me.”

“i said nothing of the sort,” virgil says, scowling.

“and that i’m your favorite, which i totally expect to be reflected in my christmas present,” freddie continues, bouncing behind the counter. virgil makes a sharp noise at her, making a cutting motion with his arm, as if to make a barrier to prevent her from following him.

“bar!”

freddie looks offended.

“unless you’re volunteering your services in the kitchen, in which case—“

freddie scuttles to a barstool, and virgil stifles his smile. freddie’s loudly and frequently expressed distaste for kitchen-work meant that she was always out front waitressing or handling orders with their mom.

“coffee!” she demands.

“absolutely not,” virgil says. “you’re already like this at five in the morning—“

“yeah, because i haven’t slept for twenty-seven hours,” freddie says. 

“how is that my problem,” virgil says, “and also, what is wrong with you?”

“if you don’t give me caffeine, i’m tattling,” freddie says.

“if you keep complaining, i’m tattling,” virgil says, “guess which of ours is going to go over better?”

“you’re a snitch,” she accuses.

“who brought up tattling first?” virgil demands.

freddie then resorts to the deeply mature and time-honored tradition, a response that frequently gets shared between siblings—she sticks out her tongue and blows a raspberry.

virgil rolls his eyes, and he’s about to keep this sibling bickering thing going, except the door opens and sarah walks in, yawning, so that gets put on pause as sarah wakes up enough to see who’s sitting at the counter, so virgil gets to escape into the kitchen as the whole reunion thing goes down.

if the theory that virgil inherited an overabundance of filter is wrong, then he thinks that whatever social butterfly gene that usually gets distributed, freddie stole his in the womb, absorbing enough of it that there wasn’t any left for him nearly two years after she was born. she’s always been gregarious, noisy, chatty, managing to talk to anyone about anything. virgil thinks that freddie probably doesn’t know the meaning of the words shy, subtle, or embarrassment. she has no fear of making a fool of herself when she talks to anyone, and virgil means anyone.

case in point: she’s friendly with isadora prince. virgil would say friends, but he thinks that remus is closer with her than freddie is, especially since freddie’s been... god, who even knows where freddie’s been lately? virgil’s sure he’ll get his ear talked off about her various exploits since he’d last seen her.

and she does—between ducking back into the kitchen and running out orders, freddie keeps a stream of constant chatter going like she doesn’t really care if virgil’s there to listen or not. apparently, she was last in atlanta for a casting call, which she says was a bust with a grin and a shrug like it doesn’t really matter, and she’s been awake for twenty-seven hours because she’d gotten on the wrong bus and had a detour to st. louis—

“fred, even hearing you talk sometimes just skyrockets my blood pressure,” virgil says, trying not to cringe.

“what doesn’t?” freddie says pointedly.

“how did you confuse sideshire with st. louis?” virgil says.

“oh for god’s sake, i didn’t confuse them, it’s not my fault the bus depot doesn’t know how numbers work—“

the bell jangles, and then, “is that my snickerdoodle?”

freddie rolls her eyes at virgil, not quite able to tamp down her grin, and spins around to see their parents. 

now that he’s not the center of it, virgil can appreciate that it is kind of funny to watch their parents fuss and fret over freddie; is she eating, is she sleeping—

“she was just telling me that she hasn’t slept for twenty-seven hours,” virgil says, fake-innocent, and squints at the clock in the corner. “twenty-eight now, i bet.”

freddie dramatically cries out “TRAITOR!” as their father immediately nudges freddie’s coffee cup toward virgil to take away and “winifred jane,” their mother scolds, and virgil cackles.

“i told you what would happen if you kept complaining!”

“what are you, a cop?” freddie demands. “what happened to youngest sibling solidarity?!?!”

“payback for scaring me.”

“ everything scares you!”

“scaring me on purpose, then!” virgil says, and ducks into the kitchen to dump out freddie’s cup when she starts looking murderous.

when he risks peeking out again (silas may not be his favorite sibling but freddie is definitely the one to look out for when it comes to retribution) his parents and his sister have clustered away into a booth. freddie, upon seeing him looking, proceeds to flip him off under the table, so he can see, but mark and meredith can’t. virgil tamps down his grin. 

another time-honored tradition started back up, then.

not that he’d ever tell her this, but. it’s nice to have freddie home.

[ambitionsource]

wait i actually have more weirdly specific questions (if ur up to it) - how do the kids feel about poetry? do they follow any sports? what childhood tv shows were their favs? do they have celebrity crushes? fav coming of age movie? how are they doing in quarantine? what time in history were they obsessed w as a kid? have they ever been to summer camp? what type of candles do they like? what song do they cry to? how do they drink their coffee/tea sorry if u’ve answered already/too many questions

wooooo thank you for your patience iz!! we’re gonna go point by point

poetry?

charlie loves it genuinely and will read it for fun. riley likes it enough but doesn’t go out of her way to read it. farkle loves coming up with insane explanations for the metaphors and is smug about interpreting it in class. zay doesn’t care for it, neither does lucas. asher appreciates it but finds it boring; dylan likes it for the same reason farkle does, only not to look smart but to come up with something completely crackheaded to combat farkle’s interpretation (which he can’t then say isn’t correct, bc its poetry, so all interpretations are valid!). isa doesn’t like it because she doesn’t get the metaphors on paper the same way she can pick them up in film. maya hates it even though multiple people have pointed out that song lyrics are basically poetry -- she will tune you out.

sports?

sports aren’t Big at aaa (aside from dance), but there are remnants here and there. riley follows basketball of course -- even tho as demonstrated in 110, she cannot play it to save herself -- and she tried out for cheer in 9th grade at her old school but was rejected from the squad (another bad mark on a terrible year). farkle prefers wii sports over any actual sport, but will sometimes watch golf with stuart because it’s quality time with his very busy father. charlie did soccer when he was younger before it got phased out by dance and semi keeps up with it. dylan also “played” soccer, but this meant the other little league teammates getting pissed at him bc he never paid attention to the game and was just like “hey! hey, dennis, look at this!” and did like 3 cartwheels across the field. it was a smart move when randall pulled him from the team bc those intense soccer moms were gonna like beat them up fDJSKG. so now dylan is just an unofficial gymnast instead.

isa doesn’t like sports but played them a lot with foster siblings, and even though she sucks she gets very competitive. lucas liked baseball and was good at track in middle school, but he never thought about doing a sport for real because he knew he was going to quincy eventually where his dad is a coach... yeah. no. but he’s great at running fast from the police!

maya hates sports (aside from the art of dance). waste of time, waste of energy. asher has never done a sport nor ever contemplated a sport. the most Sport he’s endured is going with jade to support dave at his swim meets (where nigel also does swim) and suffice to say, asher wasn’t there to look at the swimming.

childhood tv?

dylan to this day is a spongebob squarepants STAN. legend, icon, scholar, best television show ever made, in his opinion. he also was well-versed in pokemon, adventure time, gravity falls, and phineas and ferb. asher and lucas both didn’t watch lots of tv growing up (if at all), so dylan considers it his job to give asher a thorough education in the quality tv he missed as a kid.

maya was all over hannah montana (miley is still a role model to this day for her), and she, zay, and charlie all remember the fever dream that was shake it up. zay especially loved it bc he was (is) obsessed with zendaya. zay and maya both also watched victorious. charlie was sharing a tv with four siblings so he just ended up watching whatever the dominant sister that day wanted to watch. riley was a disney channel girl, and farkle was a pbs scholar (arthur, cyber chase, fetch! with ruff ruff man... classics).

 celebrity crushes?

zay = zendaya (as previously mentioned). charlie = harry styles to a major degree, although his Cover Story would be zendaya if you asked (ironically). maya = britney spears (but in a I Want To Be Her way, major idolization rather than attraction) and technically the same for valerie de la cruz but like... rip to that lmao. isa = loki, yes we know, but sometimes it be that way (altho that does extend a little bit towards tom hiddleston in general). asher = logan lerman, aka the main valid white boy who dresses nice, is polite and soft-spoken, and minds his own business (not to mention he is the Same Type as dylan). dylan = had crushes more on like... personalities so like ash ketchum and percy jackson, and now its irrelevant bc he met asher and became obsessed and its like every other potential crush just flew out the window of his brain. it’s full asher territory in there nowadays.

riley doesn’t have a specific one, she thinks lots of people are Pretty but no one particularly strongly. farkle doesn’t have one because he’s insane and doesn’t have the mental capacity. lucas doesn’t have one because he’s demi and also hates most celebrities as people.

coming-of-age movie?

maya’s is mean girls. farkle’s is ladybird. zay’s is easy a. riley’s is bend it like beckham. isadora’s is eighth grade. charlie’s is dead poet’s society. asher’s is perks of being a wallflower. dylan’s is spiderman: into the spiderverse. lucas doesn’t know movies.

quarantine?

we’ve somewhat discussed this before, but ultimately es and i elected to let aaa remain in a nice, calm universe where they don’t have to endure covid. lucky them. blow a kiss to the ether for us, buds,

fave time in history?

riley is huge on ancient greece and greek mythology. maya loves the theatricality and Drama of the roaring 20s (a baby flapper at heart). zay vibes hard with the 80s. charlie likes the fashion and romanticism and music and art of the 70s (that sort of flowery positivity clashing with the rebelliousness of the movements of the 60s... yeah. that hits something in him). farkle’s is the great depression not only bc he’s an emo but also all the raw and desperate art that came out of it. isadora was a egyptian mythology kid. i know lucas sounds lame (he is), but i don’t think he cares about history -- but if pushed he’d probably say the 90s bc he dresses like he’s straight out of there, everyone was angry rocking, and he wasn’t born. asher likes the victorian era bc of the sheer elegance and Aesthetic to everything. dylan doesn’t have a favorite time period because due to being the subconscious multiverse conduit (i.e. the being that is somewhat connected to every other version of himself) sometimes he wakes up and for a minute he doesn’t even know what year it is 🤪anyway...

summer camp?

charlie has been to many a christian youth summer camp. zay went to the kossal program, but that was basically it. lucas no although he probably wished he could be anywhere else during the summer sometimes including a camp he would hate. riley went for a few years in elementary school. isa has gone to a couple of “foster kid” summer camp bonding things that she despised. farkle went to jewish summer camp One time and was like that was HORRIBLE, never make me spend a whole summer outside AGAIN. asher was more of a Enrichment courses at the rec center during the summer kid than a camper. dylan no because the orlandos couldn’t afford something like that. same for maya.

candles?

riley has a small variety of scented ones that are like... warm scents, like cinnamon and stuff. asher a couple that smell like clean linen but his fear of accidental fires keeps him from ever lighting them. maya has one and it smells like “star power,” a gift from her mom one christmas. isadora can’t have any because many of her foster homes don’t allow them. lucas legally shouldn’t be allowed anything that catches on fire. dylan doesn’t have one but similarly should not be given one. the minki have a whole collection for different things so farkle can just pluck one at any time if he needs one like for a super fancy bath or whatever the fuck rich people do.

mental breakdown song?

charlie’s are “falling” and “from the dining table” by harry styles.

riley’s is “manhattan” by sara bareilles and “rainbow” by kacey musgraves.

zay’s are “imagine” by ariana and “dear life” from the step up soundtrack (post zc breakup).

farkle’s are “vienna” by billy joel and “get it right” from glee.

asher’s is “don’t cry” by ruel.

isa’s is “you are my sunshine” because valerie used to sing it to her a lot when she was really little, so it will always make her a little emotional.

dylan’s (although rare) are “soon you’ll get better” by ts and “make you feel my love” by adele. the second one is because his mom loved adele when she was just starting out bc 19 was released the same year that she passed away so there’s a lot of like subconscious association there even if he doesn’t realize it.

maya doesn’t have one, and lucas also doesn’t have one because in the rare moments he does cry its in his closet in the dark silence alone bc he literally can’t stand the sentience of knowing he’s crying so. sensory blackout.

coffee / tea?

riley will add at least 3 sugars to anything, but she’s ultimately an iced tea gal. lucas drinks it black but only because it never occurred to him to add anything to it and so it’s a big wake up call when he realizes you can drink it and have it NOT be bitter and horrible and demoralizing ( “i thought we were all just suffering for the caffeine fix??” ). isa is a tea girl mostly, although she wishes she could drink black coffee for the aesthetic (and hates that lucas can... it’s like... he didn’t even Earn that aestheticism, smh). asher doesn’t drink caffeine bc it makes him Jittery (and he’s already jittery) so he’s like... the lemonade bitch at coffee shops which kin, and then dylan definitely drinks caffeine but not thru coffee, he’s more likely to get like a hot chocolate.

farkle lives on coffee but he can only drink it from home because they’re rich and can have like fresh ground good imported whatever the heck etc etc so he’s like spoiled about coffee. zay will hit up a starbucks now and then and will order coffee at a diner, but he’s not too attached either way. maya is a fun n free starbucks gal with her frappes and lattes and lots of cream (whipped or otherwise). charlie doesn’t drink coffee or tea bc hes hyper aware of his body and health (he doesn’t really have soda either) and it was frowned upon in his house.

[dom-ffxiv]

Never-Ending Survey: Dominic Stone

( Rules: Repost, do not reblog, tag 10 blogs!   NO I DO WHAT I WANT!)

BASICS ⸺

FULL NAME: Dominic Julien Stone NICKNAME: Dom AGE: looks about 24 BIRTHDAY: Sometime. ETHNIC GROUP: Midlander hyur NATIONALITY: Ishgardian LANGUAGE/S: Common, Ishgardian, can speak and understand Doman a bit. SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: biromatic RELATIONSHIP STATUS: Single HOME TOWN / AREA: Has residence in Shirogane CURRENT HOME: Shirogane and the Lavender Beds PROFESSION: Sellsword, teacher

PHYSICAL ⸺

HAIR: Very red,. EYES: Pale green FACE: Kindly, friendly. Loads of freckles. LIPS: Full, and often pulled into a friendly smile. COMPLEXION: Freckles all over. A bit tan for an Ishgardian. BLEMISHES: Just those freckles.. SCARS: One over his eye, and many small faded ones over his whole body.. TATTOOS: none HEIGHT: 6′3″ WEIGHT: 170lbs. BUILD: Sturdy and strong without being too overly bulky. Broad shouldered. FEATURES: Odd aether. ALLERGIES: N / A USUAL HAIR STYLE: cut short and spiked or worn a little longer and floppy. USUAL FACE LOOK:  Smiling, approachable USUAL CLOTHING: Green is his favourite  but he also wears black a lot..

PSYCHOLOGY ⸺

FEAR/S: Inquisitors, burns, loneliness. ASPIRATION/S: Power but no responsibilities.. POSITIVE TRAITS: -Friendly -Strong -Brave -Self-sufficient

NEGATIVE TRAITS: -Lonely -Sarcastic at times -Aloof -Stubborn

TEMPERAMENT: Calm SOUL TYPE/S:  Dark Knight ANIMALS: I don’t think he strongly identifies with any animals VICE HABIT/S: Draining aether, caffeine  FAITH: Follower of Halone by default- not very religious GHOSTS?: Yes AFTERLIFE?: Yes REINCARNATION?: Not really POLITICAL ALIGNMENT: “They’re all crooks.” EDUCATION LEVEL: Secondary school and  private tutors beyond that

FAMILY ⸺

FATHER: Dead  MOTHER: Yvette Stone SIBLINGS: Half-brother Sarto’rien Faltomyri EXTENDED FAMILY: N / A NAME MEANING/S:   N / A HISTORICAL CONNECTION?: N / A

FAVORITES ⸺

BOOK: The one that hurts the most when thrown at someone.. DEITY: Halone, by default HOLIDAY: Starlight MONTH: Who cares? SEASON: Winter PLACE: Ishgard WEATHER: Snow SOUND / S: Fire crackling SCENT / S: Cinnamon, coffee, roasted meat, TASTE / S: Roasted meat, lattes, coffee, carrot cake FEEL / S: Warm water, heavy blankets, swimming, ANIMAL / S: chocobos NUMBER: - COLORS: green and black.

EXTRA ⸺

TALENTS: Fighting with a long sword, climbing parkour, acrobatics, BAD AT: Relying on others, Staying anywhere long, going more than a day without caffeine TURN ONS: Soft, quiet, deep people, cute people praying, kissing outside during a snowfall TURN OFFS: those that stand back and do nothing when action is required, HOBBIES: parkour, sleeping. meeting new people, eating TROPES: Nice guy, dark secret QUOTES: “I don’t like to fight. But I will if I have to.”

MUN QUESTIONS ⸺

Q1 : If you could write your character your way in their own movie,  what would it be called, what style would it be filmed in, and what would it be about?       A1 :  Not sure about a name, but I’d actually probably have it set in a post-apocalyptic city-scape. Dom is a vigilante hero who uses parkour and streetwise common sense to save the day..

Q2 :  What would their soundtrack/score sound like?           A2 : Sort of techno-cyber-punk-goth-industrial.

Q3 :  Why did you start writing this character?         A3 : >.> I wanted another pretty red head..

Q4 :   What first attracted you to this character?         A4 : The Dark Knight storyline..

Q5 :  Describe the biggest thing you dislike about your muse. A5 : Um, I don’t...really dislike things about my muses. Like he has traits that are negative sure, but he doesn’t have traits which....I don’t feel he shouldn’t have.Why would I want to RP a character that I partially dislike. Even if I wrote a true villain, I might think he was evil, but I like him for what he was and what his concept was..

Q6 :  What do you have in common with your muse?           A6 :  Hmmmm....he likes Starlight, I like Christmas.

Q7 :   How does your muse feel about you?         A7 : I think he’d be okay with me but he probably wouldn’t have TOO much to do with me if we existed in the same universe cause I wouldn’t be doing what he does and he wouldn’t be doing what I’d do.

Q8 :  What characters does your muse have interesting interactions with?       A8 :  Best interactions are with Sarto. He’s also quite fun with Jamie. Interestingly enough, some of his deepest interactions have been in my head because he’s associated with one of my characters quite closely..

Q9 :  What gives you inspiration to write your muse?     A9 :  The Dark Knight quest somewhat. Other than that, just random things that remind me of him. Characters in tv and movies I’ve watched, music, that sort of thing..

Q10 : How long did this take you to complete?   A10 : I stopped half way through so a long time.

[something-tofightfor]

bauble; egg nog; santa; boxing day; cranberries; stocking; blanket; hug; tea 🥰

bauble(favorite christmas food): My aunt Lynette makes these things she calls pinwheels that are like tortillas with ranch flavored cream cheese, olives, pimentos, cheese and some other stuff rolled up inside them and I literally eat the entire tray every year. We have them all the time at family gatherings, but I first had them at Christmas, so I always associate the two. Also? Frosted butter cookies. 

egg nog (something you dislike about the festive season): A third thing? Stop trying to make me feel guilty for not donating to every Salvation Army kettle I pass by on my way into or out of stores. That organization is one of the shittiest that I can think of, and I don’t care how hard you jingle that bell, I am not putting anything in your bucket. Sorry, my money is going to where it really matters: animal shelters. 

santa (when did you find out santa wasn’t real): Santa is always real when we keep him in our hearts during the Christmas season. ..... Ummm, I I think I was like 9? A neighbor kid told me. I was upset and punched him. 

boxing day (what do you do once christmas is over?): Look forward to New Year’s Eve. I leave my tree up until after my birthday (always have) so I get to enjoy the feeling of the season for two extra weeks. 

cranberries (name a scent that reminds you of the holidays): Already answered this, but another is straight cinnamon and spice. 

stocking (favorite christmas tradition?): Now, it’s probably going to my stepmom’s parents’ house for Christmas Eve. It used to be the day my dad would take me shopping with him one on one, or when we’d leave the house at 9 am on Christmas Eve morning and spend a few hours fighting the last minute shoppers with him yelling and grumbling about how ‘all of the assholes waited until the last possible second and they are fucking idiots’ ... until I’d remind him that he was doing the same thing and he’d say “yes, but I do it on purpose.”

 I miss him so much. 

blanket (what do you do to relax?): I honestly drink like a gallon of coffee a day, so there’s that, because I have so much to do. When (if) I do have a few spare minutes, I relax at my gym when I tan + sit in the hydro massage chair. Still busy as hell when I leave, but for those 25 minutes, I can pretend I’m on vacation and where it’s warm. 

hugs (do you like to show affection): Not really, No. I don’t mind hugging, but all of the other BS is not my style. 

tea (are you a gossip?): Answered already! 

[writinanon]

Weather!

So if you all remember I’ve mentioned a few times that I live in the Midwest, and in a shocking turn of events it’s really fucking cold tomorrow, Wednesday Jan 30th. I mean it’s January, the middle of Winter, but the weather people are all shocked that it’s gonna be cold (I understand that this is unusually cold but we’ve had periods like this previously this isn’t the first time a ‘polar vortex’ has hit) I see a whole bunch of posts about if you have to go out, if you have pets don’t let them out especially birds, and such but I haven’t seen anything about keeping your house warm without raising your heating. So I’m gonna take a stab at it and hope this helps some other people, who like me can’t afford to raise their heat too far above 68 degrees. And a few things to help keep from drying out in all that warmth.

So while you’re inside because I’m pretty certain all schools and many establishments are closed tomorrow (Both my school ISU and my place of work are closed tomorrow, hell even the local community college Heartland is closed and community colleges rarely if ever close) here’s somethings you can do to keep warm.

‘Seal’ your doors and windows. Either through a pool noodle, some towels, or some blankets any cracks in your doors or windows should be closed up. We have the pool noodle on both our front and ‘balcony’ doors because they weren’t sealed properly. With windows cover them with a plastic shower curtain if you have one or some plastic wrap to keep the head in and the cold out, you can also line them with tin foil for better effects.

Candles! If you don’t already have some candles to burn run out and get some while it’s still bearable/places are still open. Get ‘warm’ smells, things either you associate with baking or with summertime. Apple and cinnamon are the two most common scents. They’ll help to trigger your brain’s sensory memory and while the warmth from the small flames isn’t gonna do too much it’s the smells that are gonna help out.

Exercise! Put on a work out video, play Wii fitness, dance with your roommates and have a roommate party, whatever you wanna do, do it. You’ll be moving and burning calories and will be keeping you body warm through working out. Just make sure you’ve got the space for it and make sure if you’re burning the candles too that they’re in safe locations as well.

Snuggle up! Whether with roommates that you’re comfortable with or with stuffed animals or pillows, snuggle up on the couch or in bed under some nice heavy blankets in comfy jammies. Not only will the blankets help but the other body heat will help, if you are like me and don’t like to snuggle much unless you know the person very well stuffed animals make a good substitute just add some more blankets.

Use your dryer if you have one! Toss those blankets/jammies in the dryer and warm them up before putting them to use. You can also do this with your stuffed animals if you don’t have a cuddle partner. A quick burst of heat is nice and feels great.

Hot water bottle! If you can’t use your dryer (because your roommate who left for a few days put laundry inside it said she was gonna take care of it before she left and didn’t)/don’t have one get a strong water bottle, or one of those ones that are silicon/rubber if you happen to have been given one/bought one because they’re actually very useful, and fill it with hot water from the tap. Place it in the foot of your bed because toasty feet are the best, if you happen to have multiple or have made multiple because you have several 2 liters lying around, putting them up your bed is wonderful as well but always do feet first.

Bake! You’re now hungry and need food. Bake something. Cookies, rolls, meats, veggies, finish off a pasta dish as a pasta bake! Baking is great, it usually makes things pretty tender, and the oven warms up your house/apartment. There’s a wide variety of foods to bake.

Cocoa! Hot cocoa is great, hot coffee/chocolate is good, hot tea is okay, I say this because you want something to warm you up and fill you up. Hot Cocoa is made with milk and so it’ll linger a little longer and gives the best warm fuzzies in your tummy, yes even when you make it with almond milk. It’s the heavy feeling of the milk that something like water doesn’t have. That’s why coffee and chocolate are good, you can add milk/cream to them to make them heavier, and tea is okay. Not many people in the States drink their tea with milk so it’s okay. Add a pinch of cinnamon to your coffee/chocolate/cocoa for a nice warmth too.

Humidify! If you’re like me and can get a nosebleed at the drop of a hat you know winter is dry and you need moisture. I’m lucky and my parents bought me a fantastic humidifier for Christmas two years ago that doesn’t need a disposable filter, has a demineralization cartridge so I can fill it from the sink, and does both warm and cool mist. I’ll have it set to warm mist just to help ease my breathing tomorrow but you don’t have to, cool mist isn’t going to make your room colder it’s just not going to open your lungs (think about the steam in a shock it opens up the airways of your nose and lungs that’s what warm mist does for a humidifier). Now if you don’t have access to a humidifier grab the largest pot you own, fill it completely with water and then set it on the stove. Put it on low and make sure to check on it to make sure it hasn’t boiled dry. Once you’re low on water refill it and start anew. This will put water in the air through steam.

Moisturize! Grab your favorite lotion/butter and slather it on. Put on a nice extra thick layer on your feet/legs and then put on big fluffy socks and nice warm fuzzy pants. Rub a lighter layer on your upper body and then pull on your warm fuzzy sleepy shirt. Make sure to get your neck and face as well, a light layer here you don’t want to cake it on. Rub the back of your hands and make sure it’s all absorbed before you go do stuff. Reapply every couple hours to make sure you’re not drying out your skin while trying to keep warm!

Water! Hydrate! Make sure that you’re drinking water. If you can’t drink your water tepid/sink cold, fridge water is fine too. Ice water is gonna undo all your hard work so don’t stick any ice in any of your drinks. If you have to have ice water work out! Make sure you’re moving and not settled because then your body is already there (but ice water isn’t really good for you while you work out so really please don’t drink ice water at this time).

[sheepiling]

🍁Autumn This or That Tag🍂

Halloooooo!! I was tagged to do this by @kymmaisims and fall is my favorite season and I’m excited to do this so thanks for tagging me!!! 

“Autumn” or “Fall”?  I actually use both pretty frequently. I can’t stick to just one. 😂 

Pumpkin Carving or Apple Picking?  I love both but Apples always win~ 🍎🍏 

Halloween or Thanksgiving?  Halloween! Though, I call it Samhain ‘cuz I’m Wiccan. 👻 

Cashmere or Flannel?  Neither  >.>; 

Cool and Crisp or Warm and Foggy?  I love being out on cool and crisp days, sipping on hot apple cider, and enjoying all of those wonderful fall scents! (That’s honestly what I miss the most from the state I grew up in now that I’m living in Cali) 

Yankee Candles or Roaring Fireplace?  I’ve never had a fireplace, though I much prefer a bonfire to a candle. I do love candles too tho. But fire wins. 🔥 

Cinnamon or Nutmeg?  WHY YOU GIVE ME A CHOICE LIKE THAT! I LOVE ALL FALL SPICES DX 

Reading a Book or Watching a Movie?  I watch a lot of Disney movies, but I read books more often than I watch movies. Though I binge cartoon/tv shows more than I do both of those... 

Halloweentown or Nightmare Before Christmas?  As much as I love Nightmare Before Christmas, I gotta pick Halloweentown. I always was most excited to see Halloweentown airing on tv every year as I was growing up the most~ 

Hot Chocolate or Apple Cider?  APPLEEEEESSSSSSSS 😍 

Wool Socks or Slippers?  Neither, I’m always barefoot. 

Trick or Treat?  gimme the snacc 🍬 

Marshmallows or Whipped Cream?  MARSHMALLOWS~!!! 

Jack or Sally?  EVERYONE HAIL TO THE PUMPKIN KING!!! 

Goosebumps or Are You Afraid of the Dark?  Neither. I don’t know what Are You Afraid of the Dark is, and I don’t like Goosebumps rip 

Coffee or Tea?  Drink tea erryday 🍵 

Studyblr or Halloween Blog?  Never heard of either of these. Everyone should be lookin’ at simblreenofficial tho 😉 

Blankets or Pillows?  Blankets! I always wrap myself up like a burrito~ 

Cabins or Cottages?  I really love lake-side cottages, though I associate that with summer more, ‘cuz I got to spend a lot of my childhood summers in one~ 

Scary or Spoopy?  I prefer cute spoopy decorations, I don’t like being scared at all. Though my favorite part of this time of year is the increased magical energy, not the commercial-side of everything. The spoops are still fun tho~ 

Sweaters or Boots?  I love sweaters soooo much!! 

Caramel Apples or Candy Apples?  Caramel Apples are love... Caramel Apples are life... I honestly don't like Candy Apples much at all. The candy coating just tastes weird when combined with apple taste imo.

Hay Rides or Leaf Peeking?  Hay Rides!!! Going to apple orchards and pumpkin patches is my favorite fall activity, and I love going on hay rides to tour the farm if they’re offered! 😄 

And that’s it! This was fun to do so thanks again for the tag! I’m going to pass this along as well: @sassie-sims @sparkiemonkey @memesplayssims @ratbabysimulator @blueossa 

p.s. i just want to link this adorable song that i love to play this time of year~ 

[ashyblondwaves]

right so a few questions I can think of- waffles: sweet or savory? the one smell you always associate with home? tennis or football?

Sweet waffles, all the way! I'm not a HUGE sweets fan, but I really like a good waffle with syrup and some fresh fruit on top. Maybe even some whipped cream. Yum!

Cinnamon is a smell I always associate with home. My mom used to always keep stock of the cinnamon scented room sprays after Christmas ended and she always used them through the year so I will always think of childhood and home when I smell cinnamon now.

If we're talking American Football, then I'm going with that. I don't really understand any sport outside of baseball but I do love to watch High School football and watch my sister and kid march in the band during halftime and stuff. So it's a nice association with the sport!

[emospritelet]

Dark Castle Rumbelle— 1. “It’s almost midnight!” and 10. “Why does the house smell like a cinnamon roll threw up?” with an option on 37. “You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?”

So I did 10, and now I’m doing 1…

[Part 1] Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5][Part 6]

AO3 link

Elsa’s court contained more people than Belle had seen in months.  The guests wore brightly-coloured gowns and coats, discarding fur-lined cloaks as they grew warm from dancing.  Rumple had gone off to make whatever deal it was he was there for, but before he left her, he had rolled his eyes at the gathering crowds and waved a hand over her, changing her thick velvet dress for one of rich green silk.  Belle had held up the skirts and twirled delightedly, watching the silk shimmer in the light, and he had watched her with an odd look in his eyes before disappearing with a flick of his fingers.

Belle had finished dancing with a skinny old Duke, who had stood on her feet three times, and she was pleased to leave the floor to quench her thirst with some spiced mead.  Anna held out a cup for her as she approached the long tables groaning with food and drink, and Belle smiled at her as she wrapped her hands around the cup.

“Are you having fun?” asked Anna.

“It’s nice to dance again,” said Belle.  “It’s been some time since I got to attend a party.”

“It must be so hard, having to serve the Dark One,” said Anna, her voice low, as though she was afraid Rumplestiltskin would somehow hear her.  “Is there nothing we can offer him to get you out of this deal?  Or - or even to make him let you go.  I’m sure Elsa would help, you know.”

“Magic comes with a price, as Rumple tells me constantly,” said Belle. “It must have taken an awful lot of magic to stop the ogres. So it demands a hefty price. Luckily I’m the only one who has to pay it.”

“Still, there must be something else you could offer him,” said Anna. “Gold, or - or jewels!  I’m sure we could help!”

“I made the deal to save my people,” said Belle firmly.  “I won’t jeopardise their safety for my own sake.”

Anna sighed, and Belle pursed her lips, looking down into her cup of mead.

“Besides,” she added.  “He’s really not so bad, you know.  Not to me.”

Anna put her head to the side, her expression thoughtful.

“You seem - you seem almost fond of him.”

“I - I suppose I am,” admitted Belle. “He’s been good to me, and when I think of the alternatives…”

“Being killed by ogres?”

“I was thinking more of being forced to marry Sir Gaston,” said Belle in a dry tone. “At least with the ogres it’d be over quickly.”

Anna giggled, looking scandalised.

“Well, I’ll pray for you, Belle,” she said.  “I have a feeling you may need it.”

“Prayers don’t work on the Dark One, dearie.”

Rumple’s cold voice made them both jump.  Belle noticed that he had changed his own clothes, and was wearing a shirt in gold silk above leather pants, and a frock coat of dark red damask silk.  It was a softer look for him, the colours suiting him, gold-flecked skin gleaming in the light.

“I prefer a more transaction-based way of doing business,” he went on.  “An exchange of equal worth.  I have no idea why people seem to think me unreasonable for it, it seems perfectly fair to me.  Nobles bargain away their children constantly, do they not?”

“That’s - that’s about forming alliances!” said Anna stiffly, and he shrugged.

“The currency is people,” he said.  “How many young princelings have a choice in the matter, hmm?”

Anna gave him a frosty look, lifting her chin, and swept away to speak to one of the other guests.  Belle shot Rumplestiltskin a look, but he merely grinned wickedly at her.

“It seems I upset everyone I speak to,” he said carelessly.

“Then maybe you should dance with me,” suggested Belle.  “That way we can keep you out of trouble.”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, but she extended her hand.

“Dance with me, Rumple.”

He looked at her hand as though it were a live snake, but after a moment he took it, pulling her to him with a hand at her waist.  Belle gasped a little as she pressed against him, her hand sliding up his chest to his shoulder.  She could feel the warmth of his body through the coat and the thin shirt he wore.  They settled into a waltz, Belle stepping back into the turn of the dance, and Rumple’s eyes scanned the room briefly before flicking back to meet hers.  She had rarely been this close to him, and she could smell the spicy scent of him in the air, the smell she associated with magic and wonder.  It was making her a little breathless.

“I should go,” he said, and she noticed that his voice had lowered, losing some of its usual snide, high tone, his accent stronger.  He sounded more human.

“And leave me to have my feet stomped on by all these guests?” she teased, and he smiled briefly.

“I think my presence is making people nervous.”

“They’ll get used to it,” she said, clasping his hand a little tighter.  “Wait until the mead bowl is empty, and I suspect no one will care that the Dark One is dancing with his maid.”

“And what about the maid?” he asked.  “Does she care?”

“She’s having fun,” said Belle, lifting her chin. “I have to say you’re a far better dancer than that Duke of Weaselton, or whatever his name is.”

Rumple’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, and he whirled her around, making her skirts twirl. Belle giggled as they spun across the floor, gripping tight to his shoulder, and they made their whirling way through the crowds of dancers, towards the large balcony overlooking the palace gardens.  The cold air was a shock, stealing Belle’s breath, and she clung a little tighter, but he slowed the pace, turning in a gentle circle and allowing her to gaze out over the sweeping snow and beautiful, shimmering ice sculptures.  Belle sighed as she looked across the landscape, and when she turned back to face him he was watching her with a sober expression in his eyes.

“I’ve kept you locked up too long,” he said, almost to himself.

“You haven’t locked me up.”

“I may as well have done,” he said.  “Stuck in that castle with only me for company.  I - I haven’t been fair to you, Belle.”

“You’ve been kinder than I ever expected,” she assured him.

“Nonetheless.”  He pulled her against him a little tighter.  “I should go.  You should talk to your friends.”

The music stopped and applause started up from the dancers.  Belle sighed as he stopped turning her, but held on as he made to pull back.

“I’d much rather talk to you, you know,” she said.  “Being here - well, it’s made me remember how - how odd the noblewomen always found me.  I never really had any friends.  Not proper friends, not really.”

“Princess Anna likes you,” he said, and she smiled.

“Princess Anna likes everyone.”

“Except me,” he said, with a chuckle, and she smiled up at him, her fingers running over the damask silk of his coat.

“It’s almost midnight,” she said.  “Will you at least stay until the end of the feast?”

Rumple looked at her for a long moment, and eventually nodded.

“Very well,” he said.  “Another dance, m’lady?”

Festive fic prompts already written

[amieravenson]

Creating a Yule or Winter Solstice Altar

Yule Altar 1 Yule is such a warm, festive time of year for most of us. And if we don’t enjoy Christmas for various reasons, Yule gives us a second chance to reinvent this Winter holiday for ourselves in a way that feeds our spirits through the Winter. The themes here are creating warmth as the weather gets cooler and more treacherous, and coming together with family and friends. There are different ways to approach this holiday. You can see it as a festive season of parties and celebrations, or as a quiet time of giving handmade gifts to people you love. You can see it as a time to experience the feeling of nature as she winds down for the long Winter, or you can even celebrate it as a version of the traditional, nostalgic holidays that you remember from your childhood. It’s important to remember that Yule is what you make it, and it grows from what you bring to it. So if you have negative associations with this holiday, perhaps trying to see it from a different perspective and making it something that resonates with you will help you begin to enjoy it again. You don’t have to do the same things that you’ve always done just because it’s expected. Agriculturally, this time of year is quiet. There isn’t a lot of work to be done now, and our holiday feasts are a celebration of the harvest and our survival in the cold months. Farmers and gardeners may be doing some planning for next year, leafing through seed catalogs, but that’s not urgent by any means. Now is a time of rest and enjoyment. In the non-agricultural world, we’re being affected by the longest nights of the year, and a lot of our frantic holiday revelry is an effort to beat back the Winter fear of the dark, and the doldrums that come from the grey, close days. So celebrate as much as you would like, but try to give yourself space to relax and unwind in these contemplative short days and long nights as well. Let’s look at ways to decorate our Yule altars!

Yule Altar 2 Colors (for altar cloths, flowers, candles, and decorations) There are so many ways to go when choosing colors for your Yule altar. You can always go with traditional Christmas colors of red and green for a nostalgic feel. You could also choose colors from nature this time of year, like greens, greys, and browns. Or you could embrace the opulence of a truly festive Winter holiday, and go with rich jewel tones and gold. The important thing is that the colors you choose reflect your own feelings about the meaning of this sabbat. I tend to use plaid a lot around this time of year, as it looks old-timey, but still festive. I also like the idea of using blue and green instead of red and green to set my Yule decorations apart from traditional Christmas decorations.

Yule Altar 3 Scents Any evergreen scents are really appropriate for this time of year, whether you use pine, cedar, hemlock, or yew. Also, there are tons of Winter scents out there, so choose ones that speak to you. Cranberry, cider or spiced apple, peppermint, vanilla- a case can be made for any scent that speaks to you. I like warm, woody, incensey smells this time of year or scents that remind me of the fireside. For incense, spices are great right now. Cinnamon, clove, cardamom or nutmeg all smell amazing over a sandalwood base and create a sense of warmth. Symbols Greenery from nature, especially pine boughs, holly sprays, handmade wreaths, mistletoe, or cones or berries you might find around. A holiday tree, decorated festively to celebrate nature in this quiet time of year. Lights and candles. This is the longest night of the year, and traditionally festive lights and candles are used to chase that darkness away and call to the sun to return to us. Yule long or a representation of fire. Traditionally, on Yule night, a Yule log was tossed into a fire that was kept burning through the long dark hours. People would tell stories and feast and spend time together around this fire as a way to pass the long night. So anything to do with a Yule log or even ashes from your hearth would be meaningful. Bells were thought to scare away any negative spirits or entities that might try to gather around during this dark time of year. Personally, I like representations of snow, even though we don’t get much snow down here in Georgia. So snowflakes can be a festive addition, possibly even cut from paper and hung over the altar from the ceiling. I also like visual representations of starry nights, as I like to celebrate the long darkness instead of fearing it. Foods that you tend to see around this time of year, like Winter citrus, cranberries, and nuts in the shell. Candies that remind you of this time of year are great too, like candy canes or hard candies in festive colors. Even a glass of eggnog or a mug of cocoa would work! Any animals that you’re seeing around right now, as well as deer or reindeer and cardinals. I probably missed a lot of traditional symbols here, so please share any that I forgot. Let me know what you’re doing with your Yule altar in the comments below. Blessed be! Read the full article

[herdustisverypretty]

would you rather (autumn edition)

Tagged by @kelandry5​

I APPRECIATE THE TAG A LOT BUT I AM BOTH AUSTRALIAN AND PAGAN SOO UHHHH 

WE’LL SEE HOW THIS GOES! MAY OR MAY NOT BE HUMOROUS AND/OR OFFENSIVE. 

go apple picking vs go on a hay ride - apple picking as in like... picking apples off trees? or is this another way to say apple bobbing? cause i know what that is lmao that’s originally a pagan tradition associated with samhain. no clue what a hay ride is tho. I’M GONNA SAY NEITHER?????

scary vs sweet - in regards to what?????

sweaters jumpers vs boots

socks vs mittens - mittens are like... gloves with no fingers rite??? not fingerless gloves but like. i’m not explaining this well am i. 

bonfires vs football - ok wait i’ve gotta look this up, cause i am always getting confused between uk vs us vs aus football. OK ITS GRIDIRON. i mean i knew that was a thing but is that all you have in america??? those shoulder pads man... so tacky. so uh, neither, cause i’m hella scared of fire. I LIVE IN AUSTRALIA. THE RISK OF DEATH BY BUSHFIRE IS LITERALLY HERE AT ALL TIMES

trick or treating vs watching scary movies - we don’t rlly trick or treat in australia. i think this year we got one small group of kids. they rang the doorbell twice in quick succession and i was like “well if i was gonna open the door and smile and say ‘soz kids we don’t have anything’ I SURE AIN’T NOW” *ignored and blocked*

apple pie vs pumpkin pie - is pumpkin pie even a thing in australia? i don’t think i’ve ever heard it mentioned outside of spn. why do y’all gotta stick pumpkin in everything?

halloween vs thanksgiving - lol. i mean first, halloween is a commercialised/americanised/christianised theft of samhain (which i celebrate in may due to being in the southern hemisphere) (tho do not take this as my condemning and/or disapproving of halloween exactly - it’s a complicated situation), and second, i have a native american friend so i really am not supportive of thanksgiving anyway. also you know once an american my mum follows on instagram asked her how australians celebrate thanksgiving. lmao. 

bake pie vs bake cookies - uhh, pie isn’t rlly a thing in australia? i don’t think i’ve ever eaten a dessert pie that wasn’t a supermarket-bought frozen nanna’s apple pie. and i don’t even really like apple pie anyway.......

rain vs fog

black cats vs owls

ghosts vs wizards (look ghosts are fine, just dont fuckin do a seance ever)

harry potter vs halloweentown - at first i thought halloweentown referred to the halloween world in nightmare before christmas. but no, apparently it’s its own thing. who woulda thunk it

go hiking vs sleep in - what the fuck? do all americans go hiking in autumn?? uhh? WHY??????? i thought everyone on tumblr mutually hated exercise or is that just me

cinnamon vs nutmeg

reading vs writing

hot chocolate vs tea

live in a cabin in a forest vs 24/7 autumn - umm??? this is a weird one. i...i don’t understand the reasoning for choosing such totally unrelated things????? however, i would pick 24/7 autumn, because this spring has already gotten to 35+ degree days. no thanks!

candy apples vs caramel apples - ..there’s a difference? are these also different to toffee apples? cause i think i had one of those in the 90s at christmas once? it was weird. to quote river tam, i very much had the thought of “my food is problematic.” (and she remains the only person who can say that word) 

blankets vs pillows

roasted marshmallows vs roasted chestnuts - i’m a vegetarian so i’m not meant to eat marshmallows (no real loss there) and i don’t think i’ve ever even seen a chestnut in a store so?????

coffee vs apple cider - are these only meant to be consumed in autumn in america or smth? i feel like you’re lying to me. cause i know starbucks is a thing. as for apple cider, well, my sister and mother usually pick that as their drink of choice at family gatherings all year round soo??? again is this something that is only consumed in autumn in america? like eggnog at christmas? pretty sure we don’t have that too. and if we do, i don’t think anyone buys it. side note but what actually IS eggnog??? does it actually have eggs in it cause thats kinda... icky.. or is that just a name? 

red leaves vs orange leaves

braids vs bows - uhh?? they’re?? both nice??? *still confused by america*

scented candles vs the smell of freshly baked goods

carve pumpkins vs make pumpkin pie - again, we don’t do this. also fun fact! the original act of carving what are now known as jack’o’lanterns originated with pagan beliefs that carving turnips (pumpkins are native to america) with scary faces and displaying them in windows would help to scare away the demons and pixies and faeries that came out on samhain to cause mischief and eat children n shit. 

pumpkin spice lattes vs chai lattes - i’ve only ever had a chai latte once, and it wasn’t even mine, it was my friend’s from mcdonalds and i just had a sip. but it was nice! also gdi america stop putting pumpkins in everything!!! you’re as bad as me putting salted caramel flavour in everything (at least salted caramel is actually nice????). also i’ve heard starbucks pumpkin spice lattes aren’t even good anyway???? and that it’s not even pumpkin, but artificial flavouring. i think i will pass. 

coats vs oversized sweaters jumpers

beanies vs berets

candy corn vs peanut butter cups - yeah we don’t really have either of those either

s’mores vs apple crisp - NO IDEA what an apple crisp is but i’ve eaten s’mores pop tarts (ya i know they have gelatin sue me. mostly i just don’t like marshmallows. also i really like pop tarts.) and they were good so uh yeah. 

jump into a pile of leaves vs swing on a tire swing

corn maze vs haunted house - corn maze... i’m gonna assume that’s going into a corn field that’s been cut to be shaped like a maze??? why would you willingly go in that? you’re asking to be murdered. or abducted by aliens. ok i retract my previous statement. definitely go in that. 

bob for apples vs visit a pumpkin patch - ok obviously the previous apple picking then refers to ACTUALLY picking apples off trees. none of these sound appealing. 

whipped cream on hot chocolate vs marshmallows on hot chocolate - i don’t like cream in general, and we already know my stance on marshmallows: gross powdery little demons. 

WELL THAT WAS FUN. basically me just either dissing american culture or straight up not knowing what it means. glad we did that. 

i will now proceed to tag some americans. @6ubble-gum @humanitys-shortest-soldier 

actually i think thats all the americans i know. well i hope you enjoy seeing an australian witch being thoroughly confused by american autumn/halloween culture

[howglorygoes]

10-25 for the autumnal ask 👀

10. Rain V.S. Fog

really depends on whether i need to be out in it or not; if i can stay inside or i need to drive, rain - if i’m hiking, as I rarely am, Fog all the way

11. Black Cats V.S. Owls

cats are way more likely to let me pet them so

12. Ghosts V.S. Wizards

I think i’m more into a witchy/wizard spooky halloween whereas ghosts skews scary (but i fuck with casper)

13. Harry Potter V.S. Halloweentown

in terms of an autumnal movie marathon, it’s halloweentown. I think i watch harry potter more for ABC Family’s 25 days of christmas, but really it has no specific season whereas halloweentown is an EVENT and kimberly j brown owns me every october

14. Go Hiking V.S. Sleep in

realistically, sleeping in. would that i were a hiking person it has its appeals but i don’t possess the controll to structure my life to do that

15. Cinnamon V.S. Nutmeg

cinnamon, but only really in apple sauce and rolls

16. Reading V.S. Writing

reading is largely less frustrating

17. Hot Chocolate V.S. Tea

Hot chocolate, bc i’m a southern boy and most of my tea is iced (not that i won’t drink iced tea in the fall or winter its just less seasonally influenced)

18. Live in a Cabin In a Forest V.S. Have it be fall 24/7

And miss winter in a cabin? and spring in a cabin? I’m picturing like national park level beauty here but it’s cabin in a forest near a nice swimming hole - who says no one lives in the woods?

19. Candy Apples V.S. Caramel Apples

I think maybe i’ve only had caramel apples (or at least, i thought the two were interchangeable) so ???

20. Blankets V.S. Pillows

Blankets always everywhere, as a cape, as a pillow, it’s it.

21. Roasted marshmallows V.S. Roasted Chestnuts

marshmallows

22. Coffee V.S. Apple Cider

i love cider but it doesn’t love me ( i generally resist hot drinks). I believe we can work it out though

23. Red Leaves V.S. Orange Leaves

orange tbh

24. Braids V.S. Bows

Braids

25. Scented Candles V.S. The Smell of Fresh Baked Goods

Look, i will probably always pick baked goods, but I associate scented candles so much more with fall. But i fucking love pie and the smell. And Thanksgiving. I think i might have to go with baked goods (just pies probably? what other fall baked goods?)

[pequena-colibri]

Favorite Things:

a) Making s’mores over an open fire, most preferably when it’s very cold outside and I have to cover myself with a blanket.  b) Petrichor. The smell and sound of rain, most preferably paired with chocolate abuelita and a good book.  c) Traveling, but I think that’s a given. I really want to travel to Oregon by the end of this year, just because it’s been years since I’ve gone. I want to explore little shops and practice landscape drawing, maybe break in my new colored pencils with rough sketches of trees rich with ochre and vermilion.  d) Talking to older folks. Just because I find comfort in their wisdom and find solace in their words, finding reassurance in the fact that one day, this too shall pass.  e) The smell of old books, I like fingering through the tattered pages and breathing its distinct musk. f) The holidays, and this is somewhat irritating to some. I come alive during the holiday season because though we didn’t have much growing up, my sisters always tried their best to make this time as magical as possible for me. Sometimes we would stay up late making forts and listening to Christmas music, drinking chocolate and eating pan dulce. So I associate that time of year with nothing but joy. g) Hearing babies laugh. I love babies and I can’t wait for my sister to give birth next year. I always had to take care of my little nephews and niece so I get this maternal surge whenever I am around children.  h) Dogs. Except not Pomeranians because my sister had an annoying little pomeranian that humped my puppy when I was a kid so I just stayed with this weird little vendetta towards all pomeranians. Plus they’re too fluffy and small and they get those eye boogers, ugh.  i) My mom’s distinct scent of maple sugar, cinnamon, and cocoa butter.  j) Any type of seafood, just because it takes me back to summers spent in Honduras and days spent fishing and looking for almejas. But I guess tostadas de ceviche are my favorite, especially with shrimp and octopus and loads and loads of limon.  k) Dancing to cumbias early Sunday mornings as I’m cleaning the house. l) Watching someone’s face as they’re surprised with something they’ve been wanting for a very long time. Or just getting anything for anyone, it’s nice making people happy y’know? m) Being alone. I don’t fancy being lonely, but when I do need to be alone, I cherish that time. I don’t care if it’s out and about with my bike, or just walking through an unknown city, or even just in my room while no one’s home. I love being by myself and giving myself some time to recharge. n) Sunflowers. Or any type of flower, really. But I gravitate more towards sunflowers and tulips because they’re so bright. I can’t wait to have my own place because it’s going to be fragrant and bright with flowers. o) Going to mass when I choose to. It’s rare that I go, to be honest. But the times that I choose to go on my own, I come back feeling a little more peaceful. But I keep those moments to myself, because my faith is private. And it’s something that I still struggle with... p) The smell of the ocean, particularly at night. I love the beach, the sound of the crashing waves, the gentle mist of the sea. When I was younger I’d love making the trip on my bike and I’d trudge along with my big ass bike until I reached the shore. Then I’d plop down and stay until I felt myself shudder from the cold. q) Grand Teton National Park in the wintertime.  r) Horseback riding, at full speed.  s) Baking anything from cookies to banana nut bread. Well, actually just cooking in general. More so for others, I mean if it was up to me I’d just live off of vegetables and fruit because I’m about that lazy life but I love being creative cooking for others. I guess I just like taking care of people. t) Running, particularly in the morning. I mean I love the gym and all but nothing beats a long jog in the morning. It’s even better if it’s a brisk Fall day or something because I hate jogging outside in the summertime.  u) Cold weather because I get to layer up and wear knitted sweaters and scarves, beanies, and mittens. Although it’s a pain in the ass too because I have shitty lungs and if I don’t layer up well enough I end up with a lung infection for literally nothing.  v) Red lipstick paired with a white dress and heels. w) Roller coasters, except I hate waiting for an hour and a half for such a short experience. I actually have a love/hate relationship with amusement parks.  x) Seattle, Washington. y) Brown eyes. z) Cinnamon rolls from the 24th Street Cafe.