#i just want my own quaint little kitchen. a cosy little living room. things like that which my parents house unfortunately does Not have

[collareddoves]

going through it rn (looking at posts of people’s homes + interior design and feeling miserable right now because i miss having my own space so bad)

[writingfromkitchenator]

Cullen ~ Family Reunion

1,300 Followers Challenge!

Round 2

Masterlist

Requested by @jaxtheninja

Words: 1,503

Warnings: Female Reader, post Trespasser, slight mention of disability (loss of arm), family meeting, talks of having kids

Cullen was nervous, you could see it as the two of you rode, and you held back your giggle.  After everything that the two of you had been through, after all that you’d faced together within the Inquisition, this was what was terrifying him most.

“You don’t have to worry about me Cullen,” You said, watching as the small town came into view. “I’m sure amongst all the people I’ve met, I can handle your family.”

It was quickly clear he wasn’t listening though, muttering something under his breath as people began to come under view.

This time, you did giggle, knowing that he was caught in his own thoughts about it all, but, as it always did, your giggle finally earned his attention.  “What?”

“Relax dear,” You laughed. “Everything is going to be fine.”

Cullen’s cheeks tinged red and he quickly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck.  “Right, sorry, I guess…I still can’t believe we’re doing this.”

“It was your suggestion.”

“Yes, I know,” He nodded slowly.  “I just thought…after everything…and the Inquisition now-now disbanded, that I should-or we should…Maker’s breath what are we doing?”

“Doing something long overdue, I think.”  You said, smiling warmly at him.  “You’ve been telling me for a while that you have wanted to, and now that we don’t have as many responsibilities…”

Cullen let out a slow breath.  “You’re right.  I shouldn’t get ahead of myself, we haven’t even got their yet and, well…”

“Cullen,” He looked at you, relaxing a little at your smile.  “This is your family, it’s going to be fine, I promise.”

He chuckled.  “What would I do without you?”

“Where do you want me to start?”

The two of you laughed and continued on, but you still couldn’t help but notice his growing nerves, especially when Mia’s home came into view, silently reminding you both of the possible quaint and quiet life that was before you.

With a bark, Theo bounded forward, even as Cullen called after him, but it was quickly clear that the grey mabari was far more interested in the couple of children playing with their own.

At first, the two of you were worried that the majority would attack each other, but in usual mabari style, they showed just how smart they were, soon playing away with happy yips and barks while the children laughed and watched on.

Cullen chuckled as he helped you from your horse, seeing Mia come outside to see what the commotion is. "It seems Theo has announced our arrival for us.”

Mia comes over with a wide smile, quickly pulling him into a tight hug.  "I should've known that you wouldn't just knock on my door.  How are you little brother?”

You stood back a little awkwardly, not wanting to intrude on this small family moment, knowing how much Cullen, despite his nerves, had been looking forward to this.  He had been missing his family for a long time.

Cullen soon took your hand though and pulled you forward, his arm wrapping comfortingly around your waist. "And this is Y/N."

"It's lovely to finally meet you,” You said with an abashed smile.  "Cullen's talked about you all for a long time now,"

Mia smiled, which put you at ease.  "Likewise, although talk of your life is far more interesting than ours, not to mention all the rumours as well.  I'm glad I can finally put a face to it all, especially when my brother is very much in love with you.”

You giggled, even as Cullen groaned at your side.  "Mia..."

She chuckled and led the way inside.  "Come on then, lunch will be ready soon.  No doubt Branson and Rosalie will arrive just in time, as usual."

Cullen cast you a smile and guided the way.  As he and Mia caught up, you couldn’t help but look around her home.  Every item and every room just made it all feel so real, speaking of comfort and joy within the wells.  You were glad that, for all the bad that had happened, homes and families like this were still thriving and surviving.

The kitchen was warm and cosy, you and Cullen taking a seat as Mia returned to the stove.  You felt bad, wanting to help, but Cullen kept his hand reassuringly on your knee.

He knew too well what you were like by now, and while he still wanted the comfort of having you by his side, he also wanted you to take things easy.  You were still adjusting to having lost your arm after all.  More than once he'd caught you trying to do things that were no longer as easy with only one arm, and he always hurried in to help, as well as work it out with you on whether there was another way of doing it.

Voices filled the home and Branson and Rosalie greeted you both warmly.  The more everyone talked, the more at ease the both of you felt.  For now, you were both relieved that none of them were asking about the Inquisition, although you knew they must have a lot to ask about it.

Soon, the table was set and the children were called in, lots of noise quickly filling the space. Laughter rang in the walls, and neither you nor Cullen could stop smiling.

“I have to say, we were getting worried we’d never get to see you at all Cullen,” Rosalie said, smiling. “Mia even worried that you were avoiding us.”

Cullen gave a small chuckle, but you could see the slight awkwardness in his gaze.  “It’s not that I haven’t wanted to see you all, but things have been…exceptionally busy.  Even after we got most things sorted and settled down, there wasn’t a lot time to just rest and get things done.”

“Did you really get to fight a dragon?”  One of the children piped up.

“Err,” Cullen glanced at you, even as you chuckled.  “Well, not-not-”

“Multiple,” You said, eyes sparkling with mischief.  “Maybe I can tell you all about it later?”

All the children’s eyes went wide and they stared at you before all starting to talk at once.

“After you’ve finished your meal!”  Mia said loudly over the top of them.  “And don’t think about giving any to the dogs to finish them quickly.”

You chuckled.  “Yes, please don’t feed Theo from the table, we’ve just got him out of that habit.”

“Let me guess, Cullen instigated that?”  Branson asked, grinning.

Cullen started trying to protest, but your giggle stopped him, his face flushing, a round of laughter filling the table.

“Even after all these years, he still hasn’t changed.”  Rosalie giggled.  “You can’t deny it Cullen, Mother and Father used to always tell us about the trouble you’d get up to.”

He sighed, but smiled. “Well, I’m sure there’s more than a few quirks you’ve kept over the years.  Where did you want to start Mia?”

There was more laughter, it not really settling until most of the food was gone and the children were starting to get restless, clearly wanting to know more about dragons, all of them constantly eyeing you expectantly.

“Well, I suppose I better go and tell this story before some children bounce out of their seats.”  You grinned.  “Is there a good spot for everyone to sit?”

Mia directs you to the living room, where they can all sit comfortably around the fire, and you kiss Cullen’s cheek before following after the excited rabble, chuckling after them, Theo following at your heels.

Laughing away, Mia's attention turned back to Cullen.

“So," She said with a smile.  “Where’s the pitter patter of little feet?”

Cullen flushed.  "What?"

"Come on little brother,” Mia nudged him.  "The two have been together for some time now, and are very clearly in love.”

"I...well, of course we are." Cullen frowned though, looking at the door where you'd left.  "But I'd never ask that of her.  After all she's been through...” He shook his head.  "One day, maybe, but for now, everything is still far too fresh. Especially...especially...”

"I was only stirring Cullen,” Mia said gently. "I'm sorry to have upset you. It wasn't my intention."

“She’s handling that wound well," Branson said. "Doesn't let it slow her down at all.”

Cullen sighed.  "No, it doesn't.  I wish she would take it easier at times but... " He smiled affectionately.  "I don't think it's part of her nature."

"The two of you can stay you know," Mia said gently. " As long as you need too.  You both look like you could use a break."

"Thank you Mia," Cullen said.  "I...I'm glad my long silence hasn't...well...”

"Oh, don't think I'm going to let you off for that easily."  Mia said, making the other two laugh.  "You've got a lot of making up to do mister.”

Cullen just chuckled and nodded, feeling himself finally fully relax, your laughter echoing down the hall on what he hoped was a promise for much more peaceful days to come.

[sleepylixie]

Of Walls and Wonderlands

College! Kim Seungmin  X fem! reader, Imperium Universe

1.8k words, Fluff, College! AU, Friends to (future)lovers

A/N: Soft Uni Seungmin was so difficult to write though?? I really hope I caught his aura right >.< ONTO THE FIC!! Do send me feedback, I’d love to hear what you think of this ficc >.<

Imperium Universe || Jisung ||Seungmin || Chan || Lee Know ||

If anybody had told you a year ago that you’d be dating a guitar-playing, puppy-eyed law student with a sharp tongue, you’d have laughed in their face and brushed them off. You weren’t the type to date- you weren’t the type for romance at all. 

Growing up as the youngest sibling in a family full of talent and outspoken opinions, you’d built a wall around yourself very early on to protect your own smaller, more personal sentiments. It was possible that very wall that left you a closed-off, almost intimidating air that made people think twice about approaching you. You didn’t mind it, really. It was peaceful, within those walls, an isolated wonderland that nobody could ruin for you. 

That is until a certain Kim Seungmin came along. It was almost easy, falling for him; Seungmin was the kind of boy that anybody could end up falling for. You didn’t expect your feelings for him to be returned, of course. You knew how you were- cold, prickly, almost unpleasant, a complete opposite to his warm, open self. 

Surprisingly enough, that wasn’t the case.

//

You first saw Seungmin at Imperium, the bar closest to your campus. Imperium, however, served a completely different purpose to those who knew of it: It was an entrance to the heart of the underground fight club network in your city. And you just so happened to be one of its’ sweethearts. 

Minor fact about you:

You were a kickboxer. A good one at that. 

You had a knack for it, the way your siblings had a knack for writing or dancing. When one of your gym trainers introduced you to the underground fight scene the summer after high school, you didn’t hesitate for a second before agreeing to join. Now halfway through university, you and your best friend were two of the best fighters the Imperium fight club had.

Changbin, your gym trainer, had told you to scope out competition for the new season, which was why you were at the club despite not having fights that day.  The two of you had hung around a corner of the basement, talking to acquaintances, until Changbin asked you if you wanted to meet some of his friends. 

Your hesitant agreement had him leading you to a rowdy group of 4 guys, who seemed more than happy to meet one of the club’s fighters. They introduced themselves one by one- you even recognized Hyunjin, the cheeky blonde bookie that loved to take your best friend’s bets before her fights. 

Seungmin was true to his words, he really was a simple guy. You spoke throughout the evening, a rarity for you. He was a law major, the same year as you, a bathroom singer and an ardent DAY6 fan. He was unconstrained with his smiles and open with his opinions, razor-sharp with his wit and dry with his humour. It was so easy to talk to him, even for you- the kind of person who wasn’t much for small talk.

The last boy that spoke caught your eye. He was a little taller than the other guys, eyes a sparkling brown even in the harsh lighting of the basement. “Hi, I’m Seungmin,” His voice was soft, melodic, almost. You nodded slightly at the boys, a small smile slipping across your face as you introduced yourself.

“Oh, I know you,” exclaimed Minho, one of the other guys. “Aren’t you the one that won the rookie championship last year?” The rest of the boys regarded you with renewed curiosity, looks that you were used to. A girl in the circuit was still rare, much less a championship winner.

“Yeah.”

You spent the rest of the evening with the boys, mostly because you were intrigued by the boy called Seungmin. He kept up an easy conversation with you, calming despite the clamor and rage ripping across the basement after the fight slots began.

“This doesn’t seem like your kind of scene.”

He smiled at your comment, a show of pearly teeth and cosy warmth. “It isn’t. I got dragged here because Hyunjin thought I was spending too long with my textbooks.”

“So what is your kinda scene?” You were surprised at yourself, you never took the effort of keeping up a conversation like this- but Seungmin made you curious, you had to find out more.

“I’m a simple guy, really,” He laughed- he was cute, you thought. Really, really cute.

“You get me ice cream good music and good company, I’m yours.”

When the night winded down, he shyly asked to exchange numbers with you after insisting on walking you home.  How could you not agree, especially with the way he looked at you, curious and admiring?

//

Your friendship with Seungmin progressed quickly- You met up a lot, explored cafes and had impromptu midnight grocery runs together. He was fun, almost puppy-like in his enthusiasm, his vibe so alluring that you ended up buying into it too.  There was a lot of banter between both of you, effortlessly silly and extremely witty. Seungmin was the type to hound you with random tidbits of trivia, things you wondered why he even knew of. But it was so... So characteristic of him that you just found it endearing. Even his sharp, acerbic wit. Especially his sharp, acerbic wit.

Seungmin left you with warm cheeks and a wide smile, he felt like the kind of person you didn’t have to keep your walls up around. It felt nice, suddenly, to have somebody who could live in your wonderland with you and not judge you one bit.

The months passed faster with Seungmin,  like a whirlwind of strawberry smoothies and fried chicken. There was an almost magnetic aura around him- maybe it was his charming boy-next-door smile or the way he carried himself, looking almost small, diminutive in stature despite his frame bordering on lanky. Over the months, you’d realized that maybe you enjoyed your time with Seungmin way more than you thought you would,  maybe you had a little bit of a crush on him, maybe you’d wanted to peck his pretty lips more than one time before…

When he asked you to join him on a movie night with his roommates, you couldn’t refuse.  Turned out, Jisung and his girlfriend enjoyed your company so much that you became a constant addition to their movie nights. So you found yourself frequenting Seungmin’s quaint, well-organized apartment every Saturday with assorted junk food, and the quiet excitement of meeting Seungmin again.

He turned up at one of your kickboxing sessions one day, watching in pure awe as Changbin took you through the motions of training for the new season.  After asking if you were okay with him dropping by, he made it a point to turn up as often as possible, his guitar slung across his back. “You’re so good at this,” he’d say every time Changbin allowed you a break. Your heart would flutter a little every time, leaving you slightly flustered and warm in the face.

After you were done, he’d walk you home, sometimes pulling you into the park on the way and playing songs for you on the guitar. 

//

“Holy fucking shit.” Seungmin’s reaction to your slightly battered frame was instantaneous,  grabbing you gently by the shoulders and ushering you into his apartment. “It’s not that bad, I just need a few bandaids.” You protested, hissing softly at the sting that your split lip brought when you spoke. Seungmin scanned your frame quickly,  marking the spots on your body that you seemed to carry heavy or marked with specks of blood.

A heavy silence weighed down on the room, a silence which demanded you break. “Sorry I had to disturb,” your voice came out smaller than you expected. “I got jumped a few blocks away from here, and this was the first safe place I could think of.”

His roommates took in your state from their perch on the kitchen counter, Jisung’s eyes wide in alarm. His girlfriend(and Seungmin’s third roommate) hopped off the counter, hurrying towards you and Seungmin.

“Min, you know where the first aid kit is, right?” She asked, taking your hand as she gently pulled you towards her room. “Get it to the kitchen, I’ll get Y/N a change of clothes.” 

Soon enough, you were sat on Jisung’s previous perch on the kitchen counter, Seungmin giving you a stern once over as he tended to your injuries. Jisung and his girlfriend seemed to have retreated into one of the bedrooms, possibly to give you and Seungmin some space. 

“What happened, darling?” He asked softly, knelt in front you as he dabbed antiseptic onto your knee. “One of the guys I beat last week wanted revenge,” you sighed, swallowing a hiss at the sting. “so he decided to jump me with some buddies.” You tried really hard to ignore the new nickname- a nickname you liked very much when he used it.

Seungmin’s head shot up, eyes flashing in incredulity. “Isn’t that against the rules?!” He asked, temporarily abandoning his ministrations. “Yeah, I’ll make a report tomorrow, he’ll probably get booted for this.” you shrugged. 

“He probably wasn’t expecting me to be able to talk after? I don’t know.” 

You’d never seen that dark look flash across your sweet boyfriend’s eyes before. “That sick bastard.” He never swore, your warm Seungmin. 

“It’s okay, Min,” you murmured, running your fingers through his hair. 

“I know it’s okay,” Seungmin said, standing up to focus on the injuries on your face and collar. “You enjoy kickboxing way too much to be fazed by something like this, I know you can take care of yourself, it’s just...” 

He sighed, leaning closer to you as he checked on your split lip. “It scares me a little every time you end up hurt.”You could see the sprinkle of a blush heating up his cheekbones as he spoke the words, still focused on your lip. You couldn’t help it, a smile spread across your face, broad and unrestrained. Seungmin stopped and stepped back, his eyes wide with wonder. “You’re so beautiful…” the words left his mouth before he could stop them, and a rush of heat gave you a blush that mirrored Seungmin’s own.

“I- um-”

“That’s probably the first time I’ve ever seen you flustered,” he observed, a lopsided smile on his face. You returned his grin as much as you could without jostling your lip too much. Something had switched in the energy between you at his compliment, there was warm electricity where there was usually cool and easy banter.

It was new, unfamiliar, but strangely enough, you didn’t hate it.

“You should stay here for the night,” Seungmin offered, still in the soft voice he’d used before. “I’d end up worrying about you all night if you went home like this.”

“Okay.”

And that was how Jisung found the two of you next morning cuddled on the couch, Seungmin holding you with your head nuzzled into his neck, lost to the world. Even in sleep, Seungmin was careful of your newly acquired injuries, hands light around your waist and softly tangled in your hair.

It was warm in your wonderland, and it was all because of Seungmin.

[bowieandqueen11]

Dating 60s Allison Hargreeves Headcanons

Request: heyyyy can i request a headcanon thingy for allison hargreeves falling in love with a girl from the 60s? 💛 

My gay ass really went oof when I read this thank you <3

Comments are always appreciated!

Okay, so you and Allison meet for the first time a little while after she landed in a random alleyway in 1960s Dallas, so she’s a little more settled into her new life. You meet her during one of her Civil Rights group meetings at Odessa’s Salon.

During the meeting, you sit in the corner and try not to catch her eye, but you can’t help yourself from becoming a blushing mess everytime you feel her gaze settle on your cheek. She sits at a nearby table in the middle of the floor, writing some notes, and smiling to herself every time her eyes flick over to your nervous form.

She gets up early before the meeting ends to grab some leaflets and stand by the door. When you pass by and she hands you one, your heart beats out of your chest and you feel frozen, only nodding with a tight smile when you take it out of her hand on the way out. She, on the other hand, is smiling brightly, having only done that to have a reason to brush her fingers against your own fingertips.

Pulling back as you exit the door, she places her hand to her mouth, feeling as if sparks of electricity is dancing against her skin.

She’d never felt like this before, but if she could only experience love like this in the 1960s, being stuck here would be worth it.

She would choose you again and again, in any time, in any lifetime, she would choose you.

You keep coming in after work to get your hair done, just to see her. You pop in at least once or twice a week, asking Odessa only for Allison until eventually she sees you come through the door, sighs, and just shouts for her name.

You just love the feeling of her fingertips running over your scalp, and the two of you keep on meeting each other’s eye in the salon mirror as he places a few clips in the corner of your hair.

Eventually, after you came in for the fourth day in the row to get your hair done, she couldn’t help but just blurt out if you wanted to go to dinner with her.

She’s surprisingly shy around you at first, only because her voice isn’t completely healed, and she doesn’t want to draw too much attention to it in case people start to ask too many questions. Every time she rubs against her throat, you just grab her hand and bring it to your lips, kissing each knuckle as you gaze into her swirling eyes. The amount of love and fondness in them, and the warmness in her beautiful smile always makes you melt into her arms.

She doesn’t care what people think when they see you two in public, she just throws them a dirty look and squeezes your hand, pulling you closer with a proud smile.

The two of you buy a quaint little house in the suburbs together after a few months, when she really believes all her siblings are gone. The two of you spend weeks collecting and decorating it with a bunch of yellow things - yellow throws, cushions, pillows, candles, everything cosy.

You always bring her back a bouquet of sunflowers when you get home, which makes her fall in love with you even more.

She loves to spend long evenings lying with you on the sofa after a stressful, hard day. The two of you alone together, only the sound of crickets chirping outside and an old timey jazz song floating from the radio nearby is an oasis of serenity for Allison. The moonlight pulls through the living room window and lights her hair like a halo as she lays on your lap, you stroking through it slowly as she rubs her thumb over your knuckles.

A lot of the time, she has nightmares about her family, and the apocalypse, and about her daughter. On these days, you come plodding sleepily down the stairs, rubbing your eyes as you see her sitting on the sofa with her head in her hands. You walk over quietly, her not noticing until your hands are cupping her cheek, and her forehead is resting gently against your abdomen. She smiles into your stomach as you pull her up and drag her by the hand across the house, the two of you spending most of the morning slow dancing across the kitchen tiles.

After a year, she realises she loves you enough to tell you the truth about her siblings, and about her powers.

You’re shocked at first, of course, but you tell her that you believe her and will never leave you.

‘You’re the best part of my life, Allison, and I’m glad you told me the truth.’

‘I’m the luckiest woman in Dallas, Yn, and I promise you one day change will come, I promise you.’

Supporting her whole heartedly during the sit in.

When her siblings finally start finding her, she knows that she really does love you when you learn to love, or manage, Klaus. 

Too many times, you have come down and nearly tripped against his unconscious frame spread starfish on the kitchen floor.

Allison started to come downstairs, only to see you tenderly placing the throw you had wrapped around your shoulders over Klaus’ abdomen, and her heart eyes just grew tenfold.

You become a sobbing mess when she tells you she has to go back to her own time, promising she’ll never forget you, and you made her life more special than she had ever hoped for.

[visionsofus]

i just binge read ur scarlet vision mixtape collection n i am in lov w it. is it possible to request me and my husband by mitski? thank u xx

anon thank you SO much for requesting this song - I’d never listened to it before! It fit perfectly and I hope you like the direction I took <3

Track #14: Me and My Husband by Mitski 

| read on AO3 here | mixtape playlist | send me an ask with your song/prompt request |

Synopsis: Vision is reminded that it is Valentine's Day and decides to show up at Wanda's safehouse to surprise her. Fluff ensues and Wanda's fugitive teammates realise exactly how close the pair have become.

“So, when are you leaving?” Tony asked around a mouthful of egg and bacon. They were sat at the dining table, Tony eating his hastily prepared breakfast while Vision perused the news on the tablet in front of him. Many a morning was spent this way, just the two of them. Occasionally they were joined by Happy and other times it was just Vision on his own.  

“Leaving? To go where?” Vision asked looking up in surprise.

Tony raised his eyebrows but finished chewing before he spoke again. “To rendezvous with your lover?”

“Oh,” Vision said setting the tablet down, they usually didn’t speak about the weeks he disappeared from the compound to see Wanda. It had become something of a taboo, out of sight out of mind, which he supposed helped Tony cope with the risk Vision put himself in every few weeks. “We don’t have plans to meet up until the end of February.”

“You’re missing Valentine’s day?” Tony asked, surprised.

“Oh yes, that is today isn’t it?” Vision murmured folding his hands before him in contemplation. “Well, we didn’t speak about needing to spend the day together, it never really came up…”

Tony looked aghast.  

“I mean I don’t think it’s important,” Vision continued hesitantly but Tony had begun to shake his head.

“No, no, no that’s not gonna cut it,” he said wiping his mouth on a napkin and standing up. “C’mon you’re going to Canada.”

“Canada? Why?”

“Because I am not going to let you stand her up on the most romantic night of the year.”

That was how Vision ended up taking the quinjet up to Canada, arriving in the late afternoon. Tony had given him obscure coordinates taking him somewhere north of Calgary.  With the jet safely cloaked and hidden off the main road he began to short walk towards the nearby converted barn that the rest of the team were reportedly residing in. In the afternoon light the fields turned a golden green and seemed to stretch on for miles.

The barn was fairly unassuming from the outside, the only evidence it was lived in being the wide windows on the second floor and what appeared to be a recent coat of paint. He hoped that they wouldn’t have to move on for a while, that this would be isolated enough they could spend some time not running for their lives.

A thin path had been carved out through what would usually be a wild assortment of plants in the front garden, though it was now scarce thanks to winter’s frosts. Set in the middle of the front of the barn was a Dutch door and Vision stepped up to it, rapping the door knocker sharply. The house was silent inside and the only sign that anyone was home was the car sat dormant in the driveway. A distorted head shape edged into view through the frosted glass, and it floated there for a moment before the door swung open to reveal Sam Wilson.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He asked in disbelief.

“Very nice to see you as well, Sam,” Vision said smiling, “is Wanda in?”

“Is Wanda in?” Sam shook his head and looked over his shoulder. “Can’t think of anywhere else she would be, we are fugitives you know.”

“I am well aware.”

Sam sighed when the sarcasm didn’t hit. “Yeah sure, c’mon in. You weren’t followed here?”

“I cloaked the quinjet through the Air Defence Identification Zone and used a secure flight path,” Vision assured him as he stepped inside, immediately noting how warm it was.

“The others are through in the living room and I think Nat is out shopping,” Sam said shutting and locking the door behind him. “Why are you here though? Anything we need to be aware of?”

“Of course not,” Vision said trying to be assuring, suddenly realising how his presence could be misleading, “I’m just here for—”

He was cut off by the welcome sound of Wanda’s voice. “Vis!” she cried in excitement running around the corner, her sock clad feet slipping on the floor and sending her careening into his arms.

Vision laughed and dipped to catch her in a tight hug. She was wrapped up in a woollen sweater that he was quite sure had once been his, but that she must have commandeered on one of their trips in the last year. She had to stand on the tip of her toes to reach but pressed several kisses on his cheeks.

“What are you doing here?” Wanda demanded, leaning back to take him in, her eyes glowing happily.

“I thought I might surprise you,” Vision said quite conscious that Sam was staring open mouthed at them.

At that precise moment Steve walked in to join the group coalescing in front of the door. He was about to bite into an apple but paused when he saw who had joined them, disbelief colouring his newly bearded face.

“Captain,” Vision nodded, “sorry for dropping in unannounced.”

“Vision,” said a dumbstruck Steve, “you’re here… not in America…”

“Yes,” he said holding his arms out to demonstrate he was indeed, physically present.

“I thought we agreed to end of the month in Venice?” Wanda asked turning to him suspiciously.

“Well, you can’t expect me to not show up on Valentine’s day,” Vision said as though it were obvious, though it had not too been obvious to him mere hours ago. The other three stared at him blankly.

“Huh, 14thof February already?” Steve said to himself.

Wanda looked surprise and laughed in disbelief. “You’re right I had no idea you’d show up for Valentine’s day.”

Vision suddenly felt a little out of place. He always met Wanda alone, never with company. They hadn’t been around the other Avengers as anything more than friends, and by now they were much more than that. It had made so much sense to come for Valentine’s day when Tony had been explaining its significance, but perhaps he had overstated the day’s importance. Feeling like a bit of a fool Vision fished around in his pockets for an apt distraction his hand landing on a bar of chocolate. “I suppose you wouldn’t be wanting any of this chocolate then?”

“Not that I need bribery to have you near me,” she said more quietly taking his hand even as Vision withdrew the Sokovian chocolate she was so fond of. It was challenging to get a hold of thanks to limited imports since the Sokovia incident. Vision made sure to buy it at any opportunity and had since amassed a small collection back at the compound for times like this. She grinned as she accepted the chocolate bar and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

“Well chocolate and Valentine’s day wishes delivered, I suppose I should leave,” Vision said looking around to see that Sam and Steve were having a silent conversation that was mostly raised eyebrows and shrugged shoulders.

“What are you talking about?” Wanda asked. “You’ve come all the way here you’re at least spending the night. Come on, I’ll show you the house.”

Secretly glad, he let her lead him around. She started at the floor they were currently on, showing him the quaint kitchen at the back of the house and the interconnected living room complete with cosy armchairs and a crackling fireplace. Upstairs were several bedrooms, not particularly large but it meant that they could each have their own spaces. Her bedroom was cast in a warm orange glow as she led him in around a small bed and pointed out the view that she had come to love over the last few weeks. It comforted him to know that she was able to have a space in this way, where she could keep things on a bedside table and put her clothes in a closet instead of the living out of a bag she did when they travelled together.

Back downstairs Natasha had returned, and Sam and Steve were unpacking the shopping in the kitchen as she unwound a scarf and removed her beanie, which had apparently been in the interest of protecting her identity.

“Good to see you Vision,” Nat said grinning at him, and he found comfort in her reaction. It wasn’t that Sam and Steve hadn’t been friendly, but it was as though they didn’t know why he was here and that made him nervous, it made him doubt.

But Wanda was his grounding force and she continued to act as though nothing were different. And so, Vision chose to follow her lead, focusing on his most important person instead of his worries.

They didn’t leave each other’s side for the remainder of the afternoon and he helped Wanda prepare the dinner when she explained it was her turn to cook for her fugitive housemates. She’d decided on a stir fry and he diligently set about slicing up the vegetables for her.

“You travelled here ok?” She said leaning her head against his shoulder as she cooked the noodles and Vision slid a responding arm around her waist.

“Of course,” he said kissing the top of her forehead.

“There was no trouble with Stark even though this wasn’t in the calendar?”

“It wouldn’t matter even if there was,” he replied and knew it was true. He was glad that Tony was so supportive of his relationship with Wanda but equally understood that nothing would have stopped him continuing to see her.  

Steve and Sam came bustling through the kitchen collecting plates and cutlery for the dining table. Vision made to draw back but Wanda grabbed his hand and kept it pressed to her side, giving him a reassuring smile that said all he needed to hear, he ducked his head to kiss her once more. On the way out Vision heard Steve loudly whisper “I think they’re really cute”. Sam’s exasperated response was, “Of course you do”.

“Who would have thought Captain America was such a sap when he wasn’t working,” Wanda said quietly to Vision as he drowned out the bickering now taking place in the other room. “He watches more rom-coms movies than all of us put together.”

It was nice to share a meal with the teammates he had grown so close to but hadn’t seen in so long, even if Vision wasn’t actually eating. They told him stories of their travels in the last eighteen months, mostly sticking to the good times though he was aware there were difficult sides to every anecdote they shared. Vision had heard stories from Wanda of the early days on the run where they took turns sleeping and keeping watch, no matter where they were or how strong the locks might be. It was a time of constant strife from what he understood. It was a relief, then, to see them in a place like this and though he knew it would be hard to stay here for ever, he was glad to hear they had plans to stay until Wanda returned from the Venice trip in April.

Afterwards he hung behind with Steve in the kitchen and helped wash up.

“It’s good you’re here,” Steve said handing him a clean plate to dry up, “it’s nice to see her so happy.”

Vision smiled at the acknowledgment, wiping the plate dry with a tea towel and setting it on the counter. “She is the strongest person I know.” Then, softer, “but I wish I could be there more often to help shoulder her burden.”

Steve hummed in agreement. “It sort of came as a surprise to all of us when she told us she’d started seeingyou. Sure, we assumed things, but I don’t think it was really clear until tonight. I’m happy for you both.”

Vision was aware that Wanda had never really sat the rest of her teammates down to hash out the specifics of what she was doing with Vision when they were away. She was content in knowing that they supported her in pursuing the relationship they now had and had never seen reason to share more than she needed to. She’d confided that there were times when she wanted to boast about their relationship, taking pride in the bond they shared which made him happy. But they both shared the feeling that the intimacy they had couldn’t be explained simply, it was uniquely theirs and he was content to not share it with anyone else if Wanda was as well.  

“It’s a relief for me, knowing that she has you,” Steve went on, “the loneliness is hard on all of us, all this moving around. Wanda had only just begun calling the compound home when we had to leave, so I’m glad she has you to come back to.”

It warmed Vision’s heart to hear how highly Wanda was appreciated in Steve’s mind, and it reassured him that she had a strong friendship with her team that could keep her afloat when they couldn’t be together.

The evening was growing late by the time they reconvened in the living room with the rest of the house’s inhabitants. Sam had stretched himself out on the couch and was starting to nod off. Nat sat in raptures over the program on television, which, by the sound of the narration, was a David Attenborough wildlife documentary.

Wanda rose from where she had been curled up in a comfy armchair and took Vision’s hand, pulling him over. Her eyes glowed with such open happiness that he couldn’t help the feeling that he was falling more and more every time they were near. It had been happening for months now, or years more likely, but at times like this it hit him just how in love he was.  

He sat down in the chair, sinking into its comfy embrace and held his arms out for Wanda who didn’t hesitate in climbing into his lap, settling against his chest and dangling her feet over the arms of the chair. He closed his eyes sighing in content, if only every night could be this way. They didn’t need a fancy dinner out, and the chocolates he gave her had been more than those little heart shaped ones he saw on tv, they’d shared a dinner with her closest friends and now settled down in a space she felt comfortable and safe in. It was his perfect evening, and he did his best to capture it in his mind, saving it to pour over and relive in the moments when they were separated, and he missed her most.

As he opened his eyes, he found her gazing at him and she scrunched her nose up happily when their eyes met. She kissed him once quickly, but he managed to tease one more longer kiss out of her before she settled into his arms fully and closed her eyes.

Vision had expected some sort of sarcastic comment regarding their affection, but the living room was comfortably quiet aside from the calming voice over of David Attenborough on the tv. A quick look over his shoulder showed that Natasha was the only one paying them real attention, she smiled at Vision and gave him a slight nod. He smiled back, a moment of gratitude for each other for being such constants in Wanda’s life.

One by one Steve, Sam and Nat trickled off upstairs, Steve pausing to whisper that he’d checked all the locks and the security system and to just turn the lights off when they went to bed. Wanda was asleep against Vision’s chest and had been for a while now, but she was so peaceful that he couldn’t bear to move her.

So, she slept on and Vision peered outside the windows into the desolate fields that spanned out from the property. He could just see the rising moon peeking out from behind the clouds, casting a strong milky glow on the fields. The fire popped and crackled more quietly now, nearly out, its last embers of warmth keeping the room nice and toasty against the February chill outside.

It was sat there in the old leather armchair with his lover gathered in his arms, miles away from any of the problems they faced in the real world that Vision stole a few breaths to let his thoughts wonder. Thinking of all the time they had been together, all that they had been through and with more challenges no doubt in their future. How he had, against all odds, fallen in love with the remarkable woman asleep in his lap, and that she had returned his affection so fervently. He often thought about the different kinds of love, wondering what he had with Wanda. Initially, when they’d lived at the compound together, he had been sure it was just curiosity, that he was only responding to how she treated him. As someone normal, a friend, a companion. Then, as time went on, he thought it might be infatuation, the desire he’d felt to be near her, to be the reason she smiled but ultimately, a short term attachment. That had all changed in the polarising events of the Accords which he had been sure would tear them apart, but here they were, over a year later and he was still very much in love. Perhaps it was as the Greeks said, six different kinds of love for different relationships. Of all the renditions, Vision supposed Pragma was closest to how he felt, the love that was not only about falling but learning to stand up and keep walking. Beyond this, Vision felt a strange certainty that they’d always be together, in some shape or form and that, when separated, they’d always find their way back to each other.

The fire finally seemed to have given all it could, and so Vision shifted slightly, rubbing Wanda’s arm to rouse her. “I’m going to take you upstairs, Wanda,” he said quietly.

“Alright,” she smiled raising her arms up sleepily which he laughed at, winding them around his neck before he lifted her up.

Upstairs he pulled the covers aside and lay her down, brushing her hair out of her face and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

“Get in bed,” she hissed covering her eyes against the overhead light which he quickly switched out.

“So demanding,” he chuckled but relented, going around the other side and changing into lighter clothes for sleeping in.

“Is there anything else you need?” Wanda said absentmindedly, still playing the host. “Another pillow? Blankets?”

Vision sighed and instead pulled her closer so that he might press his chest to her back and wrap his arms around her waist. He kissed her cheek and felt her smile into the cosy room. “I have you, my love, what else could I possible need?”

——————————————

Updated taglist open on request (dm or ask me and I’ll tag you when I update)

[joe-young-stories]

A Week.

Hey, new to tumblr. This is something I wrote in an enclosed, dodgy Christian community in 2018.

The last time I saw Dad in person I was seventeen, and I’d either just finished my A-levels or I was halfway through them. I’d seen him a year before, for Grandad’s funeral. After we’d got home from the wake I’d nicked a crate of Guinness, and thrown up on my suit. I’d thrown up all over the guest bed as well, and I’d left all the empty cans in the waste paper basket. I told my dad that the emotional stress of the funeral must have affected me, and I didn’t really give a shit about the fact that he knew.

This time it was summer, and it was that one week of the British summer that is actually scorching hot. Dad was waiting for me at Oxford train station for my visit. Visa Skank was there too. Visa Skank is my dad’s Russian wife, and perhaps she married him for a visa or perhaps she really loves him. I’ve never actually had anything against her. It was rude, offensive, calling her Visa Skank, but it made me feel really savage and clever back then.  This day at Oxford train station she was in her late forties, and she was wearing this shimmer- shimmer peach linen halter top harem pants combo thing with a dainty cream pashmina and a big floppy straw hat. She was basically just easy mockery.

We went straight from the station to this ultra quaint Riverside pub/restaurant garden. I had Peronis. I had a burger too. We didn’t really have a conversation because Visa had seen a picturesque riverside photo opportunity, and she had my dad take pictures of her next to a drainage sluice for almost an hour, at different angles and filter settings. At the end we walked back through the pub to get to the car and she started draping herself mystically around rustic beams and cosy fireplaces, or sat herself next to like, napkin dispensers that pleased her. And my dad took more pictures. I just wanted to get back to the house. I don’t remember too much more from the meal.

In the daytimes that followed I fell into a routine. Dad would wake up late (his teaching job at the schools wasn’t on) and he might mooch about or he might go into Oxford, or he might just go to Headington High Street. Visa Skank had a busy social schedule attending a young mum’s social club in the Florence Park Cafe. She would spend a lot of time there. I would wake up and take a walk into Central Oxford. And I would stop for a pint in the White Horse, where we used to go for Lunch when I was little. In town I would walk the old streets around the Radcliffe Camera, and this was back when I had academic ambition before I stopped caring about most things, and the scholarly atmosphere excited me. I walked past the cathedral boys’ school – my first school—and into the Eagle and Child, or the Kings Arms, or the Turf Tavern. I would read Franz Kafka stories or Iris Murdoch novels or I’d listen to pretentious students talk shit and praise myself for being more intelligent than them. After a few pints I’d saunter back over Magdelen Bridge and back up towards the house in Headington.

Dad’s house had changed a lot over the years. The retro porn PC used to be in the dining room, and all my 9 year old self used to do at my dad’s was either play SimCity on that computer or watch Dad’s porn. He’d archived literally thousands of pictures, all categorised according to hair/boobs/race etc. Albums of particular stars. I got up early at that age, and if you were proper stealth about it could get up with the dawn and watch a four second clip of a woman getting pleasured by a mechanised shoe buffer. Only if you were stealth though. The computer screen could be seen from the stairs via the dining room mirror. You had to listen for footsteps. God forbid that Visa or even Grandad would walk in. View me wanking it to Dad’s shoe buffer porn.

Now though the house layout was different. Grandad had been a cantankerous twat since Nan died, and all he ever did was sit in the living room watching cartoons and chat shows. GMTV, Pokemon, Digimon, Homes under the Hammer. That was all I ever saw him do on visits to my dad’s.  I left him to it.

But he started losing control of his faculties, and Dad and I would walk in from the pub to a stray smell of nappies, the CBBC channel playing in the background. His osteoporosis got worse. The last time he was alive I was seventeen and he’d been moved to a hospice. He was half asleep next to his colostomy bag but he murmured a greeting and a goodbye. The three of us, Grandad, Dad and me, sat in near silence for approximately fifteen minutes. “Good to see you, Grandad,” I said to him as I was leaving. Grandad had written “to a very impressive grandson” on my birthday card seven months previously.

While Grandad was dying his house was being renovated. The dining room and kitchen had been knocked together into this rustique farmhouse experience, with a big beaten up pine table, a pine dresser and a freshly installed aga. An aga in a nineteen thirties semi. There were a lot of wholesome wicker baskets bought in and gooseberry jam jars were placed in them for effect. Next door the garage was knocked down and a den/conservatory/stargazing lounge/music studio was built. The living room, where Grandad watched all the kids TV, and which I was told was always going to be “His Space” had had all the carpets ripped out and new sofas put in. Floor to ceiling bookshelves covered every wall, and they were all full of this intelligentsia Russian shit no one read. The retro porn PC was upstairs in Dad’s bedroom now, so after I got back from Oxford that last week I’d sit in the conservatory on my laptop. Sometimes if my dad was around I’d bring up an attractive female friend’s Facebook profile and wait for him to ask me about it. He’d talk about organic food and hand picking your own raspberries, and how Russian customs and traditions were the best way to live. But most of those afternoons he was upstairs in his bedroom checking his email, which took about two hours and was a pretty full-on activity for him. If Visa was at home she’d make still life displays from Kitsch crap she found in charity shops. And she’d do photoshoots. Most of the time she was out though. Presumably with the young mums.

When I was downstairs on my own I would drink from the many, many bottles available on the farmhouse shelf. I never drank in front of Dad, but I’d never bother hiding how drunk I was getting either. A little bit of gin, little bit of vodka, whiskey, white rum.

I’d always done this. When I was about twelve, thirteen, fourteen I’d go through Dads bedroom and raid his wardrobe. I’d find his extensive magazine stash and his books on “Tantric Passion”, “The Multi Orgasmic Man”, “Make Her see you Mean Commitment”. I’d find the hamper full of Bombay Sapphire bottles; I never questioned the water bottles full of urine next to his bed. I wasn’t subtle. I’d try and incite his scorn, his discipline, his parental authority. I’d find glow in the dark condoms in his bedside drawers, and I’d take them out of the packets and leave them under his pillow like a treasure hunt. I would neck a bottle of chardonnay, refill it with tap water and leave it in the fridge for him to find. He’d look at the bottle, look at me, deliberate and stammer “I must have rinsed it out for recycling and put it back on autopilot.” I don’t think he knew me well enough to confront me. He once drove me back to mums with me throwing up ass the way down the M40, and we both agreed that I must have eaten some “ropey” quiche.

I didn’t want Dad to parent me anymore; I just didn’t really care. So while Dad was upstairs checking his email I’d access the WiFi and watch naked men beat each other, and I’d masturbate and drink gin. I think on the Tuesday of that week he found me full-on passed out in the stargazing conservatory, sleeping it off. Later on he’d said something about travelling being exhausting, especially across London, and it always took a few days for the mind to properly relax on holiday. I agreed.

In the evenings we’d go out to a pub, the Vicky Arms or The Chestnut or something. I would tell Dad what A levels I was doing. I’d namedrop attractive female friends quite a lot, and talk about parties I went to with them. I’d wait for him to be like, “Are they pretty?”, “Are they into you?”, “Like yeah, get in, my son!”, “Well done, boyo!” and things like that. Visa would come with us. She’d sit there in peach tracksuit bottoms and some kind of burgundy flamenco/matador top, and she would say things like, “Never microwave food because it changes the molecules. Did you know this? We go through a recipe book and you will find meals you would like to try.” We might order popcorn from behind the bar. Visa might demand a photo shoot of her next to an inspiring sunset or whatever.

At home Dad and Visa would go to bed in Grandads old room. Nans room, now the guest bedroom, was being fitted with a “Roman balcony” so I slept on a blow up bed in the living room with all the Russian volumes. I’d drink more whiskey and watch a comedy show about teenage lesbians.

That was it, really. The last week I saw my dad was fairly uneventful. Mundane. If it wasn’t for the fact that it was the last time I saw him I doubt I would have remembered it

Only two events stand out in particular. On the Thursday of that week Dad was playing at a jazz and tango concert at a bar/club in Wantage. He did concerts like that to keep money coming in when the schools weren’t on. Visa took tango lessons down at the community centre, and she’d met a new friend and tango partner called Allan. He had had a stroke and divorce in a five year period and had taken early retirement, so I was told. So I was briefed. Briefed why? I didn’t care.

Allan met us at the house. We all sat about having a back garden beer and then Dad and I set off for Wantage. Allan’s and Visa came later, in Allan’s car, which he could still drive all post stroked up apparently. We had another pint in a pub in Wantage. Dad introduced me to the concept of a “Session Beer”. Advice I have never followed.

Dad gave me money for the evening and then left me to my own devices. I sat on the balcony and drank a lot of Stella, and from my vantage point I could see Dad playing onstage. I could see Visa and Allan as well, and she had her head on his shoulder and he was holding her close around the lower back. This didn’t look particularly tango-ey, but Visa had told me on one pub evening that tango was more about feeling than steps. “Feeling. Yes?” she had said with gusto. This was the passion of the dance I was watching, then. Dad had told me in the car that tango was Allan’s hobby, it’s what got him out the house, like his physio. I looked at Dad, and he was playing some sassy chords on the piano, watching the two of them become one with the dance. He didn’t do anything else. He just sat there, watching them get on with it. I finished one of my Stellas, and later on I thought to myself that he looked like a drooping bunch of flowers in a vase, half dead. A bit sad, maybe. A bit lacking. I was quite proud of myself for thinking of that. It felt very grown up.

Two days later we were having a back garden beer, Dad and I. The garden had changed, and where a swingset once stood there was now a very wholesome vegetable plot. Beyond that was a washing line. It was one of those washing lines with one pole in the ground, and it folded out like an upside down pyramid. You could spin it around for ease of pegging/unpegging. I looked at the washing line and remembered my eight year old self playing by it. I had been playing with a football. I was staying with him for a few weeks or so over the summer. I was out there, by myself, with the football. But I liked to pretend I was playing with all the other children I knew from school. Kids who were actually busy with their own friendship groups or who called me poofty boy by the wildlife pond. But when I was playing with them by myself they were all like, “I did not see this coming! We have not appreciated your serious skills! Hey guys, check out this Baller!” and none of them called me a poofty boy by the wildlife pond.  

I had devised a game where you had to throw the ball into the opened up washing line to score a point. Dad came outside just as I was about to land the sickest shot from ten feet away, the shot which was going to blow George and his gang away, and was going to make Sadia and Carrie-Ann think I was total boyfriend material. He asked me if I wanted anything to eat.

And I really don’t know what came over me, but I said something along the lines of “I’m playing a game. We have to get the ball off each other and get it in the net. Do you want to play?”                          

“Oh, right!” was something like he said “Yes alright then, I will”. I’d never played a game with Dad before, and we were both a bit hesitant. Like, do we just…start, or what? I chucked the ball at the line and missed, and he grabbed it. We ran around the garden, playing the game. He scored a point. I scored a point.  At one point he wrestled me to the ground to get the ball off me, and then helped me up. I remember laughing and smiling, being out of breath. I was tense, too. How did things like this come to a logical end? Did, like, the session finish?  Was there a way for this to end without Dad having to just be really rude? Like: “I’m sorry Joe, but I need to stop doing this at this point and go back to my day. You are welcome to continue though.” How did it work? After approximately fifteen minutes it mercifully started raining, and we went inside. It was the only time we ever played the game.

Sitting and having a beer with my dad that last week was the last time I looked at the garden, or indeed spent any time with him. Halfway through our drink Visa came out of the stargazing conservatory doors, and she was wearing a floor length lacy white gown, a white bonnet and silky white gloves. She was carrying a large wicker hamper, and she put the hamper down and pulled out a silver teapot. “I am English lady at tea,” she said, and she raised the teapot in the air. Then she laid the patio table for a country manor high tea, and started demanding a photoshoot. I went inside.

The next day I was due to go home. I woke up that morning to find that I’d drunk too much and pissed the blow up bed. I put my soggy boxers in a plastic bag, and I covered the damp sheet with my duvet and left it to fester.

I hardly spoke to dad after that week. There was no reason to most of the time. I rang him twice to ask for money, once to say merry Christmas can I have some money and once to tell him I’d just left rehab. In 2018 I had written to him to tell him he was a cunt and I wanted to burn his house down. “Past wounds” with my Father had become a significant part of my “Life Story” by that point, and I thought that sending such a horrible letter might activate a Life Event in some way, some dramatic finale.

Dad has always had his settings such that I can’t find him on Facebook, so I have to log in as my mum to see his profile. Him and Visa quote Oscar Wilde and Shakespeare sonnets on each other’s pages. Visa’s profile has about 64 photo albums. They’re all called things like “Casserole dishes on the patio”, “Beauty In Autumn”, “Sensuous mermaid has adventure”.  Her name isn’t actually Visa Skank. All the photo albums are silly and innocuous. When I’m drunk, or self pitying, or feeling like a victim, or all of the above I sometimes find myself thinking about the game me and Dad played with the washing line and the football.

[ofheroesandvillains]

To Catch A Ghost - B.Russo - 1

Billy Russo x assassin!reader

Words: 2k Warnings: None  Summary: Post-season 1 of the Punisher. Billy helps Frank defeat Agent Orange, but doesn't realise that his initial involvement has landed him right in the middle of an investigation nobody knows about. 

I’ve had a Billy fic in my head for a very long time but I was always worried that I wouldn’t do the characters justice. I’ve decided to just go for it anyway, but please let me know if it’s something you’d like to see more of - I don't want to waste time on it if no one likes it haha! 

(Not my gif, credit to the creator!) 

“Y’know, I always knew I’d see one of you on my doorstep someday.”

He smiled. 

“Mind if I come in?”

You stepped aside with a sigh. At least he had the good manners to toe his shoes off before stepping inside. It hadn’t snowed in a few days but the dirt road leading to your little cabin was still predominantly sludge and you weren’t in the floor-scrubbing mood.

“This is...cosy.”

He looked about the room the same way you always did. Builders took their tools home with them, but people like you and Coulson, you took home vigilance. There was no telling when work would sneak up on you, and after spying the file in his hand, it was clear that now was one of those times. 

“Thanks, renovated it myself.” 

You made your way to the quaint little kitchen that sat attached to the living room. Bottled water, unopened. You knew it was all he’d take, and he probably wouldn’t drink it anyway. Again, vigilance. Or paranoia, you had a hard time telling which was which nowadays. 

Either way, he accepted the bottle with a smile.

“You know I’m retired, right?” you asked, making yourself comfortable on the plush chesterfield. “Handed in my resignation right after-”

“Right after the Triskelion, yeah.” Coulson nodded, making his way over to the armchair beside you. 

Your eyes narrowed as he leaned back into the leather, far more comfortable than expected.

He dropped the file on top of the small coffee table and cracked open his bottle of water. To anyone who didn’t know you, you could be two old friends sitting down after years apart and reminiscing about the good times. Except, there was a reason you hadn’t seen each other in so long, and good times were few and far between in your line of work. 

“I know what you’re doing, Coulson.” His brows shot up innocently. “I’m not taking another job.”

“Of course not. You’re retired.”

A strained silence stretched long enough to make you squirm in your seat. Your eyes were burning a hole through the folder as it sat there staring back at you. Coulson pretended not to notice, instead drumming his fingers against the armrest and feigning interest in the wooden beams overhead. 

You rolled your eyes with a huff. 

“Damn it.”

You swiped the folder off the table and didn’t need to look over to know he was smiling.  

The first page seemed to be a profile, the layout familiar but obscured by pictures. The couch dipped beside you. 

“William Rawlins, former CIA.”

You stared down at the middle-aged man in the photo with a grimace. His hair was sparse and he had a milky eye, but it was the self-important look on his face that didn’t sit well with you.

“Want me to kill him?”

Coulson huffed in what might have been a laugh, had you thought him capable. 

“No need, he’s already dead.” With that said, he removed the photo from the folder and placed it on the table. Beneath it was another face you didn’t recognise.

“Colonel Ray Schoonover. Former marine, turned drug lord.”

“I always liked a challenge.” Your lips twitched up, only to fall as Coulson put that photo right beside Rawlins’.

“Oh, he’s dead too.”

You shot him an exasperated look.

“Well, who the hell am I killin’ here, Coulson?” 

“Not killing, investigating. You’re investigating him.” He pointed down to the profile.

There were two photos of one William “Billy” Russo. The first was a typical military headshot. With his uniform and short hair, he looked a lot more baby-faced than he did in the full body shot below. There, he was pictured in a tailored suit, his face sterner and older - a man who’d seen too much in his short life. 

But none of that negated the fact that William Russo was a handsome man.

Your brows furrowed as you scanned through his details, and you looked back over at Coulson with a frown.

“You want me to...babysit a former Marine?”

“Investigate,” he repeated.

“Right,” you drawled. “And there’s no one else available? Like, no one at all?”

A sudden seriousness settled over him, and he gave you that same genuine look that always managed to rope you into life-threatening situations. You cursed yourself for respecting him as much as you did.

“No one I trust as much as I trust you.”

“Don’t let Nat hear you say that.”

You shared an amused glance.

“I wouldn’t be here if I thought anyone else could do this job, kid.” He sighed. “I know you’re out, but this guy’s good at spotting a tail. Agent Ramirez gave me his report from a hospital bed.”

You snorted. “I’m no spy, Coulson. What makes you so sure I won’t end up in that same bed?”

Coulson smiled. “Ramirez was a spy, you’re a ghost. A little harder to catch one of those in my experience.”

“Just my luck Romanoff’s a public figure now, huh?” 

You mulled over the idea, eyes unconsciously locked onto the darkest pair you’d ever seen. His numbers were impressive, but you’d seen better. You had better. Alright, Russo.

“What exactly am I looking for?”

---------

“Rawlins was heavily involved in multiple illegal operations over east and on home soil. Our main concern, however, was his involvement with HYDRA.”

“Why is it always HYDRA?”

“We know that Rawlins funded Russo’s company, ANVIL. But we don’t know the extent of their relationship.”

“In other words, you don’t know if this Russo guy’s taken it upon himself to finish whatever Rawlins started with HYDRA.”

“We need you to get close to him, find out if he knows anything.”

“If he does?”

“Then congratulations, Nine. You get to kill someone after all.”

---------

The best way to lure someone in was to stoke their curiosity, then pretend you wanted nothing to do with them - at least in your line of work. Make him think he’s approaching you, not the other way around, Nat’s voice echoed in your mind.

The little hole-in-the-wall dive bar he frequented when he wasn’t entertaining company, wasn’t much of a stretch from what you’d usually enjoy. Admittedly, you didn’t have many friends, and your cabin was isolated enough to ensure that the only interaction you usually got was on your trip to the store for your weekly haul. 

But this...it was nice. It would be even nicer without the wasted frat boys in the corner eyeing you while they decided which one was macho enough to try his luck.

They weren’t regulars. You’d been coming here for almost a month and had never seen them before. More importantly, you hadn’t been seen before either. Not by Russo, at least. That would all change tonight if things went according to plan. 

Wednesday night, an early finish at the office. Too early in the week to go wild, but late enough to enjoy a night out. 

By now, Reggie - the old bartender - knew your usual order without asking, and what little backstory you’d supplied was firmly cemented in his mind. He even flicked the game on for you with a wink - you’d raised your glass in thanks.  

“H- ehem...Hey…”

Your eyes barely drifted from the TV. A cursory glance was enough to confirm that one of the fledglings had finally plucked up the courage...or was too wasted to stay away. 

“What?” 

He swallowed thickly, and you almost felt bad when you considered just how young he looked. Was he even legal? 

His friends laughed on the other side of the room and he scowled over his shoulder at them before turning back with a smile. 

“Mind if I buy you a drink?”

“Sorry, I don’t accept drinks from minors.”

Apparently insulted, he stood a little taller, chest puffed out and lips pursed.

“I’m not a kid.”

“I didn’t say you were a kid. I said you were a minor.”

You saw him roll his eyes from the corner of your eye. Yeah, not a kid, you mentally scoffed.

“Would you just accept the damn drink?” 

“No.”

“Why?” He sounded exasperated, and you were just about at the end of your rope. 

You finally dragged your gaze from the TV and the look you shot him must have held the right amount of warning, because it certainly had the desired effect. His shoulders fell and he took a slow and sheepish step back.

“Because,” you began, voice low. “I said so. Now, beat it, kid. I’m trying to watch the game.”

He scurried off with his tail between his legs just as someone slipped into the seat beside you. 

“Ouch.” 

It was barely a word, but the way it rolled off his lips was smoother than the drink you were nursing. You didn’t need to turn around to know it was him, and you cursed his timing.

“Think he’ll walk it off?” He asked in good humour, before motioning to the bartender. 

You decided that the photographs didn’t do him justice. Even when he traded his suits for his sweaters, he still looked better than any mark you’d tailed before. 

“They always do.”

The glass of scotch passed to him snatched his attention, and he shot Reggie a grateful smile.

“Make it two, Reg.”

“Sure thing, darlin’.” 

A silence settled between you, interrupted only by periodic laughter and the chatter of commentators. You could feel his eyes on you. 

They were glued to your chest, a furrow in his brow and a small frown on his lips.

The best way to get his attention? Tell him about yourself without saying a word. Let him think he’s figuring you out. Men love thinking they’re smart.

“You okay?”

He looked up at you, wide-eyed and apologetic.

“Sorry, I wasn’t...” he huffed an embarrassed laugh, before nodding toward your chest, eyes pointedly on your own. “You served?”

You glanced down at the ball chain that disappeared beneath the neckline of your shirt. 

“Good spot. I guess I’m not the only one.”

He smiled, something more genuine and proud than you’d expected from him, but it was quick to falter. It reminded you of whenever you would think of S.H.I.E.L.D. You’d done great things together, made friends you wouldn’t trade for the world, even saved that same world a few times. But knowing just how rotten the organisation was at the core left a bad taste in your mouth.

It tainted those memories and reminded you that everything they asked of you and everything you did for them was suspect. 

He recovered quickly. 

“Right you are.”

Your eyes narrowed as he took a swig of his drink.

“I’m thinking...Navy.”

He grimaced into his glass, and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“You’re just out here usin’ everyone’s pride as a punching bag tonight, huh?” He joked with a short laugh of his own. 

“Well, now you’ve gotta be Army!” 

“Marine Corps.”

Your brows shot up. “Nice.” 

He traced the lip of his glass with a small smile. It probably wasn’t the thing he was usually complimented for, but he certainly wasn't this bashful about his looks. 

A vibration shot through your leg and while knew your conversation with him was over sooner than you would have liked, it may have just been in your favour. 

He likes women, and women like him. You’re not going to be one of those women, and he needs to know that. Half the fun is in the chase, got it?

“Sorry, I gotta take this.” You slipped your phone out of your pocket and shot him an apologetic look. “It was nice meeting you though...”

His smile faltered and the hint of disappointment that flashed in his eyes was gone in a blink. 

“Billy,” he supplied. “Billy Russo.”

You shook the hand he offered you. 

“I’m sure I’ll see you around, Billy Russo,” you said, slipping out of your seat with one final smile. 

His eyes trailed after you until you were out the door and out of sight, but he would think of you again that night. 

---------

“Have you made contact?”

“Sure have, and you have shitty timing, by the way.”

“Keep me posted.”

He hung up without another word and you sighed. 

“Love you too, Phil.”

---------

Part 2

[nureyevapologist]

with every christmas card i write

a little late because of who i am as a person but here is my @aftgexchange gift for @foxeshaveclaws !! they asked for andreil, the foxes as adults and Allison, so i hope i delivered!!

Snow crunches soft beneath the wheels of Neil’s rental car and he thinks, not for the first time, that Allison’s house is the loveliest thing he’s ever seen. He had never considered himself the kind of person to have architectural preferences, especially as someone who had lived in more abandoned buildings than he could count on two hands, but Allison and Renee’s quaint little cottage made him feel warm every time he saw it. It was all one level, three bedrooms and a big open space connecting the lounge and the kitchen. The garden stretched out for what seemed to be miles, little vegetable patches that were tucked up for the winter and a scattering of vintage furniture, a homey chicken coop in the far corner. A far cry from Neil and Andrew’s modern, cosy apartment, but the perfect setting for their yearly Christmas rendezvous.

Judging by the crowd of cars outside, Neil is the last of the Foxes to arrive; he sees Matt’s truck, and Aaron’s practical family car, a rental that must belong to Nicky and Erik and another that he can only assume is Kevin’s. Andrew, Neil knows, is halfway through a flight at this very moment – scheduling conflicts had meant they’d been apart for a good few weeks, with Andrew’s professional team on a convoluted press tour while Neil’s season had finished for the year, and Neil would be lying if he said he wasn’t missing his boyfriend sorely. Still, a few more hours and Neil’s heart would be back where it belonged.

The familiar silhouettes of his Foxes, his family, flitting around beyond the curved bay window fills Neil with warmth, as he ambles up the cobblestone path with an armful of gift bags and a smile he’s settled into like a comfy sweater. Neil of seven years ago could never have envisioned this kind of Hallmark card life, the pretty green wreath on the front door of the Reynolds-Walker cottage and the welcome mat he knows almost as well as his own.

Allison flings the door open before Neil has even really grazed his knuckles against the wood, wrapping him in a hug that smells like mulled wine and feels like family. “Look who finally showed!”

“Sorry,” Neil says against her shoulder, “I’m late because of who I am as a person”

It startles a laugh out of her, softer and more free than anything Neil remembers from their college days, and she herds him into the lounge where he’s bundled into more hugs than he even really knows what to do with.

“We’re not doing gifts until Andrew is here,” Aaron says, once Neil is settled into the sofa with a cup of coffee. “So we need you to settle the vote”

“We’re split four-for-four,” Matt adds, from beside Neil. “Renee is refusing to weigh in on diplomatic grounds, but half of us wanna watch bad Christmas movies and the other half want to watch the Vipers’ game”

Neil shoots a sidelong glance at Kevin, who raises one brow from where he’s been scrolling through his phone. “I voted Christmas movies, so shut up”

Neil hides a grin behind his mug. “I didn’t say a word”

“Your face did”

He kicks out at Kevin’s hip where he’s sitting cross-legged by the fire, and Kevin yanks at his ankle in protest. It feels familiar, when Dan huffs out a laugh and Aaron rolls his eyes, when Nicky throws a mini marshmallow from his cocoa into the mix. Neil hadn’t realised how much he’d missed this; it was rare for them to all be in the same place at once, these days. Neither Aaron nor Katelyn got much time out of medical school; Matt, Dan, Allison and Kevin were all alongside Neil in the hectic world of professional Exy; Nicky and Erik were in Germany, and Renee was in the process of forming her own not-for-profit charity. It felt like something integral clicked into place when they were all together, and Neil couldn’t stop smiling even if he wanted to.

“Christmas movies,” he says, folding his legs beneath himself. “I see enough Exy as it is”

“Thank you,” Allison says, as Matt, Dan, Aaron and Erik all make noises of complaint. “Honey, do your very worst”

Renee makes a face. “They’re not bad movies, Allison”

Affecting a snobbish voice, Allison lifts her wine glass in the air; “Oh, I’m a very busy businesswoman, and I hate Christmas, and I’m so very single. But what’s this? I’m visiting my hometown? And my childhood best friend works at the Christmas tree farm? And he has a six pack now?”

Renee is trying very, very hard not to smile at Allison’s impression, and Katelyn is laughing freely where she’s tucked against Aaron’s side.

“Don’t forget he’s a single dad, too. That’s a crucial plot point”

“Et tu, Erik?” asks Renee, popping the disc into the player, and the room dissolves into giggles. It reminds Neil of away games back in college, all of them crammed into one motel room at one in the morning, trying not to wake Wymack with their antics.

Neil’s Christmas movie knowledge is pretty limited, but Allison’s impression had been pretty spot on, he decides, only fifteen minutes in. As the uptight businesswoman tears down a strip of tinsel someone had tacked to her office wall, Neil’s eyes begin to slip closed. It isn’t boring, per se, but he had driven all the way here, and he’s sandwiched comfortably between Matt and Nicky, a crocheted blanket draped over his lap while the fireplace burned away on the far wall. All of the main lights had been switched off in favour of the glow from the Christmas tree, and Matt’s shoulder was a warm, welcome presence beneath Neil’s cheek.

If he just closes his eyes, for a little moment…

Laughter is what finally wakes him.

Soft, rumbling, shaking the pillow beneath him.

No, not a pillow, he remembers. Matt’s shoulder.

“This is what I have to live with,” says a voice, familiar, warm, home.

“What you choose to live with,” Aaron corrects, smile dancing around his voice, and the sleep evaporates from Neil in an instant as his brain catches up with itself.

Andrew is standing a few feet from the sofa, arms folded across his chest, a tiny smile playing at his mouth. His hair is ridiculously mussed from where it’s clearly been hidden by a woollen hat and he’s wearing a chunky sweater, the kind Renee often knits for him and one she’d likely thrust upon him the second he entered.

“Andrew,” Neil says, scrambling to stand and nearly braining himself on the coffee table when his legs don’t quite get the message in time. Matt makes a soft, fond noise beside him and Allison laughs, but Neil can only focus on Andrew, Andrew, Andrew.

“Oh,” says Andrew, warm beneath Neil’s fingers as he’s folded into a long-awaited embrace, “decided to join us, have you?”

“Shut up,” Neil tells him, face tucked safely into the crook of Andrew’s neck. Then, quieter, “I missed you”

“Seems like it, sleeping beauty”

Neil grumbles. Andrew’s arms come around his back and he ghosts a secretive kiss to the bend of Neil’s jaw. They stay like that, frozen in time, a perfect Christmas cliché, until Andrew whispers, “I missed you, too”

In just a minute, someone will gasp in faux-surprise and point out the sprig of mistletoe tacked to the ceiling right above their heads. Andrew will tell the room at large to fuck off, but he’ll kiss Neil, anyway, mouth familiar and gentle, and Neil’s heart will beat in double-time. They’ll squeeze themselves into the same spot on the sofa, nestled beneath the kitschy blanket to finish the Christmas movie Renee had put in – a completely different movie to the one Neil had fallen asleep to, not that he particularly notices, with Andrew’s hand tucked safely against his own.

They’ll drink mulled wine and eat sugar cookies, sit in a circle by the fire to trade gifts, little pieces of sentiment that will travel back home to their own little corners of the earth. Kevin will get ahold of Wymack on Skype, a system he’s still getting to grips with, and he’ll tell them they’re all little shits despite his warm, watery eyes.

Neil will stay there, nestled between Andrew and Matt, watching the sun go down through the frosted bay windows, reminiscing with his family until his eyes begin to droop again. They will, all of them, the Foxes, get the Christmas they deserve, with a family they never thought they’d have, and a peace they’d fought tooth and nail for.

[ladyoutlier]

Here Today Gone Tomorrow

In which Aziraphale and Crowley are tasked with making a human.

[Read on AO3] | [Chapter 1]

Chapter 2: An Angel and Demon’s Offspring

Rain poured heavily on the shingled roof of the quaint little cottage Aziraphale and Crowley had miracled for themselves. It was a huge stand-out from the rest of Eden with its English aesthetic greatly contrasting the surrounding jungle. However, this was hardly a concern to either of them. Just because they had to take on the role of Adam and Eve didn’t mean that they had to live in the dirt like them. Both the angel and the demon had spent quite enough time doing that in the millennia before proper civilization occurred. And plus, the cottage reminded them of a time they were no longer in.

Crowley was sprawled out on the nice king-sized bed he had summoned for himself when Aziraphale entered the room carrying tea for the two of them. Crowley shuffled to one side of the bed, and Aziraphale sat down on the now vacant side. The angel handed him a cup.

“Quite the day. And here I thought nothing could outdo the past few ones in regards to exertion.“ A rather prominent frown developed onto Aziraphale’s face.

“Definitely makes the top ten of worst days.”

Rain plattered at the window. The two sipped their tea. Sitting inside they could almost pretend everything was normal. That they were in London, and the city was slowly falling asleep for the evening. That outside there were streets and people and Crowley’s Bentley was parked on the curb and that it was just another normal night for the both of them. Ah, but neither of them were good at fooling themselves, especially when the other was involved.

“Do you really think the Almighty has tasked us with bringing humanity into the world?” Aziraphale asked. “I don’t know about you, but I have absolutely no idea how to accomplish that.”

“We’ll figure it out as we go,” Crowley replied. “Try to miracle some clay into a person. If God hasn’t granted us the power to do that, well She’s got no one to blame except Herself for the lack of humans on the planet this go about.”

“Adam and Eve went about it a rather different way.”

“They were also human by default and thus had the proper genetics to accomplish that. Don’t think angel plus demon equals human.” Crowley tried desperately to avoid looking Aziraphale in the eyes which he was quite successful at because the angel too was avoiding his.

“Oh, um, I wasn’t suggesting that. I was merely speculating out loud.” Aziraphale took a long sip of tea which was strangely a lot more alcoholic now.

“Course. Just a conversation of what ifs. Nothing more.”

Another silence. The rain picked up. Not by a lot. Just enough to be noticable. A small rumble of thunder echoed from somewhere far away. The golden light inside the cottage was becoming very cosy. Aziraphale set his drink down on the nightstand and laid down as Crowley was.

“If we ever see the world the way it was again, I wouldn’t mind residing in a cottage like this. It would be a nice change of scenery from the bookshop,” the angel said rather dreamily. 

His alcohol/tea hybrid was taking effect much more quickly than anticipated as if it had divine influences to do so. God smiled to Herself as She sipped from Her wine glass.

“Mmhmm,” Crowley muttered, eyes rolling to see Aziraphale. Without his sunglasses on, it was quite difficult to not notice his added attention. “Yes, would be rather charming. I could see you enjoying the country life. Where would you want to go?”

“Not just me. I think I’d like you to be there too, Crowley.”

That was a brave, blunt remark that was most certainly pushed out of Aziraphale by his drink. That’s not to mean that he hadn’t meant it. He did. It would’ve just taken him a few more thousand years to say it on his own. Still, it was more than a surprise to Crowley. Now, who was going too fast?

“Oh, well, um, yes.” The demon’s eyes widened, and he pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Where would we go then?”

“South Downs is quite lovely. Calming and natural like this. Does that mean you’d actually go with me? I know you’re fond of the city life.”

“Angel, if we ever get things back the way they were, I’d go to the moon and back with you. Might even do that anyway.”

Aziraphale’s blue eyes stared into Crowley’s golden ones. The soft, little smile on his lips was warm enough to melt a glacier. The demon was very glad he was already lying down. Strangely, this day didn’t seem so bad anymore.

“I’ll hold you to that. The moon and back,” Aziraphale replied. “Would be exciting to get off planet.”

“Personally,” Crowley said, flipping onto his back. “I think you’re plenty of excitement on your own.”

If the raindrops became a bit fatter after that, it was only because God was crying. It was a happy sort of cry one only has when their ship finally begins to properly sail. No more sandy reefs for the ship to get beached on. No more last minute trips to the dock. Just full on open sea sailing. Aziraphale and Crowley were finally on their way to be properly shipped, and God was glad.

*

The next morning, Aziraphale and Crowley found a fruit bowl filled to the brim with apples on their countertop. It was not something that either of them had put there, and neither of them were gullible enough to believe the other had. Crowley simply rolled his eyes, picked up the whole bowl, and tossed it out the kitchen window.

“Is he even trying?” Crowley asked, taking a seat at the small dining table at which Aziraphale was eating a pastry.

“Maybe his heart’s not in it. It’s hardly a passion project to do a job that has already been done.”

“Yeah, but I mean, live a little. Throw the apples into a pie or something. Try the poor old woman tactic from Snow White. Hastur really has no creativity.”

Aziraphale finished the last bite of his breakfast and wiped his face. “Yes, well, creativity is one of your best attributes, my dear.”

“‘S really not, but it is a useful one.” He leaned back in his chair. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Thought we’d try your turn clay into people plan as I don’t have any better ideas.”

“It’s not going to work.”

“Likely. But at least it’ll be fun. Similar to making a snowman.”

“Alright then. Let’s go have some fun.”

It was another beautiful day in Eden. A bit on the windy side, but other that that, absolutely lovely. A hundred thousand leaves rustled away in the trees above, and a million different species of birds sang serenades to each other. If one didn’t know just how barren and white Heaven was, one could easily be tricked into believing that Eden was it. Aziraphale and Crowley stood in front of a small riverbank.

“Angel,” Crowley said, freeing himself from the mud which was acting more like quicksand than wet dirt. “Don’t really feel like getting my hands dirty, and I think neither of us are ones for ruining good clothes. Can’t we just draw a face in the mud and be done with it?”

“Nonsense! This was your suggestion after all.”

“Was mostly a joke.”

“And we hardly need to use our hands.” The angel miracled a shovel into being. “Even if this is a rather fruitless endeavor, I still want to give it my all to, at the very least, let the Almighty know that we’re trying.”

Aziraphale began to dig up mud, stacking it into a rather messy column. It looked more like a monster from a cheesy 1950s American horror flick than a human, but the angel continued to work at it anyway. Seeing that Aziraphale was dedicated to this, Crowley grumbled to himself. There were a million other things he’d rather be doing, but all of them involved Aziraphale being there as well. He cocked his head to the side. Guess this is what they were doing today. He miracled himself a set of sculptor’s tools.

*

Their clothes had gotten more than a bit dirty by the time they were done. Mud and river water practically soaked them. Although both Aziraphale and Crowley had no need to sweat, they both felt like they had done quite a lot of it. But they had gotten their human sculpture done, and the time was hardly past noon.

The body of the sculpture was a bit pudgy but also rather lean, and looked neither obviously male or female as if the person could fall either way if they so chose. They stood shorter than both Aziraphale and Crowley, looking as though they were just coming of age. Their face had a rather contrasting mixture of features. A sharp jawline and cheekbones, but pouty lips and an upturned nose. Their hair was a fury of curls with wisps of straight locks thrown in. And their eyes remained a mystery, shut to the whole world.

If perhaps, the angel and demon had modeled their parts of the sculpture off one another, they certainly were silent about it. Still the resemblance to the both of them was extremely clear. The sculpture was a perfect blend of the two of them, and God definitely noticed. Mostly because She had begun to sober up.

“So what? On the count of three try to bring it to life? That really what we’re going to do?” Crowley asked.

“Well, yes,” Aziraphale admitted rather sheepishly. “Does sound silly when you put it like that.”

“Because it is silly. Would get us both thrown in the looney bin if society still existed.”

“Even if this doesn’t work—”

“Which it very likely isn’t.”

“—I’m still happy to have made this with you. Turned out rather well I think.”

“Just glad it turned out better than Warlock’s Year 1 arts and crafts projects.”

“I hope we would do better than a six-year-old.”

“Oh, your hopes are too high for us,” Crowley replied with a laugh.

“Are they? This may not be on Michelangelo’s level of quality, but he would hardly scoff at what we’ve done.”

“Eh, that’s true enough.”

“On three then?”

“Yeah. One.”

“Two.”

“Three.”

The angel and the demon both thought incredibly hard about bringing the mud person in front of them to life. They threw their hands forward, commanding the sculpture to move, walk, breathe, anything. And with the power of Heaven and Hell combined, absolutely nothing happened which was entirely unsurprising.

“Can’t say we didn’t try. Up for lunch, angel?” Crowley asked, letting his arms fall back down to his sides.

“I can’t say I thought it would be this easy. Why don’t you head back, Crowley. Give me a moment and then we’ll have lunch.”

The demon shot him a quizzical look. He took a few steps backwards. A small smile flickered nervously on the corner of his mouth before quickly disappearing. “Alright, yeah. I’ll be back at the cottage.”

“I won’t be long.”

“Course. Take your time.”

Crowley strode off into the wilderness. Aziraphale watched him go until the plant life completely obscured him. The angel released a breath he didn’t know he had been holding and approached the river. A fallen tree laid across it as a bridge. He merely crossed half of it and sat down, his feet dangling inches above the rushing water.

“Um, Lord,” he began. “I know my attempts to talk to You didn’t go too well last time. Found myself talking to Your secretary rather than Yourself. But given the circumstances, I thought I’d try again. I hope You don’t mind the less than professional air to the whole situation.”

Aziraphale waited for a reply, but got none. Still, God was listening.

“Ah, yes, well. Perhaps this whole sculpture idea was rather foolish. Not at all what You wanted from us. And I really do not want to inconvenience You, but I’m at a rather large loss for how to do what You wish.”

Again he left room for a reply from God without the need to.

“As much as I would love to be able to create a person with Crowley, I just don’t believe it is possible with the restraints You have given us. Only You can create a new being after all. Angels and demons, we can only influence them. Crowley and I would just quite like to be able to get back to our lives...”

Together. It was a word Aziraphale didn’t say out loud, but God heard it anyways. The entire riverbank became a bit warmer. The sun shone a bit brighter. The flora spruced up. All small changes one could easily miss. If one was not an angel, that is.

“I—I see. Yes, um, good talk. Thank you.” He stood up rather clumsily from the log. It was simply a miracle that he didn’t fall into the river (actually it was two, but God didn’t feel the need to let him know that).

As Aziraphale walked away to meet up with Crowley, God lifted the sculpture from the river bank and brought it into the ethereal plane with Her. She smiled at Her creations’ creation. Mimicry was the biggest form of flattery. She loved the human the angel and demon had made. Sure, it wasn’t alive, but care and love most certainly lived within it. God tucked its design away with everything else that had ever existed for safe keeping. Maybe there would come a day when She would need it.

Some of Crowley’s modern music led Aziraphale back to the cottage. The demon could not go a day without his tunes, and now with all of Eden to themselves, he could blast them at max volume without the irritation of bothered neighbors and passersby. Their annoyance wasn’t a problem to him. Rather it was their need to bug him about the volume that was. More tasking than the evil was worth.

As Aziraphale approached, “I Want To Break Free” by Queen played:

But life still goes on

I can't get used to living without, living without

Living without you by my side

I don't want to live alone, hey

God knows, got to make it on my own

Aziraphale found himself to the kitchen where Crowley was currently pouring two glasses of red wine. On the island sat a plate of sandwiches made of grilled steak, sauteed onions, and ciabatta bread.

“I don’t know about you,” Crowley said, handing the angel a glass. “But making a mud man really worked up an appetite.”

“Oh, Crowley, you made this?”

“No, I figured out how to make humans when you were gone, and one of them so happened to be a chef. Course I made this. Well, miracled it, but same thing.”

“That’s a real generous thing to do.”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t go all mushy on me. We planned on lunch, and it wasn’t just going to show up itself. Kept me busy while waiting for you to catch up.” The demon picked up a sandwich a munched into it.

“Still, I very much appreciate it.”

Before Aziraphale could take a sandwich for himself, the front door swung open, and the familiar face of Archangel Gabriel walked in.

“I came down here to put a stop to the awful noise, but, uh, I see there’s a much bigger issue to address here,” he said, marching into the kitchen.

“Sandwich, Gabriel?” Crowley sneered, taking another bite of his.

“As if I’d take anything a demon offered me, much less gross matter.” The flame from his sword glowed rather brightly from his waist. “There’s an issue with the use of miracles down here. I mean, a whole house? Really? Where’s the justification for that?”

“It did rain last night,” Aziraphale replied.

“So? Don’t see me abusing miracles to get out of it. It’s only water. You’re supposed to be Adam and Eve. At what point did they live in a cottage that I missed?”

“You did say to make improvements, so we did.” Crowley flashed the Archangel a rather wide grin.

“Yes, improvements for the greater good. Not—” He closed his eyes for a moment and took a breath. “I don’t know why I’m arguing with a demon on this. Obviously this kind of behavior is expected from you.” He looked back to the angel. “I just thought there was something left of you, Aziraphale. Sure, you screwed up the End of the World, but there had to be a reason you haven’t Fallen yet. I’m starting to think that it’s just an oversight.”

“Oh, I’d back off real quick, Archangel.” Crowley swept around the island. “You’ll find I don’t put up with your pretentious bullshit the way Aziraphale does.”

“I think you’re forgetting who has a sword here and who doesn’t.” Gabriel chuckled, seemingly unfazed by Crowley’s threat.

“Oh, you can’t hurt us. In fact, I don’t think you have any authority to tell us to do anything. Your job is to guard the Eastern Gate. Not interfere with Adam and Eve.”

“Uh, yeah. Actually, this whole Earth thing might have to go on hold for now. Busy working real hard to get Micheal out of Hell.”

“Wait, Micheal’s in Hell?” Aziraphale asked.

“Thought your demon’s friend would’ve informed you on that after he so smugly informed me about it on the Wall. We are in negotiations right now. We both have people we’d like to see returned to their rightful side.”

“Like Beelzebub,” Crowley replied, leaning back against the island. His eyes remained rather narrowed behind his sunglasses.

“Our main negotiating point. Should really be an easy swap. Of course, when dealing with Hell everything gets complicated.”

“Oh yeah, sure everything’s so smooth Upstairs.”

“As if you have any clue, demon. You haven’t been up there in over 6000 years. Not sure I’d trust your memory.” Gabriel gave a squinty eyed smile. “You know what, both of you run amuck down here. Ruin it if you want. You’re the ones stuck down here. I’ve got a meeting I need to attend to in Heaven, so go wild. Just don’t blame me when the Almighty strikes you both down for your dismal performances.”

Without waiting for a reply, Gabriel left the cottage. A bright white light glowed from the front door and soon after faded, signalling that the Archangel was gone.

“Well, that was something,” Crowley said. “Sandwiches have probably gone cold, but there’s still plenty to have, angel.”

“Ah, yes, lunch,” Aziraphale replied, remembering exactly what they had been doing.

“Yeah, lunch. Couldn’t the bastard have at least waited half an hour before bothering us?”

“I think it was your music that drew him here.” The angel took a sandwich and bit into it. The center was still miraculously warm. God pretended not to notice that.

“Mental note: all it takes to piss off the Archangel Gabriel is loud music. Oh that’s a weakness he really shouldn’t have shown me.”

“I’m sure you’ll make good use of it, dear.”

“You bet I will.”

Aziraphale scoffed and smiled through a mouthful of lunch. It was a goofy look that made Crowley smile back. He was happy the angel was enjoying the food he had made even if it was little more than a snap of his fingers. This whole snippet of a domestic life was quite nice, and made the demon think back on last night’s conversation. Yes, if the world was ever restored, he’d like to live like this with Aziraphale. But in the meantime, this would do nicely.

[Chapter 3]

[itsyokythings-blog]

One thing I love about Taiwan is that when it comes to accommodation, it’s easy to get decent budget hotel rooms or great hostels for the indie backpackers like me who want to enjoy that communal spirit. Now I appreciate good design and I’m past the age of toughing it out in cheapo hostels, so I thought I’d put together a list of my favourite luxury hostels in Taiwan – posher accommodation options that may not be dirt-cheap but are still relatively inexpensive and also feature great design and ambience. My rec list of luxury hostels in Taiwan:

TAIPEI

Star Hostel Taipei Main Station

For those who like the Muji aesthetic and want a hostel with a super convenient location.

Location

Address: 4th Floor, No. 50, Huayin Street, Datong District, Taipei 台北市大同區華陰街50號4樓 [google maps] 

Taipei Star Hostel has an excellent location right next to Taipei Main Station, which makes it very convenient for those coming off the Airport MRT, as well as getting to the main bus, train and MRT stations. Q Square Mall and the underground Taipei City Mall are just 5 minutes away, so plenty of food and shopping options.

Rooms

Dormitories: 6-8pax/room at NTD 580-670 (S$25-30) per night

Private rooms: 1-5pax/room at NTD 1,400-3,100 (S$67-136) per night

Breakfast included

Check out Star Hostel Taipei Main Station on booking.com [affiliate link]

I stayed in a Single private for 1,450 NTD (S$67) per night that had an ensuite shower, toilet, air-conditioning and a TV mounted on the wall. I even had my own hairdryer and a free towel. The single room was very minimalist and not very large, but considering I was out most of the day, it was comfortable enough for me to rest in at night.

The dorm rooms beds actually look pretty comfortable and roomy from the pix, and at half the private room rate, they are an option I might consider on future trips back to Taipei.

The toilet + shower was to my right, the sink and door behind me.

  Facilities

The hostel actually occupies the 4th and 5th floors of the building it is in, and it is a lot bigger on the inside then it looks from the outside. You remove your shoes at the main entrance and use a keycard to access the hostel living area, and also to access your individual room.

The overall design is lots of clean white walls and wooden furnishings. The lounge area is the centrepiece of the hostel and is a stunning welcome with high ceilings and natural light. There are lots of cosy nooks to sit around in, and a kitchen as well. They had a craft beer pop up when I was there and I made some new friends over craft beer.

Breakfast in the morning is a rotating menu that is prepared and plated by the hostel staff, with freshly cooked food and fresh fruits, it’s worth waking up for. 

Just a small section of the common area – how cute is this place!

Make time for breakfast, which is plated by the kitchen every morning and is always different. 

YILAN

Yilan Inspiration Hostel 霊感青年旅舎

For those who like hostels with character and don’t mind that it’s not very centrally located.

Location

No. 29, Luozhuang North Street, Luodong Township, Yilan 265宜蘭縣羅東鎮羅莊北街29號 [Google Maps]

Yilan Inspiration Hostel is a 15-minute walk from the Luodong train and bus station and located in a residential area along a canal, though if you ride a scooter it’s just 5 minutes away. It’s a 20-minute walk to Luodong Night Market, but the owner does have bicycles that you can rent for free to save you the stroll.

View from my window of the 6-bed dorm just above the lounge area. There is a river right in front of the hostel that you can’t quite see from this pic.

Rooms

Dormitories only: 4-10pax/room at NTD 500-600 (S$22-26) per night

Buffet breakfast included

Check out Yilan Inspiration Hostel on booking.com [affiliate link]

The dorm rooms each have their own concept – I picked the 6-bed dorm room with the tents because it looked the cutest, but just know that the mattress you sleep on inside the tent doesn’t have springs – not the most comfortable if you have a bad back.

I got to peek into the 4-bed dorm which has little wooden houses for each bed like mini log cabins. Pix of the 10-bed dorm with sturdy built-in beds stacked up in 3 layers make me think of a cat’s playground.

The bathrooms are shared and located outside of the rooms, with separate toilet and shower cubicles. 

Tents in the 6-bed dorm

My tent for the night. You can zip up the doorway for a little privacy and there is a light overhead in each tent

Facilities

Overall the hostel has a quirky and homey feeling. The welcome area has a cheery counter and there is a  nice wooden communal area right in the front room. They have a little retail area selling stuff made by local Taiwanese designers. The rooms are located on the 2nd and 3rd levels up a rather narrow staircase.

Friendly reception and lounge area

From the outside

TAICHUNG

MINI Hotels Taichung Train Station 

For those who like a great central location, fun quirky design and don’t mind a very snug space 

MINI Hotels isn’t actually a hostel, but its private room prices are on par with some of the luxury hostel private room prices, which is why I included it in this list.

Location

No. 69 Dayong Street, East District, Taichung City 401台中市東區大勇街69號 [Google Maps]

MINI Hotels Taichung Train Station is located 5-min walk from the Taichung Train Station, making it very convenient to get to and around Taichung and Taiwan. Taichung City’s attractions are more spread out, but you are within walking distance of the popular Miyahara Dessert place and the Painted Animation Lane.

View of the surrounding area from the rooftop terrace

Rooms

Private rooms only: 1-6 pax/room at NTD 1,230-4,280 (S$55-188) – price fluctuates depending on season/date

Check out MINI Hotels Taichung Train Station on booking.com  [affiliate link]

I had a single loft room which as advertised, was very snug but it was surprisingly comfortable. A staircase by the entrance leads up to the loft bed which could fit 2 people. There are a slim table and chairs, fridge, luggage rack and TV, as well as your own attached bathroom. It’s honestly quite surprising how much they could fit into a small space.

From the doorway – I’m using a wide angle camera so you can see that space is very tight indeed, but I either sat on the stairs, chairs or lounged in the bed upstairs

A peek into the toilet

Facilities

The hotel design leans towards Instagrammable, with popular props like a fake telephone booth and even a car in the lobby. Each level has its own colourful mural design splashed across the corridor walls.

Breakfast takes place in the dining area just above the lobby area. If you want some fresh air, there is a rooftop area where you can look at downtown Taichung City from above.

Quirky props in the lobby make for good photo ops

Murals decorate the corridors on each level

The dining area

TAINAN

艸祭 Caoji Book Inn

For the book lover and those who love a bit of nostalgia.

Location

No. 71 Nanmen Road, Central West District, Tainan City 台南市中西區南門路71號 [Google Maps]

艸祭 Caoji Book Inn is very close to the Confucius Temple Shopping Street and the Koxinga Museum. It’s about 20 minutes walk or a short bus ride from the Tainan train station. It’s right next door to the famous Narrow Door Cafe.

Me standing in the entrance way of the Narrow Door Cafe. You can see Caoji Book Inn right next door on the right

Rooms

Smaller 2-6pax/room female-only and 4pax/room mixed dormitories at NTD 1,080-2,560 (S$47-112) per night

Larger 10+pax dormitories at 1,080-1,280 NTD (S$48-57)

Check out Caoji Book Inn on booking.com  [affiliate link]

The star feature in this hostel are the beds in the Mixed Dorms, little capsule beds built between and behind existing bookshelves. These beds cover 2 levels and aren’t segregated by separate rooms and doors – you just have a curtain for some privacy and earplugs to block out sound, and a large locker under your bed to put your things in. Each area of the mixed dorm has at least 10 beds in it.

There is a separate wing with its own entrance strictly for female guests that costs a little more – I stayed in that female dormitory which had at least 20 capsule beds in it, also with its own curtain and capsule and lots of books all around. The room wasn’t full that day so it felt pretty spacious and quiet.

They have smaller 2-6pax female only dorms as well for those who prefer more privacy.

The co-ed dorms in the bookshelves. The space where I’m taking this pic from is technically the corridor as you need to walk by the beds to get to the rooftop lounge area

I had to stay in the female dorm because the co-ed dorm was fully booked, but there were a ton of books here as well

My little capsule – lockers were underneath (you can’t see in this pic) and inside the capsule there are sockets, lights and hooks

The toilet is amazing – it reminds me of Japanese bathhouses and besides free shampoo and soap, they have free lotions and other skincare products as well!

Facilities

The hostel is complete hipster heaven filled with random oddities and antiques in every corner. The ground floor and entrance is a quaint bookshop cum cafe with a nice quiet ambience perfect for reading with a cuppa. The back area has a reading room and a basement of sorts which doubles up as a gallery for mini exhibitions.

In the secured living areas, there is a lounge and breakfast space on the top level (Level 4 I think) with lots of table and chairs, and an outdoor patio as well.

There’s a hole in the floor! Walk through the basement to get to the reading area in the back. The stairs lead up to the female dorm.

Bookshelf display in the basement area – there was an art exhibition in the rest of the space

Other Taiwan Accommodation Recs

I’ve stayed in plenty of hostels while exploring Taiwan, and while most of them were good stays, those featured in the list above really stood out for me. While my other stays might not warrant a detailed feature, I’ve compiled a list of budget hotels and cheaper accommodation that I would still recommend to my friends visiting Taiwan. [affiliate links]

Taipei

Datong – Taipei City Home: Located near the Star Hostel, it has a homey feel and a great chatty host, great for those who like a more personal touch

Datong – Mudan House: Close to Dihua Street and the local favourite Yansan Night Market. Not the most central of MRT lines but still near enough the station and easy to get around.

Da’an – First Hostel: Close to Shida Night Market, it’s not the most central but the hostel has a nice Scandinavian aesthetic and it offers FREE LAUNDRY.

Read more about exploring Taipei here.

Kaohsiung

Hengchun – Rainbow Wave: I made a lot of friends in this hostel which offers surfing lessons. The owner and his partner were really friendly and lovely people, and the breakfast is hand-prepped every morning at the counter and of excellent quality.

Read more about things to do in Kaohsiung here.

Offshore Islands

Lyudao / Green Island – Sanasai Inn: The location is great because it’s really close to the port. I like that you can rent e-scooters directly from them as well. Read more about exploring Lyudao here

Kinmen – Beishan Old Western Style Hostel: It’s not the most centrally located in the northern Beimen district and there’s no food or shops around it, but it is located in a historical building and despite its traditional exterior, has really well designed and comfortable facilities and a friendly owner. Read more about exploring Kinmen here

The best luxury hostels in Taiwan according to me appeared first on The Occasional Traveller.

[anneedmonsonus]

A Timeless Federation Bungalow in Coolbinia

This beautiful home has just gone on the market with Nadija Begovich and Dan Broad of The Perth Property Co.

Buying a house in beautiful Coolbinia was a dream come true for then newly-engaged couple Ash and Lisa Mitchell.

Both Ash and Lisa had always loved character homes and when the chance came to buy this 1947 Federation Bungalow 14 years ago, they jumped on it.

Since then, the house has been a wonderful home for the Mitchells, their daughter Charlotte, 11, dog Rusty, a Lagotto Romagnolo (I thought I was pretty good at my exotic dog breeds, but I had to look that one up!) budgies Daisy and Petal, various fish and cute backyard frog Freddo.

The tuckpointed double brick house was the first built on Mardella Street, Mount Lawley before the suburb was split in 1953. In 1995 the house was renovated and extended with a beautiful sympathetic extension larger than the size of the original home.

A week after they were engaged, Ash and Lisa went to see the house and ‘fell in love immediately’, according to Lisa. “It was a bit beyond our price range, but as the agent said just three days later, ‘It’s only money!’ ” she laughed.

Both fans of older styles – Federation, Art Deco and MCM – Ash and Lisa wanted something that they could put their own stamp on, but with busy careers and a business, knew they didn’t have the time or tolerance to oversee an extension or major renovation. But this house, with its beautiful bones, sympathetic extension and traditional features (think soaring ceilings, sash windows, 20cm skirting boards and Metters stove) fit the bill. “It was also large, with four bedrooms and a study and two very separate living areas – one where Charlotte and I could read, play piano and relax and another where Ash could watch TV,” said Lisa.

THE MUSIC ROOM: The music room at the front of the home is Lisa’s favourite room. “It just has this timeless, classic, elegant yet cosy feel – I can lie on the couch staring at the three metre ceiling rose we installed for hours – I especially love this room bathed in the afternoon light in winter,” she said. “Although when we had the old Vulcan heater removed a few years ago, the technician said, “No wonder you felt so calm and relaxed in here– I think you’ve been gassing yourself!” Luckily the room is large and airy and the central heating now does the trick.

Close to the CBD and the arts and entertainment precinct, the location was another drawcard. Lisa, who is a Senior Statewide Consultant for the Department of Education, was at the time completing post-grad study at ECU Mt Lawley down the road and preferred attending classes to online tutorials. (Ash was in politics and is now a landscape designer). They both liked that the house was a family home, and knew the local public primary school just 500m away had a reputation for academic excellence.

“Having rented in Coolbinia during my student years, I had dreamed of returning here on a more permanent basis one day,” said Lisa. “I loved the peace and tranquility and always felt so safe – even though security on my soon-to-be-demolished rental was non-existent!

“Wandering the suburb back then I took note of Mardella Street in particular, with its imposing Art Deco mansion in beautiful grounds on the corner and a total of just 12 houses. As we are the quietest street in the suburb, many a tennis game has been played on the road out front!”

Like the rest of Coolbinia, the little street is full of trees and people take pride in their gardens. Four km from the city, Coolbinia was designed to garden suburb principles first devised by Ebenezer Howard, the English founder of the garden city movement. Howard had a vision for leafy green streets, parkland within walking distance of everyone and low-density dwellings with gardens.

I think he would have approved of what Lisa and Ashley did to their new place – they completely reworked the gardens on the 728sqm block, making them gorgeous and green with a large lawn for Charlotte and her friends to play.

BACKYARD LOVE: Ash and Lisa had a lawn put in the backyard for Charlotte and her friends. “Many a cricket match has been played on the back lawn,” said Lisa.

Lisa and daughter Charlotte on the front veranda, a favourite spot.

“When Ash made the tree change from politics to his new business, our garden became the guinea pig,” said Lisa.

“The garden was sparse and definitely low to nil maintenance. The flax grass bushes were gratefully accepted by a local primary school to form their water-wise garden!

“We had one tree in a very sloping backyard – the liquid amber was maybe four feet high. We have landscaped the area with abundant trees and hedges, limestone retaining walls, paving and new grass, and installed an outdoor bar area. The front yard needed to complement our home’s heritage – so roses, lavender, agapanthus and more trees were included to replace the native look.”

What I love about this house is that the traditional extension has been carried out with the same attention to detail as the original 1940s cottage.

Everywhere you look there is a special feature; something pretty or quaint. The original Metters stove is a feature of the dining. The ceilings have pretty details in every room; the windows are all timber-framed.

Opening onto the back garden from the cosy sitting room (part of the rear extension) is a reclaimed antique front door, with a brass slot for letters. Not a corner of this property has been overlooked – but that doesn’t mean Lisa and Ashley didn’t add their own style when they moved here.

“The house was light-filled and airy and had been much-loved – there was clear evidence of little kids 4WDing their toy cars across the walls and there was gold stenciling everywhere, even the floor!” said Lisa. “There were window treatments on just the front two windows and the kitchen walls had undergone one of the latest trends – marbling – in what I could only call ‘Tobacco Stain.’”

They repainted every room in the house (so long marbling!) sanded and varnished the beautiful timber floors throughout and replaced and added window treatments, decorative light fittings and ceiling fans throughout. “The kitchen layout was perfect – the house was very thoughtfully renovated and extended and it was so functional,” said Lisa. “So instead of reinventing the wheel we resurfaced the Oregon pine cupboards and painted the interior cupboards a pale pistachio.”

New stone benchtops were added, a new sink and an ASKO dishwasher. I really like it when people do this – look at the potential in an existing kitchen rather than gutting and redoing the whole thing from scratch – and the result is a classic painted kitchen that is custom, beautiful and perfectly suited to its character home.

BEFORE

AFTER

BEFORE

  AFTER

After deciding to put the home on the market to move closer to Charlotte’s future high school, Lisa and Ashley asked The Perth Property Co. Nadija Begovich and Dan Broad to sell it. (You can see the listing here).

One of the things Lisa and Ashley liked about Nadija and Dan’s approach is that they offer an all-inclusive styling and staging service for their clients, with the goal of presenting each house in the best way possible to show it off to its best and get a great result. (You might remember this story I wrote on them a couple of years ago). “A friend of mine in Mount Lawley used Nadija as her agent and I was so impressed to see how she styled, presented and quickly sold the home,” said Lisa. “Nadija can really see the beauty in a home and emphasises its best features so well.”

I love what Nadija and Dan do because they’re examples of real estate agents who go above and beyond – they work ridiculously hard and they do it all with a smile. While Lisa and Ash already had a lot of classic and antique pieces; it was just a case of adding in complementary elements like cushions, linens and plants. “When we style and stage, we ensure the rooms look spacious and functional and that the property has a balanced flow and is presented at ‘display home’ standard,” said Nadija.

For house-proud Lisa (who jokes that she has a touch of OCD!) that approach was appreciated. “Nadija is warm and down-to-earth, what you see is what you get,” she said. “She is knowledgeable, a great communicator and the consummate professional. We are genuine sellers, so we wanted a genuine real estate agent to represent the sale of our beloved home of 14 years. The experience so far has been exciting yet surprisingly smooth!”

Now set to make the next big change in their lives, Ash and Lisa feel lucky to have had the great memories and good neighbours they have had at Mardella Street. “Although nobody moves from here very often, at a ‘Welcome to the Street’ party last year, our newest neighbours likened Coolbinia to ‘a village’,” she said. “It really is the place where you walk across the street for a cup of sugar or some basil or next door for a much-needed wine while the kids play – and you always have a last-minute babysitter nearby!” Maya x

Thank you to Lisa, Ashley and Charlotte for having me through your beautiful home and to Perth Property Co – you can see the listing with Perth Property Co for this home online here.

HOME LOWDOWN

THE CURRENT OWNERS

Ashley and Lisa Mitchell, who live with their daughter Charlotte, 11

THEIR HOME

A classic 1947 Federation Bungalow, extended in a sympathetic style

LOCATION

Coolbinia, Western Australia

THE SELLING AGENT

The home is currently on the market with Nadija Begovich and Dan Broad of The Perth Property Co

FEATURES

Five bedrooms, two bathrooms, two living rooms, classic kitchen, timber floorboards, 10ft ceilings, heritage features, double carport, alfresco entertaining areas, veranda, professionally landscaped gardens

INTERIOR DESIGN

Lisa designed the interiors herself

STYLING AND STAGING

Nadija styled the interiors to sell (home styling and staging is part of her real estate service)

  The post A Timeless Federation Bungalow in Coolbinia appeared first on House Nerd.

from Home Improvement https://house-nerd.com/2019/03/22/coolbinia-federation-bungalow/

[nephthyswrites-blog]

Black Out Days.

Prologue:

Burning Cottage, 13 Years Ago

The small solitary cottage at the end of Linacre Lane was on fire. You probably have already guessed that given the title. Just know that the fire was an accident, that had started as an act of bravery that didn’t end so well. According to news reports; the blaze was due to a faulty boiler in the downstairs cupboard, though if you ask me I’d say the fire’s origin was the burning corpse splayed on the coffee table in the first room. It was a perverse transformation from the happy family home it had been when Markus last visited, two days ago. He marked his return by using his attacker as a battering ram on the quaint wooden front door.

In contrast to its residents, the house had been simple and pleasant, mostly furbished in oak and decorated with needless, but no less pretty little knick-knacks. One word that comes to mind that you wouldn’t have found on the owner’s description of the cosy cottage for two, would be flammable; and considering the occupation of the young couple renting and the dangers in which they were fleeing, one would think they would have noticed this.

The smoke had not reached the amount to dim the light of the mocking flames reflected in the many picture frames that lined the mantle. Pictures of young friends laughing, a happy couple on their wedding day and again in a hospital room; smiling proudly at the new born in their arms.

It was the screams from above that caught his attention which was all the beast needed, growls tore from it as it came upon him; claws raked his chest whilst he fought to keep the distance between his throat and possible death. Hungry red eyes reflected his own terrified face. When it was alive it might have been a twenty something girl, auburn haired and quite pretty. The creature froze mid-snarl, the crimson glare depleted from its eyes as it imploded around the stake thrust into its chest. Ash rained down as he leapt up ready for another attack, but instead of the tortured face of a long dead monster, what he glimpsed was far worse.

Ignoring the living room, much like the official police report, he made his way to the cottage’s kitchen; it was charming in its decor; the kitchen had as assumed, an oak worktop, quirky, duck egg blue kitchen units, an on-set sink and possibly the only modern thing, an old fridge, which was cramped into the corner of the already cramped kitchen. The place was a mess, the blood that spattered the cupboards only added to the horror of the body he found lifeless on the cold grey tiles. It was the woman from the photographs, throat mauled as if an animal had been at her. He staggered towards her, heavy with the numbness that accompanies violent atrocities. His shaking hand brushed the hair back from her brow, her skin was still warm, his eyes watered, whether from grief or smoke, but he did not cry. Straightening he noticed that he was standing in the growing puddle of blood spouting from her injuries. He visibly shook himself, now was not the time, clenching his hand around the stake, he left what was left of his friend and raced up the stairs two at a time.

The fire had now spread to the second floor. He followed the sound of the child’s screaming and used it to navigate his way through the smoke permeating the upstairs landing. Without hesitation, Markus raised his right leg and kicked in the bedroom door immediately saw the predator as it ran at him. He allowed the thing to tackle him onto his back and using it’s own momentum to flipped the position till he was straddling it and through the wriggling he drove his stake home. He got up and stumbled to the wardrobe where the crying was coming from in the farthest corner of the children’s playroom. The door of which was splintered under the constant attempt to break in. The man gently pried the panels away and the hysterical girl almost toppled out, in her arms she clutched the crying swaddle of blankets protectively.

“Shhh, Amy? You remember me, right?” He tried to soothe her. “Are you and Eric okay?”

The frightened child nodded in distress, trembling from her own sobs as she rocked her baby brother to calm his. “Where’s my mummy and daddy?”

“They had to go away; I can take you some place safe okay? You need to come with me right now. I can carry him for you.” He opened his arms and at first, she seemed reluctant but she did as she was told. He had gotten them out and safe in his car, distant sirens of approaching vehicles drifted down the lane just as the windows exploded outwards, showering his car in glass, I did tell you the boiler was faulty, he put his foot down hard and the wheels carved paths into the gravel drive as he sped away.

It was late the next morning when he drove through a tiny coastal village. He took directions from the map in the village square. Around noon was when he woke little Amy in his back seat, she looked at him through heavy lidded eyes as he gently helped her climb out.

“I want my mum.” She murmured tiredly.

“I know but she would want you to be a big girl for her, wouldn’t she?” The girl nodded and it nearly broke his heart.

“Now you need to look after Eric, he’s going to need his big sister.” He kissed her on the head and rang the doorbell. Hopping back into his car, he made sure the door opened before he drove off; opening the glove box expertly while keeping an eye on the road, he searched for his phone. They needed to be told what had happened.