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foundtherightwords · 1 year

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Love in a Storm - Chapter 1

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Chrissy Cunningham (Regency AU)

Summary: A devastating loss threatens the happy marriage of Edward and Christine Munson, Lord and Lady Hurtsfield. However, when Edward is accused of a crime he didn't commit, Christine has to set her grief aside and embark on a perilous journey to prove her husband's innocence.

A/N: Here it is, the sequel to my Hellcheer Regency AU, "Love in a Mist" (sorry about the cheesy title, I'm really bad at titles!) I came across the Cato Street Conspiracy while researching "Love in a Mist" and thought it the perfect Regency equivalent of the Satanic Panic, but I couldn't work it into that story, so I had to write a sequel for it. That also means this is more of a legal drama/crime mystery than a romance, but I did try to give the Munsons' marriage some attention. I hope you'll enjoy it. And big thanks to everyone who has read, liked, commented on, and reblogged "Love in a Mist" - without you, this sequel wouldn't exist.

Warnings: childbirth, stillbirth, infertility, angst, false accusation, wrongful imprisonment, legal drama, some violence (non-graphic), some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter warnings: childbirth (non-graphic), stillbirth, angst

Chapter word count: 3.1k

Chapter 1

Yorkshire, April 1818

Edward Munson, Baron Hurstfield, was up to his elbows in sheep muck.

Lambing season was winding down, but Edward, who had always loved this time of year ever since he was a boy, refused to stay away until the last lamb was born, not just at the Home Farm but all around the village of Hurst as well. There was something magical about being out and about in the warming spring air, breathing in the sweet smell of hay, watching the newborn lambs take their wobbly first steps toward their mothers, watching the ewes welcoming their babies, eyes soft with love. Even the dirtier, more mundane work like preparing the barns, docking the lambs' tails and marking their ears, or helping an inexperienced new mother give birth could become enchanting, when there was so much life around. Edward would lend a hand whenever and wherever he could, and the tenants, having gotten used to their master working alongside them, all warmly welcomed him.

Once Edward finished mucking out the stalls, he and Farmer Hopper started spreading armfuls of clean hay on the floor of the barn. Their ewes were all seasoned mothers so there was no need for assistance, but the weather was about to turn, and the Hoppers, being old and childless, could use all the help they could get. "Ah, bless ye, Master Edward," Mrs. Hopper said, bringing in mugs of tea and a plate of scones. "Just this mornin' Jim was sayin' he didn't know how many more lambin' seasons he's goin' to see. I told him, I said, Jim, the lambs are born whether you're here or not, but he keeps fretting' about who's goin' to look after 'em when we're gone."

"If only our Jonathan was still here," Old Hopper said, shaking his head wistfully. Jonathan was their only son, killed when the war with France first broke out, nearly fifteen years ago. "Such a blessin', children, so why the Lord sees fit to take 'em away, I don't know..."

"Quit bein' so maudlin, you daft old fool," Mrs. Hopper gently chided. "Master Edward needn't hear such things, not when him and his lady are expectin'. How is Lady Christine then?" This was directed at Edward, who was reaching for a scone.

"She's well, thank you," he said, though with some uncertainty. The truth was that Christine was nervous about the birth of their first child, and that, in turn, made him nervous, so he had to find any excuse to get out of the house, for anything and everything he did irritated her now. He would've liked to stay close, but, after Christine had snapped at him "I don't need you to hold my hand every time I walk down the stairs, Edward, I'm not made of glass!", he knew he had to find some peace, for both of their sakes.

At that moment, there was a commotion from outside, and a boy burst into the barn. It was young Will, one of Edward's footmen, his hair all tousled, his face pink with excitement and effort. "Your lordship!" he exclaimed, breathless. Will, like most of the young servants, still had trouble addressing Edward by his first name with the same ease as the older ones. "Mrs. Wayne sent me—to tell you—that—" Here the boy bent double, trying to catch some air.

"Tell me what? Come off it, man!"

"—that it's—it's—" Now his stammering was due more to shyness rather than breathlessness. "It's—starting, my lord," finally he finished.

"What's starting?" Edward asked, mystified.

Mrs. Hopper put a hand on his arm. "I think the boy meant Lady Christine's labor," she said gently.

Edward turned to Will, eyes wide. The boy nodded, flushed with pride for having delivered such important news. Edward threw down the scone and bolted out of the barn, and Will scrambled to follow behind, as the Hoppers looked on, smiling indulgently.

***

Edward saw the gig of Dr. Sinclair in the stable yard of Hurstfield Hall and felt a bit easier. Running inside, he found the house suspiciously quiet. He hadn't known what to expect - for all his association with reform-minded ladies, childbirth was not something he was familiar with. It was not a topic often discussed in salons and drawing-rooms, no matter how liberal they were. Still, he'd thought there would be maids scurrying to and fro and the doctor shouting for hot water and clean towels. Or was it clean water and hot towels?

As he hovered by the door leading to the staircase, unsure if he should go up or not, Mrs. Wayne, the housekeeper, came down.

"How is she? When has it begun? Has Dr. Sinclair been here long?" he asked, shrugging off his coat. Before Mrs. Wayne could answer, he heard a scream of pain, almost inhuman in its intensity, from upstairs and rushed toward it. Mrs. Wayne had to hold him back.

"Calm down, Master Edward," she said, taking his coat. "Dr. Sinclair and the midwife are up there wi' her now. They're takin' good care of her. You best get yersel' out of those boots and wash yer hands first. It'll take some time. The first child always does."

***

It did take a long time. The screams of pain became, if possible, louder and wilder, like knives twisting in Edward's guts, then, even more frighteningly, they became weaker, more like moaning or whimpering, as if Christine could no longer find the voice or the strength to cry out. Several times Edward rose from his seat just on the other side of the door, trying to get inside, only to be politely but firmly barred from it by the midwife and the doctor. Clearly, they believed a husband had no business in the birthing room. Mrs. Wayne brought up some food and drink, but his stomach felt like it was on fire and he couldn't eat anything. If he had been a smoker, he might've burned the carpet down with the ashes from his cigars, but he had given up smoking after marrying Christine, for she disliked the smell. He even started praying, but he had never been much of a praying type, and he didn't know what to say except for "God, please help them", and then, as the hours dragged on, "God, please help her", as he no longer thought of the child, only wanting Christine's agony to end.

When darkness began to fall, Dr. Sinclair finally emerged from the room, his face gray and drawn. Edward jumped up, then backed down again when the doctor shook his head. "I'm afraid her ladyship is having a difficult time of it, my lord. The child is not lying well, and they're both weak."

Edward could feel blood draining from his body, leaving it icy cold. "What are you saying?"

"I shall try my utmost, but you may have to make a choice—"

"Save my wife," he said, before the doctor could finish. "Whatever you do, try to save my wife."

Dr. Sinclair shot him a look. It wasn't an answer he was accustomed to receiving, Edward knew. He and Christine had discussed this. It was a difficult conversation, and Christine had balked at the idea, but having grown up without a mother, Edward had tried to convince her of how difficult it would be for a child.

"It wouldn't be like that for our child," she'd protested. "You would be there for him. Or her."

"Yes. But I'd much rather have you with me. We can have other children. But there is only one you." And at that, she had finally acquiesced. Yet, for all their discussion and preparation, Edward would never dream that it would actually come to this...

"May I see her?" he asked.

This time the doctor nodded.

***

Christine didn't realize that a person could feel so much pain and not die. It was as if all the cramps of her monthly Curse from the past nine months, and even before that, had accumulated into an ocean of pain, washing over her in waves after relentless waves, flooding every fiber of her being, drowning her, the brief moments of reprieve so fleeting that they were all swallowed up by those waves. The doctor had given her copious amount of laudanum, and she sunk into a fog somewhere between half-awake and half-dreaming, drifting amongst ghastly, shadowy things that howled and hissed and clawed and ripped at her, drifting with no anchor, drifting until they tore her apart.

Then the anchor came - a familiar hand in hers, strong, warm fingers holding her own quivering ones in place, a soft voice calling her name. She forced herself out of the fog and saw her husband's face coming into focus amongst the flickering candles, pale with concern, but still smiling that smile she loved so much. "Sorry I'm late, sweetheart," he said, brushing his lips over her clammy forehead, her sweat-tangled hair.

She tried to smile back at him, but her smile died before it reached the corner of her lips. She lifted a hand toward him, only for it to fall back on the counterpane. "Do I have something in my hair?" he said, reaching up and pulling out a bit of hay from his brown curls, which he always wore too long. Christine briefly wondered if the child, the child that refused to be born, would have Edward's brown hair or her gold.

She wanted to speak but her voice had gone hoarse. Eventually, she managed to croak out, "The letters."

"What did you say?" Edward asked.

"The letters. Read them."

His face changed, fear coming into his eyes. "No. Not yet."

Christine felt another wave of pain cresting, threatening to sweep her away. "Read them. Promise?"

He swallowed hard, his lips trembling. "I promise."

A shadow fell over them. It was Dr. Sinclair, touching Edward on the shoulder. "My lord, I think you ought to step outside now."

"No, let me stay with her, please. She needs me." His fingers gripped hers more tightly, but Christine tried to pull away. Once before, Edward had lifted her out of a world of pain and death. He might not be able to do it again this time, not when there were two of them to be saved. She didn't want him around to see this.

"Go," she whispered, then his hand slipped from hers and the wave engulfed her again.

***

Edward felt a hand on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He sat up from the chair where he'd been for nearly twenty-four hours, blinking blearily, rubbing out a crick on his neck. Mrs. Wayne was looking down at him, with Dr. Sinclair standing by her side. The moment Edward made out their expression in the gray morning light, his heart stopped cold in his chest for a second, then started hammering. They all wore the same somber, sorrowful look of funeral attendees. There was blood on Mrs. Wayne's usually spotless apron, and blood on Dr. Sinclair's hand.

"What's happened?" he asked in a shaky voice.

"Oh, Master Edward—" Mrs. Wayne blurted out, tears streaming down her face.

"We've done everything we could, my lord..." Dr. Sinclair said, bending his salt-and-pepper head.

"What's happened to my wife?!"

"Her ladyship will recover, God willing," the doctor said. "But the child..."

Edward didn't hear the rest of the doctor's sentence. He staggered into the bedroom. There, lying amongst blood-splattered sheets, was Christine, as white as the sheets themselves, her eyes wide and unblinking, though her chest still rose and fell with a shallow breath. In the corner of the room, the midwife, sniffling and wiping at her eyes, was wrapping something tiny and gray into a towel.

***

Later, he didn't know how much later, for he had lost all sense of time, Edward went into his study and dug through the top drawer of his desk for the two letters that he had put there for safekeeping, three weeks ago. They were addressed to "My Edward" and "My child" in Christine's neat, elegant hand. When she put them into his hands, Edward had tried to laugh it off, but she had made him solemnly vow to open them in the event she didn't survive childbirth. It was a cruel irony that she hadn't prepared for the possibility that she would survive, but their child didn't.

Gathering up the letters, he returned to the bedroom. Dr. Sinclair had left. Before leaving, the doctor had tried to tell Edward something about complications and how future pregnancies might be affected, but he was no longer listening. Now the midwife was going too, bobbing a curtsey to him as she went out. Her eyes were still red. Edward found himself wondering why she kept working as a midwife, if the sight of a dead child affected her so. She must have seen so many of them. But perhaps it never became easier, no matter how often it occurred.

He went to sit by the bed and held Christine's hand, as he had done once before, back when he hadn't known how much she would come to mean to him. Mrs. Wayne came in and offered to switch places with him so he could eat something or have some rest, but he refused. There would be things to take care of, a burial to organize, all the pretty little things that Christine and Mrs. Wayne and the maids had made, as well as a crib sent all the way from Naples by Christine's mother, to be put away. But they could wait. For now, he only wanted to be with his wife, just the two of them.

It was dark again when Christine's eyes fluttered open. How small, how wasted she looked! He was used to seeing her brilliant blue eyes light up whenever they rested on him, but now they remained faded, like the sky over the Dales during the winter months, obscured by fog and rain.

"Did you see him?" she asked, her voice muted. Him. It was a boy.

Edward could only nod. He had seen plenty of death in all his time on the farms. Lambs born dead, sheep and dogs and other animals killed by diseases or accidents or predators. Even a person or two. But faced with the death of his own child, his son, he hadn't been able to comprehend it, the pain, the injustice of it. Could it even be said that the child had died, when he had never lived, when he hadn't even drawn a breath? No. That wasn't true. He had lived. For nine months he had lived, in his mother's belly and his father's mind, in both of their hearts. And now he had died.

Edward wondered if it was his fault. Should he have told Dr. Sinclair to save the child instead? Should he have insisted on staying with Christine? Would his presence have given her the strength to save their son? They would never know.

"I'm so sorry," Christine said.

"Sorry for what?" Edward bent down to her.

"I shouldn't have agreed to let Dr. Sinclair save me."

Edward's heart twisted. It was bad enough for him to think these things. He wouldn't let Christine go down that path as well. "No. Don't say that. Don't even think that."

But she wasn't listening. "How can I live, when our son died? What kind of a mother would I be? What kind of a wife am I?" Her face crumpled, and she tried to curl in on herself, but her body went stiff, and a choked-back groan escaped her.

Edward climbed into bed and gathered her into his arms. He didn't dare to hold her too tightly, for fear of hurting her, so he let her rest on him, while her tears soaked into his shirt. His chest ached with his own unshed tears, but he told himself he must stay strong for her. He reached into his pocket for the letters, opened the one addressed to him first, and started reading out loud.

"My beloved Edward, I know you must be grieving right now, and you're no doubt throwing your whole being into it, just as with everything you do, but I implore you..."

"What are you doing?" Christine asked, her voice muffled against his chest.

"I promised I would read the letters. So I'm reading them."

"Not to me. They're for you, and—and—" And the child that they would never know.

"Just listen, will you?" He cleared his throat, and continued. "... but I implore you not to dwell on it. Please take care of our child. Teach him or her to be kind, and honest, and brave, as you are. Tell him or her about me. You're a much better storyteller than I, I know you will do me justice. Please continue to live and love with all your heart, as I would like to think of you. And if you think of me, please think of me out in the garden, amongst the flowers and the trees, watching you always, with love. Christine."

"Edward..."

"No, please, let me finish. I know this one is not for me, but please listen." He opened the other letter. "My dearest child, I am sorry I cannot be here to say these words to you myself. Please know that I love you, I have loved you even before I knew you, and I will always love you. Please be a comfort to your father. He can be exasperating sometimes"—here he paused and looked at Christine with a wry grin—"Do you really find me exasperating?"

"Only sometimes," she said, and a ghost of a smile crossed her lips.

"...but everything he does comes from a place of love and sincerity. Think of me fondly. Your mother." He put the letters down and lifted her hand, kissing it, then kissing her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips. He tasted tears, hers or his, he did not know. "This is the kind of wife you are, Christine Connyngham Munson. This is the kind of mother you would be. And shall be. Full of love and always thinking of others, even when you're not around. So stop blaming yourself. I won't hear of it."

Christine let out a sob, and was still again. They lay together like that, with his arms around her and his head cradled on his chest, while the crib stood empty in the corner of the room, until the gray spring dawn broke again outside the windows.

Chapter 2

As usual, if you want to be added to the taglist for this, feel free to drop me a message/comment!

#hellcheer #hellcheer fic #hellcheer au #regency au #eddie munson #chrissy cunningham #eddie x chrissy #chrissy x eddie #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic

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strcngergirls · 2 years

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@alwaysrevvedup:

On the sidewalk outside of the Cunningham household, Eddie is poised with his guitar and a portable amp, freezing his ass off as he stands in the glow of the house's Christmas lights. A bit of snow is molded together into a ball, and he chucks it at Chrissy's window, waiting impatiently for her to open it. Once she does, Eddie doesn't give her an opportunity to speak. This is her gift: a brief personal concert on her lawn. "You get one song request!" he calls up to her, his breath visible in the air. There's a flash of a grin before he makes one stipulation, wagging a finger up at her. "And NO Christmas carols! I don't care that it's Christmas Eve."

When she was younger, the day before Christmas was always magical. The house would smell like gingerbread cookies and cinnamon. The windows would rattle from the cold gusts of winds and her body would shake with excitement and anticipation for Santa’s arrival. She remembers hiding under the covers as the snowstorms raged outside, only a little button nose poking out above the covers, wondering if the jolly red man would be okay in the cold weather.

She always pictured him plump and kind, and strong enough to handle the different climates all over the world. Back then, she’d spend the days with her parents, watching TV specials and sharing quality time together. Christmas was a time for family, but the older she got the less festive she felt. Her mother still spent the day cooking and frantically making sure everything was perfect for dinner, something that seemed irrelevant to Chrissy. Her father lounged on the couch drinking whiskey and coke, eyes glazed over with exhaustion as he watched the television. This year, much like last year, Chrissy found herself hidden away in her bedroom.

She lay strewn across her quilted bedspread, the one her grandmother had made for her when she was a baby. A fashion magazine was slayed open, finger following line after line of text as she read the latest interview with Janet Jackson. She was immersed in the article, and when a splat hits her window, it nearly causes her to jump out of her skin. Scrambling off the bed, she hurries to the window and unlatches it, letting a gust of frigid air blow into her bedroom.

The face she sees below is not the one she expected. Against the white background, he stared up at her, guitar in hand and ready to sweep her off her feel. It was the very last thing she had expected to see on a day like this, and it brought a blinding smile to her face.

“You’re insane, Eddie Munson.” A giggle slips past her lips and her eyes sparkle with happiness. The blonde thinks for a moment, resting her elbows on the window sill. There were a few songs she could think of, but she wasn’t too sure that he’d have them in his repertoire. As she drums her fingers against her cheek, she wonders how long it would take for her parents to start yelling. “Do you know any Bryan Adams?”

#i fixed it uwu #002. ━━ chrissy cunningham ♡ interactions.#shes hoping he knows heaven bc she loves that song ok #꒰ alwaysrevvedup ꒱ eddie ♡ chrissy.#♡ queued ♡

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alba8688 · 10 months

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Chapter 6

A/n was listening linger while writing this chapter .

Eddie and I decided to go for a walk at the park that was close to the coffee shop and the apartment . The weather was nice today, the start of spring in Hawkins.

We had found a quiet place under a tree. I placed a towel for us to sit down well for everyone. It was just me by myself sitting down having a picnic like a loner but next to me was a smiling Eddie telling me about the time he broke his arm by jumping off the monkey bar.

I smiled looking at him. I love the way he smiled when he talked about something he remembered or when he talked about D&D the way he expressed himself drove me crazy .

Ok don't know how chrissy always told him he was such a nerd ..

But I actually didn't mind him being a nerd .

Even if he made me watch the lord of the rings movies over and over again explaining everything that was happening ..

Eddie and i had gotten closer lately,maybe it was the fact that I was the only that could see him or the fact that we both shared the same heartbreak .But I know something else was growing inside of me and it really scared me alot.

"Ari?"eddies voice got me out of my mind

"Huh"

"Are you back in Hawkins?"Eddie tilted his head to look at me smiling .From where I was sitting I had the perfect view of his brown eyes and the sun reflecting from them made them even more prettier. I could actually get lost in them any day.

"Sorry"i blushed when i noticed i was staring for too long

"Whats in that pretty head of yours?"

"I don't know .'' I said softly ,he stared at me for a few more minutes before he changed his conversation and turned to look at the same time I did when I heard that familiar voice I knew too damn well.

"Jason"

"Chrissy," we said at the same time .

A few feet away from where we were sitting having our small picnic we saw Jason and Chrissy with Jason's family having a big picnic.

They looked so happy together Chrissy was so big already about to pop any day .

Jason kept hugging her and kissing her he couldn't keep his hands off of her ..

They looked so in love .

I remembered when Jason use to look at me the same way and I remember when he stop looking at me like that but I never realized that he had stop loving me .

The signs were always there but I never paid attention to them. I was too blind .

I felt a lump in my chest remembering the last picnic the Carver family had. Jason had told me it was nothing big that it was just going to be him, his dad and some uncles, just the boys.

But I found out days later from his mother that it was a family thing. She had asked me how I felt because Jason had told her I was sick the was the reason he gave when I wasn't there at the picnic when in reality I had no idea what was going on.

I felt a tear fall down my cheek remembering that day and other days he did the same thing to me that was the last year we were together.

I remember him telling me he had things to do or errands to run or even go put gas on his car .He always told me he wouldn't take long and he ended up taking longer than expected.

"Hey are you ok?"eddie lean in closer to me

"Yeah sorry ."i replied my voice shaky

"It's because of them right?"he asked with a sad tone. I hadn't even realized that Eddie was hurting too. I was too lost in my own pain to remember that Eddie was hurt by the same two persons that hurt me.

"Im sorry Eddie i was just remembering the last year Jason and i were together how he used to make excuses to go out to meet chrissy how he lied to me at my face and i never saw the signs i was too in love with him to see that he had been cheating on me for a year .'i stop and looked at Eddie who look like a deer caught in headlights

'A year?"he close his eyes and took a deep breathe"a fucking year and i never saw anything i never caught up to her stupid lies t-that she had to go to the library or that she had to work late later to find out she was never working when i went to visit her at her suppose job,"eddie stop talking and look at me "im sorry for the pain she caused you."i could see he was trying to hold back the tears

"Eddie, it's not your fault,you have nothing to be sorry for you didn't cheat on me ,you didn't lie to me ."i wipe the tears falling down my cheeks and put my airpods on pretending to be listening music or talking to someone because people kept staring at me talking to myself.

"Hey sweetheart don't cried please ."he coo

I tried to hold back the tears but it was hard bringing back all those memories really hurt i had never talked to anyone about it not even claire i didn't want to bother her with my sadness.

"Fuck i wished i was able to hug you but i cant because im not here im in a coma in a hospital bed and i wont wake up,Fucking sleeping beauty iam "he chuckled at the last part

He made me giggle imagining Eddie being woken up by true love's kiss

"Maybe you need to be woken up by your princess kissing your pretty rosy lips."shit shit shit did i say that outloud

Fucking shit Eddie stayed sitting in place his eyes wide looking at me i stood up picking up everything.

I was trying my best not look stupid or anything but i think i did

"Sweetheart.'eddie was now standing in front of me smiling that stupid smile that made me melt

"Hmm."was the only thing i said looking anywhere else but at him.

I just couldn't look at him after what I said

"You think my lips are pretty?"he pouted his lips

"Shut up "i giggle picking up my bag and walking away from him

"Ari you can't hide from me sweetheart i know where you live!!"he shouted, making me chuckle. I ran to the apartment in hopes I beat Eddie but I know damn sure he was there by now laying down in bed with his arms on the back of his head waiting for me to get there.

And that's exactly how he was when I arrived.

Next chapter

Aria’s outfit

#eddie munson #stranger things #love #ghost love story #ghost story #ghost

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imamotherfuckingstar-lord · 2 years

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totally turned on

eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie and you run into jason carver, who is as per usual, an ass.

a/n: set a year after eddie graduated in '86. reader graduated previous year.

Friday night was as lame as any night in Hawkins’s; nothing to do but cruise the lousy downtown and find an empty lot to drink beers and listen to music but first on the list of uneventful plans was to get food. Eddie Munson drove his van to Benny’s, which was now under new ownership – same menu and décor though. He pulled into the parking lot and turned off the ignition, looking at you with a dazed smile.

“Maybe I should drive after getting food,” you teased, and he smirked, tossing the keys your way.

“Whatever you want, babes – I’m starvin’.”

He got out and you followed, waiting for him to walk around the hood to you; Eddie grabbed your hand and lead you to the small diner, the two of you entering with the smell of fries hitting your noses. Your stomach growled and the two of you stepped up to the counter, Eddie’s knuckles tapped the counter and a head popped out of the back kitchen window.

“Give me a sec!”

“No problem, man,” your boyfriend urged, turning his attention to you; he pulled you by the loop of your belt and pleaded for a little kiss. The two of you laughing, not noticing the stares coming from a table near the back corner of the diner. Eddie stole two kisses before the person behind the counter arrived, taking your order – two burgers, two fries, and two cokes with lots of ice.

“It’s going to be about five minutes,” he explained, handing over change to Eddie – who suggested the two of you go outside for a smoke. Outside, the weather was cooler and the two of you huddled near the van; Eddie took a cigarette from his pack and lit it, handing it off to you with a smile.

“What do you say we head over to Lover’s Lake? Eat our food, drink some beers…” his tone hinted at more and you laughed, grabbing him by the collar of his leather jacket; his body jerked forward and crashed into yours.

“I’d like that very much…” you whispered to him, lips teasing against his; Eddie groaned impatiently but a kiss never came. Instead, a loud and annoyed grunt echoed outside the diner and the two of you turned to see Jason Carver and his football buddies lingering near the entrance. “Ignore them,” you warned Eddie, kissing him on the cheek. “Go see if the food is ready.”

Eddie hesitated at the thought of leaving you alone with Jason and his idiots nearby, but the expression you gave him left no room for arguing, so he kissed you and jogged into the diner. You leaned against the van and watched as the other boys got into the car, but Jason just smiled at you, leaning against the open driver’s door. Your eyes watched, waiting for him to say something and when he did, you smiled.

“You always seemed like a nice girl,” he explained, shrugging lightly. “Why are you hanging around Eddie the Freak?”

“Why are you still wearing a lettermen jacket from a year ago? It’s kind of desperate…”

Jason’s face dropped and he shut the driver’s door, stuttering over to you – shoulders squared up. Laughing, you pushed off the van and met him halfway, the two of you inches from each other’s face. His nice guy façade faded as the silent seconds passed and when you asked him how Chrissy was – the last you heard she had broken off the engagement, his eyes went vile.

“I was just trying to be nice,” he bit back, eyes drawing up and down your body. “We’ve known each other since kindergarten, sad to see you turn into Munson’s little slut.”

His words brought red to your vision, and nothing could stop the force of your fist hitting Jason’s nose, blood spurting down his perfect face, onto his jacket. He cursed and stumbled back, hands covering his nose as he looked over at you.

“Keep your nose out of my business, Jason,” you warned him calmly, giving your fighting hand a shake. It ached a bit just as Eddie walked out of Benny’s with the food– his eyes widening in madness. It took all but two seconds for him to get in-between Jason and you; his chest pressed against the former jock.

“What the actual fuck is going on,” he spat out, hand pushing Jason toward his car. “Get the fuck out of here! Go!”

Jason glared at you, then Eddie before departing to his car; the two of you watched as the car backed out and drove off. Eddie slowly and dramatically turned to face you and laughed. “Did you just defend my honor?”

“Don’t be narcissistic, I was defending my own.”

“…even hotter,” he contested, walking you over to the front of the van. He placed the takeout order on the hood and gently took your hand, giving it a once over. His fingers brushed your knuckles and when you winced, he brought your hand to his lips and laid several kisses onto the bruising skin. You smiled and he looked up, eyes glued to you as he kissed your hand some more.

“I feel better now, but I don’t want to drive” you mused, thanking him when he released your hand. He agreed and when you handed over the keys, he asked what Jason had said. “He called me your little slut.”

Eddie’s face turned hard, and he looked over to where Jason’s car had been. “That motherfucker…”

“Who cares, Eds, he’s just a loser – pissed that Chrissy opened her eyes and realized she could do better. He just wants everyone to be just as miserable as him – I mean, the jackass still wears that jacket even though you all graduated last year.”

Your boyfriend laughed but apologized for leaving you alone – he opened the passenger door for you and helped you get in, even though your other limbs were working perfectly fine. He helped you buckle up and kissed you firmly on the lips, hands on your face as he murmured, he loved you.

“I love you too, dork.”

Eddie grinned and quickly grabbed the food and drinks, placing them down on the car floor next to your feet. He kissed your knee before closing the passenger door and walking around to the driver’s side; he got in and placed the key into the ignition. “Just so you know…”

You glanced over at him. “Yeah?”

Eddie’s face went soft, eyes dazed and loving, but his smile was all mischievous as he turned the key – the van drumming to a start. “I am totally turned on right now.”

#eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #eddie muson #stranger things

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purplesurveys · 4 years

Text

693

Does your family have any Christmas traditions? We go to mass on Christmas Eve evening and open presents at midnight. We also go to a certain relative’s house to have monito-monita and occasionally family who have moved abroad will come back to visit; and in the last few years we’ve also been going to my mom’s brother’s place because they also throw a Christmas party. Have you been to Mount Rushmore? No. How many of the United States have you been to? Zero. Where's your ideal vacation spot? Somewhere not too flashy or tourist-y and with a lot of culture and cuisine and things to learn, like Morocco. What meal can you absolutely not stand? Sinigang.

Would you rather live in Idaho, Siberia, or the Australian outback? Siberia. I think I’d find the scenery and the cold weather soothing. The remoteness of the outback would make me go insane in a few days, and I don’t know much about Idaho to want to live there. What's the weather outside like? It’s midnight so it’s a bit colder than how blistering the heat is during the day. It’s not January levels of cold anymore, but I’m still content. Do you (over)use emoticons? Nah I’m a little frugal with them these days. I’ve observed that people will find you too nice and thus find it easier to step all over you if you use too many emojis or emoticons, so over the years I’ve really cut down on them lol. Easier to establish myself as ~alpha that way. Do you get paranoid that someone's looking at your through your window? Yeah absolutely, even if my room is on the second floor. That’s why I like having my blinds pulled all the way down. Do you sleep with the door open, kinda open, or completely closed? Completely closed. What color would you dye your hair if you HAD to? Dark green. What phrase/word do you tend to use a lot? “Yeah dude” when with friends. Right now I’m also using ‘sis’ or ‘ma’am’ a lot when referring to anyone, lol. What grade did you get on your last major test? We were able to take a few exams but we never got the results back because the quarantine threw our academic schedule way off. What color was your Gameboy Color? I didn’t have my own because I never played video games myself, but my cousin had a purple Gameboy Advance and I just used to watch him play all the time. How many piercings do you have? Two. Surprisingly they’ve never closed up considering I haven’t hung earrings in them in more than a decade. Mountains, oceans, or forests? Right now, oceans. Both the schools I’ve attended are technically forests, and my city is already mountainous. A break from both and a trip to the beach would be perfect right now. Have you colored in a coloring book since age 10? I’ve enjoyed coloring books since I was 5, I think. If that’s what you mean. How many times have you moved/changed houses? Three. My parents lived in an apartment for some time, then they moved to my dad’s family in Tondo so that my paternal grandma can take care of me, then when I was 2 we transferred to our current city but this time to move in with my mom’s family, so my maternal grandma could take care of me, then a decade later we moved to our present house, just a village away. When was the last time you "de-haired" your hairbrush? I use a comb, which doesn’t have to be ~dehaired. Blistering cold or boiling hot weather? COLD. Fuckkkkkk the heat. I hate sweating, I hate feeling sticky, and I hate how bright the sun is and how uncomfortable it makes me. Earbuds or headphones? Earbuds. I did have my headphones phase as a teenager though. What was the last movie you saw in theatres? Knives Out. Hated every minute of it, but I did it for Gab.

Do you have any friends that are from out of country? There were people I was friends with before they migrated, with promises of keeping touch yadda yadda – but the distance has ultimately made the friendships dissipate. This was me with people like Raegan, Chrissy, Aubrey, Andi, Angel, etc. who all moved to either the US or Canada. No one’s fault, shit really just be like that sometimes. Do you want Obama to serve a second term in 2012? I think he did, right? What's your lucky number? Does it ever grant any luck? I don’t believe in luck but my go-to number is 4, just because. Not really. Do you take showers so hot, your skin turns pink? Mmmm no not really. I can handle hot showers/baths but nothing that changes my skin color. How old were you when you got chicken pox? I...‘ve never had it yet :( I think of this at least once a week, lmao. Are you afraid that you'll get swine flu? 2009 passed and I didn’t so. Are any of your great grandparents still alive? I think so? We don’t talk about famlly a lot but I think I’ve heard my dad talk about his grandma. Alex Trebek or Bob Barker? Alex Trebek for sure. Wii, Playstation 3, or XBOX 360? These are all virtually vintage now but I’ll always have a connection with the Wii. What's your sexual orientation? No clue most days, but I say demisexual when I’m asked so that I don’t get the confused looks if I do say that I don’t identify as anything. How tall are you? A little over five feet. Who/what are you obsessed with currently? Videos from BuzzFeed Tasty. But I only watch the stuff with Andrew, Andrew and Steven (for Worth It), Rie, Niki, and Alvin. The others haven’t really won me over just yet. Have you had any snow days this year? We don’t have those at all. Do you need to clip your nails? Not right now, no. Could you go for a dip in the jacuzzi right now? I’ll pass. What's your favorite TV show? Friends for the laughs, Breaking Bad for more serious content. How much do you weigh? I haven’t checked but I’m consistently in the 90-99 lbs range. Have you ever consumed alcohol? Do you still/are you going to? I mean yeah. My first sip was almost four years ago. I definitely still am drinking to this day lol. What color are your eyes? Dark brown. Do you have full or thinner lips? They’re a bit full when closed but when I smile, my upper lip thins up. Which of the Pirates of the Carribean's was your favorite? I was never into the series. Is Johnny Depp really the hottest man alive? No. Do you have Windows 7? No I don’t. Brownies or cake? Right now I could go for brownies. My mom looooooooves cakes so we always have a box in the fridge, so I’m a little tired of them by now. What did you get for your last birthday? My mom treated me to lunch at a Japanese place and in the evening Angela took me out for Yabu and a date in Timezone. Where's your significant other? She’s at home reading, but she’s also on the line with me right now. Do you press the delete key or the backspace key to get rid of a mistake? Well the backspace key is called delete in Mac keyboards so I dunno how to answer this. How much blankets do you sleep under? Just one. You don’t need more than that in this weather.

#survey #surveys

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ask-joyce-byers · 5 years

Note

“Choose me.”

Fall of 1959 brought a lot of bad news, bad weather, and bad hair on the part of a certain seventeen-year-old Joyce, but something good was the dance that Hawkins High held at the end of the fall-winter semester, widely recognized to be the last hurrah that many of the seniors were going to have before the final months of testing to graduate, and for the boys, evading the draft. Everyone lobbied for the band to learn their favorite hits for the dance, and Joyce privately swore that if it wasn’t mostly the Everly Brothers and actual good music, she’d walk out then and there.

The band kids fancied themselves original, cutting-edge, and the only problem with that was all their own perceptions of cutting-edge was just imitating other group’s soul-rending ballads with a few new chord progressions and substituted lyrics. Copyrights weren’t an issue to a high school in rural Indiana, but at least Joyce wished they could just cover real music. Instead of fancying themselves artists and badly hashing together something that had already been done before, only worse.

It was fact that no one paid a wit of attention to Mr. Cooper’s lecture in the last period of the day, minds instead on the complicated time-table each student had worked for themselves of how much time they had to get home, get dolled up, and return that night to astonish their classmates with their dancing prowess or really thrill their crush with how well they looked in a new suit. By the time the bell rang, the class was nearly to the door already, and Joyce alone was left behind in the tumble of bodies, gathering her books with a quiet resolve, and turning to go. In her haste, she nearly collided with the tall figure of Chrissy Carpenter, leggy and blonde, with eyelashes like Bambi and lips like Joanne Woodward, full and voluptuous.

“Hi Joyce,” Chrissy began, and Joyce fought an inner sigh. Her voice was, as ever, a shocking contrast to the tone she used when talking to boys. About an octave different and no less than a full lung’s worth of air in each word. “I was wondering if you’d finished your essay for the composition final yet?”

“Yyesss, I have,” Joyce began, slow, eyes wary. “Why?”

“I wondered if you could look over mine for me. Check for errors, and I could do the same for yours.”

“Mine’s fine, thanks,” Joyce replied, a little too quick for decorum, but firm in her understanding of where this was going. Chrissy Carpenter was no academic, and she just wanted to get some ideas of how to overhaul hers from the only girl in their class who consistently got 99%. “I’ll look yours over, but I don’t wanna show mine to anyone until after they’ve all been handed back.”

“Joyce, please,” Chrissy began, switching to the more airy tone, and Joyce wondered mildly if she were being given the same wheedling treatment that undoubtedly worked on boys, and fought a smile at that thought. “I’m gonna fail this class if I don’t get some help, and I just can’t do a whole year over. I have plans and everything -”

“You’re failing?” Too late, Joyce hushed her tone, and looked about the empty classroom. Even Mr. Cooper had left, but Chrissy’s color rose nevertheless.

“I kept forgetting to turn in assignments. That debate club is really taking all my attention.

Debate club my ass. It was common knowledge that several of the couples in debate club were only couples because parents were under the impression it was a weekly club meeting, when it was, in fact, only called to meet when there was some kind of regional competition. Jim Hopper, for one, had used that cover the entire year to move through the ranks of high school beauties with an entire free period, ending with Chrissy Carpenter, who not only had lasted the longest, but seemed the most willing to actually, well, come to debate sometimes. Whether or not Estee Lauder and Elizabeth Arden were topics relevant to the debate team would remain to be seen.

“I’m really sorry, Chrissy,” Joyce managed at last, doing her best to sound sincere. “Maybe you should have told someone earlier. I’m not sure it’s even mathematically possible to save your grade with only one assignment.”

The blank look in Chrissy’s blue Bambi eyes was enough to bring Joyce’s own eyes falling shut.

“Chrissy, what’s your grade now?”

“A thirty-two,” Chrissy whispered, and Joyce’s eyes flew open. Was it even possible to have that low of a grade? That would mean – what, coming to class alone and not turning in a single assignment? Or turning in one, maybe two and having them completely flunked?

“This final is only worth twenty percent of our final marks. Even if you got a 99, you’re not passing.”

“What if I got a one hundred?”

“What?”

“I mean,” Chrissy blathered, “what if you helped me get a one hundred?”

“Then you’d add twenty to your thirty and that’s still not passing,” Joyce replied gently, permitting herself a kindly eyeroll. “And besides, nobody gets hundreds. Only god is perfect.”

“I’m so fucked,” Chrissy breathed, and Joyce met her gaze with steady resignation.

“Yeah. Sounds like it. Maybe you could talk to Mr. Cooper, get him to give you extra assignments or something to pass. Or – you know, maybe they don’t care about your grades in Hollywood. That is where you wanna go, right?”

Chrissy gave her a scathing once-over. “No. I want to model.”

“Isn’t that in Hollywood?”

“Hollywood is movies, Joyce. Modeling is NYC.”

“Ah.” She nodded, rebuked. “My mistake. Well, maybe it won’t make a difference.”

Her fuse lit, Chrissy seemed to have little further interest in parleying. Her final offer was so desperate that it even took Joyce by surprise.

“If you save this grade for me, I’ll let you dance with Jim tonight.”

Jim Hopper. The tower of charm, the king of bullshitting, the one that all the girls alternatively swooned over and cursed out, who had good enough grades that the teachers couldn’t hate him, but bad enough behaviour that they didn’t like him either. Jim Hopper, who had looked her way exactly three times the entire school year, once when she had come into class late, her hair especially untameable, once when they’d made awkward eye contact by accident in the cafeteria, and once when she had sneezed in the middle of French class, the look accompanied by a winning smile and a whispered, “You’ve got the accent perfect.” Gail, his beau that month, had been livid. Handsome guys like Jim didn’t talk to plain girls like Joyce. It just wasn’t done.

And here was the offer to dance.

Nevermind Joyce wasn’t all that confident in the fact that she even wanted to dance with him anyway, the offer was just too tantalizing. To have Chrissy this desperate. To be offered something that a mousy, bookish girl was never offered, and in their last dance before graduation, seemed an opportunity too good to pass up.

“Give me your essay,” Joyce murmured. “I’ll look it over and mark some places to adjust. But you have to talk to Mr. Cooper, tell him you’re getting some help, that you’ll work hard in the spring. All the things he wants to hear.” The sultry look that Chrissy shot at the imaginary Mr. Cooper was enough to have Joyce grimace and amend, “Not all the things. Just – try, okay?”

“Joyce, you’re a lifesaver.” Chrissy embraced her and imprinted red lipstick on her cheek. “I’ll tell Jim that I’m too tired to dance, and that he should ask you. You’re probably the only girl he hasn’t taken out this year, and he loves an enigma.”

“Enigma,” Joyce called after Chrissy, who was already on her way out of the classroom. “It’s a good word. Put it in your essay.”

The exchange had cut exactly seven minutes off Chrissy’s already-compressed dance preparation time, but luckily, Joyce herself had very little make-ready, and merely returned home, washed her face, applied a little tasteful mascara, and, as an afterthought, some of her mother’s lipstick. Brushing her hair and tying it with a dark ribbon, Joyce slipped into her dress and wondered, glancing in the mirror, if maybe black wasn’t the thing anymore. Nevermind the fact that her mother would probably still bemoan her neckline, something Joyce found a small amount of shy pride in. The sweetheart shape emphasized her one good feature, fair skin and full bosom, and with the waist cinched with a wide belt, the tea-length skirt full and inches below a safe mid-calf, she felt that perhaps, just perhaps she would look passable in a school assemblage that would undoubtedly resemble a flock of colorful birds.

She wasn’t wrong about the colorful birds, nor about the band as they struck up a particularly bad original song, and afterwards a slightly better rendition of There Goes My Baby, but it wasn’t until Ronnie was mid-chorus into Bobby Darin’s Dream Lover that Joyce even spotted him, head and shoulders above the rest, wearing shirt and suspenders, tie and trousers, jacket having already been lost somewhere in the hustle of dancing bodies and greeting classmates. He had Chrissy on his arm, her tall, lithe form encased in a yellow wonder that hugged her figure and flounced out at the waist into a full ruffled skirt, and when she twirled, Jim saying something that made her laugh as if she had never heard anything funnier, Joyce caught a glimpse of a purple petticoat. Never did she feel more like a raven among peacocks than in that moment, Ronnie’s voice carrying over the crowd.

“Someday, I don’t know how, I hope she’ll hear my plea,” Ronnie sang. He had a good voice despite the band, and Joyce focussed on that, eyes on her feet as she did her best to avoid catching Chrissy’s eye, or worse, Jim’s. She’d arrived a little late despite not having taken long to get ready, and the dance had already been in full swing by the time she’d slipped in to stand quietly along the wall. “Someway,” Ronnie sang, “I don’t know how, she’ll bring her love to me.” Chrissy had brought her love alright, her body pressed close and undulating against him, and Joyce turned away as the gag reflex rose strong in her throat.

“Wanna dance?” Gene asked, startling Joyce from the left, and she met his gaze with a round-eyed stare.

“Thanks, no,” she managed at last, forcing a smile, arms folding protectively around herself, suddenly regretting the low neckline. Gene was nice enough, but he eyed her wolfishly and said something jovial about him singing the next set, before ambling off. Joyce pressed her eyes shut, and wondered if this had even been half of a good idea. Think of just how much homework she could be getting done if she were home right now. Final touches on her own essay, and Chrissy’s too.

But the deal. It had been too tempting, and when she scanned the crowd again for Chrissy and Jim, they were nowhere to be seen. Everyone was there. Even Bob had a date, a plain girl called Susan, who Joyce often enjoyed. She worked hard in class as well, and it was rotten that girls who cared about their grades were stigmatized as lifeless prudes. From the looks of it, Bob was having the time of his life, and though she didn’t talk to him much, she was glad that Susan had ended with someone nice. Bob was as much a brainiac as anyone, and if there was anyone likely to make it far after high school, it was him, despite his ungainly social skills. If only he’d give up on his obsession with radios and gadgets that no one was going to care about and focus on something that could give him a real career. Joyce was one to talk, already feeling the pressures of what she was going to do when she graduated, and she had no real plans other than getting the best grades possible and then seeing what life held. She wasn’t going to move out of Hawkins, she wasn’t going to model in NYC, and with her current lack of social interaction, she had about as much future as Bob, and she indulged in a moment of mild despair over that fact before being startled once again, this time from the right, by a grinning voice.

“My date tells me she’s all worn out, and I oughtta ask you.” Jim Hopper stood above her, eyes smiling merrily, and Joyce cursed the pounding of her heart. He was a player, the whole school knew it. And suddenly she felt pity for the girls who had been left in his tumultuous wake, held captive by those snappy blue eyes. “My bet bet is it’s the punch, more than the dancing,” Jim added, lounging against the wall with a satisfied air.

“Definitely the punch,” Joyce managed, casting a glance toward the refreshment table, overseen with the vulture-like presence of the drafted parent chaperones. “I don’t think it would be a proper dance if Gene hadn’t managed to spike something. Cooper is gonna kill him.”

“Hopefully he kills him after this set. He’s got a voice.”

“Ronnie too. If only they’d do more radio stuff and less of their own drivel.”

“Drivel?” Jim’s eyebrows knit.

“Yeah. Crap. Shit.”

He laughed outright at that. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard Joyce Horowitz say shit.”

The music chose that point to lull, and Joyce dropped her voice, couples dispersing. “I’ve heard Jim Hopper say worse.”

He laughed again, and Joyce could feel the worry coiling in the pit of her stomach, the artifice wearing off, the realization of the imminent revelation boiling up inside her like a hot spring.

“Chrissy’s not really tired,” she blurted at last. “She said she -”

The music striking up cut off the confession she’d been about to make, the lively strains of the Everly Brother’s top-ten intro filling the gym, and Joyce felt her heart ride up into her throat when he turned and looked at her, all merriment and charm vanished, just the round honest eyes of a very tall boy, looking into hers.

“Dance?” The single syllable was hardly a question. And she hardly answered, just let him lead her onto the floor where couples were already assembling, his hand finding her waist, large and warm, her hand resting on his palm where she could feel it tremble.

“Are you cold?”

She shook her head, eyes focussed on the flat plane of his tie, before working together excuse to look up.

“Jim, I gotta tell you someth-”

Ronnie’s voice, in perfect harmony with Gene’s, broke in over the light-hearted chords of the song. “Never felt like this until I kissed you. How did I exist until I kissed you? Never had you on my mind, now you’re there all the time. Never knew what I missed until I kissed you.”

Somehow, it seemed a travesty to tear her eyes away from his, the rest of the gym fading away, nothing but the words of the song, and the easy tug of Jim’s hand on her waist, encompassing a good portion of her back, and his fingers close around hers. She could feel his breath, not in the air on her cheeks, but in the steady rise and fall of his stomach against her chest, and she faltered, putting a chaste inch of room between them until the press of bodies forced them back together, and she let her eyes wilt shut.

“You okay?” Jim began, dropping his head, voice near her ear. “You’re shakin’ like a leaf.”

“I’m editing Chrissy’s essay for her,” Joyce murmured, more to his chest than to his face. “She said she’d let you dance with me if I did it.”

The pause was interminable, and only served to throw Ronnie and Gene’s singing into sharper contrast. “You don’t realize what you do to me, and I didn’t realize what a kiss could be…”

“Chrissy’s drunk.” Jim’s voice came at last, a rumble in his chest, and Joyce looked up to see him looking down at her, eyes searching her face as if he’d never truly seen her before that moment, had only ever seen the bangs and the frowsy hair, the oversized sweaters and heavy skirts, books and essay assignments and anything except boys and love. “She’s drunk off her ass, saying all kinds of shit and she told me she couldn’t dance anymore and to come find you.”

“Yeah, but that’s because of the deal we made,” Joyce insisted, voice lifting. “You’d never choose me on your own.”

“You don’t think?” He looked shocked, almost hurt. “I mean, what’s wrong with you? You’re cute. Pretty even -”

“Stop,” Joyce murmured, and she felt her heart hammer to a stop when his hand left her waist to brush her hair back from her cheek, lingering there, her eyes flying to his. “What’re you -”

“Sh. Listen to the words.”

“Yours, or the song,” Joyce breathed, and he hesitated, before stooping and kissing her soundly on the lips. It wasn’t long, but it was fervent, and when they broke away, Joyce was a little breathless, swaying in his arms, all thoughts of dancing forgotten, her primary interest in keeping her legs under her at all.

“Both, I guess,” was all Jim said, and the band lilted on the final chorus. “You got a way about you, now I can’t live without you, never knew what I missed until I kissed you…”

#jopper #fanfic #ask joyce byers #joyce byers #jim hopper #stranger things #fic

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suckonmybalz · 6 years

Text

Repetitive - EM & CM

/ This one is a self insert to be honest. It was the easiest and healthiest way for me to think of properly expressing recent thoughts and emotions. In this one, I'm related to Vincenzo Mauro as a sister and dating Chris Motionless. Enjoy, if you can! /

"I'll be fine, Chris. Don't worry. I'll see you for your birthday, baby. Have fun, and make sure to text me when you get there, alright?" Eli had requested of him, and she fixed her black knit beanie on her head and made sure it was snug over her ears.

"Are you sure you don't want to keep at least one of my thick hoodies? It's a three day slot of time, yet in three days you could freeze. Baby, I understand it if you want it. Just say so. I won't be mad if you need one." Chris assured, holding a gentle hand on her right shoulder and moving his thumb in minor reassuring circles, to notion the comfort and safety of the conversation.

"Chris, I have this knit sweater, the green jacket over it and my beanie. Not to mention the fact that this sweater is a turtleneck, and I have a scarf over on the couch. My leggings aren't really warm, yet I'm not too cold in the leg area. I'm also wearing my boots, so I should be fine. Three days won't freeze my cold dead body. It's too late for that to occur so no worries." Eli tried to make further worthwhile statements to assist in assuring her boyfriend the comfort needed to take off.

"Eli, you know you don't bother me. Right?" It was beyond his control to check these things, and to check in on these subjects with his partner. Sometimes, she would avoid requesting help or something of Chris when she'd felt a bother. At this point, in advance he'd try to correct those emotions and help her realize the inaccuracy of those phrases.

"Today, surprisingly, I don't feel as though I am a bother. At least not to you. At least, not right now." Eli scoffed slightly, and turned her head down a bit to hide her smile from her boyfriend's searching eyes. He knew he'd get a smile and he wanted to see one before he left.

"Is that, woah. Did you really just say something not condescending about yourself? Did you just, accept how beneficial having you in my life is? Did you, woah, Eli just realized she doesn't bother me. This is amazing. Shoulda gotten it on film, damn." Chris joked, but he was also proud to have heard her admit to it. She rarely spoke too positively, especially in regards to herself as a conversational topic.

"Yes Chris, don't get too high over the rush of success. Want to read the checklist?" Suggested the compulsively organized girl, trying ti look out for her boyfriend before he left and texted her about missing a charger or wall plug.

"Juuuust one more time. Once. Go!" Smiled the giant, and he unzipped his decorative pumpkin decal covered suitcase and threw the lid back to expose the innards.

"Toothbrush, hairbrush, makeup bag, makeup wipes." Was only a quarter of the list.

"Check, check, check and yes, check. Next!" Chris clarified positives, and glanced over to his girlfriend as he awaited the next part of the list.

"Leather pants, two pairs of jeans. Baseball t-shirt, Creatures t-shirt, Reincarnate t-shirt and the denim custom jacket vest thing. Three pairs of socks, three boxers and the bag full of rings." Eli read off, and watched him go through the bin to check for each item. He stuck a thumbs up after finding each item.

"Now for the last few things." Chris reminded.

"Creepers, sneakers and slides?" She checked, and her hair was beginning to slightly drift towards concealing her face. She loved that.

"Bueno. I'm ready to go but not ready to leave you. Three days is a lot of hours, lot of minutes. So many minutes. I wish you could come." Chris whined, as he zippered up the suitcase again. Waddling over to Eli like a penguin, he wrapped his arms around her whole upper body and her face tucked into his chest.

"Baby, three days isn't too bad. We will text and call, and then before you know it you'll be back in this bed." A yawn followed that, and she wrapped both arms around him.

"Little miss, you message me as soon as anything goes wrong, Satan forbidding anything does. I love you. I'll be back in a lot of minutes." Chris kissed her forehead, and she looked up at him. Big deer eyes is what it felt like, when she caught a moment to silently admire her partner.

"I love you too. See you in a lot of minutes, babe." Eli gave a small smirk, and picked up his makeup bag to carry out to the car. She didn't want to stress herself over the bag or carrying too much. He had already grabbed his other bags, so there wasn't much to worry over. After loading the car, the lover waved bye until out of sight. It was the classic way they'd handle splitting apart for 'so many minutes.'

- - - >

"I think I bother him when I talk about it, but I have been hearing and experiencing such bad buli thoughts recently. I've been recovering for so long, or well, the six months that feels like forever. I don't want to mess up and then mess us up. Yknow, when Chris gets upset, and it upsets me and we fight and I sleep on the couch with the dog." Eli explained how she viewed the situation to a friend named Amelia, a loved and dear friend she had known for years longer than herself and Chris eloped.

"I totally get that but sweetie, whether he gets mad or not; you still have to eventually confess to why like your intake is minimizing and like weight loss or shaking. It's better to tell him than for him to pick up pieces and finish the puzzle on his own. Then it'll seem like you lied yknow, or that you were hiding it from him. And after that it'll just really feel off because it'll seem like distrust or fear. Chris hates being feared by ones he loves. I don't think he'd like to have something kept a secret and then sprung upon him when he finds you like, passed out yknow?" Amelia tried to show her part of how Chris would feel, or react as a warning and a guide. She knew Chris fairly well and only desired the best for their relationship.

"Yeah. I got it. Do you always tell Ricky when you feel bad? Like do you tell him the second you start feeling that way, or do you wait? How do you tell him?" Eli was intrigued and needed ideas to help her plan how she would be telling Chris.

"I try to tell him about an hour after, so that I understand the feeling and find the best way to express it. Soccer field at three in the morning isn't descriptive enough for most, so I give myself time to do a better job at explaining it. I just tell him the truth. Last week or the week before that I felt really bad about my body, and I messaged him like an hour and thirty, maybe forty five minutes after the feeling started. It said like; 'Babe, I just figured I'd let you know. Feeling really bad about my body, and feeling bad about my life choices and where I currently stand in terms of success and I just feel not good enough as a whole. I was telling you so in advance you'd understand my attitude or my negative crap I've been saying. Maybe you have some advice. I love you, be safe.' Just something like that works. To the point, and wrap it up lovingly." Amelia advised and Eli nodded.

"Thanks Meals. Always the right one to go to. I love you, I'll tell you how it goes after I send the text or make the call." Eli was concluding the conversation so she could work on her own message or script to explaining this. She feared scaring him, or worrying him too much.

"I love you too, message me if you need me. I might not answer fast, but I'll try." Amelia smiled a little and peace signed her way goodbye. Eli returned the peace sign.

- - - >

'Hey Chrissy, hope today was really amazing for you! Any nice dogs over there? The weather is really even where you are so you must have enjoyed it! Figured that I should tell you that I've been experiencing strong bulimia and bulimic related urges. Relapse puking shit. Don't rush home, I'm working on distractions to avoid it. I assumed it'd be safer to tell you about it in case something relapse like does happen. I should be fine. Making sure you know so that if I act weird, or am shivering on the call or seem shaky that you can understand why. Take a selfie in the new sunglasses for me, I love you! Be safe please and smile!' At around four thirty two, Eli sent that nicely articulated message to Chris after multiple drafts back and forth to Amelia and tons of revisions.

It was read only minutes after it'd been delivered.

'I have until five, you can call me and talk if you need to. Thank you for letting me know baby. I met two really soft dogs today, and my new sunglasses are in the bathroom so I'll send you a pretty picture later! Perfect apple cider weather, though!' Chris replied, and after reading it, the phone screen switched to the incoming call one.

"Hey, Chrissy! How are things?" Eli asked, trying to keep things uplifting while she could.

"Relaxing, and kind of cool. I opened the window for a breeze and got cow poop smell. Fresh!" Chris chuckled a bit. That chuckle was known to cure broken hearts and busted brains for a moment or two.

"Amazing, that sounds like a perfect Friday evening." Replied the now smiling and giggling female.

"What are you up to, now?" Chris asked, and he raised a brow in slight curiosity.

"Painting daisies on my leg, because I got sort of bored with red ice cubes and purple grapes." Eli sighed a bit, and she made another petal to the light purple daisy.

"Send me a picture when the garden is done, babe! Is there anything I can say to help out with those recent bad buli thoughts?" Chris inquired, in hopes that he could make the situation lesser than the intensity it seemed to be at.

"Anything you want." Eli said softly. Embarrassed by these struggles, embarrassed by these bothers.

"For starters little miss, ya ain't bothering me still. You know that already, right?" Chris checked, and it felt like when someone taps your nose as a child and proudly babbles at you.

"I know that, but feel differently." A sniffle finished that statement, and Chris grew slightly worried.

"Are you crying or coming down with a cold?" The gentle giant inspected.

"Probably coming down with something." As she rolled her eyes and came to that likely knowledge, she corrected her boyfriend.

"Two, you're perfect and I love you as is. Your hips are perfect for holding. Hands perfect for manicures and holding. Chest perfect for hearing that heart beat, laying on and loving on. Legs are perfect for looking at and lifting stuff. Arms amazing for hugs. Tummy perfect for rubbing. Face so beautiful for kissing, and person so perfect for marrying." Chris babbled a bit on the subject of his lover, hoping it brought a blush and smile to her face.

"Oh, you're too nice you romance novelist." Eli tried to be angry about it, but her blushing and smiling was audible through her speech.

"I love you, Eli, as you are and don't want you any different way. You is who I love, now who you want to be like. You're original to me. I love that." He added on, his voice softer and more affectionate.

"I love you too Chris, forever and always the way you came to me five years ago. Never change please." She whispered, and smiled a bit brighter.

"Of course not. I'm an invincible lightbulb. Bright as always, never changing." Chris compared, and Eli let out a nice chuckle.

"Do you also refer to yourself as the nut? That's what you sound like, so it suits!" Eli mocked and Chris laughed with her.

"A cashew, or an almond, huh?" He continued, as they mocked one another and the nuts comparison.

If it weren't for Eli reaching out to Chris, she may have considered destroying her progress and self in one of the worst ways. The plan would have been to binge eat tons of toxic foods and damage her throat, and body as well as progress. Luckily, the laughter stepped in medicated the negativity for the night.

#tw #tw: puking #tw: ed #tw: negativity #tw: binge eating #tw: self deprecation

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robronsecretvalentine · 7 years

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In daylights? In sunsets? In midnights? In cups of coffee? In inches, in miles, in laughter, in strife? Five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes How do you measure a year in the life? How about love?

For @robert-sugden-trash, from your secret valentine 💕 Robert’s POV. Pure fluff.

( Warnings: alcohol, grief, mentions of vomiting, references to Gordon and Aaron’s self-harm. )

A Year in Dates

New Year’s Eve

It started as a New Year’s resolution for them both.

Aaron had insisted that seeing in the New Year with their families in the Woolpack was perfectly acceptable, despite Robert’s protests that they spend enough time there, and that it was hardly a special way to celebrate their first New Year as proper, official husbands.

Aaron had countered that a posh bar and stiff suits weren’t his idea of a good time.

So they came to a slightly tipsy compromise.

12 monthly date nights for the year ahead. They would take it in turn to plan a date activity they enjoy, and the other would have to join in regardless of how they felt about it.

“It will be fun!” Robert had assured a more sceptical Aaron. “We should be having dates at more than just your mum’s pub.”

“Fine” Aaron had agreed reluctantly. “But I get to go first.”

January

“Aaron!” Robert calls out as he enters the Mill, shrugging off his wet coat and abandoning his sodden shoes by the door. His shoulders are tight with stress and he has a banging headache from a long day at work, but he’s determined to enjoy himself tonight.

It’s the first of their new date nights, and Robert has absolutely no idea what Aaron has planned. He can hear Aaron’s footsteps in the bedroom above, as he tosses his keys onto the coffee table, beside a stack of DVDs and a share packet of popcorn.

“Oh hey, I thought I heard your car.” Aaron calls down from the top of the stairs he’s ambling down. He doesn’t immediately look up, engrossed in something on his phone.

“Uhm Aaron…” Robert begins

“Yeah?” Aaron replies absentmindedly, before looking up at his husband.

“Did you forget about date night?” Robert asks, unable to keep a hint of petulance out of his voice.

“No, why would you say that?”

Instead of answering Robert just gestures vaguely to Aaron’s body, or rather his clothes. Old cosy tracksuit bottoms and a thick, faded jumper.

Aaron slumps down on the sofa, and apparently takes pity on his bewildered husband.

“You said I could choose whatever I wanted to do… and this is what I wanted to do. The weather is awful, and Liv and Gerry are both out, so I thought we could have a cosy night in… just the two of us.”

Aaron scoots along the sofa and pats the cushion beside him, for Robert to join him

“I put some logs on the fire and I was just about to order us a pizza… but if you really want to go out, I could…”

“No. That’s… that actually that sounds perfect.” Robert says, dropping his tired head sideways onto Aaron’s shoulder.

And it really is just what they needed, a night cuddled up under a blanket in front of the fire, gorging on the greasiest pizza they could order.

Even if Aaron does force him to watch the entire Die Hard series from start to finish.

February

Robert is secretly glad that Aaron wanted to organise the first date night, because it means that February is in his control. More specifically, Valentine’s Day.

Whilst he had enjoyed Aaron’s movie night, he couldn’t deny that he would use any opportunity he could to get Aaron into a suit. He’s only human after all.

It was definitely worth it, Robert decides, as he watches Aaron across the table, his face illuminated by flickering candles in the middle of the table. His brow is furrowed adorably as he attempts to decipher the overly-fancy menu, written partially in Spanish. His crisp, sharp blue suit gorgeous on him, even as he tugs slightly at his tie every now and then, irritated by the unusual restriction around his neck.

“Hey.” Robert says softly, reaching his hand across the table to link his fingers with Aaron, preventing him fidgeting with his tie further.

“Stop fussing so much. You look amazing.” Robert tells him, running his thumb over the back of Aaron’s rough knuckles.

“Sorry, this is just…” Aaron trails of, shrugging.

“…out of your comfort zone.” Robert finishes. “Yeah, I know, but wasn’t that the point, to try new things?”

“I just…” Aaron pauses, blows out a harsh breath, his eyes on the dark grain of the polished wood table. Robert waits, knows how important it is for Aaron to articulate his feelings, something both of their therapists are always reminding them.

“I guess it just still feels weird sometimes, even now, that we can do this.” His eyes fall on a young couple arriving at the next table. Robert follows his gaze, and they watch as the well-dressed man with an expensive rolex on his wrist pulls out a chair for his date, a curvy brunette woman in a figure-hugging red dress.

“For the longest time I didn’t think we would ever get to be this, you know? I never thought I would be the person you took out to swanky restaurants on Valentine’s Day.” Aaron says quietly, his eyes still watching the couple as their waiter pops the cork on their champagne. The woman holds her glass between her manicured fingers the same way that Chrissie used to.

Robert lifts Aaron’s hand up off the table and presses his lips against the smooth metal band on his third finger, which successfully yanks Aaron back into their little bubble.

“You are my date, my husband… and I just want you to have the best of everything, you know?” Robert tells him.

“Yeah, I know.” Aaron says, his eyes a bit watery but his smile genuine as he leans back in his chair, his posture a bit more relaxed now.

“In that case, I’ll have the most expensive beer on the menu.”

And the most expensive beer he gets.

March

Robert knew that Aaron was going to make him pay for forcing him into a suit on Valentine’s Day, especially when Aaron started being abnormally secretive about his post as their March date approached, but he couldn’t have foreseen this.

This being an open-air race track in the middle of the Yorkshire countryside. There’s a rumble of engines as people zip around the track in go-karts that almost drowns out the voice of the safety instructor in front of them who is handing out helmets. Aaron is practically bouncing in anticipation beside him already.

“I can’t believe you chose this as your date choice.” Robert mutters as they make their way over to the karts.

“This is all about trying new things together, remember?” Aaron teases, doing a dreadful impression of his husband’s voice, and he can’t argue with that. “What’s the matter, scared you won’t keep up old man?” he adds with a raised eyebrow.

“Right, you’re on now!” Robert retorts, jamming on his helmet and climbing in, determined to beat his husband now.

And he decides that if he does lose, he can always blame it on getting slightly distracted by the sight of Aaron bending over in his racing overalls to inspect the mechanics before he climbs into the kart beside him.

April

“So this is where you disappear to on your lunch breaks, eh?” Aaron asks as he picks up his mug, blowing slightly across the surface of the hot tea, before taking a tentative sip.

“When I’m already in town for meetings and stuff, yeah. What do you think?” Robert asks, curious.

He watches Aaron glance around the vintage looking coffee shop they’re in, taking in the artfully distressed furniture, the baristas with their man-buns, and the little area at the back of the shop selling vinyl records.

“It’s all a bit… hipster. But they do make a decent brew.” Aaron concedes, taking another sip.

“It’s always really quiet and laid-back in here, that’s why I like coming in between meetings.” Robert explains, and Aaron nods.

“What you got there?” he asks, nodding his head toward the paper bag that Robert had been carrying when he returned with their drinks.

Robert puts his coffee down to retrieve the bag, pulling a battered looking vinyl record from inside.

“I know you like your dodgy pop music, but I didn’t realise you were such an Abba fan?” Aaron teases.

“It was Mum’s favourite.” Robert replies, not quite able to keep the emotion from his voice when he says it. He waves off Aaron’s attempt to apologise.

“I guess I’ve just been thinking about her a lot lately… it was her birthday last week you know?”

“No, I didn’t.” Aaron says quietly, reaching over the rickety table to squeeze Robert’s knee comfortingly. “You should have said something.”

Robert just shrugs, not entirely sure why he didn’t if he’s being honest with himself. They’re both quiet for a long moment before Aaron speaks.

“Why don’t we grab her some flowers from that shop down the road, we could drop them off at the graveyard on the way home, brighten it up a bit… if you want?”

Robert feels the lump rising in his throat as it all becomes too much - the quaint coffee shop, the memory of bright flowers in a vase, and the Abba record. They all remind him so much of Sarah that it’s almost like he can feel her presence beside them.

In the end he just nods, grateful that Aaron understands.

May

“The cinema?”

“No.”

“A restaurant?”

“Nope.”

“Come on, just tell me where we’re going.”

“No point.”

“Why not?” Robert whines, his patience running out now. Aaron had been very tight-lipped about where they were going ever since they had gotten in the car. For the first half an hour Robert had been content just to sit in the passenger seat, his shirt sleeves rolled up and the summer breeze through the window ruffling his blonde hair as Aaron drives round a series of country roads, and areas of woodland.

“Because we’re here.” Aaron replies, pulling the car to the side of the road and bringing it to a stop.

“In the middle of nowhere?” Robert asks, as Aaron unclicks his seat-belt and gets out, turning back to Robert and ducking back down to reply.

“There’s a pint at the end.” He teases, which successfully gets Robert out of the car at least.

Aaron’s plan is a walk through the woodland, which Robert surprises himself by enjoying. As they walk hand-in-hand, Aaron explains that it’s one of the places he used to come to run when he needed to get further away from the village. Robert knows without Aaron saying it that he’s talking about when Gordon was around, and he couldn’t feel more glad or proud, watching Aaron amble through the place he used to push himself to the brink, relaxed and happy and at peace with himself in a way he never has been before.

Aaron was telling the truth about the pint, it turned out. The woodland path ended at a river side pub, the rickety picnic benches on the grass the perfect spot for a cold drink before they wandered back to the car.

June

The heat is searing overhead, the suns rays already causing the back of Robert’s neck to prickle with the beginnings of a pink burn, matching the little splotch of red on Aaron’s nose beneath his ray-bans.

They’ve already gorged themselves on the picnic they brought with them to the cricket field and are both on their second chilled beers as they lounge on the picnic blanket. Liv and Gerry have somehow managed to invite themselves on what was supposed to be a private picnic, the two of them yelling and cackling as they run around near the trees with a football, but both Robert and Aaron are too relaxed to care

“This was a good idea.” Aaron says as he props himself up on his elbows, his bare abs flexing as he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair.

Robert turns the corner on the page of the book he’s reading, before closing it and wriggling his legs where they cross under Aaron’s.

“You’re not complaining about one of my date ideas? You feeling ok?” Robert teases, not able to resist shuffling up the blanket so that he can lean down and peck Aaron on the lips.

“Shut up.” Aaron mumbles against his lips when he leans back in for a second kiss.

Robert isn’t sure how long they sit exchanging soft kisses, the heat too much for either of them to do much else. But they both feel it when they get an abrupt distraction, in the form of two buckets of freezing cold water being dumped over their heads, a shock against their sun-warm skin.

Robert and Aaron don’t need to look far to find the culprits, as Liv and Gerry sprint for the trees, two empty ice buckets in hand.

As Robert reaches for his discarded t-shirt to dry his wet face, Aaron is already reaching into their picnic basket, and pulling out a large, litre bottle of water and tearing off in pursuit of their attackers.

Robert decides he’s rather just sit back and watch them all chase each other instead.

July

Robert makes it to July before he seriously starts regretting his stupid date idea.

He’s attempting to fight his way through a crowd of sweaty, smelly people, who are all bogged down in ankle-deep mud in the dark, in a pair of wellies that he ordinarily wouldn’t be seen dead in.

All because Aaron decided that for their July date, he’s going to drag Robert to a music festival, of all things.

It wouldn’t be as bad, if it weren’t for the fact that Aaron was loving every second of it, tugging Robert forwards by his hand as they dodge flailing elbows and stray plastic cups full of beer that fly through the air periodically. According to Aaron, it wasn’t enough to stand back and watch from a safe distance, you had to get near the front to get the real ‘festival experience’.

Robert has to bite his tongue to keep himself from saying that he would rather have the ‘watching the highlights on tv’ experience from the comfort of their living room. After all, he only had himself to blame for letting Aaron plan half of their dates.

Robert almost runs into the back of Aaron when his husband decides that they have apparently reached an adequate spot, between an extremely drunk-looking hen party and two people with their tongues down each other’s throats.

He’s tired, drenched, and he can feel a headache building from the alcohol he’d drunk earlier in the day. But the look on Aaron’s face when the band come onstage, his broad grin, and the reflection of the purple strobe lights in his eyes, makes it all worth it. He even feels charitable enough to give Aaron a piggy-back so that he can record his favourite song on his phone over the heads of people in front of them.

And the dirty smile on his face when he leans over to shout into Robert’s ear about how he’s going to make it worth his while once they get back to the tent?

Well, maybe festivals aren’t all bad.

August

“I’m just saying, I’ve seen better drawings in Kyle’s school bag.”

“Aaron!” Robert hisses.

“It’s true, I mean – what the hell is that supposed to be, a blob?” Aaron asks, gesturing to the expensive piece of modern art hanging from the wall.

Robert has to resist the urge to facepalm, as he mentally gives up on trying to educate his husband on the values of a sophisticated art gallery.

“Why don’t we go get some ice cream from that place over the road.” He suggests, trying to ignore the scowls the gallery attendant is throwing their way for talking too loudly.

The weekend city break had been Robert’s pick, but even he knew that the art gallery had been pushing it. Aaron managed about half an hour in confused silence, before he couldn’t hold back on his own special brand of art critique.

The ice cream shop is more of a success. They settle at a small table out front, the air muggy even with the sun hiding behind the clouds, and Aaron makes friends with the owner’s old dog, a scruffy mongrel that wanders around the guests, begging for ice cream. Robert tries not to cringe as Aaron shares half of his vanilla ice cream with the dog and tries to convince Robert that they should get one of their own.

One thing they do agree on is the hotel though. Aaron had happily overlooked the obvious expense of the place the second that Robert informed him that it had a rooftop bar. The view across the city as night falls is stunning that evening, the two of them leaning on the ledge with glasses of vodka and coke in hand. Free from responsibilities for a short time they both get pretty drunk that night, stumbling and giggling back to their room in the early hours of the morning, before collapsing on the bed and falling asleep not long after.

But neither of them minded. After all they had a late check-out, breakfast from room service, and a very large bed to make use of when morning arrived.

September

At times like this, it’s easy for Robert to imagine Aaron as a child. He’s got his hood up and his jeans rolled up to his knees as he splashes in the shallow water on the beach, tossing balls up onto the beach for Poppy, their new puppy, to chase. Robert isn’t sure whose enthusiasm is more infectious.

The sun is out, but the weather has started to turn slightly autumnal, a fierce wind whipping in with the tide.

It’s the first time Robert has visited this particular beach, although he’s heard Aaron and Chas talk about it many times before, knows it’s an important place for his husband and is quietly grateful that Aaron is willing to share that with him.

He perches on a rock, sifting through the gravelly sand at his feet until Aaron returns, along with the dog, who bounds up onto him and sprays him with cold salty water and slobber. Luckily she still has energy to burn, so she dashes off up the beach after a couple of seagulls, leaving her tired owners to sit together on the rock.

The sun is already going down, casting the beach in a deceptively warm-looking glow, as they watch Poppy try, and fail, to catch a bird.

“I found you something.” Robert says. He pulls the little fossil from his pocket and drops it into Aaron’s hand. “For your collection”. He adds.

Aaron’s whole face goes soft at that, like he can’t believe that Robert has remembered something so seemingly small and insignificant.

“Thanks.” He says, sounding a little breathless. He leans over to kiss Robert’s cheek, apparently at a loss for words.

The moment is broken when Aaron spots Poppy attempting to eat a string of seaweed and jumps after her, chasing her down the beach as she refuses to give away her new find.

Robert’s not sure who is more of a child in that moment, his dog or his husband?

October

Sometimes Robert thinks that marriage has done wonders for Aaron’s patience, as he meanders around various bookshops and libraries, trying his best not to look bored as Robert hunts through piles of books and comics at the local literary festival.

“What time did you say that lecture was?” Aaron asks, pulling Robert’s attention from a special hardback edition of a book that he already owns two copies of.

“Not ‘til four.” Robert responds.

“Do you wanna go get a bite to eat after this then? We’ve got plenty of time.”

“Yeah sure, just give me five more minutes.”

Aaron is flicking through his twitter feed on his phone outside by the time Robert exits the shop, with another heavy, bulging bag.

“Where do you fancy eating?” Aaron asks.

“You choose. I’m not hungry.” Robert replies, before turning to face his husband’s concerned expression.

“Are you sure you’re well enough to be out. That stomach bug you’ve had the last few days was really nasty. I still think you should be resting.”

“I’m fine.” Robert reassures him, already walking in the direction of Aaron’s favourite burger place.

Fine turns out to be a bit of an overstatement though, because as soon as Robert enters the restaurant and smells the food, he ends up rushing to the toilet and being violently ill, which effectively puts an end to their date as Aaron insists on taking him home, so he can rest in bed.

Robert is groggy when he awakes hours later, the sun low in the sky through their bedroom window. But he can’t miss the bag on the bed next to him, with a note on it in Aaron’s scruffy handwriting.

Gone to pick Liv up from the airport.

Hope this makes you feel better!

Robert has to rub his eyes to convince himself he’s not imagining the book he pulls from the bag. It’s the latest novel in a series by the author who had been leading the lecture he’d now missed.

And not just any copy, a signed one. There, inside the front cover, in an unfamiliar looping script reads a note:

You have a very dedicated husband.

Hoping you recover soon!

Followed by the author’s signature.

Aaron had not only gone back to the festival, but had stayed for the signing after the lecture, to get Robert a precious signed copy while he slept off his illness.

It takes Robert five minutes of staring at his phone, trying to work out what he wants to say, before he settles for three little words.

I love you.

November

Robert’s not entirely sure why anyone would choose to hold a party in an empty warehouse. The walls are grubby, the neon tubes overly bright, and the pounding bass of the music is amplified by the echoing building.

Aaron had found out about the club night from a Facebook friend, and had decided that after a couple of chilled out dates, they needed something more outgoing. Robert is just happy that it’s not in a muddy field this time.

He’s not quite as happy, however, with the barman who keeps flirting with his oblivious husband over the bar and eyeing up his arse every time he turns back to talk to Robert. So after a couple of drinks, Robert decides to take matters into his own hands and pulls Aaron up in to the crowds to dance.

“What’s the point of coming somewhere like this if you’re not gonna dance?” Robert shouts over the loud beat when Aaron shakes his head.

“I don’t dance!” Aaron shouts back.

“Just stand with me then.” Robert says into Aaron’s ear, pulling his body close. Judging by the affectionate look on Aaron’s face under the lights, he gets the reference.

They both loosen up with more drinks in their systems, so much so that Aaron’s hands start wandering a little as they dance closer. Well, grinding might be a better way of describing it.

And maybe Robert does feel a bit smug when he’s able to throw a cheeky wink at the leering barman when Aaron drags him out of the party and towards an early taxi, both of them eager to get home.

December

The air is frigid as they wander through the maze of stalls and lights that are brightening the dark square. Robert’s breath rises in clouds as he attempts to navigate the buggy between groups of people to get to where Aaron is loitering by the food stand.

“We only had dinner an hour ago! Do you really need to eat again?” He asks as he comes up behind Aaron, who’s guiltily scoffing a hot dog. “Honestly, I leave you alone for 5 minutes…”

“Sorry… you want some?” Aaron offers the remaining half of his food.

“No thanks.” Robert says, but he’s interrupted by Seb lifting his hands up and shouting

“Me! Me!” the little boy calls up to Aaron from his seat in the buggy, which makes the man grin.

“No Seb. You’ve already had sweets, that’s enough for today.” Robert tells him, causing his son’s bottom lip to wobble dangerously.

“Hey hey!” Aaron says, quick to intervene to prevent a full-blown tantrum. “Why don’t we go to that games stall and try and win you a stuffed reindeer eh? What do you reckon?”

Robert mouths thank you as Aaron lifts the little lad up onto his hip.

It takes Aaron nearly forty minutes and all the cash in his wallet to win the giant reindeer toy by throwing tennis balls at a set of cans on the wall, but he does it to see the overjoyed look on Seb’s face. Robert rewards them with hot chocolate before they head back to the car, Seb falling asleep almost as soon as he’s in his car seat, exhausted from their day out.

“We should do this again next year” Aaron says absentmindedly as he settles into the passenger seat.

“The Christmas market?” Robert asks as he pulls the car out of the car park.

“No… well yeah. But I meant the monthly dates things… I’ve actually kinda enjoyed it.” He admits.

“Yeah I’d like that too.”

Warnings: alcohol, grief, mentions of vomiting, references to Gordon and Aaron’s self-harm.

#robert-sugden-trash #robron #robron secret valentine #robronsecretvalentine #alcolhol #grief #mentions of vomiting #references to Gordon and Aaron's self harm #self harm #fanfiction #moodboard

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almostafantasia · 7 years

Text

more than a name

wayhaught hogwarts au | chapter 9/?

Being an Earp at Hogwarts is tough. Being the youngest Earp and constantly living in the shadows of two older sisters is nothing short of a nightmare.

Willa, newly appointed Head Girl and Slytherin’s sweetheart. Wynonna, the notorious troublemaker who spends more time in detention than out of it. And then there’s Waverly, whose life crumbles into tiny pieces when she doesn’t get awarded the Prefect badge that she spent her first four years at Hogwarts striving towards.

Enter Nicole Haught – Hufflepuff, Muggleborn, and general bundle of sunshine – whose unexpected but not entirely unwelcome arrival into Waverly’s life puts Waverly on the path to discover who she is in more ways than one.

Read on AO3.

“Are you excited?” asks Nicole, as they walk arm in arm down the winding path from the castle to the little village of Hogsmeade.

It’s Valentine’s Day – their first Valentine’s Day as a couple – but also the first time that there has been a Hogsmeade visit since they became girlfriends. And so, despite the amount of time they’ve spent together in the last month, this technically makes today their first date. Nicole did it properly, asking Waverly if she would like to accompany her to the village for a date, as if Waverly wasn’t already planning to spend the entire day with Nicole anyway.

And now here they are, following the crowds of students down to the local village, and though Waverly’s heart is warm with the prospect of spending an entire day in the company of her girlfriend, she also feels the flutter of nerves deep within her gut.

“Yes,” answers Waverly, before she adds, “and a little bit nervous, actually.”

“Really?” queries Nicole.

“Well, this is our first proper date, isn’t it?” explains Waverly. “It’s only natural to be a little nervous.”

Nicole lets out a long groan, raising the palm of one hand to her forehead as she exhales, “Shit, you’re right. What if we realise that we’re not compatible after all?”

Waverly has a brief moment of panic, barely half a second where she thinks that Nicole’s words are serious and that Nicole is doubting whether their relationship can survive the strain of going out on an actual date, but then Nicole’s face cracks open into a huge grin.

Slapping Nicole’s arm playfully, Waverly rolls her eyes and teases, “If you carry on like that, there won’t be a date.”

“So what do you want to do today?”

Waverly shrugs her shoulders, and then answers, “I don’t mind. We could spend the day repotting Mandrakes and I’d still enjoy it if I was doing it with you.”

“Great,” says Nicole, tightening the arm that is looped through Waverly’s as she leans a bit closer and says, “because I thought we’d start the day off with a little visit to Madam Puddifoot’s Teashop and then…”

Waverly stops in her tracks, unhooking her arm from Nicole’s and placing both hands on her hips in an attempt to look fearsome, a look which is probably completely offset by the thick cloak and scarf she’s bundled in, as well as the knitted bobble hat pulled down low enough to keep her ears warm against the icy February wind.

“What have I told you about winding me up?” she pretends to scold Nicole.

“I’m sorry, baby,” says Nicole, wrapping one of her arms around Waverly’s back as she attempts to steer Waverly back towards the village, “but it’s not my fault that you’re so cute when you pout.”

“You’re lucky that you’re so pretty,” Waverly mutters playfully.

“Just to check, Madam Puddifoot’s is a no?”

Waverly shudders at the thought of having to visit Hogsmeade’s vile little teashop. She’s been there once before – Champ thought it would be cute to take her there for their first date, probably thinking that the baby pink décor and the frills and bows that decorated everything inside it would be Waverly’s perfect idea of romance – and she was appalled her surroundings.

“A definite no. I don’t know how that place is still in business.”

“Straight people,” Nicole offers up as an explanation, and Waverly grins like it’s an inside joke that only they understand. “I know it’ll be packed, but how about we start off at Honeydukes?”

“So that I’ll be able to taste sugar mice on your lips every time I kiss you for the rest of the day?” asks Waverly. She looks at Nicole, as if the answer is obvious – which, Waverly thinks, it is – before she replies, “Um, yes please!”

After a visit to Honeydukes, where Nicole insists on being the one to pay for the paper bags full of sweets that are now nestled in the pockets of Waverly’s thick cloak, they step back outside onto the cobbled street. Waverly’s breath hits the cold air in a billowing cloud of condensation and she shifts her weight from one foot to the other, rubbing her mitten-covered hands together as she tries to warm up against the sudden drop in temperature.

“Come here,” says Nicole, wrapping both arms around Waverly and pulling her in close, wrapping some of the extra fabric of her cloak around Waverly too as an extra barrier against the cold. “I’ll keep you warm.”

“My hero,” grins Waverly.

“Where to?” asks Nicole. “I bet the Three Broomsticks is warm. How about a Butterbeer? On me, of course.”

“Nicole, you’ve already bought enough sweets to rot all my teeth,” whines Waverly. “You can’t pay for my drink too.”

“Yes I can,” counters Nicole. “I asked you out, it’s only fair that I pay for the date too.”

“You know that I would be spending today with you whether you’d asked me to come with you or not?” sighs Waverly, as she looks up at Nicole and raises one of her eyebrows. “It’s not like you need to impress me by paying for everything. I’m already your girlfriend.”

“And I am so incredibly grateful for that,” says Nicole, brushing her lips against Waverly’s forehead. “I’m not doing it to impress you, I’m doing it to treat you. To thank you for putting up with me for a month and to promise you that I’m going to take care of you for as long as you’ll let me.” When Waverly opens her mouth to object, Nicole is quick to continue, “And yes, I know that you don’t need somebody to care for you, but I like being here for you, you know, just in case you ever do.”

Waverly pouts, though her heart contradicts her brain by swelling with affection with the knowledge that Nicole wants to be the one to look out for her.

“You can pay for one drink,” she tells Nicole. “If we stay for a second then I’m buying my own.”

Nicole’s face cracks into a huge grin.

“Deal.”

Nicole’s hand seeks out Waverly’s and her fingers slip between Waverly’s easily, knotting together as she leads the way across the cobbled street to the Three Broomsticks.

“So have you thought anymore about the Astronomy Club?” Nicole asks, dropping Waverly’s hand when they step inside so that she can unravel her scarf from around her neck as they cross the crowded pub and wait to be served at the bar.

“I’m sort of waiting to see what Willa says when you ask her about it at the Prefect’s meeting tomorrow night,” answers Waverly.

“Jeremy and I have worked out what we’re going to say to her,” Nicole tells her. “We think we can get the support of at least one or two more Prefects. If you like we can go over it with you tomorrow before the meeting?” Turning her attention to the barmaid, Nicole says, “Hi, two butterbeers, please.”

“I’d like that,” nods Waverly. “Though to be completely honest, I don’t think Willa is going to back down now.”

There’s a pause in the conversation as the barmaid slides two frothing tankards of butterbeer across the wooden bar top, while Nicole counts out the correct change and pays for their drinks. With her drink in her hand, Waverly leads the way over towards an empty table by the window.

“So we need to go over Willa’s head, then,” says Nicole, sitting down opposite Waverly and taking a sip from her drink.

Waverly nods in agreement, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand to get rid of the froth that has collected on her upper lip from her own drink, and then says, “That’s exactly what I was thinking. I was going to try Professor Nedley. He’s my Head of House and I spend a week of every summer at Chrissy’s house so I’m more than just another student to him. I think he’ll be willing to listen.”

“And you’re basically top of his class,” grins Nicole. “He won’t be able to say no to you.”

“Let’s just hope that he has the power to help us.”

The door to the Three Broomsticks swings open, letting in an icy gust of wind that Waverly isn’t prepared for. With it, enters a familiar figure, her dark mane unruly from the wintery weather,

Wynonna’s eyes scan the pub as she shakes the snow off her boots, and they light up when they land on the table in the corner where Waverly and Nicole sit huddled over their tankards of butterbeer.

“This is cute,” Wynonna says as she approaches them, removing first her fingerless gloves, then the red and gold scarf from around her neck. Oblivious to the date that she’s interrupting, Wynonna drags an empty stool over from a nearby table and sits herself down at their table. “Girls day out. No boys allowed, am I right?”

Wynonna grins at them with a twinkle in her eye like she’s in on some big secret, though Waverly can’t help but internally laugh at the irony that Wynonna couldn’t be further out of circle.

“You could say that,” Nicole mutters under her breath.

“Mind if I join you?” asks Wynonna, though the fact that she has already taken up a seat at their table indicates that she clearly isn’t expecting them to say no.

“Wynonna…” Waverly starts to whine, disheartened that her special day of having Nicole all to herself has been interrupted.

“I get it, babygirl,” says Wynonna, holding her hands up in concession.

“I really don’t think that you do,” Waverly mumbles, earning a little snigger from Nicole beside her.

“You don’t want your big sister cramping your style,” continues Wynonna, having either not heard Waverly’s soft interjection or chosen to ignore it completely. “But let me remind you that Nicole is just as much my friend as she is yours.” Wynonna gives Waverly a knowing look, while beside her, Nicole is struggling to keep a straight face. Pushing back her stool with a scrap of its wooden legs against the flagged stone floor, Wynonna says, “I’m going to get a drink, I’ll be back in a sec.”

Waverly manages to keep herself together for long enough to let Wynonna get out of earshot, before she lets her head fall into her hands as she groans out, “We have to tell her.”

“Are you sure?” asks Nicole, reaching out to rest a comforting hand in the crook of Waverly’s elbow.

“Yes,” insists Waverly, but then she wavers and contradicts herself with, “No … I don’t know.”

It’s the truth. Waverly doesn’t know. She knows that she wants Wynonna to know about her and Nicole, but the idea of coming out to Wynonna is so much easier than the reality. It’s so simple to tell herself that Wynonna will be fine with it, that her life will just smoothly transition from Wynonna not knowing to Wynonna knowing without any hiccups, but Waverly doesn’t know how she’s supposed to physically have that conversation. The hey I’m dating somebody and surprise, it’s a girl conversation seems to require a lot more courage than Waverly thinks she’s capable of mustering up.

It’s been so straightforward with everybody else. People have just found out organically without Waverly having to make some big announcement, and Waverly thinks she almost prefers it that way.

“You don’t have to tell anybody anything if you aren’t ready for it yet,” Nicole reminds Waverly, tangling her fingers through Waverly’s underneath the table.

“Do you think we could just make out in front of her and let her figure it out herself?” asks Waverly.

“I would say yes, but this is Wynonna,” shrugs Nicole. She grins at Waverly, and then says, “She could catch us both naked in bed together and would probably still think that we’re just really good friends. Gal pals.”

Waverly flushes at Nicole’s casual implication of them getting intimate with each other – not that Waverly hasn’t thought about it herself, but it’s very different to have those private thoughts while daydreaming alone in her four poster bed at night or during a particularly dull History of Magic class, than to hear the suggestion coming from the mouth of the very person that Waverly has such decadent thoughts about.

Instead, she chooses to push it to the back of her mind for later, and picks up on the last thing that Nicole said.

“Gal pals?” she queries.

“It’s a Muggle thing,” Nicole offers up an explanation. “Sometimes when two women are so obviously in a relationship with each other but the media chooses to see it as them just being very close friends, they’re referred to as gal pals. So the Muggle lesbian community has adopted the phrase as…”

Nicole trails off mid-sentence as Wynonna returns with a drink, a tankard of frothy butterbeer that she places onto the table with a metallic thunk. Nicole shoots Waverly a meaningful look, then turns her attention to Wynonna as she begins to speak once more.

“Waverly and I were just talking about that new species of dragon that a wizard in Croatia,” says Nicole. Waverly frowns in confusion, because they were talking about no such thing, but when Nicole’s eye flick across to her, the realisation of what Nicole is trying to do dawns on her. “What do you think about that, Wynonna? You see, I think that what he’s actually discovered is…”

“Ugh,” Wynonna groans predictably. “Snooze alert. How about we talk about something more exciting? How about Quidditch? Specifically, how we’re going to stop Willa and her team of thugs from winning the cup.”

Waverly’s heart sinks. She can already see how this is going to go down. Her first date with Nicole – her perfect first date where they spend an entire day together holding hands and pressing soft kisses to cold cheeks and chapped lips and where Waverly protests at Nicole’s insistence on paying for everything even though she secretly loves her girlfriend’s desire to be so chivalrous – is going to get hijacked by Wynonna and her Quidditch talk.

Waverly resigns herself to this.

What she doesn’t expect, is for Nicole to step in like she does next.

“You know what, Wynonna,” says Nicole, draining the last of her butterbeer and placing the empty tankard down on the table, “I would love to have this conversation with you and we will have it soon, but I’ve just remembered that Waverly and I have something else to do.” Nicole’s attention shifts to Waverly as she asks, “Didn’t you say that you had a book that you really wanted to buy, Waves?”

Waverly frowns, because although she kind of assumed that their date might take them to Hogsmeade’s bookshop at some point later today, there isn’t any particularly book that she needs to buy and she doesn’t know why Nicole thinks there would be.

“No, I don’t remem- oh!” Realisation dawns as Nicole uses just her eyes to give Waverly a meaningful look, the kind of look that says ‘please just go along with this’. Waverly’s own eyes widen as she understands that Nicole is throwing her a lifeline, and she exclaims, “The book! Yes! Thank you for reminding me, Nicole. I had completely forgotten about that.”

As Nicole gets to her feet, wrapping her scarf around her neck and adjusting her cloak so that it falls over her shoulder in a way that will keep her body warm against the chilly wind outside, she tempts fate by addressing Wynonna and asking, “I don’t suppose you want to come with us?”

Waverly’s heart races, worried for a moment that Wynonna’s hunger for company will lead her to say yes.

“To a book shop?” snorts Wynonna, grimacing as she takes a sip from her drink. “I’d rather eat a Hippogriff turd.”

Waverly sighs in relief. At least Wynonna can be counted on to be as predictable as ever.

“I’m really sorry, Wynonna,” says Waverly, feigning regret that they have to leave, though deep down she is bursting with glee. “See you later?”

“It’s fine,” grumbles Wynonna. “Just leave me…” Wynonna pauses for dramatic effect and shoots Waverly a look, eyes full of forced sadness and lips pouty, before finishing, “…like everybody else always does.”

Waverly hurries out of the Three Broomsticks with Nicole right behind her, and it is only when they are outside in the street once more, that she mutters, “Wynonna needs to get over herself.” Glancing up at Nicole, Waverly smiles ever so slightly and then asks, “There’s no new species of dragon in Croatia, is there?”

“No, but Wynonna’s not going to go away and fact-check, is she?” grins Nicole. “I was only trying to bore her into leaving us alone.”

“You know, this is why I love you.”

Waverly doesn’t realise what she’s said until the words have already left her mouth. She doesn’t mean it in that way, but rather as the same kind of affectionate I love you that she would say to a member of her own family, or to a close friend, or to anybody else who she cares about. But it’s only once she says it aloud, once she sees the surprise on Nicole’s face, that Waverly really feels the weight of the words and realises that actually, yes she does mean it in that way.

And with that realisation, Waverly feels her body become overtaken with sheer panic.

“I’m sorry,” she stammers, “I didn’t mean … it’s too soon…”

“You love me?” Nicole asks breathlessly.

“No, I just meant…”

Waverly tries to wriggle out of the situation before she digs herself into too deep of a hole without leaving herself a way back out. But she sees the hopeful surprise slide off Nicole’s face in a flash, replaced by disappointment that leaves a heavy weight in Waverly’s gut, and she realises that there are too many lies and uncertainties in her life at the moment without her adding another one between herself and the only thing that feels like an inevitability.

“No, wait,” Waverly shakes her head, contradicting herself immediately. She takes a deep breath, and then confesses, “I do love you. And I don’t care if I’ve said it too soon or if I’ve said it for the first time by accident instead of through a great romantic gesture, because I mean it. I’m in love with you, Nicole.”

They’re in the middle of the street in Hogsmeade, but Nicole kisses Waverly. Students amble across the cobbles as they move from one shop to another, Wynonna could glance up from her butterbeer and look through the window of the pub with a clear view of them, but Waverly doesn’t care who sees them. She’s in love with Nicole, and that announcement hasn’t scared Nicole away, like she feared it might, but instead initiated a kiss that bruises Waverly’s lips with the reciprocated affection, and Waverly thinks that maybe Nicole might just be in love with her too.

“You love me,” Nicole repeats, pulling back from the kiss only far enough to rest her forehead against Waverly’s. She phrases is as a statement this time, not as a question, and Waverly nods, more certain of her feelings with each time that she hears the word ‘love’ spoken into the air between them.

“I love you.”

Nicole smiles, and then says, “I love you too.”

Waverly’s heart soars when Nicole says it back. She still has to pinch herself on a daily basis just to check that Nicole is actually her girlfriend, and not the product of a far-fetched and elaborate dream, but when she hears Nicole say those three little words, Waverly is pretty sure that she transcends reality entirely, moving to an entirely new realm of being full of confessions of love and void of sisters that are either aggressively homophobic or just complete idiots.

“I’ve been in love with you for longer than you probably realise,” Nicole adds, when Waverly says nothing.

“How long?” Waverly dares to ask, her breath catching in her throat in anticipation.

“Do you remember that first day in the library, when the rest of the school was down at the Quidditch match and it was just you and me?” asks Nicole, smiling to herself as she recalls the memory of the day that they first met. “And you broke your quill because you were writing so fast but instead of swearing you just said “oh rats!”? I’m pretty sure that’s the moment I fell in love with you.”

Waverly’s eyes widen, and she says with a small trace of sadness, “I don’t remember there being an exact moment with you. Only that I can’t remember what it feels like to not be in love with you.”

Nicole grins, and asks, “Want to go and be in love with me in the bookshop?”

“Oh, absolutely!”

It’s the best day of Waverly’s life.

She loves Nicole. And Nicole loves her back. Waverly is pretty sure that she spends the entire afternoon bouncing around Hogsmeade, rather than walking, while the words Nicole loves you too play over and over in her mind with about a zillion exclamation points after them.

Waverly can’t quite believe that it’s true.

The walk back up to the castle would be a sad one if Nicole didn’t keep casually reminding Waverly that she loves her, as if saying it the once wasn’t already enough to cause Waverly’s heart to have palpitations in her chest. But with each time that Nicole says it, and with each time that Waverly says it back, the words become more and more of a certainty, as if Waverly’s entire life up until now has been building to the moment when she is in love with Nicole and Nicole is in love with her too.

And so, when Waverly steps through the huge door at the front of the castle and returns to normal school life, the bubble isn’t burst, but instead placed gently inside a carefully padded container and stored away safely for later.

Professor Nedley stands in the Entrance Hall, welcoming students back to the castle after their trip out of school grounds, and Waverly remembers what she told Nicole earlier about her plan to ask Nedley for his help reinstating the Astronomy Club.

“I’m just going to speak to Nedley,” Waverly tells Nicole. “I’ll be right in.”

Nicole nods and brushes her lips against Waverly’s cheek, before disappearing into the Great Hall for dinner.

“Professor Nedley?” says Waverly, approaching her Head of House as the other students returning from Hogsmeade mill past them into the Great Hall.

“Oh, hello Miss Earp!” Nedley greets Waverly brightly. He leans a little closer and, with a twinkle in his eye, asks, “I don’t suppose you know the whereabouts of your sister’s Charms homework?”

“If you’re talking about Wynonna, I suspect that there isn’t any Charms homework to know the whereabouts of,” Waverly answers good-naturedly.

“I thought as much,” nods Nedley in agreement. He clasps his hands together in front of him and asks, “What can I do for you?”

“I wanted to talk to you about the Astronomy Club.”

“Go on,” he prompts Waverly for more information.

“Well, Professor, it’s been disbanded by order of the Head Girl,” explains Waverly, “and I was wondering if there’s anything we can do to get it reinstated?”

“Disbanded?” repeats Nedley, his voice full of incredulity that is matched by the surprise that passes across his face. “That club has been a part of this school for centuries!”

“Exactly!” agrees Waverly. “But Willa says that there’s a safety issue and that it’s the responsibility of the Prefect team to supervise, which they aren’t willing to do in the middle of the night.”

“I hate to break it to you, Waverly, but your sister is right,” says Nedley, his expression apologetic. “All out of hours activities are at the discretion of the Prefect team. There’s nothing I can do if the Head Boy and Girl have decided that the club can’t continue to meet.”

“But sir…” protests Waverly.

“I’m sorry, Waverly. I wish I could help but the matter is out of my hands.”

Waverly nods reluctantly, her shoulders slumped in defeat, and she forces a grateful smile onto her face as she politely says, “Thank you anyway, Professor.”

Waverly enters the Great Hall, easily picking out Nicole’s familiar red braid amongst the students lining the benches at each of the four long tables, sitting with Wynonna and Jeremy. She makes her way down the space between two tables and sits down next to Nicole.

“I just spoke to Nedley,” says Waverly, her words for both Nicole and Jeremy’s benefit, “and he says that there’s nothing he can do about the Astronomy Club. If Willa has disbanded it, then it no longer runs.”

“I’m sorry,” Nicole says, and Jeremy shoots Waverly a sympathetic smile too.

Wynonna swallows her mouthful of food and gestures emphatically with her fork as she says, “I want to be clear that what I’m about to say doesn’t change that fact that I think academic clubs are nerdy as shit, but shutting down the Astronomy Club is a bit of a dick move by Willa. The power has gone to her head. She’s basically strutting around the castle showing off what a big shiny badge she has.”

“Well, she isn’t getting away with this,” Waverly announces determinedly. “I’m ready for a fight!”

“Yes, Waves!” Wynonna eggs Waverly on, pumping one fist in the air enthusiastically as she sares a wicked grin. “Let your inner Earp out!”

Waverly forces a smile onto her face, though the Earp name leaves a bitter taste in her mouth, knowing that it is because of somebody else with that name that the whole debacle with the Astronomy Club is happening anyway.

Perhaps sensing Waverly’s discomfort, Nicole speaks up, easily steering the conversation away from Willa’s recent behaviour.

“Waverly, could you pass the potatoes please?”

Waverly reaches for the dish of potatoes to her left, passing it across her own plate to where Nicole sits on her right. With a charming smile, she says, “Anything for you, baby.”

It slips out. After an entire day of being unapologetically affectionate with her girlfriend, Waverly forgets the present company and speaks as though they are the only two in the room.

It almost passes unnoticed. Jeremy, who is very aware of Waverly’s relationship with Nicole, doesn’t falter. But Wynonna, blissfully oblivious up until this moment, lets out a little snort that alerts Waverly to the fact that she’s let the pet name slip in front of her sister.

“Baby?” Wynonna repeats, arching an eyebrows at Waverly. “You two have the weirdest friendship ever.”

Jeremy chokes on his food and for a moment, Waverly doesn’t have the chance to feel anything but concern for his wellbeing as Wynonna’s focus turns to slapping his vigorously on the back as he coughs and splutters. But when Jeremy wheezes that he’s okay, taking huge gulps of pumpkin juice from his goblet, Wynonna’s smirking attention returns to Waverly.

Waverly falters momentarily, her brain fumbling for an excuse, no matter how flimsy it might be. Perhaps she can pretend to be tired and that it just slipped out, or pass it off as an inside joke between her and Nicole. But none of those excuses do Nicole justice, and Waverly finds herself unable to think of a reason why she should continue to keep the truth from her sister.

With a surge of bravery fuelled by the confessions of love that have taken place since the conversation with Nicole about coming out to Wynonna earlier, Waverly no longer fears Wynonna’s reaction, but looks forward to a future with Nicole where she doesn’t have to hide.

“Friendship?” Waverly scoffs, though her heart pounds in her chest loud enough that Waverly is certain it must be echoing around the Great Hall. She reaches for Nicole’s hand and laces their fingers together over the table, displaying them proudly where Wynonna can see them. “Wynonna, Nicole is my girlfriend!”

Wynonna’s gaze moves in a triangle, flitting across to Nicole, then down to their joined hands, before finally returning to look at Waverly, a confused crease between her eyebrows as she struggles to figure out whether Waverly is telling her the truth or if it’s all just a hoax.

“Girlfriend?” asks Wynonna tentatively, as if testing the word out on her tongue.

Waverly nods once to confirm, and Nicole’s hand tightens in her own, a comforting anchor in the whirlwind of uncertainty as she waits for Wynonna to say something.

Wynonna’s response is explosive, but not in the way that Waverly expects.

“Come on, dude!” she whines, looking at Nicole. “That’s my sister!”

Waverly is startled by Wynonna’s outburst, and Nicole is equally as dumbfounded beside her. Before Waverly can figure out how to respond, Wynonna turns her attention to her and speaks again.

“Nice one, babygirl,” Wynonna says to Waverly. “I mean, compared to Champ Hardy, you could be dating the giant fucking squid and I’d still approve, but I’m glad it’s Nicole.” Wynonna’s gaze glances momentarily across to Nicole and she shoots her a wink so tiny that it’s almost missed, before looking back at Waverly and concluding, “You picked a good one.”

Waverly’s entire body relaxes in relief and she suddenly can’t remember why it ever seemed like a good idea to keep this from Wynonna, when Wynonna’s reaction was never going to be any different to this. Waverly should have trusted in her sister, she should have known that Wynonna would be more interested in whether the person Waverly chooses to date is a good person or not, rather than their gender.

She smiles appreciatively at Wynonna, trying to convey the happiness that she can’t find the words for, and Wynonna smiles back, before turning her attention to Nicole once more.

“Seriously though, my sister?”

Waverly can’t help but laugh.

#wayhaught #wayhaught fic #waverly earp #nicole haught #wayhaught fanfic #wayhaught hogwarts #hogwarts au

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thisislizheather · 5 years

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February Feats 2020

I write this from underneath two blankets, perched atop three pillows. This is day three of being sick (Nathan just joined me in illness yesterday) and I think I’m getting better but that could just be blind hope. In any case, I still have to tell you what went on last month. Forgive the tone of this post, it might be… affected.

I heard that Matthew Broderick and Sarah Jessica Parker are going to be in the Paul Simon play Plaza Suite together and so I casually thought “Ooo, might be nice to catch” so I looked it up and tickets START at $700. So I guess fuck me then. I swear to god, this fucking city.

The best cover so far this year:

Above Photo: Brian Stauffer, The New Yorker

I rewatched a movie I love: The Door In The Floor and it really holds up well. Kim Basinger and Jeff Bridges and both too good at what they do. Love this movie so much.

I rewatched The Evil Dead and look I understand it’s probably a “good horror movie” especially for its time and budget, but I fucking hated it, maybe even more so than the last time that I saw it. Never again. Why do I keep rewatching things that I hate? I don’t have to like everything. I must repeat this to myself daily.

I had lunch at Daily Provisions and their lemon cruller was really good and light and the chicken club sandwich was good, too. Always a solid morning/afternoon place.

Favourite tweets of the month.

I tried Trader Joe’s Whole Wheat Couscous and maaaaan, it was so good. So I guess all couscous is good? Gotta get my hands on that pearly couscous. That seems like the money cousocus.

I made this Greek Couscous Salad for lunches for a week and didn’t get sick of it at all, I gotta remember to keep this in the rotation. I also kept the salad and the couscous separate until I wanted to eat, and then I’d join them together.

I can’t believe I hadn’t seen this sketch before (calling someone a “goofy bitch” just about killed me), also ignore how bad an actress Cardi B is.

I finished watching The Good Place and yes it was a good show. I don’t think l liked it as much as pretty much everyone else in my life who loved it, but it was definitely a good show. This scene was the best part of the finale, for sure. That song used in the scene will always elicit tears, I remember falling in love with it when it was used in the movie that everyone hated but me, Swept Away.

Again, I visited Everlane and it still disappoints. Why do I keep thinking it’ll be different each time? What the fuck is wrong with me?

I saw Parasite and it was wonderful and everyone who hasn’t seen it should see it. I haven’t heard from one person who didn’t like it. Universally liked!

I listened to the new Strokes single and hated it, so that’s something. Growth?

I haven’t seen the whole episode yet, but I really liked RuPaul’s SNL monologue.

Why isn’t everyone putting pickles on grilled cheese? Makes no sense. Fucking taste explosion.

I finally tried the (off-menu, must be requested when it’s not brunch) Cacio E Pepe at L’Artusi and holy christ, it might be better than their mushroom ragu. I KNOW. Such wild developments! (They also started serving at lunch, but only lunch delivery, not dine-in. SO this means nothing to me.)

I think I will officially stop buying candles from Bath & Body Works. The ones at Marshalls are cheaper, last longer and the variety of scents is endless. I have a candle from Marshalls right now simply called STORM and it really does kinda smell like stormy weather. Obviously I’m waiting for a thunderstorm to light that mother. I have mental issues?

I watched the newest season of Shrill (no big spoilers ahead) and loved it, obviously. The disappointing-ness of parents is so nicely shown (that moment at the restaurant when she asks her dad what he thinks of her boyfriend and he’s so indifferent, ugh so perfect), I absolutely LOVED the wedding episode (infact all of the episodes following that one are the best ones, I think I just love the episodes not centered about this not-great relationship with her and her boyfriend), the WEHAM episode is perfect (finally someone making fun of makeup for for legs), and I continue to love the character Fran. Really hoping for a third season, especially based on the season finale.

Don’t ask me why, but I watched most of the Police Academy movies and I think the Miami one might be the best one?? I couldn’t make it twenty minutes into the Moscow one, so I feel like you might want to trust me when I say that I know what I’m talking about.

These are my new favourite leggings of all time, they feel like you’re wearing nothing at all.

Cannot get over the beauty of these women and these outfits.

Above Photo: Camila Mendes

Above Photo: Nyma Tang

I watched the Michelle Carter documentary and I don’t know how other people feel, but it’s absolutely unreal that she was found guilty. Of course Nathan disagrees.

I ate at Frank for the first time in over a decade with the one and only Irene and it’s still great. Love that they do the opposite of al dente pasta here. Photos below.

Above Photo: Tagliatelle special, at Frank

Above Photo: Roasted garlic bread, at Frank

Above Photo: Mushroom pappardelle special, at Frank

I can’t find a link for them online, but I bought some reusable Leak Proof Snack Bags by Kitchen Details at Nordstrom Rack and they’re perfect since we typically use a million of those disposable ones for holding sunflower seeds and almonds

I threw out a lot of clothing/shoes/bags, so I went out and bought some things that I absolutely love. I now have a faux fur, brown evening coat that I’ve long dreamed of owning, a new everyday purse, a vintage, gold, mesh evening purse, new everyday shoes, more sunglasses and some new wedges that may or may not replace the older wedges I’ve had since 2006 (the ones lovingly referred to as my Terminators because of the massive fall that I took in them upon exiting the movie Terminator Salvation). I could show you all of the new pieces, but I’d much rather slide into a room you’re in to show you my new fur coat. However if it annoys you not to see any of these new things that bring my joy, here are two of them.

Above Photo: Classic Reeboks from DSW

Above Photo: I also got them in blue

I’ve actually started using tiny drops of facial oil mixed with my nighttime face lotion and even though I’ve only just started to do this, my face is already way less dry when waking up. I don’t know if I can do this in the hotter weather, but for now I’ll keep it up.

I know all of these are old songs, but I recently heard and fell in love with this Taylor Swift song. And this one. And this one. Oh and this one too.

I went to Giorgio’s of Gramercy again (the last time was a few years ago with Nathan) and it’s still great! I haven’t had a steak in awhile, but the one here? Holy hell. Magnificent.

I went to see the new Kubrick 2001 exhibit at the Museum of the Moving Image and it was pretty neat. They have one of his Oscars on display in a case, which was actually really cool to see.

I read and reviewed a biography of Johnny Carson that truly sucked.

So Nathan and I are in the middle of watching McMillion$ and can I just say: boooooooooooooooo. I’ve never seen a “documentary” more over-produced, self-indulgent, superfluous and WILDLY overdone. It’s a bloody six part series that could’ve EASILY been an hour and a half movie. If you ever need proof of a documentary having too much money spend, my god have you found it. Of COURSE Mark Wahlberg has something to do with it, this man needs to fucking STOP. I know they are countless other men attached to the project too, but it’s much easier to shit on just him. God, what a waste of time. The Wikipedia page is more succinct.

I watched To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before 2: P.S. I Still Love You and it was everything I wanted it to be and more. Loved the Adventures in Babysitting reference right off the top (I’ll forever love that movie and it doesn’t get talked about enough), I loved pretty much every musical choice (these are my top three songs from the movie), and I loved the idea of doing another Thanksgiving in March (although I’m pretty sure Chrissy Teigen did this a few years ago and planted that great seed in my head). Definitely the best thing on Netflix at the moment.

Seeing this restored footage of NYC in 1911 is both exciting and eerie as hell, for some reason.

Nathan and I went to the Raptors game that ended their winning streak, sorry about that.

I’ve been consumed with reading so much stuff about what’s going on right now and this was a little helpful: 4 Practical Ways to Prepare Your Home for a Pandemic. Don’t judge me for sharing this link! I’m delirious.

Things that I’m looking forward to this month: visiting Collingwood and going skiing with my family, I might splurge and get that mini birthday cake from Momofuku Milk Bar, and the new season of On My Block comes out on the 11th. I’m pretty into the idea of turning 35, usually I’m more jacked about my birthday month but I think I’m too down to care at the moment. Caring coming soon.

If you’ve got any interest in reading last month’s roundup, you can see what went down in January over here.

#monthly roundup #Liz Heather #this is liz heather #February #2020

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wish4youff · 7 years

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04 ~ Gloomy

King

How could you prepare yourself to celebrate the birth and life of your savior, Jesus Christ, and worship the ground he walks on, for an entire day, when all you could think about was the hell you’ve been through? All the hell you’ve caused on innocent families. There hasn’t been much of a prideful moment in this life. Sure, there’s the achievement plaques, diplomas, awards, and physical growth that your family boosts and praises you about, but what about the deep down ugly truth that no one can handle to know. And if you knew that person, they’re gone now.

To know I have part in that, it breaks my heart. Then, there’s a segment of my mind that knows me well enough to know………I wouldn’t want anything else in the world. My mother always told me as a child that whatever you love to do, it’ll find its way into your life. As either your pride or your biggest regret. I decided to take the easiest way out, making it easy for myself. Easier for others. Caroline Vitale knew what she wanted out of life, and even though that was short-lived, I knew she didn’t regret one attribute of it. And she won’t want that for her son.

Kneeling, I gripped the natural blue colored roses tighter in my hand, staring down at the gray-marbled tile of the tombstone. The words; “Never forget those who fought for your life…” drawing my attention each time, no matter how much I’m here. At the age of thirteen, I didn’t understand those choice of words.

My father hated them, but my grandfather served as the last say so. Neither of them cared to explain to me.

Softly placing them down, my hand lingered for a moment, my eyes and nose burning with emotion as I thought of the years we once shared with another. This woman should’ve been there through thick and thin, cherish me, gave me the light in my darkness, and most importantly loved me; prepping me to love my own wife and protect my own family. Instead, the hate of family killed her soul before she could even leave this earth.

“It seems like every time I come here the weather is horrible, it’s always drizzling, and the clouds are dark and heavy,” Shaking my head, my attention transferred to the sky above me; for a second I wondered if this was my destiny – regardless of my wants and what I believe are my needs. God knows I pray for a change. “It’s been almost a year since I was here and sadly enough nothing has changed. I’m still working under Pop’s demand. Killing and serving. I remember you telling me to be something unique. Take on a new road and be a man of my own light….and yet, here I am. I just hope I didn’t disappoint you too much. You probably tired of me saying that, but….”

25, December 2003.

"I’m heading to Miami after this for a job and I have this heavy gut feeling. Sometimes going to go wrong, I don’t know what, but something. I’m hoping it’s just my mind, but you know how that goes. Stephen says it’s important I go through with it, yet I can’t forget. I hate Miami you know? I hate New York too, I’ve spoken about that before. But Miami? Miami took you away from me. I don’t even speak with our family down there anymore. I rather isolate myself forever than be the topic of pathetic conversations. I still remember your sister’s words the day of your funeral. Maybe she spoke out from a place of hurt, but I would never. Ever do something like that. That amount of pain has caused something damaging inside of me. Me and Ibrahim, my homeboy from Harvard, we were talking about me going to see a therapist. I thought about, but you know how that goes.”

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I closed my eyes for a brief second, stopping the tears from dropping.

“Sometimes I believe it’s your fault, you know? The reason I can’t allow myself to open up to others like normal people. It’s because you left and now I’m here, stuck to raise myself. Having a military brat, government manic as a fucking father. I remember questioning God, wondering why he left me with Stephen and allowed you to leave me. Half of me knows it was bound to happen. I hid behind my mother to protect me from everything. You knew me like the back of your hand. Even as a teenager I wasn’t allowing myself to know the man who made me. All I knew was he was a heartless person. Now I’m alone, speaking to the spirit of you and praying on an empty wish that you’re listening to your only child.”

Something moved out the corner of my eyes, naturally I kept my attention on the tombstone. I wouldn’t look to see what it was. I’ve always been afraid of the dead. Funny huh? Afraid of the dark even more. I couldn’t sleep without the slightest amount of light. My father would call me a wimp while my mother justified it with normal child behavior. Just to prove to Steepen I was a “man”, I forced myself to sleep without any light, and before long I was numb to; no longer caring.

“Recently I ran into someone from past. Well, a connection of hers. You don’t know her, I don’t talk about her aloud. But Stephen does. Olivia Smith, Chrissie younger sister. The last I seen of her was a young fifteen, maybe sixteen, year old girl who was struggling between letting her sister be happy yet not knowing who she would lean on if her only sibling and love one was gone. Knowing Chris as well as I do, I know the effect she has on people. Knowing if you were around, you’ll have encouraging words for me.”

Standing up, I looked back at the sky. That figure moved again forcing me to see the last person I anticipated here. Stephen, standing a clear distance, but close enough for me to make out who it was. He’s braver than me. I’ll be running from this place if I was him.

"I love you, ma.” Saying my last words, I stared back at her grave for a few seconds, mentally praying for courage to continue my life, a life she would want me to keep pushing through.

Chrissie

“I think this color would be perfect for you, Chrissie. Red seems to be in too.”

The sounds of Keyshia Cole’s Love Letter featuring rapper Future played through my Beats Pill XL speaker off the random Pandora station of Olivia’s choice. My humming stopped as my sister held up the hot red polish. Looking down at my nails, I simply shook my head with a slight smirk.

The sound of the oven timer caught my attention pulling me away from the conversation. My sister knows me better than anybody. Nude and baby pinks are my go to colors, always have been. Once inside the kitchen, I grabbed my oven mitts to take out the leftover pizza from the night before. It didn’t take her long to follow behind, grabbing two oversized pans we would use whenever eating pizza. With six slices warmed and hot, Liv separated the food, while I got myself a bottle of Dasani water.

“I mean I need to get a fill, but I’m not trying to be all bold and new. Something simple is fine.” I finally said, adding fuel to the fire she was already burning underneath my behind.

I loved my sister, we had our moments, but we were all we had also, so those tempting moments could never overshadow. Our parents passed away when we were young, Liv was only ten at the time and I was fifteen. I had more understanding and maturity to the situation; helping to open my eyes for her and I, knowing they wouldn’t want us to deter.

Every weekend she’s here. Or either I’m at her house. Never sleepovers because she literally lives five minutes away and unlike myself Olivia has been in a committed relationship for over four years so I try not to take too much of her time away from her fiancé; Travis.

“Maybe bold and new is what you need though Chris. Switch it up. I already told you to dye your hair.” Relaxing in the couch, I shook my head, picking up a piece of the cheesy goodness.

“Nails is one thing, but hair……no.”

“I did it.” Olivia replied quick, and I should’ve known that would be her response to this.

During her senior year of high school Olivia came to me with the idea of red or either blonde hair; as the supporting sister I am, and only sister I agreed. Mostly because I didn’t believe she would go through with the idea. Our mother was a natural redhead woman, while our father was full on African-American. Liv took more of the red shade, while I was jet black, so there was no reason for a darker shade, in my opinion. Plus, it took over a week for her to actually dye it. When she finally came home with the red hair, I was stunned, relieved, and even happy for her. It looks good. On her.

“I’ll try the nail polish, but that’s it.”

I could already hear her next question.

“When?”

“Next week, Wednesday. Christmas visitors and those last-minute shoppers will have the roads filled so I’ll do it early in the week.”

“Good because I want to come. Plus, I need to get a few things myself. Travis’ mother and father is coming in for Christmas this year and I wanna make a good impression.”

“Olivia, really? Y’all been together for four years. And you’re a good girl, I’m sure they’ve seen this quality about you. Don’t go out buying unnecessary things and being extra just because his parents are coming into town. They’ll know.”

“Shut up,” Laughing I shrugged my shoulders at her words. “I’ve never stayed in the house with them and they have never been over to our house for no more than a couple hours. They’re staying the night! I have to make a good impression.”

“Again, no you don’t, not now. By now? His mother has read you and knows exactly what kind of woman she’s dealing with, maybe even his father, but surly his mother. From the moment, he started to bring you around, she knew. And more importantly, don’t wait unless last minute to do your shopping. She’ll know that too.”

“You know this how? You’ve never had a long-term mother-in-law. Matter-a-fact, you never had a mother-in-law.”

“This is why.”

After a few seconds, there was no response and I drifted my attention to the television. Over the years, I’ve let myself out there and experimented with relationships. Small dates her, buddies there, but nothing ever too serious. My sister considered therapy and when I asked why, she changed the subject. Part of the reason is my career; other half is time-management.

“You know we never discussed me seeing Kingston that day.”

Yeah, that.

“What’s to talk about? You ran into King. Next topic.”

“Cut the bullshit. I know there has to be some kind of emotion there. And if not, you need to seek some mental help for real,” Snapping my head in Olivia’s direction, she held up her hand, stopping me from protesting. “Because you’re forcing yourself to block out past experiences instead of dealing with them. I get you two left off on bad blood, what I don’t understand is why you can’t talk about it. Even as your sister, you keep me in the dark. That half of me that wants to keep you happy, knows you know what you’re doing as a woman, but damn. I can tell from how every time his name has come up your entire body language changes.”

“Kingston is……..Kingston. There’s no way to explain it. We were friends,” I started off with.

“And nothing else?”

“No. We were friends. Strictly friends, he wouldn’t even cross that line with me.”

“Why not?” Looking at Olivia, I could only wonder myself.

“Kingston had his way of doing things. He spoke when he wanted to. Interacted when he wanted to. Partied when he wanted to. If the situation didn’t fit his vibe, he didn’t go through. And mind you this was in college. I could only imagine what the man is like now.”

“Well, you know I only know the man you randomly speak about, but he seemed nice that day in the deli. I didn’t notice him at first, but he knew me. When he said your name, it was like something clicked, making me remember him.”

“Trusts me when I say the man is bad news for me. And vice versa.”

“You’re bad for someone?”

“For him, hell yeah.”

And with that, luckily, she dropped the topic. That was enough for a day.

#j. cole ff

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shannrussell-blog1 · 5 years

Photo

If you’re not the biggest fan of being stuck in a shopping centre, with Chrissie carols blasting, and families crowding around you lining up to take a photo with Father Christmas – then check out our Christmas gift suggestions from the comfort of your own home this year.

We’ve combed through the bestselling bits of gear that our customers have been loving over the last year, to make it a no-brainer to find a gift for your loved one.

If you’re looking for a present for your outdoorsy partner, mum, grandma, daughter, sister or friend – then check out our guide below.

If you need some ideas for gifts to buy this year, then keep on reading!

UNDER $20

1. Luci EMERG Lantern

The Luci EMRG Lantern from MPOWERD is a nifty little game changer perfect for hikers, campers and adventurers alike. Durable, waterproof and solar-powered – this pocket-sized light packs flat and also has low, high, red, SOS and 1-second flashing modes.

Clip it up inside a tent, pop it in a glovebox for emergencies, or on the back of a pack – this handy lantern is an excellent little stocking stuffer.

Just charge it up, and the EMERG is ready for illumination. Image: MPOWERD

2. Aspen Waist Bag

We reckon bum bags are making a comeback this year. The Aspen Waist Bag from Caribee is just right for chucking keys, phone, cards and perhaps a tidy bag for the dog and heading out for some fresh air.

It’s also useful for holidays when a carefree yet secure bag for carrying essentials is needed. The Aspen bag is an ideal Kris Kringle gift, particularly if you don’t want to spend a fortune on someone this Christmas.

This bag is nice, different, and unusual…Image: Caribee

3. See Travel Pouch

For the traveller who is always flying around for work (or fun), the Toiletry Pouch from Sea to Summit is a practical gift to help with organisation.

The See Pouch stands up when in use, packs flat for storage, and has a clear front panel so you can see exactly what’s inside. This also means you don’t have to transfer the contents into a clear Ziploc bag for security!

Pop your bits and bobs into this convenient little pouch. Image: Sea to Summit

4. 9 Can Xtreme Soft Cooler

Whether they need to keep their lunch chilled, or some drinks for a friend’s barbeque or get-together – the 9 Can Xtreme Soft Cooler from Coleman is perfect.

This cooler can retain ice for over 24 hours at temperatures of 32° as it has 12mm closed cell foam insulation – so you can rely on it to keep its contents fresh. It’s also got an antimicrobial treated liner, heat welded seams, and tear-resistant fabric.

This insulated soft cooler will be useful all summer long. Image: Coleman Australia

5. Bucket Candle

If you know someone who enjoys throwing the odd evening shindig out on the deck, help them add some nice ambient lighting, and keep mozzies at bay with the Citronella Bucket Candle from Waxworks.

This bucket candle is made using citronella essential oil, which is a natural and non-toxic mosquito deterrent and has a burn time of 60 hours. With a range of fun colours available, it’s ideal for camping or entertaining.

This candle is a practical and atmospheric way to keep mosquitoes away. Image: Waxworks

UNDER $50

6. Everclear Tritan Stemless Wineglass Set

It can be wine-time anywhere you go, with the Everclear Tritan Stemless Wineglass Set. Made from Tritan copolyester, these glasses are virtually unbreakable – so they’re appropriate to take on the road. You can even bust them out for a backyard barbie, or around the pool. That way you don’t have to worry about any butterfingered guests drinking one too many Chardonnays, knocking over a glass and smashing it.

Best of all, these wine glasses look and feel like the real thing – so no-one will even notice the difference!

Grab a few durable stemless wine glasses for camping or home use. Image: Everclear

7. Merino Wool Buff

A Merino Wool Buff is a stylish outdoor staple, that can be worn multiple ways to keep you warm in the cold, and wick away sweat in the heat.

Made from 100% merino wool, it’s antimicrobial, feels soft against the skin and is seam-free for extra comfort. With a range of snazzy colour combos available, they’re a versatile gift for anyone – whether they’re a camper, hiker or traveller.

A Buff is a scarf, neckerchief, headband, and balaclava all-in-one! Image: Buff

8. Low Sling Chair

For the beach-lover, concert-goer or sports-fanatic in your life, the Low Sling Beach Chair will be an unreal Chrissie pressie. The relaxed seating position, high back and padded armrests make it super comfy, while the powder-coated steel provides stability.

It’s also got a mesh cup holder to keep a drink nearby – so it’s going to be essential for all those warm weather events coming up.

A portable lightweight chair is a sunny season must have. Image: Coleman Australia

UNDER $100

9. Minipresso NS

If you know someone who’s devoted to their coffee pod machine, then check out the Minipresso NS from Wacaco.

The Minipresso NS allows you to use Nespresso® original capsules and compatibles when hiking, camping or even travelling – which means a freshly extracted espresso – even when space and weight is a premium.

To use it, add the capsule, put hot water in the tank, unlock the piston, pump to pressurise, and it will extract the coffee to produce up to 45ml of fresh espresso!

Pop a pod and hot water in, pump it – and voila! Fresh espresso. Image: Wacaco

10. Picnic Pack

With sunny days and blue skies around the corner, it’s a great time to enjoy some food and drinks outside with family and friends. The 4 Person Picnic Backpack from Havasac contains everything you need – just grab the supplies and go!

Featuring a picnic blanket, insulated cooler compartment, detachable insulated flask or bottle holder, cutlery plates and cups for four, which fits into a backpack for easy transport to your fave spot.

Who doesn’t love some al fresco dining? Image: Havasac

Bonus – BaseLantern XL

If you want to go all out this year and treat someone (or yourself) then the BaseLantern XL from BioLite is the way to do it.

This flatpack lantern provides edge-to-edge lighting, can charge your devices and has Bluetooth connectivity – so it’s a versatile and fun way to illuminate your campsite.

A bit of a splurge, but definitely worth the dough if you can spare it! Image: BioLite

With the help from the Bluetooth app, you can turn on the sleep timer, unlock the proximity activation to help you find your way in the dark and dim the light from the comfort of your camp bed.

It’s even got a multi-coloured rainbow light mode, so you can have yourself a little party right there in your tent!

What do you love most about Christmas?

The post Best Camping & Hiking Gifts for Women in 2018 appeared first on Snowys Blog.

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evanpaulknapp · 5 years

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Why I moved to LA

I live in LA now. It feels weird saying it for a couple of reasons. For one, I’m pretty sure if you told me that I was gonna be living in LA right now even 3 months ago I wouldn’t have believed you.

For another, and I’m not pumped to say this, but I used to make fun of/judge people who would move here. I think I just associated moving to LA with chasing stardom. Forget that most of my favorite music comes from here and all of my heroes live here. Forget that it’s probably the creative capital of the world, commercially speaking. Forget that it’s sunny year round and people enjoy themselves here. I just associated it with people wanting attention, which says more about me than the people trying to progress their careers.

Let me explain.

My buddy Danny moved down to LA in October. I was sad when he left because he was my friend and he was always very positive. He told me he had an experience when he visited and afterwards knew he had to move there. He encouraged me to visit so I could see for myself. I thought about it but was still skeptical.

Fast forward to December and I’m at work, serving tables. I’m serving a group of gentlemen who work for DPA Microphones. I introduced myself as a musician and asked what kind of microphones they make.

We talk for a bit, most of which is going over my head because I’m not that knowledgeable when it comes to equipment. I grab my buddy Liam and tell him to talk to them because he knows a lot more about production and equipment than I do. Eventually they tell me and Liam that they'll be at NAMM in January. NAMM (National Association of Music Merchant) is a music technology convention in Anaheim, CA just outside of LA. One of the gentlemen hands me a business card and says to hit him up if I want to go because there are only a few spots left.

Initially I wasn’t sure I was going to go. Then Liam told me his heart was almost pounding because he was so excited, making me think it was a bigger opportunity than I realized... which is funny because I ended up going but Liam didn’t.

So I hit up Danny and tell him that I might be able to go to NAMM in January. He told me his friend got him in too and that I’d have a place to stay.

Come January, we end up hitting NAMM for a day and then Danny shows me around LA for the next 4 or so days. Luckily Danny wasn’t quite working yet so his schedule was pretty open. We went on a hike in 75 degree weather, wrote a song in Echo Park, went to a club in Silver Lake that was playing weird indie music, met my long-lost cousin Chrissy, went to a show at Hotel Cafe, showed each other some of our old songs on the beach in Santa Monica and saw Anthony Kiedis flirting with some girl who was probably younger than I am. I’m not sure if I would be making music if it weren’t for the Red Hots so that was sort of an emotional moment for me. I didn’t say hi to him. Just didn’t want to be that guy.

We got brunch and a girl next to us starts talking to us. She was a musician too, originally from San Diego. She’d been in LA for 6 years and was 25 I think. We talk for a sec and she gives us her name: Cailin Russo. “That name sounds familiar,” I think out loud.

Danny and I look up her music in the car and she’s actually pretty dope. She’s got ~7,000,000 streams from her 3 songs on Spotify. We get to her song “Hierarchy” and I straight up know the song but can’t remember why. I start trying to remember where I would’ve heard it before. I pull up an email from a hired-gun gig I did in July for a Portland musician named Moe Lincoln. Sure enough, “Hierarchy” by Cailin Russo was the third song on the set. So I learned this chick’s song for a gig in Portland and I didn’t even know it or get to tell her at the time.

All I’m saying is that my mindset was starting to change. It helped put things into perspective for me. It made the think about the LA music scene versus the Portland music scene. It made me think about what musicians are accomplishing in LA versus Portland. It made me look at where I’m at in Portland in comparison to people who have been there 5, 10, 30 years longer than I have. It made me think of peoples’ careers I wanted in Portland, and how no one really came to mind. No disrespect to Portland or its music scene whatsoever. I still love the city and learned so much there and still have respect for all the musicians. I just began to look at things objectively. The few people I could think of who truly had careers weren’t necessarily even artists, and they were a large exception, not the norm. It made me think of how environment shapes people, and how oftentimes frustrated I found myself trying to progress my career in Portland. Compared to the excitement and peoples’ willingness to collaborate in Los Angeles.

By the time I flew back to Portland I wanted to move to LA. I was slow to tell people because I was self-conscious about it. I still am. I wasn’t super vocal about it and I think a lot of people still might not know.

I wasn’t sure how quickly I was going to make the move. I was aiming for April but wasn’t sure if that was too quick. Danny thought I could make it happen in March if I wanted to, and he wasn’t wrong. I just didn’t want to drop the life I built for myself over the last for years in a matter of like 4 weeks.

Another piece of the puzzle was that I visited the Beverly Hills location of the restaurant I work at, which was only 1.5 miles away from where Danny lives, and found out that a transfer was not only possible, but very simple.

So, in February I’m slowly starting to research places to live, which makes me want to push my date back to May. Danny texts me on February 18th saying that his roommates broke up and he has an extra room open in his apartment. I freak out inside and tell him I need a couple of days to think, but there wasn’t much to think about. I had a job and a place to stay in a city that’s known for the industry that I work in, and in addition to that, my lease just turned from yearly to month-to-month in January. It felt like it was meant to happen because I had so little to lose.

So that’s pretty much my answer. I moved to LA for the environment. I moved here to be around people who are working harder than I am and making a living with music... not just for the weather and beautiful people.

It almost would have been harder to stay in Portland. I was super comfortable and needed a new challenge.

I’ve been here for about a week and honestly haven’t done a whole lot yet. I’m mainly trying to establish my work flow with songwriting and producing. My ideal life is where I’m creating something every day. A full thing, not just a good idea. I have too many incomplete good ideas to count. My ideal is execution, not necessarily perfection. When I come across a song/beat that I think has potential, then I’ll give it the attention it needs. But on the daily I’m just looking to flex my creative muscle.

I’ve been saying this for months but I’m looking to get more into production and audio engineering, but that will come with time. My main focus is just execution. After all, I moved to LA specifically for music. If I’m not doing that every day, then what’s the point?

I’ll be back in Portland in September for my buddy Salvatore Manalo’s album release. I’m toying with the idea of having my next EP done by then, but I’m not sure how realistic that is. When I released Green I was trying to get my next EP done by like June or July, but a lot of things have changed since then if that wasn’t apparent. I’m not super super concerned with performing at the moment, partially because I’ve heard that there’s so much pay-to-play in LA. But with that said I’m also interested in getting a boss RC-300 so I can do more by myself on stage, maybe learn how to use programmed drums on stage too.

I haven’t started work yet and I’m not sure when I will, potentially on the 8th (in 5 days). I’m down for it to be longer so I can do some more exploring but I’m also fine if it’s not because I get paranoid with my money and rent is almost 3 times what it was for me in Portland.

I’m not sure if I’ll get a car yet, I need to look at the numbers. Just know that, at the moment, everything is well in my world.

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talhaghafoor2019-blog · 5 years

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Drake, Ariana Grande, Cardi B and the other songs to create the best Summer music playlist

On Spotify last weekend, it seemed as if the streaming service had given itself over entirely to presenting the music of a single artist.

That would be Drake, whose double album Scorpion was released on June 30.

Everywhere you looked, there was his handsome mug, the cover image of every single playlist on the world’s most popular streaming service.

That went for even the ones his songs weren’t featured on, such as “Best of British,” or \”Happy Pop Hits.” The promotion was a silly goof that online rageaholics are comparing to U2’s Songs of Innocence being inserted into all the world’s iTunes music folders in 2014 because, well, because people love to complain.

But the all-Drake all-the-time stunt underscores a truism: Scorpion is the unavoidable event release of the summer. The Toronto rapper’s album is uneven but still packed with hits. Scorpion has smashed streaming records left and right, garnering more that 435 million plays on Spotify, Apple Music, and other streaming services in its first three days of release. That is more than the previous record holder, Post-Malone’s Beerbongs & Bentleys, accumulated in a week.

Drake is included on the 24-song summer playlist assembled here, which you can play on Spotify by scrolling down to the bottom of the page.

But there’s more than Drizzy happening this summer: The tunes assembled include big pop hits in contention in that winner-take-all Song of the Summer competition that media outlets obsess over, but also breezy and brooding songs with a multiplicity of moods, because while hot and sticky seasonal pop songs are often joyful, they’re not always enough to chase away the summertime blues.

“I Like It,” Cardi B feat. Bad Bunny and J Balvin. If a single song of the summer had to be named, I’d go with this one, the second Billboard chart topper for the Bronx born rapper who dominated 2017 with “Bodak Yellow.” This collaboration with two reggaeton emcees effortlessly blends trap music beats with salsa. It’s further evidence of the indomitable spirit of the rapper born Belcalis Almanzar.

“Make Me Feel,” Janelle Monáe. The current single from the Atlanta R&B-pop-funk synthesist’s terrific new Dirty Computer is “I Like That.” “Make Me Feel,” however, is the superior summertime jam, a celebration of sexuality that takes pointers from Prince’s “Kiss.” She will play the Made in America festival on the Ben Franklin Parkway on Labor Day Weekend.

>> READ MORE: ‘I’m not America’s nightmare, I’m the American dream’: Janelle Monáe’s new kind of protest song

“Apes-,” The Carters. Beyoncé says the bad word on multiple occasions in this hard-banging celebration of high-powered entertainment couple bliss on Everything Is Love, which features art history lessons aplenty in its video filmed at Paris’ Louvre museum. Jay and Bey will be at Lincoln Financial Field on July 30.

>> READ MORE: Beyoncé and Jay-Z are a happy couple on ‘Everything Is Love.’ Is that good for their music?

“Short Court Style,” Natalie Prass. A delectable slice of bubble gum flavored throwback 1970s pop-funk is Richmond, Va., indie singer Prass’ impressive second album, The Future and the Past. Prass plays the Xponential festival in Camden on July 28.

“Boo’d Up,” Ella Mai. Summertime is the love song time. British singer Ella Mai first put out this celebration of going steady early last year, but it’s a success story that gathered stream and pop radio exposure into 2018.

“Slow Burn,” Kacey Musgraves. While still IDing herself as country singer, Kacey Musgraves has redirected her music in a ‘70s soft-rock direction, a smart strategy since country radio is too conservative to play her anyway. This superbly crafted tune stays on permanent simmer.

“Babe,” Sugarland feat. Taylor Swift. Wyomissing, Pa.’s own megastar Swift now rules a pure pop universe. She plays back-to-back nights at Lincoln Financial Field starting Friday. but she’s smartly kept her finger in the country pie by continuing to write hit songs for country pop acts such as reunited duo Sugarland.

“Let’s Take a Vacation,” Joshua Hedley. The Nashville crooner puts a warm-weather spin on Merle Haggard’s “If We Make It Though December,” on this cut from Mr. Jukebox, as he tries to convince his significant other that a summer time getaway will put some zip back in their failing relationship.

“Pretty Horses,” Dwight Yoakam. This is the best of two new lonesome and blue songs that the uncommonly dependable veteran songwriter recently debuted on his excellent new Sirius XM channel Dwight Yoakam & the Bakersfield Beat.

“Pet Cemetery,” Tierra Whack. A love song to her lost dog, this is one of the standout cuts on the North Philly rapper’s wondrous 15-songs-in-15-minutes album Whack World.

>> READ MORE: Welcome to Tierra Whack’s ‘Whack World’: The North Philly rapper only needs 15 minutes of your time

“Summer Games,” Drake. “Summer just started and we’re already done,” the Canadian rhymer, in sad and sensitive mode, raps on the 1980s synth driven summer bummer, sounding disappointed. It’s one of many Scorpion cuts, along with “After Dark” and “Nice For What” that would have made worthy addition to this list.

“No Tears Left to Cry,” Ariana Grande. The octave leaping singer has a new album called Sweetener due next month, and a frisky new single called “Bed” with Nicki Minaj. This, though, is the sad song with a sweet melody whose mournful tone feels like a response to the terror attack that killed 22 at a Grande show in England last year.

“Lucid Dreams,” Juice Wrld. Drake isn’t the only rapper who’s pouring his feelings out this summer. Juice Wrld is the suburban Chicago teen born Jared Higgins who specializes in feeling sorry for himself in song, thankfully with a modicum of self-awareness. “I take prescriptions to make me feel a-OK,” he rap-sings. “I know it’s all in my head.”

“Heat Wave,” Snail Mail. Baltimore teenager Lindsey Jordan explores her feelings with scalpel-sharp acuity and songwriting smarts on her debut, Lush, and this will mentally cool you down if you watch its ice hockey video. Jordan plays Union Transfer on Saturday.

“Nameless, Faceless,” Courtney Barnett. The Australian rock songwriter who is so good at precisely — and drolly — detailing thoughts of alienation and detachment on her new Tell Me How You Really Feel. Put down of the summer: “I could eat a bowl of alphabet soup and spit out better words than you.”

“If You Know You Know,” Pusha-T. There’s no self-pity on this hard-hitting highlight from Daytona, the Kanye West-produced return to form by the rapper who made his name with the street-wise Virginia hip-hop duo Clipse.

“Stay Woke,” Meek Mill feat Miguel. The appropriately serious-in-tone first song by the Philadelphia rapper since his release from prison in April. He spits with authority, and takes Grandmaster Flash’s classic “The Message” as a starting point. Look for Miguel to join him when they both play Made in America on Labor Day weekend.

“This Is America,” Childish Gambino. The song of the summer that speaks the most intensely to a bitterly divided nation in 2018 from Renaissance man Donald Glover.

“The Middle,” Zedd, Maren Morris, Grey. A collaboration between Russian-German deejay-producer, a Nashville country pop singer, and an L.A. EDM act is just the sort of Frankensteinian creation that contemporary pop mega-hits are made of. And this one is hard to resist.

“One Kiss,” Calvin Harris feat. Dua Lipa. This summer’s soaring firework celebration-ready dance track from Scottish deejay and Taylor Swift-ex Harris. This time with English songwriter and vocalist handling the vocal duties in a testimony about how a single peck on the lips can spell transcendence.

“A Song for Those You Miss All the Time,” Thin Lips. Speaking of Lips, this song by the Philly band fronted by Chrissy Tashjianis is by no means a happy one, but its gnarly guitar riff and catchy hook does deliver plenty of catharsis. Chosen Family is out July 27.

“Hey! Little Child,” Low Cut Connie. A ribald stomp from the raucous throwback Philly rocker’s Dirty Pictures (part 2), covering Big Star star Alex Chilton, who included it on his 1979 solo album Like Flies On Sherbert.

“I’m Your Man,” Spritualized. One man band Jason Pierce — a.k.a. J. Spaceman — is returning with And Nothing Hurt, his first album of new music since 2012 on Sept. 7. This and a second song, “A Perfect Miracle,” are marked by swelling orchestration and divine summertime sadness sentiment.

“Summer’s End,” John Prine. Before you know it, it’ll be gone. This highlight from the 71-year-old Prine’s superb better-than-it-has-any-right-to-be The Tree of Forgiveness is as beautiful and bittersweet as a late August sunset.

July 5, 2018 — 6:54 PM EDT

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