backyard gatherings

6

Backyard Foraging: Chickweed

Who says you can’t farm in the winter? I just grew a crop of chickweed! Ok, for real tho - this was not intentional. I eat for chickweed from my backyard throughout the year to keep the population down. I don’t feel the need to exterminate this nutrition powerhouse with any “-cide”. This past winter, some seeds made under the garden box covering and exploded in growth. We can’t eat all of this, so instead, the weed honorably fulfilled its namesake as fodder for the flock. Coming out of the winter blues, the hens feasted like maniacs. They cleaned out the box and left the overwintered garlic bulbs unscathed. Commander Comet seems pleased by the efforts of her flock and I am delighted they saved me time from manual weeding and money on feed.

Hello Autumn | Tom Holland

Summary: Tom Holland and the reader spend the fall together, doing fun fall activities and spending time with family. All the while, Tom’s family pesters him about his unplanned future with the reader…

Warning: fluffiness

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Type: Oneshot

Requested: anonymously 

A/N: Just to let you all know, I combined two requests together for this oneshot. One request was for the reader and Tom to do fun fall activities together and the other was about the entire family pestering Tom about his future with the reader. I combined them because I thought it would make a better story arch. Anyways…enjoy!

MASTERLIST


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Beltane Eve Fairy Spell

Originally posted by nymph-angel-baby

Wanted to share this with you all since I plan on doing this this year; feel free to join and you can all share your experiences with me!

‘Tis the eve of Beltane and the fairies are out in force. Here is a fairy spell to work in your own garden or backyard. Gather together violets, St. Johns wort, and clover. The violets are a fairy favorite. The St. Johns wort will protect you from becoming fairy-led or tricked, and the clover is for prosperity and good luck. Gather these plants together, forming a little posy, and then tie it up with green ribbons. Blow the fairies a kiss and leave the posy as a gift. Now go and sit in the garden and try to meditate or to communicate with the fairies.

Fairies from far and wide,
I offer you a gift,
Tied up in green for luck,
And sealed with a kiss.
I can sense you
If I’m pure of heart,
Bless me with good luck
To boost my Witch’s art.

{ By: Ellen Dugan }

anonymous asked:

Oh my gosh, the newest ddadds post! Identity porn at it's finest! But, ouch, that could be really messy if they don't figure it out fast enough. Or funny, depending on how the react. Amanda and Lucien should find it hilarious, either way, if I'm reading the characters right.

Original Post

XDD Yeah, in case anyone hasn’t figured it out yet, I’m always a slut for identity porn :P

Anyways yeah, given the two of them had dated for quite a while (3-4 years at least) when they were in college, I don’t think it would take them too long to figure it out.

It starts off slow, with small things that are easy to overlook. 

When Damien falls into step so easily with the shorter MC, adjusting his pace without even having to think about it. 

When MC knows exactly how close Damien is to losing his temper from the tilt of his lips and the harshness of his hand gestures.

When they share subtle little inside jokes without even thinking about it, and the moment is over so fast and they’re moving onto other topics before either of them has enough time to realize that the other shouldn’t have understood what the joke was.

They can anticipate each other’s thoughts and gestures so easily- 

(”We were meant for each other!” Damien gushes to Mary one day. “It feels like I’ve known him for years and years!”)

-but it’s still just different enough that it neither of them get suspicious at first. Because people change so much in ten years, even when the most important parts stay the same.

MC ends up being the first one to figure it out.

It starts off innocuous enough.

MC is staring at Damien one day, marveling at how handsome he is. He absently reaches out to brush back a lock of Damien’s long, silky hair, and is amused to see a beauty mark dead center of his earlobe.

‘It’s like an earring,’ he thinks with amusement, only to stop short at how jarringly familiar that thought is.

Before he can remember what exactly is familiar about it, Damien lets out a confused little squeak, and MC turns to see the most endearingly befuddled expression on his face, his cheeks as red as cherries.

MC immediately forgets the strange thought as he leans in close and kisses Damien for the ‘first’ time.

The two start dating after that, and they’re perfectly happy for that first week.

Mary babysits Amanda and Lucien for them sometimes so they can go on dates.

MC tells Damien about his late husband, Alex, who had passed away two years prior.

And Damien tells MC about his first girlfriend - the sweetest girl he’d ever met, with eyes like forgetmenots and hair like a blazing fire; with arms as warm as a mother’s embrace and laughter like the most beautiful song. He tells MC how he’d thought he would marry her one day. Until he’d found out she’d been cheating on him for months.

MC stops short, because there’s something so painfully familiar about that story. Maybe something that had happened to a friend of his? But the ending doesn’t quite seem to fit right with the image he has in his head.

He tries so hard to remember why it’s so important, but he draws a blank.

In the end, he’s distracted by wandering fingers along his ribs, and breathless laughter as he tries to escape from the tickling.

And finally, the last piece falls into place the day he and Damien are watching a movie together in a dark living room, long after the kids have fallen to sleep.

MC notices that Damien just can’t seem to get comfortable, and when he asks wrong, Damien thinks for a long, long moment, as if he were deliberating a very important topic.

Finally, he explains in a quiet voice, “My binder is just bothering me a bit.”

It takes a moment for MC to process what he had said, and when he does, the reality of the situation finally sets in, and he sees the whole picture for the first time with a startling clarity.

He jumps back off the sofa as if he’d been stung, and falls to the floor with an ungraceful thump.

Damien, completely misunderstanding the reaction, looks like he’s about to cry.

Because he just knew this was coming. He just knew that sweet, beautiful, loving MC would leave him eventually, just like all the others had. It’s why he’d kept it a secret all this time.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs. “I know I should have told you sooner, but-”

“You knew?” asks MC, completely misunderstanding the situation. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

And is slightly confused, because obviously he knew he was trans. What kind of question is that?

He starts crying harder. “I’m sorry!” he sobs. “I was going to tell you! It’s just, so many of the men I’ve dated in the past have reacted badly when they found out I was trans and I was scared that-”

“What?” asks MC, confused. “I’m not upset about you being trans! So am I. What I-”

But Damien cuts him off, the tears immediately stopping.

“Wait, you’re trans too??” he asks.

And now they’re both confused as all hell.

Then, MC gasps.

“Holy shit, you don’t know…” he says.

Damien slowly shakes his head, wondering what it is he doesn’t know.

MC gets up and approaches him slowly, as if he’s a small, frightened animal.

He takes Damien’s hand gently in one of his own.

“You’re my Dahlia, aren’t you?” he asks.

And suddenly, Damien stops breathing as all the details fall into place, and he recognizes the man sitting in front of him.


It takes them several long hours to get things sorted after that.

They talk long into the night, about what had happened between them all those years ago. And by the time the sun has risen, they’ve laid all the bad blood to rest, and their relationship has come out the other side stronger than it ever was before.

They tell the story of their reunion to all their friends after that - it becomes one of those funny little anecdotes that everyone begs to hear at family gatherings and backyard barbecues, and they all laugh over the absurdity of it.

And despite how horribly confusing and messy it had been for the two of them, Damien and MC are always so grateful that they’d been lucky enough to get the opportunity to fall in love with each other all over again, and to sort out the horrible misunderstanding that had torn them apart in the first place.

3

Backyard Foraging: Asiatic Dayflower

I’ve seen this flower in my yard for a few years now. Just a little clump here and there… Then suddenly this year, she exploded under the cherry tree. This plant has spread quite rapidly in North American, so I suppose nowadays it’s considered an invasive weed.

She’s so pretty…I don’t have the heart to cull her. After a bit of research, apparently this plant is not only edible (flowers, stems, and leaves, but has been used in Chinese tradition medicine for treating throat issues; in Japan it was used as a dye and pigment.

There’s so many other things to write about than unrequited love.
— 

Lucinda Williams

The One After Her: A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Spencer Reid x Female Reader       Setting: Season 10

A/N: Reader is a writer trope, but wouldn’t our boy love someone who could create worlds for him to hide in? Also there is some awkward intimacy stuff, not smutty though. xoxo Stu


You had fallen in a blur. There was this tall soothing man with a bundle of curls on top of his head looking down at you and suddenly you had forgotten how to speak. His lips were very expressive though his eyes were tired. You remember wanting to brush his hair out of his face. Then he scrunched up his nose and you just about sighed, right there in front of everyone. Everyone being a group of strangers in business attire all mulling around the lobby to your apartment complex.

There had been some sort of crime, you knew because there were police at every entrance. Slowly you righted yourself and remembered to breathe, then how to form words. “Forgive my clumsiness, uhm, thanks!” You waved, ducking your head down as you headed to the elevators.

“Miss? I think you dropped this as well.” The lean man called to you, well at least you still looked young enough to earn a ‘Miss’. You sighed, the blush still warm on your cheeks. You turned slowly and took a short step towards him as he had crossed the tiled floor in about two easy strides.

He had your moleskin that you kept on you at all times, constantly refilling with new inserts as the pages filled with your ramblings. “Couldn’t have lost that now could I?” You hugged the notebook to your heart. “Thank you, really, you saved worlds.”

His kind face twisted into a thoughtful glance. “How do you mean?”

“Oh, don’t mind me. I just write a lot, so I tend to be a little possessive when it comes to my stories and a great deal awkward when it comes to human interaction apparently.”

“What kind of stories do you write?” The man’s dark eyes were gently curious, his mouth seemed to have extra abilities than any other mouth could maneuver.

“Fantasy, mostly. All fiction, besides the poetry, which is half fiction half non-sense.”

“Wow, well, I love poetry actually. Fantasy too. I am happy to save your work.” He stood relaxed, his hands in his pockets. “Do you know what Ginsberg said about poetry?” You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, despite the fact that you knew it would fall again at the lightest twist of your neck; you shook your head in response. “‘Poetry is the one place where people can speak their original human mind. It is the outlet for people to say in public what is known in private.’

“He was a true master, wasn’t he? Thank you, again.” You didn’t want to continue back to your quiet, lonely apartment. “Can I ask what you all are doing here?”

His lips wrapped in on themselves as he thought. “Well, we’re here because we’re investigating a kidnapping.” He paused as your eyes bulged slightly, pulling your purse strap absentmindedly. “Um, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, I’m with the FBI. If you could act like we are talking about the case instead of visiting, that would make me look a lot more professional than how unprepared I feel for chasing after an attractive woman.”

And there the words went again. Your mouth was open, so you closed that. Okay, now what else was there to do? Acknowledge the compliment, Y/N. Right, open mouth and speak to the handsome doctor. Speak. Speak now.

“Uh, so, uh, Doctor? I don’t,” You were stammering and he seemed just as mortified as you felt. “Do you, need to get back to work, because I think, I think you have me confused for someone else. Is, you’re not being funny are you?”

“No, not intentionally. And I feel like I can take charming off of my resume as well,” he mumbled. Spencer’s long fingers finally brushed the strand of hair out of his face. They looked like they could build symphonies. You smiled weakly at his self-deprecation. “May I have your name?”

“I’m Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N. It is surprisingly nice to meet you Dr. Reid.” You finally tucked your notebook into your bag, trying to find something to do with your hands.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He blushed.

That was it, you had fallen twice in a matter of moments. Spencer took your information while pretending to question you about the man on the second floor, while you lived peacefully on the seventh. He mentioned in a rush that he would love to take you to a poetry reading at a coffeehouse he frequented. You just nodded, unable to be sure of your voice again. He called you the next day.

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Flowers - Nicklas Backstrom

Time for another imagine! I really want to thank Alia for the amazing prompt! @carey-price-stuck You are the best. 

I really like how this one turned out, so enjoy!

Warnings: None

Next: Zach Werenski

Originally posted by capsburbs

“Nick?”

“Nicky?”

“Nicklas?”

“Don’t ignore me”

And he did just that. He kept his eyes closed and his posture relaxed, but annoyance was radiating out of him. He knew exactly what you wanted to ask him, and he probably hoped you would give up eventually.

Which you did not.

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9

Hummingbird Whisperer Captures Close-Up Photos of Birds Visiting Her Backyard

Tracy Johnson has gathered quite the flock of feathered friends. This bird whisper spends at least half an hour every day hanging out in her backyard in Livermore, California, waiting for the local hummingbird crew to gather. Johnson uses handheld hummingbird feeders to get her feathered friends to come closer and then, if opportunity allows, snaps a quick shot before they fly away. She has gotten to know the birds pretty well, even naming the frequent visitors. Her hobby has grown into a gorgeous Instagram account featuring vivid close-ups of her hummingbird posse.

A Warm Welcome - Marco Asensio

Not entirely sure I’m happy with how this one turned out…

Originally posted by eyesofbernabeu

When you’re done swimming please don’t forget to take the wine out of the freezer, I love you!

Those were the final instructions his girlfriend had given him before she went to pick her parents up from the airport. It was the first time he would be meeting the people that had given him the incredible woman he had been dating for the past 6 months. No pressure.

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It looks as though Cosima may have a spliff in her hand at the backyard gathering. I mean, the trailer quality is poor but it looks like there might be a little bit of smoke? And honestly, I am so excited by the prospect of her lighting up again. It’s been so long.

splitscreen  asked:

okay so i know the game is supposed to be lines of fic for a prompt but instead i'm gonna use emojis: 👓🤓👪

“Come on, baby, we gotta go,” Sara instructs her son, her hand coming to run through his brown, auburn locks.

He sits mesmerized on the couch, his video game discarded next to him in favor of the baseball game playing on TV, his dad lounging beside him.

She’s met with silence, the lack of response not even irritating her as she watches them both, sitting in the exact same position, unconsciously mimicking each other, both of them squinting at the tv with such concentration.

This was the kind of image she’d never let herself think about. The what-if moments, casual days spent doing nothing but spending time together. A reality that up until recently had been nothing more than a fantasy she’d cooked up in her head, teasing, haunting, until she pushed it down, buried it deep, knowing that it was an impossibility.

Until now.

She dips down, her head hovering in the space between her two Michaels. 

“As much as I hate to break this up, we gotta go,” she says again, placing a soft kiss on her son’s cheek.

“No,“ he utters, her usually well behaved boy obstinately refusing to go. “I don’t need glasses,” he assures her.  “I’m fine,” he huffs out, not unlike his dad who will never admit when a problem arises with him, instead insisting he’s fine until he is physically incapable of functioning, and then still stubbornly convinced he could continue.

“Don’t you want to be able to see the ball when you play?“ She jokes, but the stubborn look on his face tells her it didn’t go over well. His quiet stare telling her he’s dug in with his stance, and not willing to budge.

“I’ll take him,” Michael offers, his whispery voice floating through the air to meet a smile on Mike’s face.

“Really?“ The boy asks excitedly, everything exponentially more exciting when his dad did anything with him. The newness of their situation having not lost its shine yet, and the prospect of an outing with Dad warranting a bright smile, and a look of affection towards him.

“Okay, well…” Sara rattles off directions, a slight tinge of nerves coloring her voice, but the same affection hinted in her smile, liking the idea that shared responsibility was a thing she could have now, only paired with the constant fear that she hoped would eventually ebb its way out of her system as time passed and they settled into a routine, one in which they were safe.

Mike grabs a baseball cap to throw on, never leaving without one since finding out what a big fan his dad was of the Cubs, and adopting it into his DNA as well.

“Bye, be safe,” Sara says to them, her hand coming to her lips, as they move to leave the house. Michael turning at the door with a soft smile, his blue eyes glistening, assuring her they’d be fine, before closing the door behind him.

She wanders the house, the silence an unaccustomed lack of sound stilling her in her thoughts, before finding herself at the dining room table, a stack of pictures she’d had printed recently.

Settling in the chair, she pushes her long hair out of her eyes, before her long fingers skim the shiny images staring up at her.  She’d planned to have them framed and hung throughout the house soon, having momentarily abandoned the project in blissful contentment of every day life sneaking up on her.

They’d had a sort of backyard gathering the other week, all their friends in one place, including Michael, for the first time in forever, smiles contagiously passing between them all.  He’d been dressed smartly, sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms, beer in hand.  Her eyes had tracked him the whole night, not wanting him out of her sight.  The one moment she’d taken a seat, crossing her legs in her long skirt, her arms dangling over her knees, glancing over at her son tossing the ball around with Lincoln, Michael had taken the opportunity to perch on the arm of her chair, wrapping his arm around her.  She’d leaned in without thinking, placing her head squarely on his chest, her eyes closing, a feeling of security washing over her.

The feel of him against her was one that she could never seem to replicate, even in her head.  The cadence of his voice, the soft whisper it created, the exact shade of blue that seemed to border on green in the right light, the slight stubble he let grow out when his mind was preoccupied, the freckle on his temple that her thumb always seemed to find when her hand came to his face.  The soft tickling of his short hair underneath the palm of her hand with a gentle sweeping motion before placing her lips upon him.  

But more than the physical feeling of him, the emotional one he seemed to wrap her up in was one that she dared to hope would remain permanent.  The wound of the past seven years a gaping hole that only seemed to heal with every morning she woke to find his penetrating gaze staring at her, as if remembering an old puzzle he once knew how to put together so easily, but was now challenged to remember the pieces as they were and memorize the new way in which they fit, no better, no worse, just different.

It’s there, at the table, staring at the pictures her friends had taken of them that day, wrapped up in each other, like the rest of the world had dissipated around them, that the footsteps of her boys echo through until they’re standing in front of her.

She can’t help the laugh at the pair of them, both with glasses adorning their faces, cute smiles peeking out.

“Well don’t you two look handsome,” she says, taking Mike’s face in her hands and examining him closely.

“Dad needed a pair too,” he states, her big brown eyes staring back at a matching set.

“He did, did he?”

Michael shrugs behind him, adjusting the frames with his fingers in a gesture that has Sara biting her lip.

“Turns out I squint for a reason,” he says with a raise of his eyebrow.

Sara laughs, standing from her seat, her hand resting on her son’s head.

“Is that so?” She teases.  “Why don’t you go wash up, and we’ll start dinner, hmm?” She directs towards Mike, who nods.  Sara turns around to straighten the photos, only to see an M&M being passed between Michael to Mike in a sly move, before he trudges off to his room, a conspiratorial smile passing between father and son.

“I don’t need glasses to see that,” she warns, a grin appearing on her face as she turns back, walking up to him, her hands coming to rest on his stomach.

“You sure?” His whispery voice rising at the end, signifying he was joking.  “We could all match,” he says, bringing his fingers to brush the hair out of her face.

“Don’t tempt me, Scofield,” she warns, dipping her head, staring at her hands playing the fabric of his shirt.

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he pauses, his thumb stroking her cheek, “Scofield.”

She knows he can feel her smile against his hand, as he bends to bring his forehead against her own.

They stand there for a moment, just breathing each other in, their hands refusing to move even as Mike comes bounding down the stairs.

“So what’s for dinner?” He asks them, completely unbothered by them as they glance down at him.

“Not M&M’s,” Sara says, a squinted look of her own, turning to eye Michael, before letting go, and turning to the kitchen.

“Shhh,” Michael whispers at his son, his finger coming vertically to his lips, before sneaking another one to him, and popping one into his own mouth, walking behind Sara.

“Let’s have tacos!” Mike declares, munching on his candy.

Sara laughs at the counter.

“Like father, like son,” she says with a roll of her eyes.  The past colliding with her future, staring back at her with matching glasses, her M&M.

Leave the first sentence of a fic in my ask box and I will write the next five sentences.

thelightofthingshopedfor  asked:

Haunt Me, Loki secretly watching over Thor. At least he sure hopes it's secret, because if Thor knew, he might start thinking Loki didn't hate him anymore.

Wistful still, and still aspiring, post Thor 2: The Dark World, thor & loki (some thor/jane), 3365 words

Ghosts of dear temptations, heed;
I am frail, be you forgiving.
See you not that I have need
To be living with the living? (”Rainy Night,” by Dorothy Parker)

It is strange, being dead. He left so much behind in Svartalfheim, and sometimes it feels as though he scarcely knows himself any longer, not when he spends every moment of every day playing at being the All-Father. He is still Loki, but sometimes he does not feel it - feels as though he is hovering outside himself, watching his illusion of the All-Father’s face go through the motions of ruling, shoring up Asgard’s defenses, rebuilding what was damaged in the attack, replacing the Infinity Gauntlet in the vault with a false duplicate and tucking the real one in an extradimensional pocket. 

Loki does not forget Thanos, and he is sure Thanos has not forgotten him. 

But yes - it is strange, being dead. Loki hears his name, now and again, though it is seldom spoken in his hearing - they fear the All-Father’s reaction to mention of the traitor son, perhaps. Volstagg asks, when Loki frees him, before he is sent to Muspelheim with Fandral. 

“What became of Loki?” He asks carefully. So Thor did not tell them, Loki thinks. 

“He is dead,” Loki says coldly, glad that he does not have to feign feeling in the All-Father’s skin - whatever Odin felt, he would not be expected to show it to his warriors. (Whatever Odin felt - Loki remembers how he bent forward for a moment after Loki told him, how he stood like an old man and then fell.) Volstagg looks stunned, and Loki adds, “he was killed in battle on Svartalfheim,” because he always did like Volstagg best. 

Volstagg’s expression crumples slightly and Loki fears for a moment that he will cry, and he doesn’t not know what he would do then. “Oh,” he says, finally, and then draws himself up. “I am sorry for your loss, my king. Deeply sorry.”

Loki waves a hand, something in his belly squirming uncomfortably. “It was his best deed in years,” he says, and by the look on Volstagg’s face perhaps that was too cruel, but Loki cannot truly care. It was, after all. Was meant to be an end, and it would have been a good one. 

Fate has a cruel sense of humor.

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New Preference #9- How You Spend Easter with the Kids

I was going to post this yesterday, but I had no time! So, here is an Easter preference a day late! 

Harry:

It was your daughter’s very first Easter, she was just a few months shy of turning one, but that didn’t stop Harry from making this holiday a big deal as well as the others. She was dressed up in her Easter dress and her hair was up in a tiny ponytail. You three were taking pictures constantly, along with other members of the family. 

Harry really wanted to have her do a Easter egg hunt, so you two “hid” the eggs around the backyard. 

“Okay, babygirl, are you ready to go find some eggs?” He smiles to her. 

She looks up at him babbling. He laughs picking her up and grabbing her little basket. 

“You got the camera ready, Y/N?” He asks. 

“Yes, Harry, I got the camera ready.” You laugh. 

“Okay! Just checking!” He laughs. “Now, let’s go get us some shiny eggs.” He smiles. 

You follow Harry and your daughter through the backyard as they gather the eggs. Your daughter giggles shaking the eggs happily as she babbles. 

“I think she likes this.” You smile. 

“Me too.” Harry smiles. “Do you like the pretty eggs?” 

She babbles nodding trying to put the eggs in her mouth. He laughs. 

“Are those tasty?” he asks. She nods picking up another egg. “That one matches your dress.” He smiles. 

She giggles handing him an egg. “Aww, thank you, love.” He smiles. 

You smile capturing every moment on camera.

Liam:

Liam had just gotten back from the supermarket. The kids wanted to dye eggs for your Easter decorations, so Liam went out to get all the supplies needed. He puts everything on the table and all of the kids come running in. 

“Woah. Slow down before you take me out.” Liam jokes. 

“Take you out where?” Your oldest son Nicholas asks. 

“Never mind.” Liam laughs. 

“What we do?” Addison, your daughter asks. 

“Well, first we have to boil the eggs.” Liam smiles. “So, we have to fill this pot up with water and put the eggs inside. He places the pot on the stove and sets the timer. 

“Now, what?” Nicholas asks. 

“We wait.” Liam laughs. “But we can go ahead and get everything set up.” 

He gets some plastic cups filling them with water and instructs the kids on putting the dye in there. The timer goes off, so he goes over to get them out, placing them in a bowl. He then brings them over to the table. 

“Are you three making a mess in my kitchen?” You laugh waddling over to he kitchen. 

“Hey, baby.” He smiles leaning over to kiss you. “How are you and our little one?” 

“We’re good. So, let’s see these eggs we’ve made so far.” You smile looking over at the table, as you rub your growing belly. 

“Look Mumma!” Addison giggles pointing to her tye dye egg. 

“Very pretty.” You smile kissing her head. 

“These are mine!” Nicholas smiles. 

“Wow. Those are very good.” You smile. “You’re a very artistic 7 year old.” 

He smiles before going back to putting designs on his egg. 

“Now, let’s see yours.” You smile to Liam. 

He smirks holding up a Batman egg. 

“You would.” You laugh. 

He smirks handing you an egg for you to join in on the fun. 

Louis:

“Oi, Oi, who is ready to go see the Easter bunny?” Louis smirks walking into your room, with your newborn baby. 

“I honestly don’t think he’s going to even care or notice.” You giggle. 

“True, but still, he’s a month old and we need to get his picture that way we can compare it next year.” He smiles. 

You smile. “I know.” You giggle. 

“I see you got him all dressed up.” He smiles. “Spiffy looking lad.” 

“Thanks to me.” You smirk. 

“No, no, he looks like ear ole dad.” He smirks. 

You laugh roll your eyes before you leave heading to the store that is offering pictures with the Easter Bunny. When you get there, Louis carries your son in the car seat as you walk over to the section they have the photos at. 

“I have to admit that this is really exciting.” Louis smiles. 

“It is.” You smile. “At least he’s asleep right now and not being fussy.” 

“Yet.” He laughs. You shake your head at him before you two get to the line. “Holy shit, that bunny is creepy.” He whispers to you. 

“Just a bit.” You mumble. “No wonder kids are petrified of people who dress up in those costumes.” 

“I’m not too sure about this…” Louis says. 

“Well, we’re already in line, so we might as well.” You whisper. 

He nods looking down at your baby. “Sorry little lad.” He mumbles. 

You giggle and it’s finally your turn, so you both walk over and Louis takes him out of the car seat to hold him. 

“Okay, say cheese.” The photographer says. 

“Really?” Louis says. 

“I have to say that to everyone.” She says. “1. 2. 3″ She snaps the photo and you two move along with the baby as you wait. 

You then get the pictures and you both laugh at them. “He’s so cute.” You smile at the cute sleepy face that he was making. 

“We do make a cute one.” He smiles. “Say, Happy Easter Micah.” He whispers kissing him on the head. 

Niall:

“I’m not doing this Y/N.” Niall says shaking his head. 

“Aww come on, Ni.” You say. “It will be so cute and cool! You know the kids will love it.” 

“No way.” He says. “That thing is creepy as hell and it stinks!” 

“I’ll spray it down! And you’ll only be in it for like an hour!” You say. 

He groans. “You know I’m claustrophobic, Y/N!” 

“I know, I know, but I can’t fit in the outfit. I’m too short.” You say. 

“I’m not exactly a giant either, Y/N.” He says. 

“But you’re still taller than I am.” You say. “At least try it on and if you can’t do it, then we’ll just scratch the idea. Please.” 

He groans. “Fine. Fine. Give me the damn bunny suit.” 

“Yes!” You smile bringing over the bunny costume that you rented. You help him into the body suit and zip up the back. “Okay, are you ready for the head?” 

He smirks not answering. “Don’t even say it, be serious for a moment.” You say. 

“Yeah. Yeah. Hand it over.” He says. You smile giving it to him and he takes a deep breath before putting it on. 

“How do you feel?” You ask. 

“Ehh.” He says. 

“Would you last at least 5 minutes?” You say. 

“I’m gonna try.” He says. “Lead the way.” 

You smile taking him out to see the kids. “Kiddos, look who came by to visit. The Easter Bunny!” You smile. 

The kids look up and their eyes go wide before they all let out a scream and run away back into the house. 

“See, I fucking told ya this thing was creepy.” Niall says. 

“Yeah, well.. I tried.” You shrug before leading Niall back into the room for him to get changed. 

Flowery ash and consumed seed

Hello my lovelies, as promised this is my contribution to the Klaroline Hades/Persephone week. 


Her house reeks of flowers.

Lilies

The two flower shops in town had been sold out of the damn things ever since her mother’s death had been announced.

White lilies.

The flower of death and mourning.

Because she needs to be reminded at every turn that her mother is dead and that she is now an orphan.

Every time she steps out of the house to seek fresh air, unpolluted by the sickly, sweet stench of flowers she is set upon by neighbours and well-intentioned locusts that feed off her grief.

Mystic Falls isn’t her hometown anymore, it’s an obstacle course populated by eyes that are all too eager to watch her like she’s an attraction.

An animal in a zoo.

A creature in a cage.

She wants to be free.

She wants to escape and…

Go where? Do what?

What is left for her?

Study? She dropped out of Whitmore and can’t see the point in going back, her friends aren’t really there and why should she get a degree? So she can slave away in an entry-level job and claw her way to the top when she could compel herself any position she wants? Why waste four years when she could walk away tomorrow with a piece of paper that declared her a PhD graduate?

Yet she needs something to fill the lonely hours that Damon had foreseen in her immediate future only that very morning.

Philanthropy?

The charities and societies she’d previously thrived upon now set her teeth on edge and made her fingers curl at the thought of another pastel and high tea meeting with grating laughter and talk of Founding Family functions.

More and more the urge to turn off her humanity, to flip the switch called to her. 

To lose her grief, her pain, her humiliation.

No. She would not think of him. She wouldn’t think of the rejection she’d suffered literally over her mother’s cold, dead body.

A knock at the door and she jumps, coming back down to her living room and the darkening night outside. She runs her hands over the skirt of her dress.

She’s still wearing her funeral dress. At least this was a new outfit, as opposed to the horrible wardrobe in the guest bedroom of the Salvatore mansion where she, Elena and Bonnie had hung their black mourning clothes. The clothes they never had time to grow out of in between uses.

She blinks and spins on her heel, walking slowly to the front door and freezing when, even without the porch light being on, she can see the tell-tale blonde curls.

“You swore that you’d never come back” she utters in disbelief, leaning against the door as she stares at him.

Klaus is dressed entirely in black but his golden hair, blazing eyes and red lips aren’t the colour of grief or empty rooms or funeral pamphlets. His curls carry the colour of the sun he should be forbidden to walk in. His eyes are oceans where the water is warm and the sand visible beneath your feet. His lips…his lips are threats of seduction and drowning passion that banishes grief from memory.

“I’m a liar, sweetheart” he holds his hands behind his back, wearing the costume of a gentleman instead of Death’s most beloved worshipper.

“I thought this could be considered special circumstances” he adds with just the hint of nervousness when she doesn’t respond.

And she doesn’t. She can’t. She’s spoken every last sentiment and polite recitation until they are poison on her tongue that makes her want to vomit on her shoes.

She turns away and staggers back to the living room, losing the strength to continue standing and bearing her grief she sinks down onto the coffee table and buries her head in her hands,

“May I come in love?”

She runs her fingers through her hair, 

“There’s no one left Klaus” she calls, “There’s no barrier”

“I know” he pauses, “May I come in love?”

What’s one more symbol of death in this house?

At least his scent will penetrate the odour of the lilies, dissipate it until she’s no longer choking.

She closes her eyes as his shoes thud against the foyer floorboards,
“Are you eating?” he asks concernedly and she notes he doesn’t bother to slap her with the inane sympathies of those who only momentarily cared.

“I would have done anything you asked if you’d saved her” Caroline moans,
“I would have let you take me wherever you wanted, however you wanted, in the middle of the town square with Tyler watching if you’d just saved her”  

He sighs, “Cancer is incurable even in our world, Caroline. Vampire blood only causes the cells to multiply faster and magic…magic can reduce the cancerous cells, even make them disappear altogether for twenty-four hours and then they replicate again, in the exact same place. If I could have offered your mother a solution that wouldn’t have condemned her to a lifetime of suffering, I would have- without expectation of reward” he adds and she smirks but keeps her face buried in the safety of her hands.

“Shall I fetch you something to eat?”

“Pomegranate” she decides, “There’s a pomegranate in the fruit bowl, you could hand-feed me the seeds”

He chuckles lightly, “Would you eat them if I gave them to you?”

She’s rocking now, her body is rocking from- take your pick- exhaustion, grief, loneliness, an empty future…

“Take off your clothes and I’ll lick them off your stomach” she offers, lifting her head to stare at him in challenge as she wraps her arms around herself. He’s leaning against the doorjamb and his face goes stony at her proposition,

“Not here you won’t” he informs her, “Not in your mother’s house”

The switch beckons, one moment, one second and she’ll be free. Free of the agony, free of the fear, free of the longing for the man in front of her.

Sharp fingers grab her chin and tilt it upwards harshly, 

“You won’t turn off your humanity in Mystic Falls” his voice is cold, commanding, regal,

“If you want to lose yourself you can do it outside of your hometown, so you can return later and not be burdened by the memories”

That made sense, she admits this to herself as she watches him silently; his eyes boring down into hers, stripping her soul naked.

But the thought of ever being in Mystic Falls again made her want to scream.

“Meet me back here in one hour” she grabs his arms so that she can pull herself up,

“If you want to make yourself useful before then…” she gazes around at every available surface in her house, “Burn the damn flowers”

And make her a crown of thorns with a chalice of salt so she need never see another bud burst forth from the earth ever again.


Stefan answers the door at the Salvatore Boarding House and she can see the apprehension in his eyes, along with something softer, the tenderness he’d always shown her and the hint of lust he’d been feeling apparently against his will for the last several months,

“Hey” he murmurs, letting her in and following her to the parlour, 

“I was just about to come see you”

His tie is gone and the top buttons of his shirt are undone. He would have stepped into her mother’s house with the vestiges of mourning already gone.

She hasn’t even been buried for twelve hours yet.

She clasps her hands in front of her and takes a steadying breath, “I’m leaving”

His handsome face falls and his brow furrows in concern and confusion, 

“What?”

“I’m leaving Mystic Falls…tonight” she clarifies, “I’m sorry”

And she is.

She’s sorry for all the times she’s thrown herself at him when he doesn’t want her, she’s sorry for all the times he’d made him feel awkward or pressured, she’s sorry that their friendship suffered.

He shakes his head, “Caroline, I know you’re hurting right now and the pain goes so deep you don’t think that you’ll ever be able to rise above it but running away isn’t the answer, where would you even go?”

“New Orleans” she looks down with the lingering remnants of guilt and embarrassment, her friends won’t like this.

“Klaus is here isn’t he?” Stefan’s voice is breathless with shock.

She nods, she’s about to say that he came to see how she was doing but realises that would be a lie. 

He didn’t come to comfort her. 

He came to collect her.

“I want to get away from everything and he’s offering me that chance”

“I can offer you that chance”

In a flash he’s across the room and she gasps as he picks her up in his arms, kissing her passionately, tongue, teeth and bruised lips until they were both out of breath.

“Caroline,” he groans her name like a dying man, “I love you!”

“No” she sighs, licking her lip and pulling herself out of his embrace, 

“You don’t Stefan, you don’t love me now and you’re not sure you ever will and that’s okay but Klaus…Klaus is in love with me, he adores me and gives me that certainty, the knowledge that I’ll be his first and last choice in love”

“What will you even do in New Orleans?”

She smiles with wry humour, turning away from him, 

“I’ll be Queen. Queen of the Dead and the Damned maybe but still a queen”

“Caroline!” he shouts as she walks out of the house, not looking back even once as he continued calling for her. Eventually she was immersed in the darkness and lost to his sight.


When she returns to the house it’s to find that Klaus had had the good sense to burn the lilies in the backyard. Having gathered them into a pile and reduced them quickly to a smouldering mess.

She rests her elbow on his shoulder and delights in the dying ashes before her.

“Are you ready sweetheart?” he asks, not looking up and she smirks, turning her hand over to show the now-seedless pomegranate, “Ready and willing”

“Travelling light are we?” he notes as she leads the way to his car, carrying nothing but the clothes on her back. She shrugs, 

“In twenty miles you’ll be out of this place and I’ll be a completely different person. I don’t want or need anything right now, except you”

He grins and opens the car door for her, “Your chariot, my queen”

Her answering smile is almost genuine.


The legends that pervade their world, their kingdom are almost entirely false.

The Evil King of the Dead kidnapped a Sweet, Innocent Maiden and forced her to live with him, forced her to share his bed and live as his wife.

Yet, if the maiden was so desperately unhappy- why did she relish being Queen? Why did she never seek to overthrow this Evil King? Why did she not appeal to her allies and friends for aid? Why didn’t she use her considerable intelligence and beauty to turn his people against him and destroy him?

Perhaps because she loved him?

And because she could no longer stand the smell of flowers.

A PAIR OF PUPPIES - Calum Imagine

I wrote this a while ago and never posted it oops
–‘i met you last night when you were drunkenly patting my dog in my backyard at 3 in the morning and when i asked you what the hell you were doing you slurred something about dogs being great and then you threw up on my feet and then fifteen minutes later you were passed out on my couch so that’s why you’re here right now also what the fuck is your name and why were you patting a dog in a stranger’s backyard in the middle of the night’ au
Word Count: 1198

‘What the actual hell oh my god I’m being robbed someone is trying to break into my house this is officially the day I die oh my god what are those noises oh that’s the fence oh god that’s the dog barking whoever is breaking in is probably going to kill the dog too oh god oh god oh god where is my baseball bat when I finally decide to use it oh no the dog shut up he killed my dog that’s it this is my end goodbye world.’ Talk about grace under pressure. Don’t worry though everyone would have similar thoughts if they heard strange noises in their backyard at 3am. You gathered up some courage and were ready to hide your ass from whoever was there because who goes and checks out how the robber is doing? People with a death wish. That’s who.

But then the weirdest thing happened. Somebody giggled. ‘That’s it this is the worst robber ever’ you thought because for real? Giggling? You drew the curtain a little and looked out to your streetlight-lit backyard. And let’s say it was not what you expected.

Lying on the ground was a guy playing with your dog. What. The. Fuck.

You decided to go downstairs to see who the hell had broken into your backyard to pet your dog. As you got closer you could hear that he was not just laughing hysterically, but he was also talking in that voice you use to talk to animals, and he was just repeating “puuuuuppy puppypuppy”. You got to where he was lying and he didn’t seem to really notice you, so you picked up your little pug and looked at him.

“HEY! What are you doing gimme the puppy back!” he said doing grabby hands at your pup. “Gimme gimme gimme gimme giMMEEEEEEEE” he whined, almost crying.

“Shhhhhh shut up, it’s 3am you’re gonna wake everybody up.” You whispered. “Now who the hell are you and what are you doing in my backyard?”

He just blankly looked at you. No expression whatsoever on his face. “Lady, give me the dog” he said without changing his expression. Needless to say you didn’t give him the dog. “LADY, I said give me the dog!”

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